#tw: mentions of vore

[wholegrainvore]

A pred swallowing a prey who they don’t realise is immortal and immune to digestion. They fall asleep with a full, happy tummy, and wake up to … that exact same squirming belly. Their brows furrow together as they prod at their stomach, and the prey inside laughs at them for their foolishness, expecting the pred to let them out now that digestion isn’t a possibility.

But the pred is stubborn.

“You think I’ll let you out just because I can’t digest you? Newsflash, sweetheart: I like how you feel in there. I haven’t given up a meal yet, and I’m not about to now.” The pred smothers a belch as their prey begins to start thrashing around with panic, smirking to themselves. “Shhh… we’re gonna get to know each other real well by the time you give up, I think.”

[cyncerity]

Karlnapity doodles??? 🥺 The bbs <3

YES YES YES MY BOYS MY BOYSSSS

TY SQUISHY I WILL TAKE ANY AND EVERY EXCUSE TO BE ABLE TO DRAW THESE THREE THEY MEAN THE WORLD TO ME

ok so i kinda went crazy here cause it’s almost 2 am and i said “hey there’s an idea i’ve had for going on 3 years that i keep saying i’ll animate and never do.” so i finally did.

this is for a very very old au, it’s actually the first au on this blog and has 1 story; which is karlnapity. I won’t go into all the lore and stuff but i’ll link that story here for those of you who weren’t here in 2021, it’s how they ended up together in this au <3. Basis is Sapnap is a human, Quackity is an avian, and Karl is an Ermine hybrid borrower.

[hemipenal-system]

the best part of eating someone a bit too large is pulling your stomach in and feeling things snap and break as their screams get louder and then suddenly quieter before going silent…

[thefanciestborrower]

The Devouring of Prometheus

Ohh boy this fic has been over a year in the making and by golly am I proud of it. It was mostly an attempt to imitate Mary Shelley’s writing style while adding more classic lit vore into the world cause oh boy do we need it. This fic is a little darker than my usual fluffy stuff because. You know. It’s Frankenstein. But everything is still safe despite what Victor thinks. Anyways, please enjoy and let me know what you think!

Warnings: Contains soft, safe, unwilling vore, mentions of digestion, mentions of dying, mentions of cannon character death, minor injury, and vomit

Characters: Victor Frankenstein and the Creature

Word Count: 2,830

Mankind has no greater fear than that of being devoured. It is an instinctual fear, engrained deep within our very beings from the moment we are born, as it is in every living being, and yet it is perhaps one of the most uncommon fears to experience in its true, unaltered form. We are quite familiar with the notion of being killed and eaten by a wild beast, since such a thing, while not terribly common in the more civilized parts of the world, is often talked of in books and by explorers returning from long voyages to strange, wild lands. It is a threat to be sure, but perhaps not the most fear inspiring one. A hungry lion might indeed pounce upon you with his teeth and claws bared as if to shred you to ribbons while you lay awake in agony, but in truth he is far more merciful than even most men and will end you swiftly with a bite to the neck before he ever starts to feed. The fear of being eaten in this way, then, is diluted by the promise of a swift death at the claws of a creature who bore you no more malice than you do a butchered duck. 

The terror of being consumed lies not in the act of consumption, but in the method. Stories full of giants and ogres who devour men whole and alive fill the countryside and take captive the minds of all who hear them, filling their dreams with images of gnashing teeth and slavering mouths, capable of sending a grown man down, kicking and screaming, in a single swallow. I must confess I never heard much of these tales growing up, aside from a few Clerval was so fond of telling, and when they did reach my ears, I simply scoffed, laughing such frightening images away in the clear light of day when nothing could seem more ridiculous. They were children’s tales, I thought, simply meant to frighten and entertain, for nothing, man or beast, could swallow whole a living man. Oh, how I wish I had been right. 

He came for me in the night. I was asleep, or nearly so, when a sudden noise at my window startled me awake. At first I assumed it to be the scratching of a branch or perhaps even some night creature making its rounds through the garden outside. After all, I was far more unfamiliar with the Oxford landscape than my dear friend Clerval, who had spent much of his afternoon exploring the grounds, so I felt there to be no need for concern. Indeed, I had nearly turned over to drift back to sleep when I saw his eyes. Those wretched, sunken, yellow eyes staring as if into my very soul through the dusty window I had neglected to lock in my naivety. I might have screamed had fear not grasped my throat and strangled my voice, and though I longed to run, terror turned my legs to lead and forced me to watch as the fiend pried open the window with a delicate ease that seemed almost laughable compared to the rest of his hulking mass. I pulled my sheet up to shield my chest like a child might, entertaining fantasies that perhaps this was simply a nightmare, and if I remained still in my bed then he would be unable to harm me, but when he began to climb through the window with the elegance of a lion stalking his prey, eyes never once leaving me, panic settled over my heart and I realized this was no mere conjuring of an overworked mind. The beast was here, looming over me in my chambers as I trembled in bed with naught but a thin sheet and even thinner night clothes to protect me. 

“Devil! What do you want from me!” I cried at last, terror loosening her claws from my throat. “I have not forgotten our agreement, so why do you insist on tormenting me so!” 

I received no reply, the beast more than content to simply stare at my trembling form. Perhaps he enjoyed how weak I must have appeared before him as his eyes flicked over me, almost sizing me up for reasons I could never have comprehended in that moment. Cold and yellow as they were, I could see an inkling of some mysterious emotion behind those eyes, but it’s identity I couldn’t say. Nor did I care. My thoughts were quickly preoccupied as he advanced upon me, padding forwards like some great and terrible cat, until he stopped just shy of the side of my bed, so close I could have reached out and touched him. 

Again, I saw that strange emotion flicker behind his dead eyes, but before I had time to ponder it he wrapped his hands around my chest and lifted me from the safety of my bed with terrifying ease, like one might lift a small child or a doll, and while I screamed and writhed in his hideous grasp, his hold only tightened. My ribs creaked and complained under the pressure and my cries became strangled and choked. With a ghastly popping sound he opened his grotesque mouth, jaw hanging at an angle too wide for any human to achieve, and to my upmost horror he quickly stuffed my head inside with the terrifying efficiency of a ravenous beast. The slimy muscle of his tongue lapped against my face and my body convulsed in disgust as I desperately fought not to be sick. Revolting as my situation was, I did not wish to add my own vomit to the mix, even if it might have disgusted the fiend enough to free me. 

I could see nothing but darkness, each desperate gasp for oxygen only supplying me with the barest sliver of foul air. Teeth ringed my neck like a terrible collar, and for a moment I entertained ideas of those teeth, the very same I had picked and sorted by hand, crashing together to sever my head from my body like some terrible executioner. Before my thoughts could spiral much more in this direction, his grip changed and I was suddenly shoved against the slick, fleshy opening of his throat. My blood curdled and, with a sudden, crushing pressure, my head was crammed downwards in the most painful manner which caused me to cry out in despair. My skull felt as though it would shatter, and I screamed a horrible, terrible shriek of agony and terror as my shoulders were crushed down after me, the tight gullet of the beast threatening to break them into splinters. My vision swam, stars of pain and lack of breath sparking and dancing before my eyes, and though no light followed me into my hellish prison, I could still see the blackest pitch wavering at the edge of my vision, threatening to drown me in its inky embrace. For a moment I wished it would, if only to keep me from the terrible suffering I knew lay before me, but fate is a cruel mistress and before I could sink into that comforting ocean of darkness a terrible pressure bloomed upon the crown of my head and forced me into an open pocket of stinking, putrid air. 

Coughing and gaging I struggled to draw even a single breath. My ribs, now horribly compressed, creaked and shuttered terribly under the pressure of the creature’s throat, and though my legs still flailed outside, and my hands desperately scrambled for a hold on what I felt to be his chin, I did not dare move the length of my compressed torso for fear of inflicting more damage upon myself. Another painful swallow jolted me down, my face jamming roughly into what I presumed to be the bottom of the creature’s dreadful stomach, and the grotesque flesh not only yielded to accept my presence, but did so with an almost pleased sounding groan, if stomachs can be pleased, as if I really were simply a morsel of food to be consumed and forgotten. The sound filled my heart with a terror I’ve never known, and I cried out, though my voice was quickly silenced by the slick flesh as more of my body was squeezed through that terrifically tight ring of muscle and forced to bend and twist to fit my new prison like some sort of contortionist. 

I know not how long it took the devil to consume me: the darkness of my surroundings and constant pain dulled my senses and left me disoriented to the point where I no longer could even tell up from down. I remember no longer feeling the cold air on my body after some time, my entire being now encased in sweltering heat, and searing pain as my legs were crushed down against my ribs. Finally, it was all over. My entire body had been fully compacted into the creature’s stomach, and although this new development was arguably a much worse position than my previous one, I was far too preoccupied with gulping down precious lungfuls of oxygen to care.

Then, all at once, the reality of my situation came crashing down upon me and with the fervor of a cornered beast I began to lash out and fight, twisting and turning in the confined space in hopes of causing my captor at least the slightest bit of discomfort. 

“Fiend! Devil! Release me at once!” I panted, gnashing my teeth in fear and anger. “This is no way to treat any man, let alone your maker!”

I had no doubt that he could hear my cries and feel my struggles, confined as I was, and yet no answer came. Despite the nature of my location, I was completely and utterly alone, for what man pays attention to his food after he’s eaten it. Again, I tried to call out, to plead for release as I fought against the smothering flesh, and again I was ignored, save for a light pressure against my back from which I hastily jerked away. It was his hand; I knew it instinctively. The brute was no doubt relaxing after so fine a feast of human flesh, and that touch was nothing more then the satisfied gloating of a predator now sated with a filling meal that would last him far longer than any morsel of bread or wine. I was merely something to be enjoyed, digested, and forgotten.

 How many more, I wondered, would be lost in the same way once I had perished. Clearly my current location indicated my captor had grown fond of the taste of human, and with a heart wrenching shudder I suddenly realized I had no way of knowing wether I was the first victim of the monster’s appetite, or if he had already glutted himself with other gentle country folk, just as he had done to me, and I was now resting in their grave. The thought was too much for my already distraught and troubled soul, and the disgust which filled me suddenly became too overwhelming to sustain. With a thick heave I proceeded to retch onto myself, my sick mixing with the beast’s own bile, and I sobbed bitterly for my home. 

“Oh, my dear mountains and precious lake. Will I truly never again delight in your sweet air and radiant beauty? Am I to perish so far from all that is fair and wholesome, without even the cold stars to bare witness to my demise?” I lamented; my voice thick with the grief of a man who believes he is to die isolated from everything he once held dear. 

The spongy flesh seemed to mute my voice effectively as a heavy curtain might, and my words fell upon deaf ears, for no reply came from my creation. My captor. My killer. Was I really to meet my end as nothing more than a meal? My last breath tainted by the stench of bile and vomit? The pressure to my back returned, and although the touch revolted me, I was far too exhausted from my fear and the quickly thinning oxygen to do more than twitch in protest. What difference would it make anyways, my fate was already sealed.

Each breath I drew grew more ragged and gasping with every passing second, my panic having done nothing but quickly use up what little air I had in the stale cell, and in some fever, I realized that, although my air was quickly thinning, I had not yet begun to feel the slightest tingle of digestion. Oh, what sweet twist of fate was this! I still would meet my end as nothing more than a morsel of food this was true, but I would be long since unconscious and perhaps even suffocated before acids truly began to work on me and thus spared the sensation of digesting alive. It was a small assurance, but so consumed was I by grief and terror of my fate that even the small mercy of a painless death brought me comfort. It was more than a man like me deserved after all I’d done. The innocent blood on the creature’s hands stained mine as well, and I thought bitterly of poor darling little William and dear Justine. Their blood has been spilt on my account, and yet, while their deaths had been horrific tragedies, I took solace in knowing they had left the world far quicker than I would, and that I would be seeing them again soon.

My vision swam before me, and with one last shuddering sigh I slumped against the slick walls, no longer attempting to catch my breath, for what would be the point in trying to breathe when there is no air left to fill my lungs. The stomach clenched around me with a disgusting squelch, smothering and squeezing my helpless form as it worked to knead what I presumed to be caustic acids into my sodden clothing and soft flesh, preparing for the undoubtably difficult task of liquifying my un-masticated body. With a gasping, barely audible sob I pressed a trembling hand out against my churning prison walls, cursing my creation and praying my end would be swift. Then the darkness engulfed me, and I knew no more.

Due to the circumstances in which I had fallen unconscious I fully expected to never wake again, so when I started awake some unknown amount of time later in the very bed I had been snatched out of, I could seldom comprehend what was happening. My first thought was that my horrendous experience had been naut but a dream; an apparition brought upon me by the dreadful task I knew I would soon be required to complete. Then I became aware of the disgusting film of sticky, foul smelling sick coating my body and the dull, yet throbbing pain in my ribs, and my blood ran cold. It had been no dream. My creation truly had assaulted me in the night, swallowed me whole and alive, and, by some miracle, vomited me back out before his digestive system could process me. In fact, aside from my ribs, which were badly bruised, I appeared whole and unharmed. Not even a drop of acid had singed my clothes, and my skin was fair and unblemished as it had always been. I pressed a hand to my cheek as if to make certain of my unharmed state, and then, to my own surprise, I began to laugh. It was not a mirthful laugh, but rather one of incredulous shock and relief as I grasped at my warm and unharmed skin. So certain had I been that those final moments filled with slimy blackness and foul reeking air inside the creature would be my last that the cold air of my room and the sting of my nails against my face might well have been gifts from Heaven itself. Even now I marvel at my incredible escape and wonder what could possibly have prompted the monster to give up as filling a meal as I surely must have been. I do not think I shall ever know, but judging from the healthy nature which I possessed upon waking, I can only assume he realized he could not process me as he intended and his body expelled me, though wether such an expulsion was voluntary on his part I still could not say. Nonetheless I knew I was no doubt incredibly fortunate to have survived such an encounter and my resolve had the been strengthened. Where before I had postponed my promise, I vowed to not do so again, for who knew how long the wretched beast would be content to wait and leave me and others be. As soon as I was able, I would set to work creating another who would contain his terrible urges and put this dreadful encounter behind me forever. 

[lesbianoms]

I kind feel like there’s an unspoken rule that safe vore and endo has become “sfw vore” and the kinkier side is generalized as fatal only. It feels like whenever someone has a vore kink they are also expected to be okay with digestion and death. I’ve found a handful of creators who make kinky endo content but it’s very few and far between and I just wish that “kinky” didn’t automatically register as “bones and murder and the screams of innocent prey >:)” because like that’s really distressing to me a lot of the time.

[vorekody]

(Loveandvore here~)

I would love to know more about your river guys >.> we know how Alon and Payton met but how did Alon meet the anaconda nags? Do the naga and capybara also know each other, and if so how do they meet? Does Alon ever get vored by the naga <.<

(Apologies if you’ve already answered some of these and I missed them ^^’)

Hiya! I'm glad you're so interested in my doofuses! >:)!

Alon has pretty much been inhabiting their end of the river with the nags their whole life- they never really formally interact, instead their relationships are purely territorial (on Alon's end) or predatory (- the nags)

Canonically - Alon has never been eaten, because I imagine if they were it would be perma fatal, there isn't a whole lot of reformation in this story (but if you want to imagine AU scenarios where they do get nommed feel free!)

The capybara siblings only properly encountered a naga once- when Mara ate Elio, since then Payton has only ever caught glimpses of other nags (and would like to keep it that way lol)

[v-afterhours]

Also if I may request something too,

Anil, heavily pregnant with some obvious movement…but also having clearly grown tired of wild fruit and found more…larger and meatier things to swallow. Which also is kicking up a storm in their belly…👀

Looks like first contact with Cornukids didn't go as planned... Good thing the researchers brought their reformation devices!

Anil gets some extra protein for the kiddos, too!

[sillyromance]

Since @tinysuzy posted a beautiful list of vore dialog prompts, one line has been stuck in my head, and it refuses to leave. It stands under number 8: “If you want to die, then let me be your grave”.

There are so many controversial emotions fighting inside of me whenever I read this, but the one that overcomes, or rather concludes them all, is a feeling of comfort. It’s kinda illogical, I know. But this phrase always sounds so soft, so soothing to me – because I see it as an apotheosis of acceptance, love and trust. Yes, trust, because both pred and prey need huge amount of trust to bound their lives together till the end of times. I can’t help but put these words in a mouth of someone with deep empathy and compassion, someone who is so generous and selfless in a way that they offer to an abandoned, lost soul their body as a place where the latter would be in safety and peace for eternity, where nobody would ever hurt them again. And as far as it may seem to be just a way for a pred to get an easy meal, I don’t see even a hint of thoughts about gaining anything from a prey or using them here. Furthermore, as a prey myself, I would be deeply touched, realizing that a person cares about me so much that they are ready to spend all their life as one with me. Like… They would take all I have as their own, all my good and bad, all my imperfections – and wouldn’t judge, or laugh, or blame, or try to change me… They would just be there for me, and I would be there for them – forever.

I don’t know man. But reading this every time makes me emotional.

A small writing on this under the cut:

- If you want to die... then let me be your grave.

She sobs and leans closer to him, feeling his warm, welcoming body embracing her lovingly. She can hear his heart beating softly in his wide chest - and can't get enough of the sound, desperate to be surrounded, shaken by it to the very core of her bones. He brushes her hair, his touch soothing and comforting, and she isn't afraid of anything anymore.

Those nasty people will never get her again. Her friend is here, ready to bring her to safety, to give her shelter and defend her from the cruel world.

His big palm lays on her cheek. She smiles through tears and lets it caress her; as far as his fingers brush against her lips, she kisses them - and gives him one last look, look of deep sadness and deep gratitude.

- Take me in. Please.. - She asks, titling her head down.

And, soundlessly, he obliged, sealing her in his mouth up to her neck.

She isn't scared of pain - there won't be any. At best, it will tingle pleasantly until she get knocked out by heat and lack of oxygen. Powerful, yet gentle swallows make a good job slowly entraping every inch, every small piece of her body inside of her man, sending her closer, closer to her fate. She can already hear his stomach rumbling for her down below, and her smile spreads wider at the thought of answering that eager call of his inhuman nature. His organism wants her inside... Who is she to disobey its will? Besides, it fits her own desires perfectly..

Eventually, from the tight esophagus she is released into a roomier chamber. A stomach. The place where she will lose all her worries and fears along with her flesh.

It's clenching needily around her frame, keeping her right in its centre, demandingly cradling every curve and imperfection she thought everyone would hate, but he... wants. She feels his hands, too, resting on his expanded belly, rubbing at her back and shoulders, reaching to her through the layers of skin and flesh. She isn't alone. He didn't lie saying he would be there. Her love, her home.

Her last resting place...

Enough grief, enough struggles, enough anger. It's over. She notices liquid pooling in and eases herself into it, allowing it to fulfill its purpose and digest her. It feels blissful, to let it go. To let him take her and satisfy his body. As the walls hug her tighter, she fondles them, praying she won't be a challenge for him to claim.

She knows - he isn't the one to take advantage of her vulnerability, to tease, then deny her, to laugh at her weakness and freakiness. No.

He is her savior. Her hiding spot only they two know about. They both win this, for both get what they crave the most and what they deserve: she gets safety, love, protection; he gets nourishment and strength - not the kind of strength to abuse and destroy, but to build and help this world get better. Yet, there is no selfish reasons in the first place. They give things out of their hearts, and receive, minding the value of each gift. It makes this act even more intimate and beautiful.

They are definitely better this way, as a whole, powerful being.

...And she sinks into darkness, to become light in his kind eyes.

[teal-fiend]

a pred who eats you and then forgets about you the rest of the day. you are resigned to your fate as their meal.

you feel your body being tossed around throughout the day, as they carry you with them, slowly digesting you

very slowly. in fact, as the day comes to an end, you are still very alive and largely undigested.

the pred actually spits you out. explaining that they thought you'd be easier to digest. And since you were taking a while to digest, since so little progress had been made, they didn't want to trouble you any longer. You can go free

[third-king-of-salmonids]

HOLD ON I HAVE TO GOOGLE SOMETHING

[cyncerity]

Just finished your new storeshifter au and, if I may add to the angst train, how long did it take for Sapnap to eat in the same place as his partners?

I'd assume he would have some trauma surrounding eating/chewing/swallowing near people after everything that happened with Bad and I would bet that sudden change in behavior would be extremely worrying to Karl and Quackity

ANON YOURE A GENIUS

yes absolutely, it takes a long while for Sapnap to get used to eating around people again after the Bad incident. Hell, he’d probably have a hard time eating. I think he’d play it off to Karl and Quackity as just wanting to eat by himself but then he’d go off and just…not eat.

also i can imagine this happening in the middle period between the fiancés leaving after the Bad incident and them finding the store, so they’re just traversing through the dangerous woods. Yknow, probably the least favorable place to be starving yourself given that you need energy to walk and fight off threats.

(tw for a little talk of fatal vore and digestion here, nothing canon just intrusive thoughts)

I can imagine that Sapnap has a hard time with swallowing anything for a while. He won’t drink anything warm cause it reminds him of his dad’s body heat when he swallowed him. He won’t chew anything because all of a sudden he’s back to the forest in that fight with that bird and it’s his dad that’s getting crunched in his teeth. God forbid he try eating any sort of animal; the first time he tried to eat meat after the incident it wasn’t fully cooked and the blood in his mouth sent him into the worst panic attack of his life.

Worse yet, when he does have a full stomach, the sounds of him digesting his food make him want to sob. Countless times after the incident he had tried to force himself to eat. After all, he was the only one of his trio who could fight, he had to get over himself and stay strong for them. But every time, he’d dream of a scenario where he hadn’t been lucid enough to let his dad out, where he had died within him, and they only sounds he’d woken up to were the gurgles of his own stomach and he couldn’t handle that.

He survives solely on water for as long as a living being can. Karl and Quackity notice him getting weaker, but he pushes off every attempt they make to comfort him. He doesn’t deserve to be comforted. He’s a monster.

Eventually he passes out and Quackity and Karl give him a very stern talking to, and he’s no longer allowed to wander off while they eat cause they want to make sure he’s eating too.

He has a breakdown when they make soup one night because now that he’s with them, instead of it being just his dad, it’s his boyfriends, too. He can almost feel them struggling and screaming, and the warm, full feeling in his stomach when he swallows only makes it worse. He won’t tell them why he can’t eat. They can’t figure it out, but eventually they find things he’ll eat by ruling out what he won’t. Nothing crunchy, nothing warm, no meat. Karl and Quackity begin to stock up on any berries they find, honey when they can come across it, and whatever roots they can easily grind into a smoothie-like mixture just to keep something in his stomach.

It takes a while for him to get over himself, and he probably still can’t properly eat some things, and he regresses a ton when he eats one of his fiancés for the first time (still trying to figure out how that happens but i’ll write it eventually), but after a while of Q and Karl being ok with it and getting more comfortable, he starts to feel better about himself.

[goetiiaprince]

Did you just offer to Vore me? YES! PLEASE YESH

He has made a grave mistake. The power of this unidentifiable being was undermined, and he regrets his words! ❝ I - not at all! I offer you absolutely NOTHING ! ❞

[warmeclair]

Prey that are like: “I want to go into your stomach”

So the Pred has to be like: “If given the chance my stomach would tear you apart and there would be nothing I could do about it”

[hemipenal-system]

in honor of a hoiiday where everyone eats a shitload of food

i've had a fantasy for a long time about like some kind of dragon feeding show. like a bunch of people come sit in an amphitheater to watch a dragon eat a lá what they do at zoos with dolphins n shit

there's just this massive fuckoff dragon sprawled out in the center of the stage, sleeping peacefully until it gets woken up at the beginning of the show by its handler, who proceeds to introduce it to the audience and talk about dragons and what they eat and stuff that happens at every show like this. everyone just wants to skip to the bit where it devours a goat or something.

so the handler gets everyone really pumped for this, and everyone's screaming and cheering bc spectacle and all that. and then she just leaves the stage. stage crew in heavy fireproof bite suits wheel out these weird tall objects covered in black cloth and get them set up, then whisk the covers off to reveal people.

they're long clear tubes, likely plexiglass, and metal frames. there are three or four, and each one contains a human wearing nothing except a cute little gag. between that and the plexiglass, the audience can see them writhing around in their containment, likely begging for help, but can't hear them, and oh that's why this show was 18+ we were wondering about that

the handler comes back and explains to the audience that because dragons are used to working for their prey, for demonstrations like this they have to eat from elaborate puzzle feeders, which is what the audience is looking at. each feeder has a slightly different solution to prevent boredom. and before you ask, they'll be fine. they signed extensive waivers. legally, we're not responsible for them not reading them. (they were wondering about the wording they got from the ushers about the "inside-the-scenes tour." by the time they figured it out, it was too late)

by this point, the dragon is well aware what's happening, and it's hungry. it's being offered three delicious courses, which it gets to eat in front of an audience that's incredibly eager to see this. the thick chains attaching it to the stage give it plenty of mobility, so it sidles up to the first feeder, lazily prodding its nose at it.

the feeder spins over, dumping the human out the open top and onto the stage. the meal tries to stand up and run, but the dragon's on him before he can get to his feet, jaws locked around his waist as he's swallowed whole, the audience wincing at it.

the second puzzle feeder doesn't spin in the middle, but it tilts at the bottom. the dragon takes the tube in its claws, leaning backward to tilt it back enough it can reach into the tube to get the treat inside. it gets a good angle, dipping its muzzle as far inside as it'll fit.

now that the top's open, the audience can hear the crying and begging for just a split second before the dragon's teeth close around her shoulders, lifting her bodily out and holding her up, head tilted back so the audience can see the way its throat ripples as it pulls her down as well.

all the while, of course, the handler is explaining what's going on in the dragon's head, how this benefits it, stuff like that. the audience is a curious mix of rapt and horrified. two people have been eaten alive and a third is about to be, and she just. doesn't care.

the third feeder doesn't rock or tilt, and it has a complicated lock that can only open from the inside. this one's the most fun to watch. the dragon rears onto its hind legs, spreading its wings and roaring, shooting a burst of flame into the air, to momentous applause. the handler has to stifle a smile. she knows how much it loves showing off for the audience.

grabbing at the top of the tube for stability, it looks down, carefully inspecting the feeder. it's smart enough to figure out this lock, and it has before, but the handler changes it just slightly every time. it snarls quietly, frustrated, and it's the loudest sound in the auditorium.

the human inside is terrified. she's just watched two other people go into the dragon, and she's about to be next. she can't run or scream for help, and no one who could hear her would help her anyway. when the dragon snarls, she starts openly sobbing.

opening its mouth, it dips its tongue into the slits at the top of the feeder, carefully moving around the metal bars and knobs that comprise the elaborate lock. each movement with its tongue drips more saliva onto her body as it plays with the mechanism right over her head, the bends in the tongue occasionally slapping across her face or curling over an ear. each time it touches her, she gets more scared, and the dragon relishes that.

the occasional brushes turn into curious licks, which become prodding kisses as the audience finds out what that metal ring in her mouth is for. they can see her throat bulging and turning through the glass, the dragon purring as it takes its time, putting on a show. as it kisses her, the body of its tongue keeps working on the lock while the tip ravages her throat.

when it releases her, she gasps for air as the tongue curls down her back and between her legs. it suddenly lifts up, carrying the unfortunate morsel into the dragon's jaws so suddenly she only has time for one last cheesy, bloodcurdling scream. its teeth close around her feet and it snaps her up quickly.

the handler asks if they want to see one more trick, and is met with thunderous cheering. she cues the dragon, and it spreads its wings, leaping into the air and holding itself there as it surveys the audience, chains rattling with each pulse of motion.

she tells it to come back down, and it doesn’t listen. it’s giving her a weird look. she tells it again and it doesn’t move, except to lick its chops and snarl. she tells it one more time, and this time it does.

this feeding’s not like the others. it swoops down at her, grabbing her in its teeth, and bites down hard. blood goes everywhere. people are screaming. this wasn’t supposed to happen. she said at the beginning there was a risk to working with these creatures. maybe she was right. they can hear her muffled screams from inside its mouth as it begins to chew ponderously, the panicked cries lasting an uncomfortable amount of time before going silent.

the dragon lays down, closing its eyes, almost appearing like it’s going back to sleep until its wings open vertically, blocking off a sizeable amount of the stage. there’s a pause, then they snap back, revealing the handler, alive and well, gesturing to the audience.

✨ta-da!✨

[smolgloves]

The perfect Crime: Part 2

Part 1

Summary: Astarion and Freya slip away from the group to do as they please but get in a sticky situation

Tw: dehumanizing language, mentions of murder, vore mention, sexual innuendos, slavery mentions, mentions of sexual slavery

Slipping away from the watchful eye of Wyll, easy. Pickpocketing that Zhentarim trader and slipping the gold ring into his breast pocket without anyone noticing, piece of cake. So slipping away without him noticing should have been child's play, but Astarion didn't get very far before that trader shouted something at him. He stopped in his tracks, already forming a lie in his head for when the accusations came barreling in. 

There was a tickle against his breast, his eyes widened knowing that Freya was squirming around in his pocket. He pressed his hand up against his pocket in an attempt to cease the borrower's struggles, yet she pushed against palm through the fabric. Did that miniscule brain of hers reduce more in size? She's going to get them caught and killed! Gritting his teeth, Astarion demanded her to stop, fortunately she seemed to get the message in time, as a hand grabbed onto his shoulder to spin him around. 

“Something of mine went missing, you wouldn't happen to know about it?” 

“Sounds like you misplaced it.” Astarion smiled, his lies were as natural as breathing. “Not very professional of you since you look to be in charge of the wares.” 

“Watch it, arsehole!” The trader flashed a dagger on his belt. “Or that silver tongue of yours will get cut.” 

Astarion let out a scoff, if only he knew how easily he could rip the vocal cords right out of his throat. 

It seemed the loudmouth trader attracted an audience, as the guard from earlier walked over. Gods, they were nearly identical in their atrocious features. If Astarion wasn't trying to get out of this with no bloodshed, he'd kill them for assaulting his eyes!

“Something wrong, Brem?”

“Yeah, thinking this faerie knicked a ring from me.” 

“Really? You think I'd risk getting killed for a bloody ring?!” Astarion spat out so convincingly that even he could believe his own lies. 

“What's that in your pocket?” The guard kept his gaze on Astarion, studying for any giveaways. “I saw ya fiddling with something in your pocket.” 

Astarion cursed under his breath, swearing he'll bite Freya in half if they get out of this alive! He tentatively dug his fingers into his pocket for the ring, only to have tiny arms wrap around them, what in the nine hells was she doing? Astarion attempted to push her aside, except she wouldn't budge, she pulled his fingers further into her, attempting to force him to curl them around her. It didn't take long to realize what she was doing. 

In a swift motion, the borrower was plucked out of the safety of his pocket and into the light. Astarion eyed her as his thumb and forefinger pinched her sides, the familiar shape of a ring wrapped around her waist beneath her clothing, hidden from all but the two. So that's why she was squirming? Clever girl, but did she anticipate that she would have to be revealed to a couple of Zhent traders? If she did, she couldn’t hide her panic from him at least. Her heart pounded against her chest, her eyes locked onto his, refusing to glance behind her to see the two Zhents. 

The guard narrowed his eyes at Freya. “Is that a fucking pixie?” 

“No Garias, I think they're called borrowers.” Brem corrected. “I believe cousin Orvul had one before.” 

There was a hungry tone as he spoke. It was enough to make even Astarion's skin crawl. Brem moved closer to look Freya in the eyes, those gray eyes dilated when she saw this unfamiliar man staring down at her like a piece of meat. There was no need for screaming; the fear was written all over her face, similar to the night she was caught by everyone in camp. 

“She's cute.” The trader spoke. “Your little slave, I take it.?”

“Why of course!” Astarion gave a haughty laugh. “Why else would I keep a pipsqueak in my pocket?” 

Tiny fingers tightly curled against his thumb, it was almost adorable feeling Freya attempt to subtly hurt him, but she'll have to get over it. The stupid Zhents had completely forgotten about that ring and offered a perfect cover story. 

“A four inch slave?” Garias scoffed. “She toss grapes into your mouth when you're too lazy to grab ‘em yourself?” 

“Forgive my brother, he's more of the muscle between the two of us.” Brem let out a laugh. “He never understood the profit that can be made by these beauties.” 

“Oh there's no offense taken, not everyone has the chance to tame such feisty little creatures.” He raised her up to his face, giving her a devious grin. “It took about a week to get this one to quiet down.” 

Oh, if looks could kill, the pale elf would be dead on the spot! He had to admit, it was surprising that Freya held her tongue for this long but perhaps traveling with him helped her grow a brain. 

“You know, it's been a while since I've seen these lil’ buggers in a while, especially one so well behaved.” Brem gave a toothy grin. “Wouldn't mind parting with some gold for some alone time with her. Garias could… try her out and finally see what the big deal is.” 

Gods below, how utterly repulsive of them. This whole conversation with them had left a bad taste in his mouth but after hearing exactly what they were going to do, Astarion feared he was going to vomit up that bear blood he got earlier. Fingers slowly coiled around Freya's waist to protect her from the lustful gaze of the two men, he's been on the receiving end of those stares before. “Sorry, but I don't share my toys.” 

“Then why not name a price? A borrower like that would go for hundreds maybe even thousands.” 

“Tempting, but I am in no mood to seek out another borrower and have to train them again.” Growing tired of this conversation, Astarion stepped back from them “Now if you'll excuse me, I need somewhere private to… whet my appetite after all this talk.” 

Fortunately, the men didn't bother to integrate him any longer. With quick and light steps, Astarion easily slipped away from anymore Zhents and retreated to the shadows, his eyes darting around the cavern before uncurling his fingers.

“Your toy?” Freya folded her arms across her chest. “Really?” 

His lips curled into a smirk. “Oh come now, don't act like you didn't enjoy the idea.”

“I think I'd rather get swallowed whole.” She fired back. “Less degrading.”

“Perhaps, I'll make that arrangement next time.” He let out a titter, before trailing his eyes towards her waist. “I must admit, hiding the ring beneath your clothes was a bold move. I'm impressed.” 

Her harsh glare melted into a softer gaze. “Y-You are?” 

“Of course darling! I didn't think borrowers could be so clever.”

Freya threw her hands up and sighed. “Would it kill you to give a genuine compliment?” 

“Maybe,” He quickly moved Freya towards his pocket, tilting his hand to slide her back into the safety of the cloth. “But we should get back to the group again so we can get out of this vile place. Then perhaps I can come up with a better compliment for someone despite your… stature.”

Freya muttered in agreement and shifted around to a more comfortable position. She didn't dare move once Astarion got moving, but he felt her rest her head against his chest. It was a small touch of warmth he had grown to enjoy feeling when she traveled with him. To think, someone so small could radiate such heat, to be able to seep past his clothes and reach his skin. 

[boiled-ginger-ale]

*holds a mic to you* Hermitcraft Flesh Pit crossover. Thoughts? - @random-tinies

ohmygosh this is such a good idea and it goes really well with all the stuff grian was doing in season 9 with the entity and how the inside is all fleshy and awful. maybe the entity is just a really young version of some sort of eldritch superorganism species and grian studies it? obv don't want to kill everyone off like the 2007 pit disaster but the potential