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#fandom vore
thefanciestborrower · 3 months
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SHUT UP NO ONE LOOK AT ME
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cainsclementine · 5 months
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@bigclaudia gift for Claudia-
(DNI KINK OF NSFW ACCOUNTS)
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deevouer · 1 year
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Bad end....
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coldtwaer · 21 days
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I know I usually don’t draw female preds but like it’s G.rell S.utcliff and I love her so much and she would make a perfect pred
(Keeping this as a sketch )
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billvord · 18 days
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Currently thinking about… How Fo.rd got tortured during Weird.maggedon… And Bi.ll deciding to eat him as a form of ‘torture’. VORE-ture if you will..
Fo.rd is less than thrilled about it, obviously. In fact, he’s absolutely seething, and the fact Bi.ll is cracking godawful jokes about the predicament he’s in is making him angrier. He’s all squirming and threatening Bi.ll while the triangle just laughs and says something stupid like, “WHAT’S THE MATTER, SIXER? CAN’T STOMACH THIS?”
I imagine Bi.ll’s guts to be sort of like.. a hammerspace, in a sense? Like, you can’t see on his body that there’s something alive and moving inside his stomach, he’s a triangle. But there is definitely a stomach or a stomach-adjacent organ inside him… I like to imagine as well, that he can change up his insides however he pleases. Usually, it’s an incredibly tight, gooey and wet space which is black, but glows slightly blue around the edges, like his fire. I also like the idea that it would be gold and glittery around the edges as well.
But yeah, Fo.rd is straight-up NOT having a good time.
He’s let out, eventually, when Bi.ll realises that this isn’t gonna make him crack and tell him the equation he desperately wants, so he just takes off his hat, reaches inside, and pulls out a very slimy and disgruntled Fo.rd, like a magician pulling a rabbit out of their hat.
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fandomymous-anonymous · 5 months
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Cat and Mouse
AO3 link
!!!Safe Soft Vore!! Keep yourself safe if this is not for you!!!
Willing pred, unwilling prey, digestion mentions (does not happen)
Tim stares out of the window of Titans Tower at the bay, sighing. He knows he shouldn’t be alone, but he needs his space to think about what’s going on in Gotham lately. He taps his cheek, doing just that. He wonders about Red Hood and why he wants Tim so badly. He wonders about Bruce benching him. He thinks that surely California is far enough away from Gotham that Red Hood can’t get to him. Tim brushes his fingers through his hair. He just doesn’t get it. He hasn’t done anything to the crime lord. He’s done his best to uphold the title of Robin. Even as just plain Tim Drake he can’t imagine anything he did wrong.
The lights flicker and Tim looks up at them. That’s not good. He’s the only one here and there’s no reason for the lights to be flickering. The lights power off and Tim groans as he waits for the generator to turn on.
He waits for a few seconds.
Then a few seconds more.
After a minute, Tim turns away from the window and starts towards the stairs to see what the problem with the generator is.
The lights turn on.
Red Hood stands in the middle of the Ops room.
Tim startles, jolting back. He reaches for his bo staff, only to realize it's not at his side. He wasn't expecting anyone to be here, so why would he have it?
“Hello, little chick,” Red Hood says. “You're far from your nest.”
“H-how’d you get in here?” Tim says. “The Tower is closed to intruders.”
“I'm not an intruder if I'm in the system,” Red Hood says. He brings his hands up to his helmet and takes it off. Tim stares at the face of a boy -a man?- he thought was dead. Jason Todd smirks at him. “Surprise, little birdie. I know you weren't expecting me.”
“You're dead,” Tim says.
“Not anymore.”
“What do you want from me?” Tim asks, stepping back.
“I want to show Bruce the dangers of making Robins.”
“Then why not go after him?” Tim says, eyeing the doorway behind him.
“Because you need to learn about it as well, little chick.” In the blink of an eye, Jason's arm dashes out and he grabs Tim by the shoulder. “Come on, lil chick, let’s make this fun.”
“Fun!?” Tim screams. “You want to… Have…” Tim trails off as he realizes that Jason seems much taller than he was before.
Jason grins, his fangs a bright white. “Get running, sweetheart.”
Tim doesn’t want to know what will happen if he doesn’t. He runs off deeper into the tower. Everything gets bigger by the second. Tim skids to a stop next to a door, staring up, up, up at a doorknob several feet above him. He can’t go up the stairs. He’s trapped on this floor with Jason.
Hide, he needs to hide. Where can he hide? Under a couch? The fridge? If Tim can make it to the other room in time, he can wait out this… shrinking that Jason did to him. Tim dashes away towards the kitchen, squirming under the gap between the fridge and the floor. It's terrible, dust and sticky spots covering the ground. But at least he's safe.
Jason walks into the room, looking over the counters and under the cabinets. A predatory gleam shows in his eyes. “Come out, lil chick,” Jason croons. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
Tim holds his breath, covering his mouth. Jason can't hear him over the fridge, can he?
The man takes a deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth. “I know you’re in here,” Jason says. “You can’t hide from me that easily.” Tim slides backwards, shivering. Jason walks out of the room. Tim looks up from under the fridge. He’s not there. A hand appears from the side of the fridge and snatches Tim up. Tim yelps. Jason shifts his grip so he’s holding Tim by his cape. He holds him up to his face, baring his fangs in a grin. Tim claws at his collar, gasping for breath. “I’ve caught you now, little bird.”
Tim bursts into tears. “Don't hurt me!” Tim cries. “I'll be good! I'll do anything!”
Jason snorts and grins sharply. “Anything?”
“Anything!” Tim yells, sobbing.
Jason raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Are you that desperate?”
Tim shudders at thes sound. “Yes.” His tears continue dripping, shaking his body violently. He can live in a cage until Jason lets him go.
Jason licks his lips. “I'm holding you to that.” Jason's stomach growls and the man smiles before opening his mouth.
Tim gasps, scrabbling at the man's fingers. “No!” Tim cries. “Don't eat me! I'll be good!” The drop into the awaiting maw is short. Tim tips forward as Jason lowers his head. Tim breathes heavily, his hands sinking into the plush texture of Jason's tongue. A sob wrenches out of his chest. Tim starts crying. “Please… You can have anything, I'll do anything, don't eat me…”
“You told me you'd do anything so I wouldn't hurt you,” Jason says around him. “I made my choice.”
“Please,” Tim sobs, shaking.
Jason chuckles. “You're cute, lil chick.” He rolls Tim around on his tongue, coating him in shimmering saliva. Tim wriggles the best he can, pushing at Jason's teeth. Jason lets out an amused huff. Then he tips his head back and swallows.
His throat is tight around Tim, pulling him down. Tim’s arms are pinned above him. There's no room for him to struggle. Tim lets out heaving sobs, beyond frightened.
After a few seconds, Tim is deposited in Jason's stomach, splashing to the bottom. Tim presses his hands against the walls, soaking wet.
Jason’s stomach glows a faint neon green. No, it’s not his stomach that’s glowing, it’s his saliva and the small pool of acid that Tim is sitting in. (If Tim was less panicked, he’d notice that he’s not being burnt by it, so it can’t be stomach acid.)
Jason lets out a small burp. “‘Cuse me.” There's a quiet tapping and Tim yelps as hands message him from the outside. “You hit the spot.” Tim struggles underneath them, gasping as the pressure increases. “Don't get any ideas,” Jason says. “You're mine.”
Tim kicks him once more, tears streaming down his face. He curls up, putting his head on his knees. This is it. This is the end of him. Jason hiccups, patting his stomach once more.
It's muggy and damp and far too warm, the feeling causing Tim to feel horrifically tired. If he falls asleep now, he might not ever wake up. But Tim doesn't want to know what being digested would feel like, so he closes his eyes and ignores the movements of Jason walking, the quiet ping of a Zeta Tube, the sound of a motorbike. The swaying rocks Tim to sleep.
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Tim wakes up covered in slime.
Tim wakes up?
Tim groggily opens his eyes, looking around. He's still inside Jason's stomach, which looks different at this sideways angle. Slime, the texture unlike the saliva Tim was swallowed down with, coats the entirety of Jason’s stomach. And Tim as well. Tim shudders, wrapping his damp cape around himself. It’s awful. He wants to go home. He wants to live.
Jason’s stomach groans around him and Jason yawns. There’s pressure on Tim’s side as Jason rubs his stomach. Gravity shifts as he presumably sits up. “Are you awake?”
Tim stays silent, scared at the thought of dying.
“I’m asking as a courtesy,” Jason says. “I know you’re awake.”
Tim swallows. “Y-yeah?”
“He speaks! How did you sleep?”
Tim hesitates. It’s frightening in here, but he actually slept fine. “Uh. Okay.”
“Great,” Jason says. “Do you want out?”
“...What?”
“Are you ready for me to let you out?”
Tim presses his hands against the walls, shifting into a sitting position. “You’re going to let me out?” His voice is small.
“I promised I wouldn’t hurt you,” Jason says. His hand rubs against Tim’s side. “I don’t intend on you staying in there forever.”
Tim swallows, queasy. Tears prick at his eyes. “Y-yeah, I want to get out.”
Jason hums in acknowledgment. “Give me a minute.” Tim, the saliva, and the slime rock in Jason’s stomach as the man stands up. Tim would find the swaying back and forth motion relaxing if he wasn’t inside a stomach.
G-d he’s inside a stomach. He still can’t really believe it. A glowing stomach that didn’t even digest him, but a stomach, nonetheless. Tim takes a deep breath, trying to keep the panic at bay. He can hear Jason’s even breathing and his steady heartbeat. Jason’s stomach burbles around him.
Tim can hear Jason doing something, even if he can’t tell what. Then cold water enters through Jason’s throat, swallow after swallow. The water soaks Tim even further, causing him to shiver. “H-hey,” Tim protests weakly.
“I need the water, Cocoa Bean,” Jason says. Cocoa bean? “You’d get stuck. Are you ready?”
“Yes, please…” Tim shudders at the thought of staying in Jason’s stomach any longer.
The muscles around Tim compress, forcing him upwards. He gasps, the compression around him worse on the way back up. He’s deposited in Jason’s mouth, covered in slime and saliva. Jason opens his mouth, spitting Tim into his hands. “There we go. That wasn’t too bad, was it?” Jason smiles slightly.
“You ate me!” Tim yells, which is admittedly a bad thing to do to someone over ten times your size. “I… I thought I was going to die!”
“Ah, I told you I wouldn’t hurt you, though. That was on you.” Jason drops Tim in the sink and pulls the moveable faucet off its stand. Jason turns the water on, testing the heat with his fingers. “Hold still.” Jason sprays Tim with the faucet, washing off the slime and saliva. Tim flinches as the water hits him, slowly relaxing into the heat. “There you go, Cocoa Bean. Nice and clean for your return to Nightwing.” Jason rubs him dry with a dish towel then gently removes him from the sink. Tim shivers at the sudden loss in heat. He doesn’t struggle, afraid of falling if he does. Jason places him on the counter and rubs his hair with a finger.
Tim returns to his normal size at the same speed he shrank. Jason lifts him and tosses him over his shoulder. Tim yelps. With one hand, Jason puts his helmet on. “Let’s go, chick.” He swings his legs out the window and climbs out, shutting it with one hand. Jason jumps over the rooftops, Tim wriggling in his grasp. “Stop struggling, please. I don’t want you to go splat.” Tim does as he’s told.
Tim can see Dick standing on a rooftop just outside Crime Alley, the Nightwing suit a brutal contrast against the rising sun. Jason comes to a stop next to him. “Hello, Nightwing.” Jason shoves Tim into Dick’s hands. “Your birdy has been delivered. Pleasure doing business with you.” Jason turns and goes another way, likely to a different safehouse than the one the two just spent the night in.
Dick sets Tim down, busying himself with fretting. “Are you injured? Did he hurt you? What happened?”
Tim wonders if he should inform Dick that his younger brother is alive and can eat people. What he says instead is, “I’m fine, it was scary but I was safe.” Time to pack this all in a box and never think about it again.
Dick hugs Tim tightly. “I’m glad. I… I couldn’t lose another one.”
Ah. Tim probably made the right decision in not telling him then. Tim lets Dick pull him along, glancing back at Crime Alley. Jason is nowhere to be seen.
Tim lets Dick drag him back to the cave. He’s ready for a bath and some proper sleep. This was the most exhausting thing he’s ever experienced.
Eh, could’ve been worse. He could be dead.
Tim’s shower is short and sweet and he blacks out the minute his head touches his pillow. Home sweet home.
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Intrusive Thoughts
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seamlesssunshine · 2 months
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nompunhere · 9 months
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Knightly Security (H/ollow K/night Vore Fic) (Illustrated)
Voretober promp- y’know what, maybe I shouldn’t even bother trying to link it back to that But it’s finally hereeeeeee! Collab with @scketchorinopop , he made art for this!!
Characters: H/egemol (going off of the maggot!H/egemol headcanon), O/grim (aka the D/ung D/efender or, more accurately to this fic, W/hite D/efender) Word Count: 6,310 Warnings: Anxiety, H/ollow K/night Spoilers, Bugs, Implied/Referenced Bug Racism(?), and Safe Soft Vore (I’d call this quarter-sized, probably). And in the same vein as the bug racism, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism(? sort of?? You’ll know what I mean if you’ve read the H/unter’s J/ournal entry on maggots) Other Notes: Yeah this was originally gonna be for Voretober 2022, either for the Bubble prompt or the Blanket one. College kinda threw that plan out the window. But hey! My cool good friend Scketch wanted to collab, so you get ✨art✨!! and also me starting to love the maggot!H/ege headcanon. it’s got Potential. now blease take this fic I can’t stand to look at it for another minute
Fic under the cut
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Hegemol was usually happy in his workshop. It was his safe space, a room filled with the tools and materials to bring his ideas to reality, a place where the maggot was free to express his ingenuity in a constructive way. The King had truly been generous in granting him this boon along with his knighthood.
At the moment, however, he couldn't find the focus to work on his creations. He was too distracted by the anxiety creeping under his skin. A room couldn't protect him from the fears that plagued his mind.
His armor was missing. No one was sure of the who, how, or why of the matter, but they at least knew when it was taken and where from. He found himself running through the details once more.
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The Great Knights were reasonably certain that the set had been stolen while Hegemol was asleep in the City barracks, resting after a day of being stationed in the capital for an assignment. He had gone to bed in the room set aside for the knights or other important visitors. The Five didn't exactly like the separation, feeling like they were being treated as above all the other sentries and guards in more than just rank, but Hegemol did require the privacy that the room afforded. He did not need it getting out to the public that he was a maggot. Many theorized about what he could be, but of those guesses, few ever put forth the idea that the armored knight could possibly be "such a lowly creature," and those that did were scoffed at, regarded as delusional.
Back to the point, he had gone to bed, and though he could sleep in his armor, it was not the most comfortable, so he generally didn't if he had the choice. He'd gotten out of the suit, packed it into its space-saving form, and made sure it was within line of sight as he tucked himself under the blankets. He should've heard if someone tried to move it, or even enter the room, and yet, he didn't. Somehow, someone or something got past the locked door (or windows), took the heavy block of metal that was Hegemol's armor, and left with it, all without making a sound as he slept. It should've been too dense for a single bug to lift without immense effort. Maybe there was more than one perpetrator involved? Or perhaps magic was used? It had to have been stolen. There was no way it just- disappeared.
All these thoughts led to the tinkerer being highly distracted as he worked. He was abruptly dragged back to the present when the bracket he was welding loudly cracked. Quickly, he cut off the flame and set his blowtorch aside, peering closer at the damaged metal. He'd overdone it, the maggot realized with a groan, planting his masked face on the tabletop. That was what he got for letting his mind wander while using dangerous tools, he supposed.
He left his head on the table for a few long moments, until a quiet knock at the door made him flinch. He looked up, hesitating. The retainers knew not to come in without his express permission. If anyone was going to enter his workshop, it'd be someone who already knew his secret.
"What is it?" he called, just loud enough to be heard.
"It's me," came the response, gentle and friendly, a toned-down version of that familiar jovial tone. Hegemol made a sound of acknowledgement, and the door slowly clicked open, revealing the face of his close friend and fellow knight, Ogrim. Currently the only active knight within the walls of the White Palace, as the other three were in the City, guarding the streets and searching for the all-important tool that would allow their fifth to perform his job.
"Hello," the Defender greeted, leaning into the room, "Just checking in. My patrol brought me to this area of the halls, and I figured I should see how you're faring? Wouldn't do to let you feel abandoned when- well, I'm sure you're well aware." He gave an uncertain chuckle, tapping a claw against the doorframe and glancing into the hall. When he looked back at Hegemol, his gaze was colored with curiosity. His eyes lingered on the maggot's small form perched at the workstation, clad in only his welding gear.
The armorless knight cleared his throat and stared at the tools in front of him, prompting Ogrim to do the same. "Heh, yes, I'm- I-I'm alright. Thank you," Hegemol tried. He winced at the stutter. It was so much easier to hide it when making use of the artificial confidence the suit provided. His friend merely nodded, though he looked unconvinced. The tinkerer sighed and pulled off his welding mask to give the other a weary smile, getting one in return.
He set the mask down as Ogrim stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind him with a quiet 'click.' The beetle came closer, gesturing to the bracket and other bits of metal spread over the workspace. "So, what were you working on, if I may be so bold?"
"Oh, just- some.. locking mechanisms. F-for the armor." He leaned forward to pick up the bracket once more, glaring at it with a huff and turning it over in his hands. To his side, Ogrim tilted his head, giving an inquisitive hum to prompt him to continue. Hegemol glanced at him, then back to the table. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. It was okay for him to go on about his work. His friend was offering him the opportunity.
"T-the suit itself should be too heavy for a bug to lift, especially when condensed as it was, but if it were unfolded, it could be moved piece by piece, or even w-worn out of the room. Only the King and I know how to unfold it—though I could teach you if you'd like—but it's theoretically n-not impossible for another bug to have f-figured out the mechanisms." He gestured to the bracket and the other metal pieces before them, the other knight following his movements with interest. "I was thinking of adding these extra locking parts, to make the set more difficult to unpack if you don't know the exact process. They would also offer more surface area for further spellwork to be inscribed, particularly if I can add pale ore to increase the efficacy of the magic. I plan to work with the King to design some that would reject anyone who isn't the proper owner or a trusted ally, w-when he has time," the maggot finished, quieting to a mumble at the end.
Meanwhile, though Ogrim was genuinely interested in what his friend had to say, he still found himself focusing on the smaller bug's state more than the words themselves. Hegemol was a lot harder to hear than normal, despite the lack of metal shell to cover his mouth—or perhaps because of it. The Defender didn't know the specifics of how the helmet worked, but he distantly recalled hearing about how it amplified sound in both directions, making it easier for the wearer to hear and to be heard. It gave Hegemol's voice a resonance that was strange to hear him without after so long.
Aside from that, the technically-smallest knight was always rather soft-spoken, but rarely to this extent. Ogrim nearly had to strain to pick out his words. His voice picked up a little as he talked about his passion, but otherwise faded to something anxious and uncertain. In fact, as the beetle watched, his body language screamed of anxiety: the constant fidgeting, the unfocused gaze, the shifting of weight on the stool. Hegemol was actually quite expressive when not covered in layers of thick metal—Ogrim just wished he could see those expressions in better circumstances.
The tinkerer looked up at his compatriot, waiting with bated breath for any sort of response to his ideas. The larger knight stared back, blinked, and after a moment, offered another bright smile. "That all sounds very impressive!"
Hegemol waited another second or two, then let out a short sigh, half disappointed and half relieved at the generic reply. "Thanks," he intoned.
Ogrim, seeing the half-hearted acceptance of his own lackluster response, tapped a claw to his chin in thought. "I do believe the idea has potential," he elaborated, moving his forelimb to rest gently on the other's shoulder, "I just can't say how much, precisely, as it's not my area of expertise. I have hope it will prove effective, though. You’re very good with this type of thing." Hegemol slowly nodded. It was then that the beetle noticed just how tense his friend was, even as he felt quite squishy under his own hard, chitinous claw. He turned it so that the sharper bits were angled firmly away from delicate skin and used the flat side to slowly rub the maggot's shoulder, keeping the pressure light while still trying to offer some sense of comfort.
His friend bore it for a few moments before shuddering and nudging the claw, signaling him to stop. The Defender quickly removed the offending limb and tilted his head in concern. "Are you sure you're alright, friend? It's not like you to shy away from contact."
"Yes, it's just," the tinkerer hunched in on himself, "when outside of my armor, every t-touch feels overwhelming, you know? I'm not used to feeling so.. exposed."
"Oh! Of course, of course, my apologies, I should've realized-"
"I-it's fine, you meant well, I know." He huffed and gestured loosely with an arm. "It's as if.. everything's so sharp, a-and cold, and defined out here. Like anything could p-pierce through me at any moment. Not that it hasn't happened before," Hegemol muttered, pulling off his welding gloves to stare at his callused hands, and the old, jagged lines that criss-crossed up his arms. The results of years of learning his craft the hard way. Ogrim hummed sympathetically at the sight. The Five all had their scars—his just came from a different source than the others'.
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"I k-know I can handle myself without the armor," the maggot continued, squeezing his hands shut, "but after so long being r-reliant on it, when it's not there for me to retreat into, everything suddenly feels like so much. It's not that I've forgotten how to feel—I still c-can, through the metal, thanks to His Majesty's enchantments—but it's usually dulled. Like- like going from a shell with all setae shaved off to one freshly molted, or so I imagine. A-and usually, when I do come out, it's only for short spans, or for rest. It's just- it's all-" He fumbled for a moment before slumping with a sigh.
"No, I understand. You've explained it quite well, I think," Ogrim chuckled softly, suppressing the urge to reach for his friend again. Hegemol offered a brief tired smile in return, then went back to fidgeting with his tools, picking off lingering flecks of dirt. The beetle tilted his head at how worn-out the other seemed, noting the droop of his antennae and darkness beneath his eyes. It made sense; the tinkerer was highly distressed at the loss of his armor, and it had been missing for over a day, not to mention that he had been in his workshop almost the entire time since. The Defender found it hard to believe that he would've gotten any sleep last night. "Is there anything I can do to help, my friend?"
"Hm? Oh, uhm," Hegemol tapped at the table, contemplating, "N-nothing that I can think of, at the moment. I'll.. let you know? Though I w-wouldn't want to keep you from your duties." He paused. "Speaking of which, shouldn't you be getting back to those, soon? Not that I don't appreciate your company, b-but…"
"Ah! My patrol, yes. I should, shouldn't I?" The dung beetle rubbed his horn sheepishly. "It just feels wrong to leave you unsupported when you're struggling like this. I don't suppose the King would mind a few minutes' break too badly, would he?"
No, he'd likely be far too absorbed in his own work to notice. The maggot scrunched his face a little, then snorted at a joke he kept to himself. He wasn't certain the most loyal of the Five would take as much humor in it. "You're probably fine," he mumbled, absently scrubbing at his eyes. "And I'm not completely unsup- supported. The others are doing their best out there to help."
"Still, I feel as though there's something more I could.. do…" Hegemol looked up as Ogrim trailed off. The Defender had a thoughtful look in his eye, a claw tapping against his chin. "...I may have an idea."
"Mm?"
"It would allow me to give you comfort and respite, while still being free to perform my tasks," he continued. There was a cautious air to his voice, quite unusual for the boisterous knight.
"I'm listening." The other's hesitance made Hegemol rather nervous himself, but he was open to ideas. He got a sense that he should know where Ogrim was going with this, but whatever it was, it eluded him. His friend was rarely one to choose his words so carefully.
"What if.." The beetle clicked his forelimbs together, glancing toward the pile of prototypes in the corner of the room, then back at their creator. "I could share my armor with you, in a manner of speaking? Just until your own is found."
Okay, he knew the larger knight didn't mean that in the literal sense, but what did he mean? The answer teased frustratingly at the edge of the tinkerer's mind, just out of reach.
Seeing his smaller friend’s look of confusion and concentration, the Defender gave a quiet laugh. He could practically watch the thoughts churning behind the maggot’s eyes. Might as well make it easier on him. “I’m sure you remember a.. particular rescue tactic, that I sometimes employ? Very effective in emergencies, but unrecognized by the public, due to its, er, taboo nature?” At Hegemol’s dawning comprehension, Ogrim released the breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding. He hadn’t realized it would be so nerve-wracking to tiptoe around the subject like that! He should’ve just ripped the bandage off. It wasn’t as though he’d ever gotten to ask before, not in a casual setting such as this. Of course, he’d been planning out how to bring the idea up to Isma, but- heh, no no, that could come later. A good.. good while later. “I know it’s.. odd… but it should serve our needs quite well, I think.”
“I… ah.” The smaller knight slumped back on his seat, leaning against the table as he processed. “Could- could I have a moment to think about this?” “Of course, my friend, of course! I wouldn’t want to pressure you into anything you don’t truly want, or frighten you away from something that may help.”
Slowly, Hegemol nodded, grabbing a drill bit to fidget with off the workbench while he considered the offer. Ogrim was asking to- to eat him. His immediate instinct was a shot of fear through the chest, based upon childhood lessons specifically intended to help him avoid such a fate. Of the few things he could remember about his parents, those instances were what stuck out most—their desperate attempts to ensure his survival in a world full of predators that would take any chance they could get to sate their hunger with a maggot’s succulent flesh. Even those among Hallownest’s noble class weren’t above such desires, much as they claimed to be.
Focusing on the weight of metal in his hands, he pushed the fear down. It wasn’t a life-or-death situation. This was Ogrim. Loyal, honest Ogrim, dedicated to his friends and kingdom above all else. The knight who’d sooner make himself completely vulnerable to a terrified citizen than let them come to any harm. This was something the beetle did on an almost regular basis, protecting those in need with his own body when the situation called for it. Of course, the average Hallownestian had claws, or horns, or at the very least, a hard shell, of which Hegemol had none. He'd be entirely at the mercy of his friend's gut. Still, the Defender had experience. He knew how to do it safely.
That's not to mention, the maggot had done something similar himself, two or three times before. Only in absolutely dire situations, of course, and only when he could be certain that the citizen in need of protection was unconscious and wouldn't be waking up anytime soon. He wasn't taking the risk of letting a stranger in on his secret. Not a chance. Though, tucking them into the hollow space at the center of his armor's torso was.. not the safest, he'd admit, what with all the exposed mechanisms, the only cover from such being haphazard platforms and sheets of metal installed to make the inner workings more accessible for maintenance. Perhaps he should improve that a little, add some padding to it. It'd make it more comfortable on him for routine cleaning and repairs, at least…
He repressed a jump when Ogrim abruptly shifted, glancing toward the door. Right, he should make his decision. He tapped the table a few times, both as a means to grab attention and to expel restless energy. When the beetle turned back to him, Hegemol voiced his concerns. "So- erm. You say it would be- it would be until my armor is found, yes? But.. w-what if it isn't found? I would need to get back to working on a n-new suit."
His fellow knight gave him an understanding look. "Should that be necessary, I'll let you out to continue your work. I'll let you out whenever you ask, really! The goal is to ease your mind and allow you some rest, not to trap you. Once you feel ready, you can get right back to it. I'll even let you back in later, if the need arises," he finished with a wink.
The tinkerer obliged him with a laugh. Yeah, Ogrim would never want to hurt him. He was far too kind-hearted, not to mention a dear friend. Giving the situation one last thought, Hegemol weighed the pros and cons. There weren't all that many cons, truthfully. He would be putting his life entirely in the Defender's claws—in his stomach, even—but he knew he could trust Ogrim. And there would be little to no privacy between them, but again, he trusted his friend not to abuse that. The courtesy would extend both ways, of course. And it would be strange, and new, and scary, but isn't everything, the first time around? He couldn't have gotten this far in life without taking a few risks.
As for pros, it would be… comfortable, supposedly. Dark, warm, and soft—ideal sleeping conditions. He didn't know if he'd be able to get past the other traits that defined the inside of a digestive organ, but he supposed he'd simply have to find out. But, most importantly, he'd be shielded from the world. He would have to relinquish all control, but in exchange, he would gain full protection. The thought gave him pause. It would only be for a resting period, and then he'd be released, he reminded himself. In sleep, he would have no control either way, so he wasn't sacrificing much of anything in that regard.
In the end, it all came down to trust. Trust, and willingness to try a new experience.
Finally, Hegemol looked up, meeting Ogrim's gaze head-on, and gave a single, firm nod. The dung beetle brightened considerably. "You accept?"
This was his chance to back down. He fought off the urge to take it. Be brave, o Mighty One. "Yes."
"Excellent! And, er.. Just to clarify, you do know what, precisely, I am offering?"
The maggot nodded again, more shallowly, expression revealing little. "Y-you wish to… ingest me. And hold me harmlessly within y-your stomach while I rest. Is my understanding correct?"
The Defender leaned back a bit. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't at least somewhat looking forward to this, but it didn't seem like the time to admit that aloud. "Ah, heh, 'wish' might be a strong word for it, but, er. Essentially, yes. That's my offer. Knowing that, you'd still agree to it?"
"Mhm."
"Good, good, that's good. I just wanted to make certain you knew what you would be getting into. Now!" He grinned and clacked his claws together in a clap. "Let's get to it, shall we?"
Hegemol let out a slight huff of relief. If his friend asked him if he was sure one more time, he was almost certain he would've changed his answer. He scanned the beetle's face, considering. "So, how do we.. go about this? I'm not too familiar with the process."
"Right, right. Well, to start, we need to get you into my mouth, which- hm. That's a good question, actually! We have a couple options for that. Would you be alright with me picking you up? That would be the easiest way, I think. Otherwise, I could hold my forearms out, and you could climb onto them yourself. Oh, or we could use the table! I could rest my chin on the edge, and you could crawl in of your own volition."
Ah, another chance to lose his nerve, how lovely. Still, with how excited his fellow knight looked over having the idea, the tinkerer could hardly find it in himself to turn him down. "T-that last choice sounds, um, acceptable."
Once again reminded of his comrade's hesitance, Ogrim tried to tone down his enthusiasm. Keeping his expression and tone light, he provided directions, wanting to make it easier on the smaller bug. "Alright. Go ahead and hop up, and I'll be ready whenever you are."
The beetle backed up a little to give Hegemol room as the tinkerer moved his tools and materials out of the way, shuffling them aside to be put away properly later. That done, he pulled himself from the stool onto his workbench. Cautiously, he turned back to his friend, who had gotten to one knee and was already lowering his head onto the surface.
Gods, even at eye level, he was.. big. Big, and yet not big enough, or so it appeared. His mouth was larger than the maggot's own, yes, but their eyes were around the same scale. There couldn't have been much difference between the sizes of their heads, even. Ogrim gave him an easy grin, then everything else stopped as his maw opened wide.
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Oh.
The anxious knight couldn't help the shudder that ran through him at the yawning cavern. No, Hegemol. Calm. Focus. It's just Ogrim. Just Ogrim… He steeled himself and crept closer. Those jaws could open further than he expected, honestly. He eyed the saliva starting to pool alongside the beetle's tongue with trepidation. He was hoping there'd be less of it. Leaning forward on his forelimbs, he took in the sight of the Defender's waiting mouth, shivering as humid breath washed over him, antennae flicking back. It was so still, so patient, and yet he could see all the little twitches of each muscle, held taut in anticipation. He sat back, just enough to lift his upper hands and tap them together nervously.
This didn't escape the other's notice, of course. Ogrim let his face fall into something more relaxed and reassuring. "I promise you, this is safe. I won't let you come to any harm, and certainly not from my own body."
Hegemol heaved in a breath and straightened up, rubbing his arm, brushing over his scars. "I-I know. I trust you. That's.. that's not it, e-exactly, it's just…"
"Mm?"
He huffed and blurted out his concern. "Just- are we- we sure I-I'll fit? Not that I d-don't trust your judgment, it just- i-it seems- …improbable."
The dung beetle blinked. After a moment, he put a claw to his mandibles, eyes squinted slightly in thought. "Hmm… It shouldn't be a problem! I've never ingested anyone quite your size before, true, but your, er, malleability should more than make up for that." To prove his point, he carefully pressed down on the maggot's head, watching the flesh bounce back into place as he released it. Hegemol shook himself out and nodded, eyes squeezed shut. Ogrim chuffed apologetically. "The process of getting you down might be rough, but I assure you, it should be quite comfortable once you're safely inside."
"I-I'm sure. Could- could we..?"
"Of course, friend, of course."
Once more, the maw was laid open before him. Once more, Hegemol inched forward, until his vision was almost entirely taken up by the shadowed green inside of his fellow knight's mouth. Once more, he steeled himself for what was to come. And with that, he pushed forward to immerse himself in Ogrim's depths.
Or he tried to, anyway. In reality, what happened was that he flinched back as soon as he felt mandibles scrape against the sides of his face. Sharp, sharp, far too sharp. As he crouched there, panting and staring, those perfectly innocuous chunks of chitin seemed all too threatening. He could feel lingering points of contact where they had just barely brushed against him. As the larger bug closed his mouth to tilt his head in concern, Hegemol gasped in a breath and let his eyes fall shut. Scarab mandibles aren't sharp, you blubbering fool. Where's all that courage it took to get here? He barely touched you.
"...You don't have to do this if you're not comfortable, Hege-"
"No, no," he shook his head and sat up, meeting the beetle's eyes with a determined look. "Th-that was just- instinct. I want to do this. I-I just.." Ogrim gave him a questioning look, waiting patiently. "Could," the maggot started. He huffed, frustrated with himself. "Could you.. put me in your- your mouth? I- You have experience with this, and I- I'd rather this part b-be over with."
Somehow, the Defender's voice fell to an even gentler tone. "Of course, I understand. Just relax, close your eyes if you'd like, and I'll take care of it from here."
With one final nod, Hegemol went still, his eyes falling shut as instructed. He couldn't bring himself to go entirely limp, but this would have to do. He couldn't keep himself from tensing slightly as large claws came to rest on either side of his face. Thankfully, Ogrim provided him a moment to breathe and resettle himself before gently tugging him forward. The solid chitinous appendages squeezed ever so carefully to reshape his head into something narrower. He took one more deep breath, and with that, he was finally guided into the maw of his brother in arms.
The beetle tried not to gasp as Hegemol made contact with his tongue. The taste… He wasn’t normally one for meat, but by the gods, his friend tasted divine. He couldn’t help the saliva that rushed in upon detecting such a delicacy entering his mouth, but he could at least make use of it. He promptly began to slather the maggot with fluid as soon as his head was engulfed in his jaws. The sweet, savory flesh was still highly malleable, conforming to the limits of Ogrim’s mouth, giving so easily to the ministrations of his tongue. He stayed mindful, of course. He didn’t want to startle his friend any further, let alone make him feel like a mere morsel, Wyrm forbid. No, no, of course not, he was just.. slicking him to ease the trip down, that’s all. He’d just have to make sure to clarify that once the tinkerer was settled. Along with, perhaps, a brief, tasteful compliment to his flavor. The Defender couldn’t exactly lie to his fellow knight, now could he? Especially when- ah, it seemed he was humming his enjoyment aloud. He let the low sound peter out, gave the other a short pat, and eased him further inside.
The smaller knight would've very much appreciated it if his friend could have gotten this part over with. He didn't need his thoughts spiraling out of control again before he was even fully inside. Nearly holding his breath, he hunkered down and let everything happen around him. It was difficult not to struggle, but he managed, keeping himself limp. Luckily, it seemed that the brunt of the.. tasting was over, though he couldn't help tensing as his head met the back of the throat. His antennae twitched against the damp surface. Even with his eyes squeezed shut, it was easy to feel when the flesh before him parted, opening into a yawning void that he didn’t dare gaze upon. The sparse moments before it pulled him inside seemed to last an eternity, until finally, Ogrim swallowed.
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The scarab couldn't help but grin as his comrade began to slide into his gullet. He'd never gotten the chance to really enjoy the process before, especially not with anyone so squishy. Now, he could finally be slow, gentle, rather than rushing to get his charge down and out of danger. He could feel every little detail of his friend's form, taste every little subtle flavor. Every twitch and squirm was clear to him, even as he could tell how much the smaller knight was trying to keep calm, keep still. Without his input, another hum kicked up. His claws met his chest, hardly able to detect the near-formless shape past his own flesh and shell and armor, but distinctly feeling the mass pushing outward against the muscles of his esophagus. His tongue flicked out against his mandibles, seeking more of the exquisite taste. Such a wonderful little warmth, being squeezed down, down, deeper into his body.
Despite the discomfort of being shoved around like a helpless ragdoll, Hegemol was grateful that at least this part of the process was smooth and efficient. The esophageal muscles’ actions were involuntary, simply performing the job they were made for and giving him no special treatment. He was shunted downward at a steady pace. Fast, but not so much as to be disorienting. The mechanicalness of it all was almost a comfort to the tinkerer. More examples of automation and consistency became clear to him as he was pushed deeper. The regular pounding of his friend’s heart, pushing blood through the beetle’s hemocoel. Breaths drawing air through the spiracles to spread into tracheae, carrying oxygen to tissues throughout the body. Soft gurgles of the lower digestive tract processing food eaten long before his arrival. The rhythm of life was overwhelming, when heard all at once, but as he broke it down in his mind to its component parts, it became a sort of reassurance. Things still made sense, even when made up of complex organic matter rather than raw elements or simple minerals.
All this self-soothing focus was enough to occupy his attention until he was dropped unceremoniously into Ogrim’s stomach. He quickly pushed himself upright and shook himself out, scrubbing at his face with his upper set of hands. He had barely a second to orient himself before the wall behind him squeezed inward, making him gasp.
The Defender hugged himself tightly as his fellow knight was deposited safe in his belly. So soft, so warm, just barely weighing down the organ. The perfect size to make him comfortably full, while still having a fair bit of wiggle room. He wasn't sure if the maggot really was as warm as he seemed, or if it was just his own fondness and contentment making it feel that way. And the softness… With how pliant Hegemol's exterior was, it was hard to make out his outline, discern where the smaller bug ended and his own flesh began. He could only determine his friend's exact location by the movements against his inner walls. It made every shift of the limbs and flick of the antennae feel special, ephemeral, giving him a fluttery sensation as though his gut were full of lumaflies rather than a comrade. He gave another small squeeze, then loosened his hold to instead pat lightly at the hidden form. This was lovely, every bit of it. He'd have to see if Hege would ever be willing to do this again sometime.
“Make yourself at home, dear friend,” Ogrim sighed, a blissful smile on his face. “Are you alright? How is it in there? Comfortable, I hope.”
Hegemol shuddered a bit as the wall retracted. Sitting up, he looked around, not that he could see anything, exactly. His antennae waved about in the darkness. It smelled.. odd. He wouldn’t call it gross—as a maggot, he’d be hard-pressed to find much of anything disgusting—but it was certainly new. Not impossible to get used to though, given enough time. He reached out to touch the enclosing flesh. Damp. Slippery. Dragging his hand along it, he felt out the space around him. There wasn’t much. The walls kept closing in on him, rubbing against him, kneading him. He wasn’t food. There was no acid, he- he wasn’t food, it was just- the organ was investigating its new occupant, that’s all. Breathe, Hegemol. He was fine. …He’d be fine.
“..Hegemol?”
Slowly, he turned around to face the front, resting his forehead against where Ogrim’s claw was with a sigh. “I-I’m alright, yes.” He was safe, he knew. No stinging, burning, or tingling, and he was certain he’d notice a lot faster than most other bugs if there was. As for comfort… He moved a hand to rub back at the beetle’s innards. It was.. soft, yes, and warm. That was to be expected. Arthropods’ interiors tended to have far less defense than their exteriors. And there was plenty of padding to hold in heat. The walls were slick, but covered in thick fluid that clung to anything it touched. It… he couldn’t say it was unpleasant, really, not when he knew it couldn’t hurt him. Perhaps if he viewed it as a warm bath..?
“I-it will take some g-getting used to, I think, but it- it should d-do nicely.” After all, it did provide the one thing he wanted. The outside world was entirely blocked out, hidden behind layers of muscle and one of the toughest sets of armor in Hallownest. There was nothing sharp or cold or hard, deep in the dung beetle’s gut. Nothing to possibly hurt him but for the acids that could threaten to escape the walls, kept inert by Ogrim’s sheer force of will and care for his wellbeing. He knew the larger knight was experienced in this, and that his will was strong. He could trust him with his life. He was safe.
The tinkerer did one more loop of the space, trying not to shudder as the surrounding muscles brushed against his side, then settled right in the center, lying down in the pit of the stomach. He shuffled his limbs a bit, adjusting his position to root himself more firmly amongst the ever-moving tissues. At least he could be somewhat stable. The organ still kneaded and pressed at him curiously, not quite knowing what to do with him. The front wall, especially. He shut his eyes tight and tilted his head down as something rubbed at him from the outside. Ogrim’s claw, right. Rightrightright. His friend was merely checking in on him. He leaned into the show of concern, just a bit. Just to confirm that he was doing well. He appreciated knowing that the scarab wouldn’t forget about him so easily.
Ogrim rubbed his stomach, satisfied. The little engineer really hit the spot. He flushed slightly; he shouldn’t be thinking of his comrade that way. He was so delectable though, and so filling-! His breath hitched as Hegemol nuzzled(??) back at him. That’s what it felt like, anyway. He quietly chuckled at the abrupt show of affection. Always full of surprises, that bug. Though perhaps this shouldn’t have been quite so unexpected. Hegemol was plenty tactile with his fellow knights when safely concealed in his armor, after all. Maybe this was a sign that the method was working? Was the maggot feeling more confident, thanks to the experience? Thanks to him? Oh, he hoped so. He so adored being able to successfully assist others with their needs and problems, particularly those he cared for. It always left him with a sense of fulfillment.
“It’s time for me to go back to my patrol now, but you try and get some sleep, alright? I’ll wake you if there’s any news regarding your armor, or if the King requests your presence, but otherwise, you should remain undisturbed. Just let me know when you want out, or if you need anything else, and I’ll be happy to oblige.” Somewhere under the layers of his body, he felt the up-and-down movement of a nod, as well as a small vibration from Hegemol’s hum of acknowledgement a moment later. With one more good pat, he stood and began towards the door of the workshop, trying to keep his steps smooth and steady for the tinkerer’s sake. It felt as though the smaller bug was already nestled right in. The occasional shudder or shiver came through, but those were starting to die down. Hopefully they would dissipate in full within the next few minutes as the maggot adjusted.
The White Defender paused as he reached the exit, one claw on the handle. He gazed fondly downward, towards where his brother in arms currently resided. Inside, Hegemol would hear one last reassurance as his sleepless nights caught up to him. “Rest well, friend,” came the hushed murmur, “I’ll be your armor for as long as you need.”
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And there we go! Thank you to everyone who stuck around during these. massive gaps between posts;; And again, a big thank you to Scketch!! This has been fun, I'd love to work with you again sometime. Or merhaps another friend who would like to collaborate?  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Also also! I have been granted permission to share these other sketches as well, from earlier in the writing/art planning process:
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(That last one was a little what-if scenario of Hege getting unwillingly nommed and not really having a way to effectively struggle, eheheh) (it’s not like I have a fic outline where THAT would ever happen. ahaha. ha,,, ha)
Thanks for reading! Feedback (and reblogs) are greatly appreciated, and criticism is welcome, so long as it’s constructive/respectful. Asks are open.
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DNI NSFW blogs, blogs that post exclusively hard and/or fatal vore, weight gain blogs, mpreg blogs, proshippers, TERFs, ace exclusionists, etc.
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novorehere · 1 year
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“Those girls found it… the thing that they cherish. And that’s why they’re strong.”
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azazelthatdemon · 3 months
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Hi I'm back anyway have some pl@stic m@n noms
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thefanciestborrower · 3 months
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Jimmy don’t you DARE tell him
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cainsclementine · 2 months
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@azazelthatdemon
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hungrycake12 · 2 months
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"Toby's Punishment"
This is definitely one of the more bizarre "punishments" Toby has experienced
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first art post of this account! close up to the internal shot below
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smol-and-trashy · 2 months
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Dual POV vore thing
Idk it wasn’t Twisted Wonderland related until it kinda became. Imagine whatever smug character you want tbh. The only TWST ref is the character’s name
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He had her.
As her tiny form slipped down his throat, he traced her descent. Following the slight bulge from beneath his chin to the crest of his collarbone.
Reclining in the chair, its front wooden legs hovering as his feet rested on the table for balance, he hummed.
Beyond savoring her taste, the sensation of her plunging deeper into his core was undeniably delicious, delectable.
As she pooled into his gut, her immediate squirms and muffled words were met with casual indifference. He pressed the flat of his fingers to his belly, grinning as a flurry of movement occurred in retaliation.
Sure, he’ll release her eventually, but for now, he was going to have some fun with his little toy.
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Plus a prey POV, let’s name her Yuu lol
The asshole actually swallowed her. As Yuu slid down his throat, she was in a shocked trance. Sure, he was playing around with her, raising her above his open mouth and whatnot but she didn’t think the oaf would actually swallow.
Squeezed down his tight gullet, it felt like the world’s most claustrophobic water slide. Yuu dropped into a more open space, the walls dripped with liquid, constantly moving, and the stale odor of past meals made her irritably kick at the nearest wall.
Unbridled chuckles closed in around her, hurling Yuu across the confined space. Her nails dug into the floor, trying to grasp some semblance of stability as she shook off the dizziness. Nerves grated, anxiety fried — she lashed out, hitting and scratching at the walls. Yuu’s entire body was drenched and sticky, courtesy of the oppressive mugginess of her surroundings.
With her hair clinging to her face, Yuu swore she would make this bastard pay the moment she got out of here.
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cybersoldier82 · 3 months
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Im sad so have some transvoremers pred headcanons of how Nautica, Megatron, Knockout and Flamewar cheering up their prey.(bare in mind im still new to transformers so if these are inaccurate im very sorry you can speak to my agent about financial compensation/j)
Nautica: She has cheering her prey up down to a science, she knows exactly what is needed and just how to get your spirits up before and after noms. She’ll make sure youre ok with physical touch at the moment and hug you for as long as you need, rubbing your back all the while telling you exactly what you need to hear, until she finally, and carefully, places you in her maw, letting you go down at your own pace. Once youre in her stomach shes gonna caress, knead and rub at you as long as needed, even letting you sleep in there if that’ll help, all in all when youre sad yourw her main priority until youre not anymore.
Megatron: He’s a tad bit more to thr point about it, but not in a rude way. Taking it rather seriously, the person he cares about is upset and he makes it his job to get to the root of the problem, regardless of what the problem is. Hes not used to being this soft but he still tries to comfort yah in his own way, he cares deep down yah know(dont tell starscream)? He also gently places you in his mouth and sends you down at your own pace, but once you are down he doesn’t have much time to comfort you while youre in there, hes a busy guy lol, so he lets you chill out in there while he goes off to tend to whatever needs tending to, once he finds time though he makes it all for you so dont worry too much.
Knockout: knockout is a different case to be frank with you, he still understands that this is a serious situation but come on, its knockout, hes gonna be a teasing bastard about it in some way or another. I feel like him having a more care free attitude might actually be helpful here, he still recognizes that youre upset but that doesnt mean hes not gonna fluster you into feeling better. Oh and once he gets to tucking you away its over for you, youre gonna be redder then the surface of mars when he’s through with you. Hes gonna knead and and rub and caress the hell out of you, to the point that you’ll be so caught up in being flustered that you’ve forgotten what you were sad about, all according to hus plan of course ;3.
Flamewar: Flamewar is in a similar boat to Knockout in being a very different animal about comfort, unlike him however she doesn’t really know what she’s doing, shes used to dicking with people and being the lovable dink she is. That’s not to say she wont try though, she’s determined to try literally anything to get you feeling better, even if she accidentally makes it worse here and there. She’s probably stressed out thinking that what she’s doing isn’t helping even though it probably is, once she does start to notice a change she moves to what she knows works; eating you, this is also the part where she can have some fun. Like Knockout she’s gonna tease and fluster the hell out of yah on the way in, on the way down, and for the whole time youre in there, once you’re finally better she lets out a huge sigh of relief, her winging it worked, thank primus, now she can enjoy her favorite person in her belly knowing she helped yah feel better, everyone wins.
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