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fiber-optic-alligator · 24 days

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Desperation vs. Domestication (Pt. 2)

Pairing: IDW Drift x Human Reader

WARNING: This story contains soft vore. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read this story.

Word Count: 4431

Summary: Though you have been lulled into a deep sense of security by Drift's kindness and comfort, you still haven't completely lost the need to be free. A terrible nightmare refuels your desire for escape...but Drift isn't someone who wants to let you go.

HEEHEEHEEHEE I REALLY WANTED TO WRITE A PART 2 OF THIS...so I did. It's because Drift is my all-time favorite Transformer and I absolutely LOVE putting my favorite characters through angst. If you enjoyed reading part 1, then I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Likes, comments, feedback, and reblogs are never expected, but always appreciated! Enjoy! :D

Here is the link to pt. 1 if you haven’t read it!

Also available to read on AO3!

Two months later…

You dream of Earth tonight.

There are fields; you are standing in one. Long Bermuda grass tickles your ankles with the gentle presence of the planet recognizing its own. The endless green is splattered with occasional droplets of color: pink poppies, yellow sunflowers, marigolds, dandelions. It is warm. There is a slight wind blowing, playing with your hair. You turn your face towards the sunlight and bask in the relief of knowing you are home.

All of a sudden, you hear a sound. Thumping. Steady, rhythmic. Loud. You feel the wind die down and suddenly the sun is gone, and there is only darkness. A massive shadow blots out all of the light. You see a figure looming over you, red-and-white with bright blue eyes that stare into your soul and make you feel terror.

You try to run, but find you cannot move your legs. There is nothing you can do when you watch a giant hand reach down in slow motion and pluck you up, holding you between titanic fingers. The monster’s mouth opens, and then you are tumbling down, right into an abyss of metal and isolation. The Earth melts away forever. You are trapped. You are alone.

Shooting forward out of your nightmare, you hear yourself scream. The squishy floor underneath you makes you lose your footing when you scramble upward in a blind panic and fall into Drift’s stomach wall. Everything moves, the organ grumbling unhappily at you being awake. Your hands scramble at the mesh cables. Little pink bubbles of cybernetic blood pop anxiously beneath their semi-transparent surfaces. The walls close in to squeeze, holding you in a secure hug, attempting to keep you still. But you cannot think. You are scared, and you feel trapped, so you desperately begin to thrash and fight against the stomach.

Drift’s voice booms above you, panicked. “Little one? Little one?!”

“Let me go!” you shriek. “Please, letmegoletmegoletmego!”

The walls loosen up, freeing you. You collapse into the fetal position, gasping while sweat beads your brow and your heart goes crazy.

Drift presses his hands over his middle. “Little one, little one, shhhh, shh, shh, shh,” he hushes frantically. “Safe, safe…safe, all is safe...no need for fear…”

Gradually, you calm down. Only when you are no longer trembling does Drift tentatively begin to squeeze you again. In and out, slow kneading, like he’s silently coaxing you to continue breathing at a healthier pace. “Little one…okay?” he asks.

Your voice quivers. “I-I’m fine. I’m okay. It-It was a bad dream. A nightmare.” You sit upright and lean into the stomach wall. Drift holds you close, the undulating muscle relaxing you with its constant massage. His biolights pulse and flicker, a clear sign of his stress. You woke him up with your screams. It makes you feel bad, so you snuggle his cables further. The robot’s stomach is not a big place, but Drift likes to be conscious of you. The support you provide him in completing this task is obviously appreciated, because he hums softly and pats his hand over where you are.

There is peace again. Peace and warmth. But you don’t feel the usual safety. There is a lingering pit of dread growing deep within your gut, foul roots clawing their way through your body, leaving you jittery, uneased. Your nightmare is the first one in months, and it’s a sure sign things are not right.

It has been such a long time since you thought of your possible escape plan. You don’t know how long, but you do know that you can’t be comfortable here anymore. Your mind is sending the signals loud and clear.

No more stalling, you think to yourself. No more being complacent.

You are not domesticated yet.

When Drift lets you out of here…you will go through with the plan to take an escape pod home. For real this time.

It takes you weeks to perfect your plan. And when you do finally have it all figured out, you come to the conclusion that things may end up being more complicated than you thought. Escaping a spaceship filled with giant alien robots is hard enough, yes. But then there’s the issue of what will happen when you return to Earth. You don’t know how long you’ve been abducted. It could be months. It could be years. What if all of your family and friends are long gone by the time you get home? What if things are so different that you’ve been completely left behind?

No. You can’t think like that. A sharp patting to your cheeks snaps you out of it. Keep it together. This is the moment you have been waiting for. Regardless of what awaits you on Earth, you will be there to face it.

You’ve packed everything you own into a small fabric knapsack your mech gifted you during your first days here (Who knew robots are such good knitters?). It’s not much, not much at all: snacks Drift gives you, strange pellets that clean your teeth, three cans of filtered water…but that’s all you really require for the trip you are going to embark on. You don’t believe it will be particularly long. The escape pods need to have some sort of device that allows them to leap through lightyears to their destinations. You believe this because you’ve watched the mothership do it from the observation windows Drift likes to bring you to sometimes. Hyperspace will occasionally be activated, with stars and planets blurring together into dazzling white paint streaks before coming to an abrupt halt in a totally new galaxy.

Now, do you know how lightjumping works? Absolutely not. Last time you were on Earth, no such human technology had been invented yet. So you don’t exactly know how you’ll get the escape pod to lightjump like the ship does. But you’ll find a way. You have no choice.

Now for the hard part: getting away from Drift long enough to activate the escape pod and blast away. He’s not going to make it easy for you. Drift doesn’t like letting you out of his sight if you aren’t in his room, and hardly lets you roam free. You’ve spent hours, both within his stomach and out, pondering how to go about this. It’s left you with the agonizing decision that you’ll just have to wing it somehow.

The door to his room slides open. You’ve been sitting on his berth with your hands beneath your head and one leg crossed over the other, thinking, thinking, thinking, that at first you nearly didn’t hear him come in. You sit up to greet him with more eagerness than you’d like to show. The nightmare didn’t stop your affection for Drift from rearing its persistent head.

There’s no waiting for him to give you his time today. When he enters the room, his focus is immediately on you with no prior distractions. Drift walks with a spring in his step, his finials perking up like an enthusiastic dog. You notice a small white box he holds in one hand, and think nothing of it. Drift’s room is decorated with countless knickknacks from other planets. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s brought some strange little souvenir home.

“Hey, big guy,” you murmur happily when he kneels down before you. He settles the box to the side and cups both hands behind you, humming his typical car engine-purr greeting. You hug him when he draws you forth so he can nuzzle his nose into your middle. “I’m guessing you missed me?”

Drift beep-boops excitedly. He gives you an affectionate tickle to your side, causing you to giggle. Your reaction delights him. He keeps it up, and pretty soon you are laughing so hard your stomach hurts. “D-Drift, s-stop! I-I can’t breathe!”

He gives you one last light prod, then ends the bout of torture with more cuddles. You recover from the laughter, feeling airy and light like nothing else matters except for the giant robot holding you.

“Little one,” he coos. “My little one.”

“Mhm,” you mumble goodnaturedly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m yours.”

He suddenly looks like he’s remembered something very important, and he straightens, chirping rapidly. You watch as he grabs the white box and, to your surprise, presents it to you. You glance at it, then turn to him. “For me?” you ask, pointing at yourself.

He chirps again and nods.

You take it from him and open it with a slight air of confusion, because he’s never given you something like this before. You think it might be a piece of jewelry, or some sort of charm. But what you see inside is neither of those things. You suck in a sharp breath of pure disbelief and go numb.

It’s a collar. A damn collar. Sleek and narrow, its solid red with a single white stripe circumnavigating it. On one side is a strange symbol of a boxy red robot’s face-the same symbol he has on his chest. These are his colors, you realize. He’s making us match. He wants the other mechs to know that he owns you.

Drift rumbles expectantly. When you remain frozen, unable to pry your eyes away from the collar, he gently pries it out of your now slightly shaking hands. With extreme carefulness, he clasps it around your neck. It fits comfortably and locks with a quiet click.

“My little one,” he repeats. “Mine.”

He’s not trying to scare you. You know he isn’t. Yet your throat is dry, and the snug weight of the collar makes you feel sick.

You need to get the hell off of this ship.

You spend the night feverishly trying to break the collar off, working yourself up like a caged animal driven mad by captivity. But no matter how hard you yank at it, it remains stubbornly fast around your neck. You refuse to eat the food given to you and cry yourself to sleep within a very concerned Drift’s belly, who can’t seem to console you no matter how hard he tries.

Drift doesn’t know what to do with you.

You’ve been moping ever since he gave you the collar. Over the next few days, any sort of drive to escape has left you. You're depressed and disappointed in him for what he’s done. You don’t want to talk to him. You don’t want to accept any of his gifts. Blanket after pillow after plushie-all made by him, with the crude markings of homemade love-are ignored. You shy away from his touch and reject his attention. When he swallows you at night, you give him no inclination you care. You sit like a stone within him and just…stare off vacantly, unable to ignore the collar around your neck.

He’s brought you to the ship’s doctor multiple times. On the first trip, the old red medic bot looked you over and finished his checkup with a shrug and dismissive chuff. The second time, he growled at Drift and waved him away. And on the third time, he didn’t even let him through the door. There’s nothing physically wrong with you. But mentally, how could they know? How could he know he’s hurt you? You trusted him to treat you with some level of respect despite your situation, and he had, until now. The collar was your breaking point. There truly is no way for him to ever see you as anything more than a pet, and it hurts you, because by god, you love him.

“…Little one?”

Drift calls out to you with a soft, sad tone. You huddle up tighter beneath one of your blankets and give no answer.

You hear him shift at his desk. There’s silence between the two of you that is not wanted. He heaves a low sigh and tries again. “Little one…please?”

Damn your heart, you can’t keep giving him the silent treatment when he sounds like he’s about to cry.

You push the blanket off of your head. Drift slouches in his chair, back bent like an old man’s. His finials are drooping, and the glow from his biolights is dimmer than usual. He’s obviously been letting his personal hygiene go for the sake of finding a way to help you, and it hurts to know he’s in this state because of your shitty attitude towards what he simply sees as a gift. The collar is a curse, but you can’t exactly tell him that, can you? This entire situation is all your fault.

It's the treacherous part of your mind which attempts to convince you of this. It partially works. Giving in, you sit up slowly, drawing the blanket tightly around your shoulders and tilting your head while giving him a questioning look.

He’s surprised by your action, like he genuinely wasn’t expecting you to respond to this extent. But he takes advantage of it. Drift offers you a hopeful smile and picks something up from his desk. He stands and walks to you, going slow. You don’t flinch when he crouches down to your level. The warm light of his eyes leaves a kind feeling on your skin.

Tentatively, Drift extends his hand. In his palm is a piece of chocolate, one of the many treats he has at his disposal to provide you with when he feels you are being especially good. It’s an olive branch. A reach in the right direction.

You hesitate…and then you think, Oh, what the hell. Staying mad at Drift when he has no clue he’s done something wrong in the first place won’t get you anywhere. So you accept the candy and take a small bite.

He sags with relief, exhaust whooshing from his nose as he watches you eat with a smile. When you're finished, he moves his hand closer, twining the palm around you and resting the tips of his digits against your head and sides. You hold his index finger, resting your forehead against it and closing your eyes as a sign of trust. But you feel guilty.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, knowing he won’t understand. But you say it anyway. “I love you. I love you so, so much. But you're destroying me. I can’t stay here anymore.”

A tear slips down your cheek. You don’t notice it until Drift gently brushes it away.

“I have to go.” Your voice breaks. “I need to leave. I hope you’ll learn why. And I hope you won’t hate me for it. I-I don’t think I could handle it if you did. Please don’t hate me. Please don’t think I hated you.”

Drift coos. His reply is indecipherable. You think he’s trying to comfort you…but you’ll never know for sure.

He doesn’t swallow you tonight. You don’t know why; maybe he thinks you need a break. Maybe he just wants to hold you in a different fashion this time. You stay awake hours after he falls asleep, your little form nestled in the crook of his neck while he snoozes on his stomach with his arms crossed beneath his massive pillow. You peer off into the darkness, listening to his quiet breaths.

For the longest time, you’ve thought of this room as yours and his. A space the two of you share together. Ours. It's fed into your delusional ideations of a future in which the two of you learn each other’s languages, where you stand on equal ground, you belonging to him and him belonging to you. A future where mechs and humans join hands and say “I see you. I know you. I understand you and you understand me. Neither of us is higher than the other.”

But it will never happen. The collar around your neck is physical proof. There is no future between the two of you anymore. If you want to be you again…you need to let Drift go.

You shuffle away from the bot’s neck and stand. The only parts of him that are lit up right now are the red symbol on his chest and the soft blue of his mouth. He’s so peaceful. This giant alien, who you know has fought in many battles from the scars you can see, is soothed by your presence. You, an insignificant little human being. The dynamic is honestly quite hilarious. You're like his very own version of a chihuahua.

You want to hug his nose, knowing you will never have another chance again. But Drift is a light sleeper, and you're testing the waters enough already. You can’t risk it. It pains you, but you drop your arms and turn away.

Using the metal ladder he made for you so you’d have easy access to his berth, you climb down and grab your knapsack. Quietly padding across the long expanse of the room, you make it to the door. It senses your presence and slides open. You force yourself not to look back when you walk out.

You wonder if he will cry for you when he wakes up and finds you gone.

The spaceship is ominous at night. The only thing you can hear as you traverse the hallways is your heartbeat pulsing in your ears. You're trying to be quiet; passing by multiple rooms with slumbering bots inside has you holding your breath and then letting it out in a forcefully slow, reedy wheeze. You are, after all, a mouse in a prison filled with cats; slow and steady and silent wins the race.

You survey the elevator when you get to it, at a loss of how you’ll possibly find a way to operate it due to how small you are. A miracle finds its way to you, however, in the form of a mech. This one you don’t recognize. He has a similar color scheme to Drift, but is noticeably bulkier, with a strange cannon sitting on his right shoulder and a blue eyepiece over the adjacent optic. All of his focus is on the datapad in his hands as he summons the elevator. You wait for the doors to open and for him to step inside before darting after him. Luckily he doesn’t look up fonce on the short journey. Your cover remains unblown when the doors part again and he heads off. You go in the opposite direction, because like hell are you going to follow the strange robot to someplace where there are probably more strange robots.

You slip in and out of sight, staying far away from any mechs who are awake. They do not see you, which means you are doing this right-though there are some alarming instances where you think you’ll be caught. One such occurrence happens when a tall, thin blue mech with a chest like the front of a helicopter nearly sees you duck into an open storage room for quick cover. Its single orb ominously scans the darkened room. You watch from beneath a large shelving unit, terrified out of your mind. You don’t move, nor do you make a sound, keeping a shaking hand over your mouth.

Finally, after what feels like hours, the mech stomps away. You let your head fall forward respitefully.

You know you're nearing your one-way ticket to Earth when you see bright yellow signs plastered on the walls with loud black alien words telling you to hurry left with the help of large arrows. Escape pod symbols, accompanied by a funny little robot mascot, are the giveaway. You feel a sort of giddy euphoria swell up within you. You're almost there. You're going to escape. You're going to go home. It all seems far too good to be true; sure, you’ve imagined this scenario happening over and over again, but you never really did believe it would happen.

You pinch your arm multiple times just to make sure you aren’t dreaming. This is not in your head. This is happening. You really are going back to Earth.

Your collar suddenly vibrates. And then it starts to screech.

You nearly jump out of your own skin. The alarm is loud, piercing, and undeniably going to alert someone to your presence. You slam your fists against it multiple times, but it doesn’t let up. Your heart sinks when the realization of what's going on hits.

Shit. He put a tracker in it.

You need to run. You shove yourself forward into a full-on sprint, dashing down the last remainder of this hallway, then turning the corner and seeing the numerous escape pods all lined up in the wall. You choose the first one, grabbing the edge of the circular door and pulling with all of your might. The tendons in your neck strain as you grunt and slowly bring the door back with you. Clamoring in, you give it one last heave before it shuts on its own and seals you inside. You hear the lock click into place. The entire cabin flickers to life, with the lights on and the control panel booting up. As you expected, everything is far too big for you to reach. But it seems you won’t need to. A loud robotic voice emanates from the central console, speaking to you in the native mech language.

Your collar is still going off. You don’t have a lot of time.

“I-I can’t understand you!” you yell over the din. “I’m a human, from Earth! I speak English!”

The voice pauses. Seconds later, to your amazement, it talks, and you can understand. “Language notifications made. Destination updated. Scanning…” A panel on the ceiling pops open, and a blue light filters out, washing over you. “Scanning complete. Species: Homo Sapien. Homeworld: Earth. Milky Way Galaxy. Status: Critically endangered. Suggesting immediate travel to Earth.”

You clap your hands. “Yes! Yes, that’s it! Earth, set the destination to Earth!”

“Destination set. Awaiting command to launch LOST LIGHT LIFEPOD 01.”

You are about to give the order when something slams against the door. You whirl around, your heart stuttering when you see who’s there. It’s Drift. He’s made it. And he looks horrified. With trembling fingers, he yanks on the handle. When the pod remains fastly shut, he pounds on the circular window with so much force the entire thing shudders and you think he’s going to rip it right off of its hinges. “Little one!” he screams, voice muffled beyond the barrier of glass. “Little one! Open…!” The rest of the sentence comes out as sharp metal shrieks.

You stand there helplessly. The pod once again inquires for your command, yet you can’t find it within yourself to speak.

Drift is doing everything he can to get to you. He’s like a rabid beast, clawing at the window, teeth bared in visible frustration. His biolights are going mad when he roars and sends his whole body into the door. This time, it does give a little. You can see some dents in the gray metal.

This…is a side of Drift you have never seen. It is desperate, vicious. And it terrifies you. You stumble back to the opposite end of the pod and curl up, hugging your knapsack to your chest like a child squeezing their favorite stuffed animal. Drift continues his futile attack on the door, but pauses when he makes eye contact with you. His face falls. His fists relax and slide downward to press palm against the glass.

He’s quiet as he seems to reflect on how he just presented himself front of you, then whispers heartbrokenly. “...Sorry.” Tears stream down his cheeks. His hot vexation melts away and exposes his remorseful center. “Sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry. Little one. Y/N.”

Oh my god.

All noise ceases when you register what he just said. Your name. He said your name. He’s never done that before. You didn’t think he knew your name.

He learned to say it. For you.

Drift whimpers like a kicked dog, moving to crouch lower. “Y/N. Y/N, please. Stay. Stay with me. Please don’t go. I love you.”

You’ve changed his life. You don’t need to be told this. You know you’ve brought him a sense of joy he hasn’t felt in years. You didn’t come here of your own free will. But you freely chose to love him. You gave yourself up and became his everything while he became yours. Isn’t he your home? Isn’t he the one who saved you? Can you really leave someone who cares about you so much?

Your legs move on their own accord. Your heart beats with his and you take tentative steps towards the door. Drift twitters and gives you an encouraging nod, gesturing for you to keep walking.

Why do you want to leave him so badly? Why would you want to throw away this perfect life?

Your little human hands come to rest right over his massive robotic ones. You two are separated, but you think you can feel the warmth coming from him. Drift bonks his forehead against the window anticipatingly. “Come on,” he whispers. “Come on. It’s…okay. You're okay. Please.”

Your hands are human. You will never see another pair again if you return to him.

Your life is not supposed to be perfect. A human’s life is messy, and disastrous, and chaotic, and beautiful. His life is too, but not in the same way as yours.

“Goodbye, Drift,” you murmur, voice breaking. “LOST LIGHT LIFEPOD 01…take me to Earth.”

The escape pods hums and rumbles. “Command accepted,” it announces. “Preparing ejection in three…two…one.”

The last thing you see and hear before the pod lurches forward and rockets out of its dock is Drift’s agonized expression and his wrenching wail.

Your vessel speeds away. You get a fantastic view of the ship in all of its stunning glory. It felt so gigantic when you were inside, but from out here, you can fully comprehend its overwhelming proportions. You watch it rapidly shrink as you gain distance from it, until it's just another speck of light in the universe. And when you can’t even see that anymore, you allow yourself to collapse against the floor eagles-spread. You gaze up at the ceiling, feeling surprisingly hollow. There is no victorious sense of triumph, no excitement to return home. You don’t even know where home is anymore. Somehow, after everything you’ve gone through, you’ve come out even more lost than you already were.

The waterworks start shortly after the escape pod jumps into hyperspace. Heaving sobs, messy tears, you lie there and weep to the stars, not noticing when your collar finally stops beeping.

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mintaikcorpse · 3 months

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You know what? I'm bored, so here's a list of my favorite ship names

I bully ship names, but I like a lot of them because some of them sound really pretty and are genuinely creative, and some are just funny, and I like the way they sound. Imma try to be multi fandom here, but my hyperfixations will show, since ill obviously know the ships in my own fandoms better. I'll also be explaining them here. There's also no order here, it's by the order I remeber it by.

Honeymoon (Beelzebub x Loona, Helluva Boss)

This shape name is super cute and super pretty, and I love it, and it also makes sense. Bee is a honeybee, and Loona is designed to look like the moon.

Dragonfruit (Mei x Red Son, Lego Monkie Kid)

I didn't get it at first because the fruit at the end didn't make sense, but apparently it takes the first characters in their Mandarin names which can be combined with other characters to make it translates to dragin fruit, and their color schemes also resemble one, which I think is pretty neat. Also, draginfruitsblook pretty

-Stolitz (Stolas x Blitzø, Helluva Boss)

A combination of their names that sounds like 'stole it', which is what Blitzø did with the grimoire. I love it

-Bluetooth (Caine x Moon, The Amazing Digital Circus)

The ship was named by @dovewingkinnie and has been growing in popularity, and I love it that I got to see a ship name being born. They're named Bluetooth because Moon is blue, the blue moon cycle, Caine is dentures, and Bluetooth is a way to connect wifi, which makes sense in a digital world.

-Amourshipping (Ash x Serena, Pokemon XY anime)

It's simple, but I like it. It's called Amourshipping because Amour means love in French, and Kalos (the region the series takes place in) is based on France

-Lumity (Luz x Amity, The Owl House)

It's another combination of names, but it sounds super pretty! To me, it sounds like illuminate, which fits because Luz's name means light and Luz literally showed Amity a light glyph when they were first becoming friends.

Goldengarden (Hunter x Willow, The Owl House)

It sounds so pretty omg

BurningLeafshipping (Red x Leaf, Pokemon [adventures manga])

The name sounds so pretty actually I love this name sm

Royallectureshipping (Cheren x Lear, Pokemon Masters)

Because Lear is a royal and Cheren constantly lectures him. It's litteraly perfect

Verbie (Barbie Wire x Verosika Mayday, Helluva Boss)

It's a combination of names. It sounds like furby. I will be bullying this name later.

Trainwreckshipping (Emmet x Volo, Pokemon)

This is such a perfect name for them. A lot of the fanon interactions stem from Emmet finding Volo to try and get revenge or force him to help him find Ingo, and then they have a whole enemies to lovers thing. It's called trainwreck shipping because ITD BE A GODDAMN TRAINWRECK. And Emmet's a subway boss, and Volo wanted to destroy the world

MedievalStoryShipping

(Gardevoir x Gallade, Pokemon): I didn't even know this ship had a name until I found a blog dedicated to it a couple of months ago. They were names MedievalStoryShippimg because Gardevoir was based off a princess and a knight and gallade was based on a prince and a knight. Also, not to put my own opinions, but I have such a sentimental attachment to this ship because I shipped it so hard in 5th grade and made so much (very bad) fanart of it

-Goldenheart (Ballister Boldheart/Blackheart x Ambrosious Goldenloin, Nimona)

It's another combination of names, but it sounds super cute and very angelic.

-Vorbee (Vortex x Beelzebub, Helluva Boss)

It's a combination Bee and Vortex's name, but it sounds like Vore, and considering Bee's whole thing with eating to excess, I can see that

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pietropudge · 4 months

Note

Brenton!Dick Grayson is that hot teacher who's gigantic butt is constantly in someone's face whenever he bends over to help students and you look forward to it every day. You find out he's subsidizing his income by doing OnlyPreds in secret.

a/n — something short since I liked the idea (and Brenton is my favorite titan's actor, next to Ryan), may write a part two!

warnings — vore, not done to us. brief in this but lots of talks of preds and prey and a mention of disposal

words — 2.3k

summary — check the ask!

~~~

It was about that time again. Seventh period—your seventh Heaven. The last class of the day and the one that managed to fly by the fastest because you were actually engaged in what the teacher was teaching. Not because the depths of learning criminal justice in high school was anything life-changing, no, it was the teacher himself that held your attention.

His lesson had yet to start, choosing to do the rounds around everyone’s assigned seat to place their latest essay face down on their desk. You were one of the first to arrive because of how close your previous class was to his classroom, so he handed it to you personally, just as you walked through the door.

“Ah, there you are, the very last one I had,” he said in a way you could listen to on a loop. His hands were now empty, stilted as he almost didn’t know what to do with them. "Nice job."

Your paper had an A-plus and a one-hundred written in red pen at the top. Thumbing through the pages, he hadn’t marked a single thing incorrect with the red ink. “Thanks,” you said, taking your seat. It was in about the center of the class, not too far away from the front but also not off-center in a way that would make looking to the side become annoying. You had to think that, on some level, Mr. Grayson had a soft spot for you by doing all of this. Probably somewhere on the cushiness of his padded ass.

That was the real appeal of his class because he literally put the ass in it. Later on, when everyone filed into his classroom and he was deep into his lecture, he decided to break it off for some individual learning. And low and behold, he was helping the person in front of you who posed a question that must have had a really long answer, because Mr. Grayson bent over, his dark dress pants doing anything but slimming down his figure. His ass was looming over your desk, and while you had your head buried in the worksheet he passed out and the textbook needed to find the answers, you looked up to see what had turned had blocked your peripheral vision like it was the bill of a hat.

Lifting your head, it was his ass, shifting back and forth as he lightly shifted his weight between each foot. His ass swayed as a result, so hypnotic and so close to you. It was almost painful to know how unattainable he was. You wanted him but knew it could never happen. The only issue was that he was unlike the gym coaches, who perved on the teenage girls and even had odd relationships with the star athletes at school. Although, you were glad he didn’t run the risk of getting disbarred from every school within fifty miles of here, because you got to see him every day. Mr. Grayson kept a respectable sense to his actions.

Now, there were some things he did that were simply out of his control. You can't do much about being blessed with an ass as fat as his, so it wasn't really his fault. You were the one staring at it, thinking about getting his attention by grabbing it instead of raising your hand.

Before you could do anything, the final bell rang and you heard his voice call out a few names to stay behind—probably to discuss grades. Thankfully, your name was kept separate from that list.

Returning home, you can’t shake the thought from your head. His ass was so close to you it was almost like you could have dove into the navy blue depths of it! He had assigned more homework that was due tomorrow—a few online assignments with multiple-choice responses, nothing crazy. But all you could think about was him while doing the work. You needed to find release, fast.

A big fantasy of yours was the predacious nature of humanity. Some people could eat others whole, enough to define them as an entire subspecies in Mr. Logan’s biology course. School rules prevented predators from teaching at a multi-meal school of both prey and developing predators alike, claiming that it would interfere with the natural order of the next generation. By introducing older predators into the pool of newer ones, it would run the risk of diminishing predators too weak to fight back against their own kind and prey from society—where it was anyone’s game. It’s why disappearances at school were common, the occasional high-school sweethearts that surfaced being forever in love as one of them would eat the other during their first kiss.

Regardless of the rules, you still imagined that Mr. Grayson had gotten such a fat ass from doing the work, the hard work of swallowing prey like you. While your imagination could carry the session, you just needed a little video to kickstart the fantasy. Opening a new tab next to Mr. Grayson’s preferred site to manage online assignments, you started a search for amateur vore videos. Gulper, BestBelches, and even PornHub barely had anything new that you hadn’t seen already. It seemed that everyone was getting greedy with their recently documented meals. You went to the last site you could think of—Twitter, home to original amateur vore videos, if you knew where to look, that is. A new video was making the rounds through a few accounts you followed and the video happened to land on your timeline, and it was damn near perfect to what you were looking for.

The start of the video was nothing special, a man walks into frame, his thick thighs and general figure reminding you of someone that you couldn’t quite think of. It wasn’t until his ass came into the picture, the cheeks thick and coated with a light smattering of hair that acted as the draped curtains to a head sticking up his ass. That’s when it hit you—this guy looked like Mr.Grayson from behind! Down to the tufts of hair peeking out at the top of the video, his head cut off to keep himself anonymous. The narrow torso leading to his wide ass was also of note, a reminder of the way that Mr. Grayson’s dress pants often struggled to contain him in the ways that mattered. He was standing near a balcony, looking out proudly over the city in front of him. The caption read something generic like, “what a great view.” But it clearly wasn’t the original video.

In the bottom-lefthand corner of the video was a watermark, a link to an OnlyPreds account called TeachingLessons. It didn’t align with the username of whoever posted it, so this must be a teaser for something more. You knew how these things worked and you needed to see the whole video and whatever else was posted on his account. There was a small part of you that hoped that the account didn’t belong to a snack like that guy as you searched for it… you had subscribed to a few too many OnlyPreds that were one-off accounts made to look like they’re run by predators but are actually just posted by the consumer to help the prey out. Whether that money goes to a family member or possibly used to pay back debts, you didn’t know. All you knew was that you got to see one really good video for a steep price without even learning who the predator was, so it was some high-level scam. Hopefully, this was an actual, regular poster that you could imagine as Mr. Grayson in so many different positions. You made the account using your real first and last name but fudging some other details like making your username a combination of random numbers and letters that was unlike your gamertag or social media handles and putting the profile as a random picture from your camera roll that had no recognizable information in it. After going through the painful steps of creating an account and paying for his OnlyPreds, you were free to check out all of his posts.

The most recent post was the video you had seen on Twitter, but it was marked at twenty-six minutes instead of just thirty seconds. You decided to save that for last, taking your dick out and stroking to everything else first, making sure that you had invested in something that was worth it. The rest of the account had videos of him belching, playing with his gut, sucking guys up his ass, and shitting them out in various restrooms and unconventional locations. There was no consistency as the houses all seemed to be the prey’s given how the location changed in each video, so there was an air of mystery that heightened your enjoyment. It made it easy to picture him in your bedroom, leaving you as a pile of shit on your own bed or ruining the carpet, morbidly reminding you and your classmates that you wouldn’t be safe forever.

After scrolling for a while, you ended up at the very last post. It was posted only about a year ago from today, yet there were well over a hundred videos filling this guy’s OnlyPreds. He must have been insanely active, and it made you wonder how much he ate that he didn’t record. You refreshed to save time because you were ready to form the final fantasy in your head. The site reloaded and his most recent video was back on your screen, the clip had sound, unlike the thirty seconds that barely fed your desires. This was much longer and drawn out. The men were both standing in frame at the start of the video, sounds of kissing and their hands roaming around each other, but the former was cropped out due to the anonymity provided. In the background, the window and the city it overlooked were still the same as in the clip you saw—the sun still rising in the early morning when this video was filmed. They slowly shuffled out of view of the camera, some noises of skin on skin and kissing continuing. Then, a deep sputter rang out as if the suction of a seal was broken. That’s where the clip of who you imagined as Mr. Grayson returned into frame, carrying the body of the other man behind him. His head was glued to his ass, a majority of it sucked between his cheeks and encompassing his neck. You almost expected the video to end, but it kept going. The man’s neck disappeared with a few heavy grunts from the man you were calling Mr. Grayson.

He was going down on the guy as the sun rose, the time elapsed to make it a more watchable experience. For all twenty-six minutes, you watched him fit an entire make into his ass. Well, not his ass, but it looked as such since his back faced the camera, so his swelling gut was nearly invisible until everything was almost inside. He had the feet of the man remaining, and you were at the twenty-four-minute mark. In just two minutes, the feet were going and he did a slow turnaround. His swelling gut was flashed to the camera, shaking violently and making a cavalcade of noise from its own activity and from the guy inside. He wobbled over to the camera, taking it off of its stand and doing a quick pan around his gut before the video ended.

Even after shooting a load, you couldn’t get it out of your head. There was a bit of hope going into the next day that Mr. Grayson would give your mind more material to work with.

At first, the day seemed to be amiss. Your favorite teacher would usually pass you by on the way from eating his lunch in the faculty room while you were headed to a different class and express some kind of friendliness, but he wasn’t there today. It gave you a bit of worry that there would be a substitute today, or, your worst fear, he was finally snacked on by a predator with an insane appetite. He did share with the class how he was single and still looking for someone, so he could have been eaten in a failed attempt at a date. Thankfully, your worries were put to rest when you walked into class. He was there with some nice khakis that showed off everything in the front and back.

But he never greeted you and never said anything about the online assignments you did last night—which were auto-graded and had a perfect score. In fact, he ignored you for the whole period until the end. He called out one name at the end of class, and you were dreading to hear who it was. Your name and it was only yours. You ceased packing up your things and stayed seated at your desk. A few students leaving let out an “ooh” or “ah” but were nudged out by Mr. Grayson as he moved them towards the door. He shut it and walked over to take a seat on your desk.

“Do you know of the site OnlyPreds?” He asked, looking down at you.

You were quick to spill out an admittance of guilt like he was interrogating you just as he had demonstrated before in mock trials, ”How’d you find out?"

He reached down, patting your shoulder before getting off of your desk. ”Try using a fake name when you subscribe next time."

"Are you going to...?" You could hardly finish the sentence, so he did for you.

"Eat you? Not as long as you keep your mouth shut. Those videos are secret, but they're proof, and if you have been paying attention in class... you'll know what they can do to me if they get out. Do you really want to see that happen to your favorite teacher?” He paced around, and even though he had threatened to silence you with his enormous ass, you couldn’t take your eyes away from it.

“No..." You softly let out.

He smiled at your obedience, "Good boy, you were always my favorite for a reason.”

#male prey #male vore #male pred #v.ore #v0r3 #vore x reader #v0re #same size vore #fatal #titans vore #titans #dc titans #nightwing vore #dick Grayson vore

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sillyromance · 3 months

Note

Can you make comfort vore? From Optimus?

Hello, dear evelyntyecrqzy!

Sure! Here you go!

P.S: there is angst and one heavy word in this work. Also I've written it from the first person's perspective... I really hope you don't mind it.

Have a good day and take care!

***

- How do you feel, little one?

It was late evening; almost all the lights were gone, the only bright area was Ratchet’s lab: the old medic was staring at the big green screen, typing aggressively on the panel and mumbling something inaudible. He was too busy to pay attention to anything else. The rest of the team left to their quarters after they had brought the kids home. No body had shown any signs of life since then.

I was lying on the couch, curled up in a tight ball. My head felt heavy and hurt; I felt cold and lonely. It was hard to hold back sobbing, but I didn't want to attract unnecessary attention - nobody cared anyways. Why would they? Were my problems that important?

I squeezed my eyes shut, tears running down my cheeks violently as my shoulders started shuddering...

And then I heard his deep, gentle voice.

"How do you feel, little one?" - I turned my red face to the huge mech behind me. Optimus Prime, my guardian. Through the cacophony of my thoughts I hadn't heard him coming. His blue optics far above glowed with concern.

I hurried to wipe the tear tracks from my face and stand up, mumbling something like: "Sorry" or "It's fine, don't bother yourself..." But as far as I did this, his large servo wrapped around me and very soon I found myself sitting on his plain rough palm, being swirled with his kind, sad gaze. I felt nothing but guilt, though the only reason for it was my depressing mood. I couldn't look straight at him, turning away over and over, rubbing my hot cheeks in attempt to get rid of the tears. I hated myself for the mess I had become – I waited for him to throw me away as far as he would get a good look at my ugliness. However, Optimus didn't seem disgusted with me at all.

- Did someone offend you? - The mech asked again with the same sincere tenderness in his tone.

I shook my head negatively.

- Is it something in your body?

I closed my face with both hands and shook the head even more violently, crooking.

- No...

- And what’s about your soul?..

I sniffed silently; choking sensation dug its claws into my throat as it let out a pathetic "Mm-gm..." and I nodded. Everything in me just fell somewhere down; I felt my poor heart beating hysterically in the stomach. There was a crazy mix of panicking fear and complete indifference. I was trembling, wishing to be left alone. But even more, I wanted to be comforted. I wanted someone to embrace me and whisper soothing words, to say that it was going to be OK, to stroke my hair as if I was just a kid. But wasn't it too much to ask? I didn't dare to believe Optimus would bother himself to spend time with such a puny, pathetic creature.

After this cut through my head, I couldn't keep myself from crying anymore – I literally burst out.

- Hey, look at me, Y/N.

Hesitantly, I obliged. I was ready to see disappointment or distaste, but instead...

- There is nothing to be embarrassed with. Do you want to talk about it?

I wasn't sure if I heard him right. Did he really... worry about me? Of course, as my guardian, he should have, regardless... Wasn't I dreaming?

- W-what d-do you m-mean? – I replied indecisively.

- I thought, perhaps you could share your pain with someone. Sometimes it helps. - A small, understanding smile appeared on his faceplate. - I'm sorry... It hurts my spark to see such precious little thing crying.

I lost my ability to speak for some seconds.

- Does it r-really? W-why?

Prime's eyebrows lifted up in surprise.

- Because you matter. You're my friend, Y/N. Friends help each other, don't they?

His gravely voice had already had its way with me. My shudders calmed down and though my eyes were still wet, I couldn't help but smiled back at him.

- Thank you... for this... But I don't want to talk right now...

- It's absolutely fine...

- ... I'm very, very tired, though. - At the moment I said that, my spine weakened and I collapsed at the flat, warm surface of Optimus' hand.

Something childish, basic, something from the abyss of my wild, subconscious core suddenly arose inside me and escaped my chest with barely audible plead.

- Please... Don't leave me here...

A quiet sigh rambled beside me; my entire figure was washed with warm air of his exhale.

- Don't worry, Y/N. I won't.

His digits closed over my tiny form. I wasn't able to see a thing anymore, but I could say for sure that we moved away from the place.

Quite soon the sounds of Ratchet's work faded away. Optimus opened one of the many electric doors and walked into a somewhat room - I heard a soft "whoosh" as the panel shifted back to its place. My guardian set me free on his berth, and only then I understood that we were in his private room. Sitting down beside me, he spoke even gentler than before:

- You are out of energy. And so do I. But still, I don't want you to stay alone...

Do you trust me?

I nod, already predicting where he was heading to. Cybotronian friends committed this small ritual with humans regularly; many were fond of it. However, I had never tried it with him. I couldn't claim that I was completely inexperienced too, but those previous times were emergencies which I couldn't truly like – they were harsh and distasteful like a rotten fruit. Now... It promised to be much more intimate. And it depended only on my wish.

I glanced at him through my eyelashes - I was too sleepy to keep the eyes wide open - and murmured:

- I do.

Optimus nodded. I was lifted up again - straight to his mouth.

Slowly, controlling every his movement, my guardian guided me inside his maw and laid my feet on his squishy glossa - there was a faint blue light twinkling at the back of his depthless throat illuminating a humid, warm chamber. Thanks to him I didn't even touch the sharp dents – their deadly blades loomed right above me, but stayed harmless, serving simply a reminder of what power Optimus actually had over me. The glossa curled around my legs as soft, thick blanket, then released them and I was pushed further to the glowing entrance of the esophagus.

I stared down, processing what was about to happen. I appreciated the leisure pace Optimus chose with me; his gentle licks and steady, rhythmical ventilating brought me nothing but comfort and peace. I sensed my toes in his pharynx and waited for inevitable with dull thrill - to be unceremoniously drugged into misty, humid confines of the muscles’ trap, to be deafed and choked. That what I was usually met with before, every time I was gulped down. However, when Optimus swallowed, his artificial, metal flesh contracted just slightly, pulling me so carefully inside that I almost missed the moment. It was like... A hug. The next swallow was just a little bit stronger - I gasped as he let his hand go off me and my tiny being got engulfed into his soft throat. It felt better than anything I knew before. Surrounded by the pulsing alien flesh, I finally felt protected and loved – the state I sought for so desperately all that fuckin’ day.

For some time he just held me there, his head titled back. I didn't make a move, trying to avoid hurting him. Living heat of his soaked into my bones and made me so drowsy that I thought I would fall asleep. However, at that moment the muscles came to action and lovingly tugged me deeper. The light grew brighter, though it didn't bother me at all; I was easily slipping in a long wiry tube constructed from the smaller ones, thinner and more solid, poured with viscous, bubbling energon – I was watching little sparks floating in there as I was passing by and a weak flame of forgotten happiness flickered in my soul once more.

Finally, I arrived at his fueltank. Its walls greeted me with a friendly squeeze, forcing me to curl into fetal position. I didn't cry anymore; all my worries and demons disappeared long ago, at the second I heard: "How do you feel, little one?"

God! I was so horribly wrong. I thought no one needed me, that I was lost, abandoned... And still, there was someone who couldn't bare me cry.

I felt Optimus' servo laying down on the lump I must have made on his waist, caressing me. I rubbed my head against the spot where I could recognize the pressure and smiled.

I did matter.

#soft vore #extreme cuddling #safe vore #transformers vore #transvoremers #willing pred #willing prey #tfp vore #optimus prime vore #hurt/comfort #comfort vore #angst #vore angst

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swampstew · 7 months

Text

Killer, I-22 ~ partner sharing

Summary: You thought you knew a thing or two about folklore and mythological creatures. What you didn’t know was how DIVERSE the world of monsters and magic really is. When you came across what you thought was a Kelpie ended up being something much more dangerous. And he brought a friend.

Warnings: Gore, bit of coercion if you squint, partner sharing kink with Female Reader, double penetration, anal and vaginal sex, oral (Killer receiving), I guess technically vore since they're monsters? bloody ending. Dead Dove I fucking guess Word Count: 1.3K

When you landed in Scotland, a trip you’d planned for a year with a group of friends who all bailed last minute, you were kind of excited to do a solo adventure. You were with a tour group for most of the trip with evenings and weekends to yourself – and you had two weeks to make the most of it.

You explored historical ruins, mythical sites from the stories of the Ulster Cycle, you paid respects to the places of spiritual importance and graves of those who lost their lives in the war of life through the years of Man discovering himself and the World around him.

Having so much fun that you found yourself almost bummed you had to leave in two days. You loved the country so much you could genuinely see yourself living there. The last few days were your own to enjoy and you explored the local beaches as the weather was just perfect to enjoy a late afternoon stroll. Until you ran into…Him.

He was nothing short of beautiful, with long, blonde hair that flowed with the sea breeze as it brought a chill to your skin. He was tall and muscular, with one scarred arm that he used to wave at you. Calling you over, asking if you needed someone to walk you back to town. His piercing blue eyes watched you through a curtain of bangs, and his mouth was covered with what looked like…seaweed?

It was and he brushed it off with a laugh. He had taken a nap on the beach and his friend ditched him, playing a prank or something. Brash, hoarse laughter rang out behind you scaring you out of your skin. A massive man, taller than the blonde and significantly wider by the sheer size of his bulging muscles protruding from his frame.

The friend. Who brought a backpack full of beer and sandwiches, hanging off his only remaining arm. Killer and Kid were their names, best friends for several lifetimes they claimed. Both dangerously handsome even with all the heavy scarring, flirting heavily, and you couldn’t help but feel the promise of pleasure tickle your belly.

To be honest, you hadn’t so much as thought about hooking up with anyone on the trip, and it was going to be over soon. It was so very easy for them to convince you to join them for the bonfire they planned to build. Easier even to smoothly persuade you into a game of truth or dare. A game that started and ended rather quickly.

Before long you were in Killer’s lap, grinding against the bulge in his pants while his tongue fucked your mouth. You moaned as his stiff cock hit your clit, more so when Kid grabbed you from behind and pushed your hips down to rub even harder against Killer. Kid kissed and sucked your neck, leaving behind red smears and love bites on your exposed skin. You could feel the hardness of his erection pressing against your ass as he bucked his hips into you from behind.

“Fuckin wait your turn,” Killer growled, almost tumbling backwards from Kid’s aggressive thrusting.

“Shaddup,” Kid grumbled, tugging down on your pants from behind.

Killer grabbed you with both arms and flipped you over until you were underneath him on the sand. You let out a squeak as he pressed himself into you and flicked your lips with his tongue, spreading your legs with his knee.

“W-wa-wait!” you finally manage to gasp out. Both men pulled back, waiting for your to speak. “I-uhm-I think I’d like both of you,” you struggle to say without feeling embarrassed.

With a gin on his face, Kid licked his lips, “You picked a naughty one, Kill. I like her. She’s…tasty.”

Killer nodded, “Aye me too. Ok, we can do that lass. But I get the first bite.”

You giggled as the men positioned themselves – Killer in front of you, Kid behind you. They ripped your clothes off with reckless abandon and you found yourself too high on the rush of lust to care at the moment. They were both naked and glorious. Well-built, chiseled, endowed with gifts between their legs.

Strangled moans were ripped from your throat as they took you at the same time. Killer’s cock deep in your throat as you drooled and sucked him; Kid roughly thrusting in and out of your pussy, the squelching loud and unashamed as they both fucked you like a cock sleeve between them. The took turns meanly pinching your nipples, flicking your clit, biting your skin, and grabbing at your flesh hard enough to bruise.

But it felt so fucking good. The orgasms they gave you were unlike anything you felt before, with any partner you’ve ever had. And they just kept going. Stamina like wild horses as they took turns defiling your holes, treating you like a good little fuck toy. You came so much you lost track of how many times your body shuddered in pleasure as they played with you.

The bonfire nearly dead, and the moon fully out, the men became wilder as they neared their end. Neither having cum even once as they focused on you first. You straddled Killer’s hips as he bucked into you harshly, holding your hips firmly against his so you couldn’t move beyond muscle twitching. Kid’s cock bullied into your asshole, his grunts becoming louder and huskier. Covered in sweat, spit, tears, and your own cream – you felt sticky and dirty but exhilarated.

Kid’s hand grabbed the back of your head and pushed you down to lay your chest against Killer’s. Tightly sandwiched between the two, they worked together to keep you in place and so very still as they tripled their pace of fucking their cocks into you. With a crying wail, you came a final time, pussy clamping on Killer’s cock as he released inside you with a choked gasp. Kid came last, slamming his hips hard enough into you to make you dizzy, his seed shot out into your cavern, still shooting as he pulled out and pumped his cock, the last of cum spurting messily on your back. Killer’s cum leaked from between your legs.

Sticky, so so sticky.

Until you realized you were literally stuck to Killer.

“H-hey! Why can’t I -urgh- get up?” you complained as you tried to push Kid off your back, finding your sweaty skin impossibly stuck to Killer’s body. How was that possible? Sweat should make you slide off, not stick together…

It was then you noticed that there was an alarming amount of seaweed tangled in Killer’s hair. And Kid’s head. How hadn’t you noticed that before?

“Well, this has been fun but I’m fucking starving. How about you Kill?”

“Ravenous. I could go for a meal. And lucky for us, she’s the perfect serving size.”

Both men leered at you and for the first time, you felt afraid. Their handsome visages slowly melted away until you looked on in horror at the horse like features they wore.

“K-KELPIES?! HOW? I’m not near the rivers!” You screamed, trying to wriggle away from them but it was no use. Your naked body was fully stuck to Killer, as if his skin had an adhesive property to it from the sweating.

Kid clicked his tongue, “Damn tourists, think they know everything.”

Killer let out a dark chuckle, “We’re not Kelpies, little thing. We’re Each-Uisge. Unlike Kelpies, our domain is the sea. And you’ve worked up quite an appetite for us. What do you say, buddy? Let’s split our meal?”

Kid high-fived him, “Always. Love it when our dinner lets us fuck them stupid.”

Your screams went ignored as the monsters dragged you into the sea. Their teeth growing menacing and sharp, they pulled you deep under the water and began tearing chunks of your flesh. The dark water turned a reddish hue under the moonlight as the water ripples faded away.

It was quiet and peaceful out on the loch once more – until a disturbance from the water’s edge popped up to reveal a human liver floating on the surface.

24 tiles to go, 4 calls made so far.

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willingcannibalvictim · 1 month

Text

”i like the box! it makes me feel safe!”

the box in question:

lmao rvb vore go brrrr

#felix arts stuff #red vores blue #i love u tucker <3 #best character #drew this in like 5 minutes

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gothimp · 2 months

Text

Character Associations

rules: post 5 songs associated with your OC, followed by 3 outfits they would wear.

tagged by -> @carlosoliveiraa + @shellibisshe ty!!!

tagging (no pressure 🩵) -> @feykiller @mapeslyrup @estevnys @acealistair @aelyosos @thenightsong @clusterfxckedbysirens @devilbrakers @katsigian @rindemption @leopardmuffinxo @rosenfey + anyone else seeing this 🫶

Orgasm of Death - The Growlers

Waiting for sweet life

To break our bloodied backs

Vices squeeze us til we’re blue

Me and you

Man You’re Wrong - Demob Happy

Come down that horse looks high

Knocked up on dreams and red wine

Maybe you’re something that I missed

Vore - Sleep Token

Follow me between the jaws of fate

So I can have you to myself for once

Medusa in Chains - The Fratellis

Before this whole thing began

I had some sense of pride

Just one more night with your lips

Your company is hard to eclipse

It Will Come Back - Hozier

I know who I am when I’m alone

I’m something else when I see you

You don’t understand, you should never know

How easy you are to need

#oc: lorcan #tag games #i was gonna do this for viola too but this got kinda long lol #might make a second post

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safety-writes-noms · 2 months

Text

Blank Eyes

Summary; Miguel and you are separated after a mission gone wrong. You go looking for him… only to find him in an odd state.

This is a short story with vore in it!! It is sfw and nonsexual so if you don’t like that, don’t read!

Tw; there’s some fear play in this one but still all safe. There’s also some descriptions of blood and violence :D

—

The first thing you register is the crushing pressure over your chest, Your head is spinning and aching with a fury, sharp pain lancing down your side every time you try to breathe. Your hands scrabble at the hard edge of the thing holding you down, finding purchase and pushing.

Your arms tremble and your palms are tacky with blood – but you manage to shift the massive slab of concrete off of your body, and roll out from under. The second you let go, the thing crashes into the ground with a massive plume of dust.

For a moment, you have no idea where you are and how you got here before your memory revives itself with a sickening flash. The mission. The explosion. The shadow falling over you as debris rained down from above, the sickening jolt of pain – then darkness.

Your ribs have to be at least fractured judging by the ache nestled in your chest, you definitely have a bad sprain in your left ankle, and overall, you feel like all of your body is just one massive bruise. Everything hurts like hell, and you take a second to catch your breath and prepare yourself.

“Okay – okay, come on,” You mutter, taking a fortifying breath, “You’ve got this – you totally got this.”

You delicately push yourself upwards, ignoring the concerning tightness in your chest accompanied by aching agony, struggling to your feet with difficulty. Your ribs practically sear with pain at the movement and you pray that they're not broken.

You check your wrist, wincing at the cracked watch strapped over it — when you try to turn it on, it fizzles pathetically before the screen goes dark with only occasional glitches of light. Still, you should at least try to get a message out.

“Hello? Uh. Can anyone hear me?” You ask, fiddling with the dial on the side of the watch as you try to get out a signal. The dial promptly pops off the damn watch and clicks as it bounces on concrete, disappearing into the debris coating the ground. You gape in disbelief. Miguel is totally going to give you shit for that.

Miguel.

He was closer to the explosion — there’s no way he didn’t get buried under the rubble too or at least somewhat injured. Something cold and frigid burns into your organs and you look around, searching for a glimmer of neon red or dark blue. It’s too dark in the partially crumbled parking lot to see much. It’s massive, compared to you and you silently curse this dimension’s — well, dimensions. It just had to be one of those giant ones, didn’t it?

Either way, you decide to look at the bright side: You’re not dead (yet). Hooray! And Miguel is too stubborn to die too, you reassure yourself. There’s no way he’d kick the bucket from a measly bomb.

You limp along, carefully stepping around bits of debris and rubble littering the floor, waving away the thick dust permeating the air. You’re thankful that this area is abandoned — you don’t need civvies to make things harder.

“Miguel? Boss? You there?” You call out, cupping a hand to your mouth. No answer. You frown. He has to be here somewhere. You duck around humongous support pillars holding up what’s left of the second, third, and other floors up above. There isn’t much, but there’s still some.

You scout out the bottom floor, finding nothing but more cracked infrastructure. It takes you a while with your injured ankle and throbbing abdomen, but you manage it, coming up disappointingly fruitless. How does one lose a 6’9 man with shoulders the length of a football field? Easily, you find out with annoyance.

He’s wearing a neon suit brighter than Las Vegas. It really shouldn’t be this hard but it is.

However, you do find traces of bright crimson webbing, strung up messily. Erratically. Normally, Miguel is knife-precise with his webbing but you’re more focused on the fact that you found traces of him to really think about that. You also find deep claw marks from where he had probably dug himself out of. Awesome. That means he’s not collapsed in a pool of his own blood somewhere. All good signs.

Unfortunately, as you follow the trail of webbing up, he’s climbed up to the second floor and is somewhere up there in the ruins. Is he looking for you? You had been on the second floor when the explosion went off initially, only to be knocked all the way down. That’s a little weird — you thought he would’ve taken a more methodical approach of searching all of floor one before moving on, but you dismiss it.

Half the time, you have no idea what he’s doing anyways. It’s probably not that important, and you now have a cookie crumb trail leading you straight to the big boss himself. You plaster your palms to one of the support beams, hissing in pain as the scraped skin meets cool concrete, but you force yourself to climb anyways. Your hands ache, and you’re going at the pace of a snail, but at long last you manage to make it up there with some help from your webs.

From there, you just follow the geometrical lines of Miguel’s webs, rounding corners and avoiding chunks of concrete and various pieces of rubble. It’s darker here, and the only sources of light are the neon webs glowing dimly from where they’re splattered randomly upon surfaces.

Your healing factor must’ve kicked in by now, since the pain in your ankle is lessening — if not incredibly slowly. You’re able to put a tiny bit more pressure on it as you walk on, periodically calling out for Miguel.

There’s no answer.

You don’t let it get to you. And you do find Miguel, once you slip under a fallen pillar and see — a massive figure hunched over in a corner, suspended in a nest of crimson webbing. You mutter a curse, squinting up at him. He’s not moving and other than the occasional rattling hiss of breath, it’s utterly silent. You find your heart starting to constrict on itself. A fear response. Why? Miguel isn’t a threat. He’s fine.

Why do you feel like this? There’s an impending sense of danger shrieking in your head but maybe your senses are just .. off. You swallow a bit nervously before clearing your throat loudly.

“Miguel! I’ve been looking for you — you okay?” You ask, forcing your irrational fear down. He moves then, his huge frame tensing as he turns around, his eyes eerily blank. Jeez, his pupils are massive and his hair is all messy, errant strands flicking in front of his face as he stares down at you. “Hey, big guy.” You try for a smile, ignoring the way your voice goes high at the end.

He clambers down from the web slowly on all fours, his eyes completely fixed on you and nothing else. He’s moving pretty gingerly and you spot a couple of lacerations and possibly some broken bones as he moves. Not the best, but you’re mainly just glad he’s fine. Miguel’s nostrils flare, and he opens his mouth slightly, inhaling slowly. He’s acting weird. Really freaking weird.

“Miguel? What’s up with you?” You retreat a step. He advances a step, and you can see him bare fangs, the sharp points glimmering in the dark.

That’s your only warning before he lunges, his huge body moving scarily quick as you throw yourself to the side, narrowly missing the outstretched talons. Your pulse is thrumming in your ears as you gasp, eyes wide as saucers.

“Miguel — its me! Miguel —!” You shout, only to be cut off as he lowers himself to the ground again, reminiscent of a hunter’s crouch. You can’t see anything but Miguel’s eyes and you can’t quite strangle the scream of fear as one gigantic hand reaches out lightning quick and wraps around you. His talons retreat back into the pads of his fingers, and while his hold is surprisingly gentle, you’re still completely unnerved by the way he’s acting. You stay completely still as he raises you up to his face — and he inhales.

His brows twitch into a frown and he sits back on his haunches, using his other hand to carefully examine your hands, his eyes tracking over all the various bruises and scrapes spread over your body. The frown only deepens when he glances at your ankle. He’s still being oddly silent, and while you’re grateful he’s not being hostile, you still have no idea what’s going on. He tilts his head. Examining you with laser sharp focus.

Then he opens his mouth — and you freeze up as you stare down the dimly illuminated maw, the plush flesh shifting and dimly, you realize you’re being lowered down toward the abyss. Saliva pools inside Miguel’s mouth in preparation and the warmth of his breath washes over you. For a second, you can imagine it. The sensation of slime soaked into your body, the visceral click of teeth sealing you away, the suffocating vice of being squeezed down that powerful throat, never to be seen again — no.

You refuse. This isn’t how it ends. It can’t be.

You snap out of your daze and throw out a massive amount of web, hitting him square in the eyes with a panicked flurry. Miguel jolts back with a loud snarl immediately, dropping you to tear at the thick coating over his vision, talons sinking into the web viciously.

You can’t help but scream as you land on your ankle with a sickening crack— holy fucking goddamn shiiit, if it wasn’t broken before, it definitely is now. You glance up at Miguel — still trying to take off the thick webbing — and hobble away, dragging yourself with heaving breaths. Farther, faster.

You have to breathe through the stars burning across your vision as you search for something to help. Anything. You used the last of the webbing in your canisters on blinding Miguel so now, it’s just you. Everything is hurting and you can barely see straight as you get as far as you can and crawl into a tiny hole barely big enough for your body, a shelter made from rubble and concrete. It’s tight and cramped and you can’t stop your chest from heaving. Tears of pain squeeze out of your eyes and you press a hand over your mouth to muffle any pained sounds that could escape.

There’s a loud ripping sound as Miguel finally tears off the makeshift blindfold with a roar, and you press yourself back against the walls bracketing you in. He’s gone insane. He’s actually crazy. You stifle a hysterical sort of giggle. How the hell is this your fucking life?

There’s a quiet snuffling sound and your blood runs cold as you realize he’s following your scent trail. Plus there’s no way you didn’t leave an incriminating trail of crimson with how you’re injured — he’ll find you. There’s no doubt about it.

Footsteps, nearly silent, pace closer and you hold your breath, willing your heart to stop beating so loud. This is utterly terrifying. Everything is quiet for a moment. You don’t dare make a single sound, and you can’t tell what Miguel is doing at all.

For a moment, you hope that he’s lost interest and moved on. Maybe he’s looking somewhere else. Maybe he’s decided you aren’t worth it as a meal. You pray and you hope against hope. It’s quickly dashed as one bright crimson eye fills your vision as Miguel peers in through the hole, his pupils completely dilated, leaving only a faint ring of red.

You scream as talons pry off the top part of your shelter with apparent ease, stabbing through concrete like butter. You’re too scared to move as his hand shoots out and captures you again. This time he looks distinctly grumpy with you, brows furrowed and mouth set into a down turned line.

He sniffs at you again, somehow looking even more disapproving when he gets to your ankle again, glaring at you like it’s your fault. You can’t help but take mild offense to that.

Miguel delicately plucks off your web shooters and discards them which — hey! Those aren’t cheap to make — before wasting no time and opening his mouth. You barely have time to blink before you’re eased inside his maw carefully, spit immediately covering you in a thick sheen. You splutter, wiping the thick fluid off of your face as warmth soaks you to the bone. His tongue shifts under you only a small amount, only flicking to drench more parts of you in saliva. Miguel makes a satisfied hum, the sound vibrating through your body as he takes you completely into his maw.

Oddly enough, he keeps you far away from any of his pearly incisors, only deciding to make sure you’re covered in slick spit. Once he’s determined you’re ready, he swallows once, dragging your feet toward the yawning abyss of his hungry, twitching throat.

You shriek, trying to cling onto anything as another loud swallow gets you down his throat from your chest down. Your hands grab at his uvula, holding on as tight as you can as you desperately try not to disappear down his ravenous gullet.

Miguel makes an annoyed sound, then you feel everything tighten around your body as he swallows forcefully and your grip on his dangling uvula is lost. You squeeze your eyes shut as he swallows one more time, sending you down his throat — not nearly as crushing as you had imagined, and letting you pool into a more spacious area.

The inside of here is soft and extremely squishy. When you try to brace a hand against the ground, it just sinks into the flesh, plush and malleable. You’re in a shallow puddle of fluid — saliva? Acid? — and while it doesn’t burn, it coats everything. Including you, and you swear, this is the weirdest thing you’ve ever experienced. There’s still fear burning through your veins, and you can’t stop yourself from trembling.

But fuck, you’re so exhausted and it’s so warm here. While the fluid is uncomfortable, it’s nothing against your acute tiredness and you can’t stop yourself from just sinking into the cushy, gurgling walls.

Miguel purrs quietly from outside, retreating back to the web-nest he had created earlier, seemingly satisfied with the little weight inside his gut. He curls up, ignoring the lancing pain from his wounds. He’ll have to explain a whole lot of shit once he returns from this instinctual state but for now, he’s content to curl up, secure and safe.

In the back of his mind, he can register something vaguely sounding like the completely freaked out human side of his brain shrieking it’s head off, but it’s so inconsequential that he finds himself blocking it out lazily. Something about not eating his subordinates…?

Eh. He’ll figure it out when the rest of the spiders come to pick them up. He places a hand over his stomach, massaging it idly.

—

@diningopossum

#safe vore #soft vore #extreme cuddling #sfw vore #nonsexual vore #nonfetish vore #Sw writes fics #s: spidervores #spidervore #spidervores

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smolcinnamonchipmunk · 9 months

Text

To Catch a Grasshopper

(I wholeheartedly blame @a-weird-tiny for this. I showed them Hopper, and she immediately said that she wanted Borrower!Hopper to get in a cat and mouse chase with Miguel for acting like a nuisance (my words)/brat (her words), and she gave me a line that kickstarted this whole thing. Might draw something for it at some point because I now have a new brainrot.

There are now five men in my brain jostling for attention, and it’s getting rowdy. Also, sorry if anything seems OOC for Miguel, I only know what the movie provides which is a grouchy, broody man, though I think I wrote him softer than anything else the fandom has right now. All I know is ‘angry latino/a’ is a stereotype I’m very tired of being taken to the extreme considering I’m Hispanic and, like, being angry isn’t his only personality trait.)

Count: 5758

TW/CW: Soft, safe G/t vore, a bit of fearplay/worry of being killed "You're pouting again."

"I am not," came the gruff answer. Just like they expected from their current companion as Hopper settled on the edge of the console desktop, crossing one leg over the other and using their knee to rest their elbow and perch their chin in hand. Purple faded in their brown eyes as they smirked up at the back of the looming figure leaning over the console on the other side of the platform.

Miguel O’Hara let out a heavy sigh that was more akin to a growl, a rather common greeting he gave them whenever they popped up during work. Then again, they didn’t know where he lived outside of this place, so showing up at his work was the only way they knew to see him without being creepy.

His shoulders slumped slightly with the exhale, muttering something under his breath - likely to brace himself for tolerating their presence - before turning around to look at them. Orange from the console screens around the platform pronounced his facial features, glinting off of his red irises and spidersuit. Which was already glowing in the red parts, so the whole platform was a delight of warm colored neon.

Hopper would have preferred they were cooler colors. The Spiders had blue in their motif, why not use that?

They were still pretty impressed when his eyes almost immediately fell on their sitting form at the edge of the desk. He was a very large man by normal standards, towering over most humans with ease, but he was absolutely massive compared to their diminutive height of three inches. Still, superhuman senses enabled him to easily pinpoint their position. He might not have been brooding, but he had a very naturally tired and brood-y face.

“I’m assuming it’s too much to ask you to leave me alone for the day,” Miguel said tiredly. Already his voice was laced with stress and general grouchiness, but they couldn’t really remember a time he’d greeted them with a wide smile. It wasn’t really his style. Small smiles, occasionally.

To be fair, he was probably the one Spider they liked annoying the most. It was easier than most of the other Spiders, but he also dealt with a whole society of wise-cracking chatterboxes, so he also had a surprising amount of patience with them.

“You assume correctly,” Hopper chirped proudly from their spot, asymmetrical earrings dangling from their proclamation. One was a blue-gemmed planet in a golden hoop, the other a gold star with a blue gem center on a piece of gold chain that dangled it down to their chin. With a mischievous look, their eyes flickered purple and their form wavered with purple sparks, feeling a warm pins-and-needles kind of feeling running through their body. In a blink, they went from sitting at the edge of the console desktop to flickering into existence atop one of the monitors closer to the man, legs and hands on top as they dangled the rest of their body upside down to look at him.

His gaze quickly followed the brief purple flash of their appearance.

“I can’t just leave my very best Spider friend alone with his brooding thoughts,” they added playfully sweetly, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of blood rushing to their head. “Besides, I’ve been gone a week. Can’t say I didn’t give you a break.”

“If only it was longer,” the Spider grumbled, turning away with a proper growl this time. He began to work on the screen he had previously been using, fingers sliding across the orange glow.

“Aw, c’mon,” Hopper said, teleporting to stand on the top of the monitor being used. Almost immediately, Miguel made a lazy attempt to snatch at them, making them teleport to the screen right next to it. This time, they appeared with their hands on their hips with their eyes narrowed at him.

He’d found out pretty quickly when they first met that, frustratingly enough for him, they could teleport too quick to be grabbed. Which was good for them because they had time to iterate that they were VERY fragilè. No superhuman strength or durability to be had here, AND they were tiny in comparison. One overzealous grab could probably kill them.

“And I DON’T brood,” Miguel added with a light glower before lowering the hand that went to grab them back to the screen he was focusing on. His eyes followed suit, trying to return his focus to his previous work.

“I think a bunch of Spiders and I would disagree.”

This close, they could see a small quirk at the corner of his lip as he replied, “Just because you and a few other Spidermen think I brood doesn’t mean you’re right.”

Hopper stood waiting for him to continue, but he didn’t elaborate or tack anything on, making them groan a bit in irritation. They teleported back onto the monitor he was using and he didn’t move to snap at them or grab them again. He seemed rather intent on ignoring them. With a huff, they spread their arms out and said, “C’mon, man. I dimension-hopped here. OBVIOUSLY. I don’t wanna go home and basically tire myself out for nothing!"

"Then go bother someone else to pass the time, I’m busy."

They frowned at the rather reasonable response, defiantly declaring, "I don't want to. And when AREN’T you busy?"

They felt a bit of satisfaction as he closed his eyes for a second and frowned. They thought he had anger issues. He did, maybe, but they definitely didn't help. But, if they left him alone, he would just stand here, brood, and bury himself in his missions and self-appointed job. He was a chill guy but they worried about him self-destructing sometimes in his work, even if their version of worrying and action was trying to get under his skin to distract him from everything else.

That, and Hopper - despite enjoying the sense of humor and more upbeat nature of the other spiders - found them to be easily overwhelming and loud in their own ways, so they felt like they'd be drained quickly. One on one was fine depending on the Spider, but this was literally a SPIDER HUB. The chances of finding many Spiders on their own was slim, and slimmer still was finding a Spider they liked or gathering the nerves to introduce themself to an unfamiliar Spider. Jess was fun, but she was usually out as well, either on mission or home. All the Spiders came and went.

Except Miguel, sometimes. Maybe he lives here, they didn’t know.

He wasn't exactly the friendliest, or most fun-loving, and he was fucking TERRIFYING when he yelled or got too stressed (they teleported out of the room the few times he'd snapped at them), but he was here the most often, was usually pretty quiet, and was alone with manager-y kind of stuff, except like a weird Spider crime department that specialized in dimensional stuff.

"Have you talked to the Therapist Spider yet," Hopper asked without any snark or provocative inflection, sitting down and absentmindedly kicking their feet lightly. Their legs probably barely blocked any of the screen, but it was enough to draw his attention when he opened his eyes once more.

"No, and I don't need to. You're worse than LYLA about asking that."

"Well, I still say you should go talk to him. Just once, at least! Everyone needs therapy, you Spiders especially. Or, I don't know, get a hobby," they suggested, not for the first time. They knew that LYLA made similar comments, but Miguel wasn't in charge of Hopper.

They shifted so that they laid on top of the monitor, raising their wrist above them to watch their bracelet beads sway slightly and glint in the orange light. It wasn't very comfortable since the monitors were pretty thin, but they didn't care too much. They huffed and added, "You're going to make yourself insane by just doing this all day. I'm bored to tears just watching."

"Then go home," Miguel suggested back. “Besides, I’m too busy for hobbies. Or, small annoyances trying to distract me from, again, working.”

Alarmingly, the monitor they were laying on and the one he was using was suddenly jerked to the side, causing them to jolt off the side with a panicked yelp. Instinctively their body kickstarted a teleport, body flickering purple before they appeared at the console desktop. Their instincts made them materialize upside-down, using the momentum from their fall to 'fall' upwards into a standing position that had them flailing their arms for a second to avoid falling on their back anyways. They stood there frozen for a second from the brief fright, looking up to see Miguel chuckle a bit as he fixed the monitor back in place and continued.

"YOU MOTHERFUCKER," they hissed as they teleported back up to the top of the monitor, but there was a smile playing at the corners of their lips. "Not fair that you can just knock me off my perch! I'm wasting my Hops here, man."

"Not fair that you can teleport yourself unilaterally transdimensionally and transspacially out of reach and consequences while you sit there and distract me from my work," he replied. He still seemed stressed and grouchy, but there was the barest of difference from before, the slightest amount of loosening up. “Now, cállate.”

"First of all, they're not transdimensional or whatever transports, they're HOPS," Hopper stressed the rather simple word compared to his complicating ones, resettling on top of the monitor as they ignored him telling them to be quiet. This time they didn't lay down, just sitting up and keeping an eye on his hands in case he wanted to be a funny guy again. "And secondly, you're ALWAYS working. It's not healthy, you know."

They were one to talk considering their horrid life habits, but Miguel didn't need to know about any of that.

"If I don't keep charge, who will," Miguel scoffed a little, though they knew he had no ill will towards the other Spiders. He just wanted to take the brunt of everything for everyone.

Hopper realized this was one of the few times his wristwatch-machine-thing wasn't going off every minute or so, but glancing down at the screen showed that he was still monitoring and directing Spider traffic and tasks with nimble fingers.

"What about Jess? Or the black and white monochrome Spider? He seems broody and serious enough for it," they suggested, looking back up at him. His gaze didn't waver from the monitor. "Just for, like, five minutes. C'mon, we go get some tea, or I'm guessing some form of Monster energy in your case since I've never seen you sleep. What’s a monster to a Spider? Praying Mantis?"

"That's a negative, I don't brood, and I’m questioning whether or not you’re a Spider-person with how much you talk my ear off," he said, flicking through pieces of programming that was cleverly styled around this whole webbing deal the Spiders had.

"Sure ya don't," they said dismissively, ignoring most of his statement and starting to develop an idea. A probably very horrible idea that would almost definitely make him irritated at least and furious at worse. But, he was a good guy, even if his attitude suggested otherwise sometimes. They trusted him to not hurt them. "It's just five minutes. Anyways, any big quantum whatsits right now? Influxes? Anomalies? Anomalies. Big Spider Emergency stuff."

Miguel looked surprised at their question since they usually tried to take his mind OFF of his work, not ask about it unless it was after he went out himself. He thought for a second, probably wondering their reason for asking, before he replied, "We had a couple incidents this morning, but they were taken care of pretty quickly. The timelines seem stable for now, but it could change any moment."

"How long?"

"Huh?" The Spider quirked a confused eyebrow at them.

“How long have they been stable?” Hopper clarified, watching the confusion dissipate from Miguel’s face as they did so. While he thought, they teleported to the surface of the console desktop, waiting patiently for the moment or so it took for him to answer.

“Few hours, maybe. It’s always calmer after an influx. Why?” he asked, following them to their spot on the desk with curiosity and suspicion.

“Because-,” a mischievous smile spread across their face as they casually walked over to where his Goober-Gizmo-Computer-Key thing was halfway stuck out of the console. As they placed a hand on it they saw his eyes widen slightly as he realized what they were doing. A flash of red-blue came towards them as he quickly went to grab them, but they already flickered out of reach, computer key and all. They appeared on the console at the other end of the platform while he whirled around to see where they went, leaning a little on the little device-thing that was two-thirds their height. They opened their mouth to continue but he lunged towards them.

“Hopper!” Miguel snapped as they teleported out of reach back to the other side, spinning back to face them with a scowl. His tone was warning like someone prepared to scold a pet or child. “Drop it.”

“Iiif you’ll let me finish,” Hopper replied, feigning disinterest by looking at their nails. They heard him sigh heavily, seeing him cross his arms over his chest in their peripherals.

“Alright, fine. Finish.” he said gruffly.

“Thank you,” they chirped, perking up and looking back up at the man, keeping at least one hand on the key at all times. Clearing their throat, they started again. “Anyways. BECAUSE. If things are settled right now, then that totally means you can take a five minute break with me.”

“No can do,” Miguel quickly cut them off, shifting to hold out his hand palm up rather than attempt to grab them again. “Give the Goober back, Hopper.”

“Only if you take five minutes to just chill. You’ve still got your wristwatch that the others can contact if something happens and all of you guys are capable of handling yourselves, even if some of the Spiders are goofy as hell,” Hopper hummed, watching his frown deepen at their blatant refusal to comply. Teleporting to the edge of the platform, they added, “Or, you know, I guess we could spend five minutes with me playing Keep Away. Just make sure you put a timer on. I feel like you’ll die if you have even one second of rest or fun more than that.” “Haha. Funny,” he laughed sarcastically, though his expression looked far from amused right now. With a grumble, he turned and paced a little on the platform, pinching the bridge of his nose and muttering under his breath. After a few seconds of Hopper waiting patiently, he stopped. He looked almost surprised at a sudden thought, turning to look at them. "If I indulge you in your little game of Keep Away, you'll be satisfied giving the Goober back and not causing trouble?"

"Just call it a computer key. And, cross my heart and hope to die. Though, you know, kind of don't want that to happen," Hopper made the X over their heart, feeling a sense of elation at having him even actually consider their proposition. They did wonder why he'd choose a game rather than just relaxing.

"Don't worry. You won't," Miguel replied, rolling his neck and shoulders. Suddenly, Hopper didn't feel very confident in their decisions for the day.

"Oh, uh, are we, like, starting now," they asked dumbly, having not really expected him to accept any of this. They didn't really think this far ahead.

"You're the one that suggested this. Though, if you want, I can give you a second to get ready since I’m not going easy on you, kid.”

Ignoring the fact that he called them ‘kid’ despite them being a full-grown adult, they felt a little better at the thought of being able to collect and prepare themself mentally, saying, “I’d appreciate that very much, thank you.”

“Alright,” Miguel nodded amicably and looked off to the side. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked like he was going to wait patiently. That lasted maybe a moment before his head whipped back towards them with narrowed eyes that glinted with his own slight mischievousness. “One.”

Hopper wasn’t even given a moment to process the brief confusion, eyes widening as the man lunged towards their spot at the edge of the platform with outstretched hands. With a yelp, their body quickly moved into a teleport, barely remembering to keep holding onto the computer key and spread the teleportation to it. Back on top of the console desktop, they took a second to register what happened, Miguel standing up from where they had been standing. Despite literally asking for this whole game, they couldn’t help but exclaim, “What the fuck, Miguel?!”

“What?” he asked, straightening up. His face was now covered by his mask, but his voice had a tinge of amusement to it as he looked back at them. He lunged towards them again, forcing them to teleport to a monitor with another yelp. “I asked if you wanted a second, I gave you a second.” “Oh, NOW you’re a funny guy like the rest of the Spiders?” Hopper asked, smiling now that the initial shock was over. They could feel a bit of giddiness from adrenaline. They laughed and teleported off the platform to the metal arm thing in the room below when he made to grab them again. They shifted their grip on the computer key, looping their arm through the metal ring on top to lessen the chance of losing it as they shouted up, “Does that mean you’re not brooding for five minutes?”

“I like that you think it’ll take that long to catch you,” Miguel replied, leaping off the platform and using a laser-web to pull himself towards them with his claws out. “I like that you think you CAN catch me,” Hopper laughed, teleporting to the ground and then further down the hall when he pounced towards their position almost immediately. “Didn’t we establish pretty early on that I’ll just teleport away even if you manage to touch me?”

“Call it a hunch that I think this time’ll be different.” “I’d ask if it was Spider-sense, but you don’t have that so I’m just gonna say it’s your massive ego that makes you think that,” they continued to teleport around the hall and equipment, having to move quickly because they were barely given a second of reprieve before there was a flash of blue-red in the corner of their vision that had them whisking away out of reach. They felt a slight ache in their chest from teleporting so quickly around, but they ignored it in favor of trying a larger jump to the end of the hall to try and catch their breath for a second.

After all, they were basically compressing their entire body and molecules - and the computer key’s - out of physical existence and back in. They were essentially holding their breath and stopping their heart for brief moments of time, and their body was currently not liking it happening so much.

“I think your hubris is going to be your downfall,” Miguel shouted, seeing them at the end of the hall. This far away, they were given a few seconds to see how terrifying it was to actually be in place of a pseudo-villain, seeing his claws gouge into the metal ground like it was paper and him literally claw and pounce towards them. They were definitely realizing why the fuck he was so buff compared to some of the other Spiders. A laser-web shot towards them and they were gone again.

“I think my hubris is likely to kill me, yes,” Hopper maintained their air of nonchalance, far too into this game to let a bit of tiredness or any aching distract them. When was the last time they played a game? Or basically played tag? When was Miguel’s? Popping up on a structure higher on a wall between some equipment. They thought they were getting closer to the Anomaly room. If they could get in one of the cages, he’d have to talk to LYLA, who they hoped would side with them.

Teleporting away from his claws again, they added, “I don’t think your name is Hubris though, so I think I’m good either way.”

“Maybe I’ll get a name change then,” he said. When they popped back on the ground with the intent to go to the Anomaly room, he overshot and dropped down right in front of them, making them yelp and teleport backward at how close he’d landed. He was starting to try and predict their movements, and unnervingly well.

As they teleported again away, he shouted after them, “And stop teleporting away-” another unsuccessful pounce to them, “- or hopping around like a-a-,” he struck a wall as he rounded a corner and tried to laser-web them again, “- a GRASSHOPPER or something!” “I’m not-not a grasshopper.” Hopper replied, mildly offended at the nickname and struggling to not pant as they teleported onto another shelf of equipment. They weren’t sure if he heard the way their voice kind of wavered tiredly but he didn’t let up regardless. They were unused to the strain in their chest, finding it more difficult to ignore as time went on. “Tell you what,” Miguel didn’t sound winded at all as he lunged again, though he was used to actual fieldwork like the rest of the Spiders while Hopper hadn’t really tried to test their teleportation limits. “You give me back the Goober, I don’t call you a grasshopper.” “No dice,” they teleported to the other end of a different hall, hoping to double-back on him without him predicting it. They huffed a bit quietly, trying to take in a full breath against the stitch developing in their side. “You’ll just take it and keep calling me grasshopper. But that’s fine anyways because it doesn’t bother me.”

It did, it really did, but they couldn’t let him know that because it would only encourage it.

“Fair assessment, but wrong. Now I just get to call you a grasshopper, which fits because you KEEP EVADING ME,” he growled as he landed where they had been standing. “Quédate quieto, you nuisance!”

They teleported on top of a light fixture to look down at him, ignoring the fact that everytime he landed it was with enough force to DENT the ground. Instead, they ignored the way their heart raced and panting breaths, asking, “Have you ever tried catching a grasshopper?”

“I’m trying right now!”

“Haha, funny,” they teleported away again, closing their eyes against a twinge of pain in their chest, for a moment, having to teleport again to avoid red-glowing claws with a panicked yelp. Was it just them or was that teleport a little delayed? “I meant ACTUAL grasshoppers. They’re pretty easy to catch once you know what to do. Like a cup or something.”

Hopper worriedly began to realize that their breathing was becoming more labored as well, pauses between sentences increasing noticeably. There was no way he didn’t notice that, at least.

“Really? Thanks for the tip.” Miguel said, eliciting another exclamation as they were forced to teleport away again.

They didn’t say anything in response to the Spider, their attention turning strictly to avoiding having the entire weight of the man come crashing on top of them, avoiding claws that still dug into the metal terrifyingly close to them and trying to speed up their teleporting back to normal standard as they felt themself begin to falter while the pain and ache in their chest increased. With a laborious huff, they teleported across the room again, starting to feel like they were physically and bodily chucking themself and the computer key around.

“What’s wrong, Hopper?” the Spider still didn’t relent in the chase, pouncing and barely missing them once more as he taunted them. “You’ve gone quiet. Almost like you’re getting tired. We can stop whenever, you just gotta drop the Goober.”

“FUCK YOU,” Hopper snapped on instincts, letting out a heavy pant when they popped back up before teleporting away again at the sight of more claws. They felt stubbornness fueled by spite, forcing themself to continue. “I’m not-not tired, a-asshole! Maybe I don’t feel like talking!”

“You? Not feeling like talking?” Miguel asked, laughing as he swung from a web to where they attempted to take refuge on some kind of equipment that flashed and hummed like many of the items in the Spider-Hub. He landed lightly as they disappeared again. “That’s more improbable than space-time just fixing itself on its own.”

“It-It happens,” they protested defensively, not wanting to admit that they were being worn down as they wavered back into existence with the computer key. Seeing him immediately face them, again, they teleported back towards his platform room, wondering if they could seek refuge in a dark corner or something. They doubted it, but maybe. But, as they flickered out in their teleport it felt sluggish and painful, barely managing to wrench their molecules away.

Hopper reappeared on the floor beside the wall, not quite where they wanted, and had to gasp for a second past the pain before forcing themself to teleport again. This time, when they reappeared, their vision remained staticky for a second before it cleared enough to allow them a pretty good view of Miguel coming towards them a Mach 5 with a claw outstretched.

They couldn’t help but exclaim in panic, trying to teleport out of the way. But, the only thing they managed was a painful purple staticky-glitchy effect that brought to mind the Anomalies that the Spiders were catching, a flash of white-hot pain traveling through their chest briefly.

This was it, they thought, I’m about to fucking die because I really fucked around and found out, huh?

They couldn’t make themself look away, staring at their imminent death with paralyzing fear, watching the red claws draw closer both in an instant and horrifyingly slowly as their mind took in everything. The claws sunk into the metal around them and they didn’t even realize that they WEREN’T being crushed until Miguel spoke up in the same instant the claws caged around them..

“Te pillé!” he proclaimed triumphantly, barely letting out a huff from the entire chase. The eye-shapes on his mask widened from the focused narrowed eye-shapes to normal. It was still weird how expressive all the masks were. “You good, kid?” Hopper didn’t say anything at first, still wondering how the hell they were even alive. They blinked in surprise, their heart racing in their chest and breath laborious and shallow as they VERY slowly realized they weren’t in danger and began to calm. They noticed belatedly that they had a good inch and a half between their chest and the surface of his palm, not exactly in danger but still far too close for comfort after seeing him barreling towards them.

“I-I’m good,” they answered stiffly, voice cracking a bit from the scare. They took a steadying breath, wincing as it worsened the painful stitches in their sides, but they were fine overall. Just exhausted, a bit adrenaline-filled, and feeling aches already begin to settle.

“Good. I’ll take that then,” Miguel said, pulling his claws out from the metal wall and floor, carefully plucking them off the floor by the back of their jacket in his claws - making them yelp out in protest - and separating them from the computer key. He closed his fingers around the computer key deftly. They noticed the way his claws retreated into the tips of his fingers as he added nonchalantly, “You were right.”

“Huh?” Hopper frowned in confusion, more concerned with the fading ache in their chest. Looking at the eyeshapes of his mask, they asked tiredly, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You said it’d be pretty easy to catch a grasshopper when I knew what to do,” he replied, mask dissipating to allow them to see his small smug expression, making them scowl immediately. “And it was. You were so sure of yourself, too.”

“I meant ACTUAL GRASSHOPPERS, and you DON’T NEED TO RUB IT IN,” they huffed, still panting a little.

“Yes, well, now you’re just a little grasshopper who can’t hop around anymore,” Miguel said. He lifted them up higher, which they didn’t really care about until he opened his jaws and began to move them closer to fangs that were as long as their forearms.

“WOAH, wait, what the FUCK?!” Hopper exclaimed in surprised panic, purple crackling along their limbs unsuccessfully.

Miguel only quirked an eyebrow slightly, saying, “Don’t worry, kid, you’ll be fine.” with the feeling that he knew they definitely wouldn’t believe him if he tried to elaborate. Which was true, but it was still kind of terrifying when they were placed into his mouth and let go despite their protests.

“MIGUEL, THIS DOESN’T FEEL FINE,” Hopper shouted when the teeth clicked behind them, yelping when the tongue shifted up against them. Adrenaline ran through their veins, causing their chest to ache again as they tried to instinctively teleport ANYWHERE else, but the light from the crackling of unsuccessful teleporting only gave them a very sharp and vivid look at the inside of the jaws around them like the teeth surrounding them. Or the pit of darkness in the back where his throat definitely was. They yelped - squeaked, but they’d never admit it - as the tongue moved them around and they felt saliva soak their clothes. “MIGUEL!”

Seconds felt like forever as their body took in their surroundings, the heat and humidity all around them, the sound of his breathing, the constant shifting of his tongue as it easily moved them around and licked at them anywhere it could touch, making them yelp in indignation when it poked their side and caused them to involuntarily jolt. They shoved against it in fearful irritation, exclaiming, “PINCHE PENDEJO, LET ME OUT!”

They only knew some insults in Spanish despite having spent years with a Spanish class and their reward was a rumbling chuckle from the man as he continued to lick at them. It was probably only a couple seconds before they found themself starting to be nudged back to the back of his mouth, trying to brace their legs against the roof of his mouth. Rather unsuccessfully.

Now it was their turn to let out a warning tone, going, “Miguel, don’t you fucking DARE swallow me!” as they panicked. They couldn’t help but feel a sense of betrayal, thinking that he was probably one of the more trustworthy people out there and now he was EATING them.

Miguel still didn’t respond, either because they were still in his mouth or he didn’t care to bother, and they found themself squished between the roof of his mouth and his tongue directly before the sound of a gulp overwhelmed their ears. In a split second, they found themself sucked down into his throat, exclaiming protests and trying to squirm away from the constricting walls all around them while their surroundings were briefly lit up every couple seconds by panicked purple light from failed teleporting.

The sound of his heart pounded in their ears along with the small exhale that he let out after swallowing, both breathing and heartbeat the only thing they could hear over the ambient sound of organs shifting in his body. Hopper didn’t realize how fucking loud bodies were.

Seconds ticked by rapidly before they spilled into a more open space, the only thing they could guess as the stomach. Despite their exhaustion, they couldn’t help but try and jump to their feet, immediately slipping and falling over on their back given the moving EVERYTHING and saliva coating it all.

“MIGUEL, LET ME OUT,” Hopper shouted again, feeling their throat start to hurt from all their panicked screaming. But, if they didn’t hold onto their anger, they’d probably just feel distress and fear, and that was so much worse. They yelped when everything got tighter, pressure from one side of the organ as they squirmed in confusion and more instinctive worry. After a second, they realized that he was probably pressing in from the outside to try and make them still.

“Cálmate, cálmate,” Miguel said, voice a bit softer. Whether he was trying to not overwhelm them further or he was trying to actually calm them felt up for debate considering their position. He still sounded far more casual than the situation called for as he added, “You’re gonna be fine, Hopper, it’s just temporary containment. Although, I wasn’t expecting you to have quite as much kick in you after being chased around.” “Temporary containment?! Temporary til what, my death?!” Hopper snapped, trying in vain to shove his hand and the stomach wall away before realizing the full extent of what he said. “Hey, wait a minute! What do you mean by ‘expecting’? How long have you been planning on eating me?!”

“Seriously? Only today, though the thought has crossed my mind a few times since meeting you,” he admitted, only sounded a LITTLE awkward about the admittance. “WHY?!”

“For one, stop squirming. I’ve told you you’re fine,” Miguel huffed, pressing a little harder but stopped when they yelped and stilled. His hand pulled away, allowing them to slip to the bottom of the organ with a yelp and fresh coating of drool from the small puddle at the bottom. “Secondly, having a small person run around on your desk while having spider DNA will lead to some odd thoughts like potentially eating them.”

“Okay, but again, WHY,” Hopper repeated, still confused as to why he’d give in to what they interpreted as a VERY WEIRD INTRUSIVE THOUGHT.

“Because it’s perfectly safe and I’ll know exactly where you are until you’re either able to teleport again or, let’s see… Let’s say an hour and a half or whenever your powers come back, whichever happens first.”

Hopper’s jaw dropped, realizing why he’d picked the game rather than just five minutes of tea, offended as they asked, “DID YOU JUST FUCKING PUT ME IN TIME OUT?!”

“Don’t take my Goober again unless you want a repeat, Grasshopper.”

#soft vore #safe vore #g/t vore #g/t #cinnwrites #hopper #miguel o'hara #astv oc

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fiber-optic-alligator · 3 months

Note

Hello! If you still got slots for requests, may I ask for some soft vore with Earthspark Bumblebee? Hope that’s okay!

It is absolutely okay anon! Earthspark Bumblebee...whatta guy. Personally, he's one of my favorite Bee incarnations, so I really enjoyed writing this. Thanks for the request! Feedback is always appreciated! :D

I wanted to make the reader androgynous when it comes to the environment Earthspark takes place in for the sake of all of you who are imagining yourselves into the story. Just assume you live on the Malto property alongside Bumblebee to help train the Terrans and kids if you wish.

Warmth In Raindrops

Pairing: Earthspark Bumblebee x Human Reader

Warning: This story contains soft vore. If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, then please do not read this story.

Word Count: 1661

You can’t sleep.

The thunder outside keeps you awake. With every crashing boom, you feel like there are a million trash cans toppling over outside, ringing painfully and causing your eardrums to ache. You shiver, drawing the covers over your head, your body curled up into a ball as you shrink back against your mattress. Lightning flashes through the window blinds. You feel like you are trapped within a haunted mansion despite being in your own bedroom.

You can’t sleep like this, and if the storm continues at this ferocity, you won’t be earning a wink all night.

More thunder. A whimper escapes your lips, and you squeeze your eyelids shut so tightly they hurt. You can feel the fatigue weighing you down, all the way from your bones to your brain. It’s quite pathetic to find yourself in this state. Childhood is long behind you; thunder is not something you should fear anymore. Yet, you’ve never managed to get over that instinctive dislike for loud sounds. And so here you are, with no way to escape the anger from the skies above, forced to tremble before their booming might.

You don’t want to be alone.

Slowly, you sit up and push the covers off of you. Each careful step you take through the house is illuminated by the lightning and shaken by the heavy drumming of raindrops. You have to dress yourself for the weather before you go outside. Your coat and boots do little to ward off the deluge, and as soon as you walk out the front door, you are soaked. Anxiety is quickly overcome by frustration. You run for the large red barn that sits a little ways off from the house, mud and water splashing in your wake as you keep your hood over your head. The comforting farm scents of hay and horse bring peace to your agonized mind when you slip through the doors and into the darkness.

There are no animals, not right now. In the far corner of the barn, you see a hulking mass spread out on its back. It is big; bigger than anything else in the barn, the giant robot who is currently taking up residence here is fast asleep. You peel off your coat and boots, throwing them to the side before tiptoeing over to the black-and-yellow mech. Bumblebee is huge, even when he is laying down like this, but you feel no fear when you approach the recharging bot. He’s proven himself time and time again that he would never hurt you.

“Bee,” you hiss.

Bumblebee snores.

You sigh. “Bee.” You shake his arm lightly. “Bee, wake up.”

He snorts and sits up sharply, optics flickering open with a start. “Huh? Wha…?” His gaze lands on you. “Oh. Y/N. What-what time is it?”

“It’s midnight,” you reply.

“Midnight?” He stretches his arms over his head and yawns like a big cat, large incisors on full display while blue light momentarily radiates from his mouth. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

You look down at your feet and shrug, mumbling out a halfhearted answer that doesn’t form into proper words. He takes the sight of you in and softens.

“Can’t sleep?” he whispers.

You shake your head and hug yourself tightly. Bumblebee smiles sympathetically and rolls onto his side, opening his arms wide. “Come here.”

You don’t need any more convincing. He laughs softly when you practically fling yourself into him. He curls himself around you, hugging you tight to his chassis. “Clingy tonight, aren’t we?”

“Mm, shut up.” You slap him lightly. He laughs and coos, nuzzling his nose into your hair. “Cute little one,” he murmurs.

More thunder causes you to stiffen. He notices and chuffs questioningly. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

You tilt your head up to look at him. The glow of his optics is calm, his expression one of soft concern. It’s a bit embarrassing for you, a grown adult, to admit the answer, but the look he’s giving you silently implores you to trust him. You can tell him anything. He won’t judge.

“The thunder,” you reply.

Bumblebee blinks. “Is it scaring you?”

You bite your bottom lip and nod, lowering your head to sheepishly hide your reddening cheeks in your arms. The mech’s voice drops to a whisper. “Hey.” He dips his index digit under your chin and tips your head back up to meet his gaze. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I get it, I do.” He rubs his thumb up and down your thigh in a soothing manner and speaks with a honey-sweet tone. “Do you want to go inside?”

You perk up a little. “You-you mean it?”

“I wouldn’t have offered it if I didn’t,” he chuckles. “I know how sensitive your ears are to loud noises, and even though I can be quite…noisy…” He presses his servo over his midsection, and you can hear an eager growl echo up from beneath his plating. “I know you would rather listen to me than the thunder. So c’mon.” He opens his intake, casting you in the cyan glow of his biolights. “You want in?”

You hesitate, casting an uneasy look into the massive robotic mouth that’s so, so close to you. Warm air that carries the slight scent of gasoline wafts around you, beckoning you forward with hypnotic warmth. You’ve never allowed yourself to be…eaten by a Cybertronian before. You are aware of their capabilities, of how they can swallow a human down into their tank. You wouldn’t be digested. You’d be…warm…

Bumblebee senses your nervousness and tries to soothe you with low purrs. He bumps his nose against you again. “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he murmurs. “You’ll be safe. I promise, I’ll always keep you safe.”

You inhale shakily. Warmth. Safety. You’ll take both over the thunder. So you sit up and reach your arms forward to carefully press your hands against his tongue.

It’s soft, squishy. It doesn’t have a fleshy feeling to it, but rather its texture is like silicone, allowing you to sink into it with little resistance. Bumblebee looks down at you with a twinkle in his eye. Slowly, he shifts your hands to the side by curling his tongue up to taste them. The sensation of it rolling underneath your palms causes you to giggle. “T-That tickles.”

“Does it? Sorry. You just…you taste really good.”

“I…I do?”

“Yes.” He presses his tongue up against your palms with more force. “I can definitely see myself craving you.”

You giggle again. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or disgusted.”

“Ehh, maybe both.” He laughs. “But I’d prefer the former over the latter.”

He nudges you forward. You comply and allow him to guide you into his mouth. Climbing over giant teeth, you flop forward, biolight washing over you as you peer down his throat. He lifts his tongue to slide you further in. He’s patient with this; there’s no hunger in the way he draws you in, no sense of urgency or possessiveness. He lets you go at your own pace, and only when you are completely inside does he close his mouth. The sound of the thunder is barely audible now. You nestle in and close your eyes, soaking in the heat, content to remain like this for the rest of the night.

Bumblebee hums. His tongue rises only a little, and you inch closer to his throat. Though he doesn’t gulp you down, from the way saliva is practically dripping from every surface of his mouth right now, you can tell he desperately wishes to swallow you. Not wanting to torture him any longer, you give him the all clear. “It’s okay, Bee. I’m ready.”

Another hum is what you get for a response. He gives one last little lick to your face before he swallows.

It’s a slow journey down. You close your eyes and let his esophagus carry you further into his body. All around you is the sound of his purrs. When you finally do slip into his fuel tank and sink into the thick, squishy cables that close in to hug you close, you feel such an intense level of comfort that it makes you want to beg him to keep you in here forever.

“Y/N?” Bumblebee whispers for you. “Are you alright? Can you hear me?”

“Mm.” You make a soft, relaxed noise. “M’ okay, Bee. I can hear you.”

“Is it alright in there?” he asks. “Are you warm? Can you see?”

“Bee, trust me, I’m fine. I’m very warm and I feel very happy.” You lay flat on your back and stare up at the tank’s “ceiling.” All around you, his biolights shine. It’s like a light show that feels so good to look at. “I don’t know why we haven’t done this before.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to do it,” he says. “I haven’t done this with a human in…oh gosh, I want to say years, but it's probably been a decade.” The tank walls squeeze you in one big bear hug…or, bot hug, you think humorously to yourself. “But I’m glad I could do it again with you.”

You smile and close your eyes. “You are such a sap.”

“What can I say?” He squeezes you again. “I’m always a sap for you, little one.”

You murmur incomprehensible noises and turn onto your stomach, squirming with a flustered feeling rising within you as your cheeks turn red. Bumblebee coos and cuddles you, wrapping his arms around his midsection to hold you tightly within. You say nothing else, and yet, you know you don’t have to. He understands. He always does.

There is no thunder here. Only gurgles and purrs and his sparkbeat. You find yourself slipping off into sleep before you know it. Your rest is deep and undisturbed. It’s safe here. You are safe here. With him surrounding you, protecting you, there is no reason to remain awake.

#gator writes #transformers earthspark #transformers #tf earthspark #earthspark bumblebee #tfe bumblebee #bumblebee x reader #reader insert #transformers x human reader #transformers x reader #transformers g/t #soft vore #safe vore #maccadam

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lost-creatures · 4 months

Text

"Hot Cougars in your area". She'd seen the ads a hundred times before, they were probably the only motherfuckers willing to advertise on these piece of shit message boards, and most of them were just scams anyway. This time though:

Reader Discretion Advised: Eaten Alive, hard vore, snuff, vomit, musk, yuri, t4t MINORS DNI

So I do as I'm told and walk away from my campsite in the middle of the night without telling anyone. We didn't have to go far— just some state park in the mountains above the suburbs. An arid montane scrubland echoed across the rolling surface, its reds and yellows muted to grey and blue in the winter moonlight. Three ridgelines deep into the mountains already. Just the hike to the backcountry campsite beat my ass, so my legs are screaming as I walk into the cold.

it was an unlicensed app, right? but you know the website seemed normal enough and i figured that if this worked, i wouldn't really care what they did with whatever got left behind. enough debt to buy a house i guess? i thought i'd been fucked anyway, made a profile and went 2 weeks without a response or message. they're just gonna rob me, huh? this is even better than Lex.

i really needed a girl to pin me down and start tearing into me, nobody ever goes hard enough goddammit. if you want something done right i guess you need to find the real deal.

i almost deleted the app, told myself two days in a row that i should. then, a photo, a mass, the clash of textures between corded muscle and gelatinous organ, heaped onto the dust at night. the kind of thing you'd see on a trail cam, but the angle was wrong.

how can i reply? i can't just hit her with the keysmash, how many women like her can even admit they'd want to do this to you. prey have to stand out a bit more these days, predator populations are way down.

"hey um, is that your work? i really liek it ;3"

fuck goddammit its over im fucking blowing it

"thnk u for noticing meeeee!~"

i'll just kms i'm cooked

"sorry i, the composition of the piece is very strong. the way the textures of the corpse contrast with the dusty landscape, acts to draw your focus as much as the border of the spot lighting and surrounding darkness. the off center lighting creates an almost sfumato effect along the massing, creating beautiful shadow shapes. would you want a new subject? ;3"

"Hahaha, you're cute aren't you?"

my rizz is unlimited

"We should meet. Do you know Henry Coe?"

Going back down the 22% grade is harder than climbing it and made even worse by the loose gravelly surface and the too many gin and tonics I had after we made camp. My boot catches a rock as I leave the trail and my knees hit the rocks. It hurts, but I'm having trouble finding the meeting spot, maybe some blood on the trail will help her find me. It feels like she's already on top of me. There's a pressure in the air and it makes every crack and shift in the earth reverberate across the slope. In that moment I can hear every motion every breath under the scrub. There's nothing, just wind howling over the crest of Mount Sizer. But I can feel her boring into me. I keep waiting for her to collide with me, knock me to the ground. I want her I want her inside me.

I want to be ready so I strip my torn clothing from my body.

This has to be the spot, the singular tree matches the photo she sent. I sit, bare ass shivering on the stone under the tree and wipe the fresh beads of blood down my knees, only managing to make a big red smear reaching halfway down my shins. The premix gin and tonics from the campsite start to fight their way back up my throat.

"I didn't think you were gonna show." she's smiling. Her stare pierces through me like I'm not even there. Its entrancing.

Her amber felid form followed my same path along the mountainside and into this depression. A little bit of my blood already stains her muzzle.

"You're Eloise? You know you shouldn't give your real name out to strangers on the internet, right?" She stretches the last word out, lilting, like she's trying hard not to laugh.

I'm struggling to respond through the boozy haze, the biting wind, and the nerves I get just looking at her. "i didn't really think it mattered" I uncurl a bit and she finally gets a look at my face. "can i know yours?"

She jumps, pounces, closing the distance between us faster than I can react. The full weight of her body hits me square between the breasts. Between her body and the rocks beneath every last wisp of air is pressed from my lungs. Her scent hits me all once as I gasp for air, she's actually wild, fuck. Her stink is acrid, acidic, astringent, its the kind of smell that sucks the moisture out of the air and dries out your mouth. I don't gag so much as start panting and straining towards her. "Its Tiffany." Planted on my sternum she makes every breath a labor and I barely manage to whisper a reply.

"i… i…"

I've wanted this for so long but I never thought I'd get this far. I have no idea what to say.

She shifts her weight into my guts and the sick I've been holding back overtops the lump in my throat and pours weakly down my chin. I gag into my chest as my entire body contracts and the waves of my vomit splash flecks of evidence into the fur of her breast and forelegs.

"Its okay kiddo, you don't have to say anything"

"please," I'm coughing up the heavier stragglers stuck in my throat, "you're beautiful" It just burns now. "i need you to take everything from me"

She laughs and looks down, guiding my eye to her massive paws pressing into the plush of my abdomen. To the contents of my stomach emptied over my still flat chest and softening waistline, dripping off in chunks. The tips of her claws poke from their cuticle in their round furred sheath. Fully deployed, each one looks like a karambit, sharpened just for me. She runs her paws gently over my belly, the touch imperceptable over that of the scouring wind, and still, red and black beads follow in the trail she leaves. The roughness of her underpaw brushes past my aching nipples. I can't help but gasp at the burst of sensation attacking my touch starved corpus. She cups her mouth over my breast and gently rolls the small lump of fat around with her tongue, punctuating herself by flicking the tensed tip against my nipples. I can barely process how desperately horny I am. Between my love life sequestered behind a screen and my newly sensitive flesh, I was unprepared. Warmth spreads where my cunt should be and I can't help but grind weakly against her soft underbelly. The first hardon I've had in weeks, I'm almost crying. She pauses a moment and grins down at my weak erection to let me frot against her own growing studded clit. She pins my wrists against the stony ground and puts her hips into it. I'm screaming, the feeling is so intense it almost edges into painful. She's growling feral in my ear, gravel infiltrating her saccharine valley accent. God Fuck please I need it its fucking happening. I shoot; I didn't even know I could do that anymore. The thin mucus spraying from my tip coats the gap between us and she thrusts harder against my pelvis. When she shoots, it hits me in the chin so hard I yelp.

"You really are cute. I hope I can keep you." Her voice trails off and she looks down at me with pity or maybe resignation.

Held down by her impossible strength, she pulls open the soft flesh of my belly like a ripe persimmon. I scream and the sound is deadened and hurried away by the gusts up the windward side of the mountain. Her snout pushes into the freshly wet cleft and I feel her buried deep inside my guts. She works her way underneath my ribs, my chest swelling at the foreign addition. There is a new pressure in me as she nibbles at my liver, the taut wet bulge of organ fills her mouth. I feel her tugging at me with suction at the back her her throat. Her teeth sink into me and the shifting cords of her stiff neck pull with enough force to tear the dark mass free. I sit in a howling void, fully part of that world. I am pure energy bursting forth from a charred vessel. Steam rises around the internal heat bleeding external, a pocket in our frigid night. Spread thin over the earth, I hope she makes eye contact with me while she chews at the choice cuts. She looks back at me, almost bashful at the intimacy held in our stares.

She lays by my side devouring me. Her cum pools in my jugular notch, stained pink with flecks of blood. A tongue like a wave of sand cleans my blood from my outstretched hand. She works her way between each of my fingers all the way down to the webbing. Rolling them over and over with that wet muscle. She knows exactly what she's doing, she's still finding ways to tease me back to ecstasy. In one smooth motion she pulls the hand into her mouth, laying the wrist perfectly along her incisors, canines neatly out of the way. And she bites, gently at first, and then the muscles in her jaw tighten and contract. Blood oozes forth and then sprays from the base of the bite. The radiocarpal ligaments snap apart in suddenly relived tension and her teeth smash themselves between my many carpal bones. My hand spasms, articulated by pain, and she rolls her bite just enough. The back of my hand hits the wet of her hard palate and every nerve in my hand screams as it comes away in her mouth. She pins the arm under her while she sucks at the meat of my hand.

its too much its everything im scared i cant

I come to and the wind's died down a little, the moon's not quite where it used to be. I guess you can live a pretty long time with your guts out and no liver. Longer than I'd have thought anyway. A stump of a wrist bounces off a rock as she drags me. The edges are black with either dried blood or frostbite. I'm not sure how much longer I have left, but every second I get with her is an eternity.

#₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎#my art

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kitsune-pop · 8 days

Text

Hazy Daze

CW: casual vore, weed, digestion

Hazel sat down on her living room floor, leaning against the couch. It was her day off, and she was gonna make it a good one, starting with some smoke, snacks and games. She carefully packed a bowl for her trusty Kirby bong, lit it up and popped open a box of cheese snacks to nibble on while she booted up her Wii for Mario Kart. Today was gonna be a good day.

0o0

Hazel was having a great time. Her living room was sufficiently cloudy, she was beating the computer drivers within an inch of their lives and she was relaxed enough that even the occasional Blue Shell didn't bother her (or the following Red Shell, or Green Shell, or Star…). Even so, she was still hungry. Two hours into the day and she'd already eaten all the snacks.

She shook her bangs out of her eyes as she crossed the finish again, dirty blonde hair falling right back into her face as she reached for her phone. She had told herself she wasn't going to order anything, but her tummy had started grumbling at her–which she absentmindedly rubbed through her tank top as she looked at her delivery options. Pizza was always a good choice, plus it wasn't too expensive. She cracked a grin when a popup of "Still hungry? Order the delivery person for dinner too! Take advantage of our Delivery Delivery deal today!" showed up on the app.

"Not this time, capitalism. I'm watching my bank account today." Hazel giggled a bit, ordering her pizza and packing a tad more in her Kirbong. It shouldn't take more than half an hour for her pizza to get here, and she wanted to have the perfect amount of munchies by the time it got delivered.

0o0

After the third time of falling off the track on Maple Treeway, Hazel paused her game to laugh at herself. The pot was definitely affecting her now. She guessed after a few hours of smoking even someone with her tolerance would start to feel it. Polite knocking grabbed her attention and she got to her feet, throwing a pair of pajama pants on before she answered the door.

A cute girl stood on her dingy welcome mat, complete with a hat starring a pizza logo and a single pizza box balanced in her hands. She barely came up to Hazel's chin, but at 193 cm most girls were shorter than her anyways.

The delivery girl looked up at Hazel with a brilliant smile, beaming up at her. "Thank you for choosing Happy Helper's Pizzeria! I hope you enjoy your order!"

Hazel blinked slowly, brain struggling to break through the fog before she reached for her pizza. "Thanks, I'm starving." Her belly gave an audible grumble, which she tried to stifle by placing a hand on her midsection.

The smaller girl glanced down shyly before looking back up at Hazel's face. "It sure sounds like it! Good thing you ordered the special!" She reached up and took off her hat–straight dark hair dropping to just above her shoulders–before moving to unbutton her work uniform, still smiling all the way.

Hazel quickly raised a hand to stop the delivery girl (although not before giving her a quick once-over), lifting the pizza box in one hand over her head before speaking up. "Uh, I only ordered the pizza. No offense." The shorter girl looked up at Hazel before pointing at the pizza in her hand.

"On your order it says you upgraded for Delivery Delivery though."

Confused now, Hazel looked at her receipt to see, yup, one pizza and one Delivery Delivery special. She quickly grabbed her phone, opened the app and looked at her orders. As she did, the clouds in her head parted just enough for her to remember opening the app shortly after placing the order and adding the deal to her delivery. Looks like the munchies took another victory on her bank account.

She shrugged, pocketing her phone and opening her door up for the delivery girl to walk in. "Hey, I won't turn down a meal like you! Especially after I already spent the money…"

The girl laughed, her smile not as brilliant as before but much more genuine. "Pretty sure we've all made bad decisions when we're high." She finished unbuttoning her top, tossing it on the floor before she reached down to untie her shoes, giving Hazel a fantastic view of her next meal's assets.

A plump ass, juicy thighs, smooth skin, this was someone who took good care of themselves and probably knew they weren't gonna last long around predators. As she kicked off her shoes and socks she turned around, showing off a small muffin top and perky boobs. Catching Hazel staring she laughed and winked at the tall pred before dropping her pants and panties in one movement, stepping out of the pool of clothes and smiling salaciously.

"So, how do you want me?" The girl posed a little bit, showing off for Hazel as the tall girl put her long forgotten pizza on the counter. The pred walked forward, grabbed the girl's shoulders and quickly stuffed her head into her mouth, moaning at the taste of natural shampoo (coconut?) flooding her mouth.

She quickly worked her way down, gulping down her neck and shoulders, giving some extra attention to her prey's tasty tits. She felt the girl jerk in surprise before feeling soft hands kneading her stomach, giving gentle rubs and pinches. Wasting no time Hazel lurched forward, relaxing her muscles and stuffing the girl into her throat down to her belly button. Now for the annoying part.

Hazel leaned back, picking her prey up off the ground and holding the young girl above her head. The experienced pred stepped back, leaning against her counter before beginning to gulp her meal down in earnest, gravity helping deliver the girl into her stomach. With a few powerful swallows Hazel quickly had the girl tucked away in her belly, tank top riding up and pajama pants pushing down under the dome of overstuffed gut.

Hazel stood there, panting to herself as her meal shifted into a more comfortable position inside her. Already she felt her stomach groaning and squeezing around her meal, and she grabbed her pizza before waddling over to her couch and plopping down on it. The pred moaned at how full she felt, rubbing her stretched skin as she felt her passenger start to play with herself even as her belly did its best to digest her.

Hazel started to get hard listening to the muffled pants and moans coming from her tummy. Unable to think of an excuse not to, the buck toothed pred reached under her stomach and into her pants, grabbing her cock and beginning to rub one out. With one hand in her pants and another rubbing the taut skin of her belly Hazel was quickly bringing herself to orgasm. The feeling of a stuffed, bloated belly was made even sweeter with the gasps and moans coming from within, the noises starting to get drowned out by the grumbling of the organ itself. She could feel every twitch and movement from her prey inside her, and could tell when the smaller girl came, her stomach deforming slightly as the girl arched her back, screaming in pleasure before relaxing.

Of course, relaxing just meant Hazel's body won the little war of attrition they had between them. The muscles quickly clenched and squeezed the girl within her into a tight ball, and a final powerful belch signaled the last of the air being forced out. Hazel came hard as she burped, panting and moaning as she made a mess of her pants. She leaned back against her couch, breathing hard for a minute before glancing at her Kirbong, a smile on her lips. She still had the whole rest of the day to herself, didn't she?

0o0

Hazel jerked awake at a loud bang, followed by some choice cursing. "Seriously, Hazel?! What the fuck! We were supposed to go to the movies tonight!"

The tall pred looked up at her friend Trixie. The short girl was fuming, red faced and glaring. Hazel looked around her living room, noting the empty pizza box and her character idling in front of a wall in her game, the race long over. She rubbed her head before belching, putting a hand on the much smaller bulge in her middle.

"Sorry, I didn't think I was gonna fall asleep." She noted Trixie's flushed face and the way she completely refused to look at her bloated belly. Grinning, she leaned forward, her stomach gurgling as another burp popped out of her mouth. "But that doesn't mean we can't find something to do here."

#silly millie speaks #v0re #v.ore #digestion vore #casual v0re #casual vore #same size vore #trans female pred #female prey #intoxication kink #intox kink

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