#biting cw

[jacobseedisbabygirl]

I wanna bite someone

Why the fuck do I want to bite someone

[zukishaylupo]

Next poem to post. Kinda rushed through. Have we being used.

Tw/cw: Chained up animal, caged animal, growling mention, biting mention, clawing mention, hissing mention.

- Shay (They/it)

Not Wild and Not Tamed

Chained up and caged.

Not human is what we are.

Not wild and not tamed.

We growl and bite.

We hiss and claw.

Not wild and not tamed.

We aren't a pet.

We aren't free.

Not wild and not tamed.

Chained up to a fence.

Caged in like a threat.

Not wild and not tamed.

[copics-and-renegades]

Whumptober 2024 Day 17: Venom

Just kidding. Unless? :3

---

Need to upload all the remaining works, but... so... tired... Probably tomorrow lol.

[opscurus]

it probably wasn't a good idea to bite a stranger you had little to no idea of. but there was something about this person that drew such an instinct out of her. a more ... animalistic one ? could you say that ? eden wasn't exactly sure. she couldn't explain the urge properly, but before she knew it, she had already sunk her fangs right into the person's skin. and while it wasn't harsh enough to draw blood, it was partially meant to serve as a ... warning ? or it was just her way of showing a more feral side ? one would never know. [ from eden ! ]

His scarred hand was within her own before he could really pull away, his orange brows raised curiously, maybe he knew what was going to happen? And perhaps he invited the euphoric burst of sensation and pain when he watched her lift said hand to her mouth and bite. Truly, Ichigo enjoyed pain, it was his sin, and his antithesis, as much as he always tried to run from it.

When her teeth pushed into his flesh, he felt Zangetsu rise from within his soul, wanting to suddenly appear and stab the girl, but Ichigo was quietly okay with the action, and shushed the spirit in his inner world as his brown eyes half closed and the pain (although brief) filtered through his body, and he shivered.

He didn't pull away, no voice of displeasure came from his lips, no sound at all in fact. He almost wanted more places bitten... although it seemed like too strange a thing to ask to a stranger.

[glitchedoutstar]

I saw the bitey stimboard and

Mmh

Stimboard based around those sharp glowy green teeth you used?

yeah wooooo!!!! ^_^

[zaritarazi]

As the reigning Zari Tarazi Expert would you care to settle a debate for me?

Is Zari a Biter Yes or No?

My friend says she's too sophisticated but I say John has bitemarks all over his body lmfao

okay so like. i literally posted this (cw for scarification) a few months ago about the hellstar omegaverse where john 1000% has zari's bite mark on his body.

outside of that, i see zari as a very frustrated person and i think they're having sex and zari like, grazes john's collarbone or his jaw with her teeth and he's like, i'm actually BIG into biting if you want to try it. and sometimes i think during sex she's like no that's not what i'm doing right now and sometimes i think she's like yeah i'm gonna chonch this guy's shoulder muscle.

i also think john goads her into being a bitey fucker bc he thinks it's cute (he is insane, but also- a visionary?) for more on this see the academic paper i'm going to have in the american journal of psychology's legends of tomorrow section next month

[familylightfox]

Somehow Light had expected this to be hard. The soldier had even come up with multiple scenarios in his head of to how this was going to go and Gibbous had reacted somewhat how he had expected. The night before, as he packed all of their supplies into one duffel bag, she had asked if they really had to go back. Part of him regretted looking into her eyes and seeing the way the jade hues had almost seemed to dull when he nodded.

Rather than continue to gather what meager belongs they had, he scooped her up from the ground and held her for a bit to his chest. There was something almost familiar with how she tucked her head under his chin and settled in. One hand softly rubbed her back while he leaned back against the bed frame.

For once he didn’t try to stop the… memories (if he could call them that) of the toddler curled up on his bed, or holding onto his lone cybernetic. The dull ache behind his eyes was ignored for the time being as he watched these images pass one after another.

“Dah?” He blinked and gave a small shake of his head before looking down.

“𝕀’𝕞 𝕒𝕝𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕤𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥… ℝ𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕠𝕜𝕒𝕪? 𝕀’𝕞 𝕘𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕟𝕖𝕖𝕕 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕖𝕩𝕥𝕣𝕒 𝕓𝕣𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕠𝕨.” Relief came as she nodded against his shirt and shifted just enough to fall asleep in his arms. For the time being, he remained where he was and just listened to her soft breathing and rubbed her back absently.

It was only when he was sure that she was fast asleep that he transferred her to the bed and went back to what he was doing.

That morning, everything was organized between the bag and Light’s guitar case, laptop set in the hidden compartment with the solar charger facing out. The pair had said their goodbyes after breakfast and he had expected the tears. Mostly from Lyra and Gibbous, but was mildly surprised when his own cheeks had become slightly damp. He hadn’t realized how close he had gotten to the trio but offered them a smile. “I’ll message once we’re settled.”

He knew it would be hard, but it was necessary. The Warp Ring he kept stashed was thrown forward and they stepped through quickly to keep from hesitating again. It was put away in the side pocket of his guitar bag for safe keeping before he had realized his mistake.

“𝔽𝕦𝕔𝕜.” The curse left his lips as the room around them lit up in flashing red lights. “𝕐𝕠𝕦’𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕀 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕀 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕠𝕗 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕘𝕠 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕦𝕔𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘.”

The sound of Gibbous’ whimper was enough to clear his rampant thoughts. With a quick body check against their old room, he called to her as he started to move into the hallway. They had to be quick as more and more alarms were beginning to blare. The sound of heavy footsteps drowned out those of their own but they carried on. Gibbous, thankfully, stayed hot on his heels as he led them through the maze of corridors to the nearest exit he could remember.

“𝕂𝕖𝕖𝕡 𝕘𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕤𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥. 𝕎𝕖’𝕣𝕖 𝕒𝕝𝕞𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖.” A few words of encouragement to keep her moving, but it was enough of a distraction that he missed the distorting audio around him. Too late to react before he felt a hand around his throat and his feet a few inches off the ground.

“𝕎𝕖𝕝𝕝 𝕨𝕖𝕝𝕝 𝕨𝕖𝕝𝕝… 𝕀𝕗 𝕚𝕥 𝕚𝕤𝕟’𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕥𝕠𝕣 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔻𝕠𝕔𝕥𝕠𝕣’𝕤 𝕡𝕖𝕥…” Light’s blood ran cold. “𝔻𝕚𝕕 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕖𝕤𝕔𝕒𝕡𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕗𝕒𝕥𝕖, 𝕞𝕦𝕥𝕥?”

Staring into the pristine metal mask, Light struggled to get a grip on the hand cutting off his breath. The strength of the illusion surpassed his own and he could barely manage to make a noise beyond a choked growl. It didn’t mean he wasn’t still trying to struggle but Infinite’s full attention was on the former soldier as he moved to close the space between them slowly. Almost as if he was reveling in the pain he was causing.

“𝔸𝕝𝕝𝕠𝕨 𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕨𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕟𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕥-

“ARRRGHGHH!” The threat shifted to rage as Gibbous sank her teeth into the jackal’s leg as hard as she could. “𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕠𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕡!”

Despite her grip and how deeply she had dug her teeth, the swift kick sent her into the wall with enough force to get a high-pitched yelp from the child. The air around them was heavy as red cubes distorted the environment around them for a moment, Infinite’s attention went to Gibbous and he took a step towards her. “I’ll teach you to attack your betters…”

His hand stretched to reach towards her collar and lift her into the air.

“𝔻𝕆ℕ’𝕋 𝕋𝕆𝕌ℂℍ ℍ𝔼ℝ!”

Only to pause as Light’s voice echoed down the hallway. The flashing lights flickered around them, then shattered, cascading the three in near darkness. Although the light of the Phantom Ruby allowed Infinite to see the movement he hadn’t been prepared for how quickly Light had closed the space between them.

“𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥?!” With all the force he could, Light’s fist collided with Infinite’s sternum and even the former soldier was a bit stunned by the electrical current that shot outward from Infinite’s back on impact. The metal mask clattered to the ground and wide mismatched eyes stared for just a moment before the jackal’s body followed suit.

“𝕀’𝕧𝕖 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦.” No time to think about what just happened. Light knew they needed to get out and scooped up Gibbous to race towards the exit, mind racing on just what else was awaiting them as he shoulder-checked the door and flinched as smog-covered sunlight greeted them.

Shouts from behind and the sound of laser fire followed, but by the time the empire’s forces arrived; the pair were gone.

They just had to lay low for a few days, but they were safe…

[paintedcrows]

Some Oldies in the 80s AU sketches! Grunkle Stan and Young Ford this time.

They are so funny to me. Like to me Stan is completely secure in his relationship with Older Ford. He has just spent MONTHS alone on the open ocean with the guy. Nothing this Young Ford can throw at him can compare. Ford, still a bundle of ego and grudges, has no idea how to respond. Also Bill is a menace

[zukishaylupo]

5th poem to post. Another dog & wolf related poem, lol. A lot of my poems are canine related cause of me being a canine kin [specifically wolfdog kin].

Tw/cw: biting mention, abuse hinted at(?), and I think that's all. Let me know if you find any tw/cw I didn't add that I need to.

- Zuki Shay Lupo (They/it/xe) [trying something new with my sign off thing on my poem posts]

Roll Over/Growl

I think that

I should roll over

And whine sorry

Over and over again

But instead I growl

I bare my teeth

And snap at you

I bite and growl

I should roll over

I should say sorry

I should be a good dog

A good wolf

But I'm not

I growl and bite

I'm a bad dog

A bad wolf

I should roll over

I growl and snap

I should whine sorry

I bare my teeth and bite

I'm sorry I'm not good

I bite even when

You try to help me

For I'm scared

I'm sorry I'm bad

I growl even when

You're kind for I don't

Know when you'll stop

[godzexperiment]

"No shit biting people affectionately isn't common behavior. I'm aware of it! But you can't tell me it isn't such an huge gesture. To allow somebody to do so, to be allowed to do so and be careful about it." Entirely going off about it mostly to himself- one of those moments lost in the passion and ranting about it. "It's about trust, humoring silly little behavior and so harmless. Especially if it's like not an big ordeal. Though I'd probably cry if somebody did humor me... But that's unimportant. Nobody is like going to ever do that... Doesn't mean I can't appreciate the thought of it."

[hawnks]

You're jealous. It makes you lash out, makes you meet Keigo with claws and teeth and cruel, irrational accusations.

You pack a bag after your last big blow up, shame dogging your every move. A week. Maybe a little more. However long it takes you to stop feeling like a monster, to rein in these dark impulses that have taken hold of you.

He stops you at the door with a firm grip around your arm. Looming over you, leaning down until he's in your space.

"Why?"

How can you even respond. Why? Isn't he angry with you? Doesn't he see how unreasonable you're being?

You tell him the truth. "I'm embarrassed, Keigo."

His hold on you tightens. "So you're running away?"

"I'm not--" You let out a long breath. "I just need to calm down. Get a hold of myself."

"You can do that here. At home."

You tug. He doesn't release you.

"I don't want you to see me like this."

His expression turns stormy.

"You want to keep secrets from me?" You can't even question this before he's continuing, eyes amber bright and sharp as he pulls you further into his space. "You don't want me to see you what --jealous? Don't I have a right to know? Don't I deserve to be with you for this? We're lovers, and you still want to hide pieces of yourself from me?"

Trembling, you let yourself be drawn back into the penthouse. You couldn't fight him even if you tried.

He sets you on the bed, so he can push you down, curl up on top of you, all around you. Caging you in.

"There," he says. "You're not going anywhere. Would it help if I told you about all the times I wanted to kill anyone who touches you? How about how I want to lock you up, forever and ever? I can show you the collar I picked out, if that would make you feel better." He leans up so he can nibble your ear, whisper, "Or you could put it on me, if you want."

[xitsensunmoon]

Doodle dump. The mer ones are old but I still like the concept so

[glitchedoutstar]

Hi can I have stimboard of anything related to biting stims please. Do whatever you want to pick!

OHHH ANON im honna explo de . /vpos

[lets-ignore-that]

Hear me out

"Saturn eating his son" painting but bite of 83 /j

nom nom :)

[grislyintentions]

|| 吞噬- Snippet (Feral!Xiao 2/2) ||

[Part 1: x]

Tension weighs heavy in the silence with their suffocating presence. Restless aggression seething beneath tenuous composure with the ever looming promise of pain. Distress is a bird bashing it's wings against the confines of it's ivory cage; hollow metal carrying its unearthly energy in it's tune-

Beats beneath parted lips, hammering wildly for release found only through the breaking of skin.

Deliverance is found in the aftermath of a sharp gasp. In nails raking against the back of his shoulders. Shuddering arms clutching in a vice grip. Bruises shaped like finger marks in the morning.

Deliverance is teeth clamped down, the start of a warning growl and a forbidding shake at any signs of struggle. Exhales that tickle in the frigid air. In the lips that worked on lapping at the indents left behind, coating face and mouth in warm tangy iron. Nose and cheek caressing, nuzzling. Indulgent.

Relief comes in the form of a kiss; the sharing of spilled blood delivered from parted lips to another, soon followed by the seal of a kiss. Licked into the mouths of the other. Savoured in both intention and taste.

[goldendivinewrath]

@full-of-mercy

Not that he expects anger, of course. Annoyance after the fact, fine; there are (at least mostly) honest apologies and making up for it to consider. He hadn't entirely counted on that being the moment when anything and everything that might have kept them tethered to the idea of slow and steady, patience and savoring, got fully torn asunder as well, but it's appreciated.

Of course, the whole thing is more than a little ridiculous. Maybe slightly pathetic, unable to help the laugh but being utterly unwilling to let go. He doesn't want to hurt -- not bad hurt, in any case -- but there's something... there's something...

Something in that very steady thought-emotion, shiver-shudder-hum that seems to respond to the concept of, "Mine." Taken. Stolen, pulled back-- Given back. Given back to himself. Given back to himself except maybe also a little bit Vash's.

He is definitely not going to try and explain that in words. Or think about it too much. Not that he's successfully able to think about anything when the world around them is want and need, giving and taking and sensation. There's no real comparison between the bone-deep resonant vibration he's making and the purr-growl-rough bliss that Wolfwood's voice seems to evoke, but they-- Harmonize. Causing a steady, familiar, long since forgotten and abandoned warm shiver to run through his lower abdomen.

He doesn't want to let go, desire to keep indulging in how utterly right it feels for his jaw to exert just that much pressure, texture and warmth and the drum of a pulse under his lips and tongue, but he can feel the tug of healing flesh. It's fine. It will be fine, and he... He can always bite again, now can't he? The flutter of pleasure in his stomach responds a little too readily, jaw relaxing, teeth (fangs) slow in the slide out, and with that... He's gotten used to it already. He can worry about that later, about how he's not hyper-focused on the singular fact that he's tasting Wolfwood's blood and enjoying it, but on making sure it doesn't spill. Doesn't get any more wasted than what's already fallen. His mouth lingers to be sure the punctures are healing before he turns his head slightly, closes his eyes, breathes in.

He feels drunk, a little. The good parts of it. Words are slow to filter through, the laugh in response feeling as viscous as the word answering the threat: "Promise?" But what he's really feeling, what he's really feeling...

More even than the electric jumble of pleasure radiating through his core, hips responding in several tiny little twitches foward, it's the visceral response of teeth against his own skin. Aching for it in a way that changes the pulse of the resonance that seems to be echoing between them; not quite call and response. There isn't particularly a spare bit of coherent thought to document it, let alone try and make sense of it, just wanting. Wantingwantingwanting. Teeth, and bite, and share--

"Harder." It's so much more plea than demand. Begging. Begging before he realizes he's already pinned to the wall, he can let go and not have to worry about losing contact. It's also another embarrassment, fingers fumbling on trying to get more buckles undone, open, losing track of what's already accomplished and getting his fingers tangled with Wolfwood's more than once while figuring out what needs to just hurry up already--

He is definitely going to need to start wearing simpler clothes. If any at all. Vash quite soberly recognizes the danger of the thought as it occurs to him, sounding perfectly logical in his own head: Leather is reasonably easy to repair. He--

Tears. Again. Not much! Or, rather, most of the buckles had already been opened. There were a pesky few that he lost patience with, was all. He'll fix it. Later. Now, right now, he needs more contact, he needs to complete a circuit, hands abandoning his clothes and getting back to shamelessly grasping, groping, and then holding Wolfwood against him by the really quite satisfying curve of the man's ass.

Oh. He can see the glow of his own eyes reflected in the dampness of dark skin, gazing directly at the healing pinpricks in the other man's neck and-- What's one more ever so slightly lust-fueled bite, after all?

It hums between them, this whatever-it-is. An undercurrent below human hearing, more a feeling than a sound, the strum of a cello string or the warble of a tuning fork struck and set to ring the barest breath away. Hair-raising, vibrating, it passes from skin to skin, from skin to teeth and tongue and lips.

From bite to bite, as Nicholas tests the stretch and tack of Vash's bodysuit and neck with the canines of a carnivore.

Fabric bursts with a guttural rip.

Wolfwood grunts. Question. Surprise. He cannot see exactly what Vash has done to his last scrap of clothing, but he can feel it, feel the cool rush in. Granted, the seams are—were—careworn in the manner of cloth too often caked in dust, mended against the wear and tear of brutal battle and brutal heat and the general brutality of living. They may well have been the same ones he was buried in, even if they looked far too clean to have been part of his funeral garb.

Too late to worry about right now.

Vash's apology is the pindrop—the lit match pitched into tinder banked and fit to burn.

"You gotta be fuckin' kidding me," he grouses, albeit with a different sort of heat than umbrage. He surprises himself with that, with the timbre of his own growl, rough and breathless and thick, as though they've been in the heart of a shootout rather than here, here in this moment, here with buried fangs and gripping hands and the thrill of touch. Wanted touch. Desperately desired. Needed, needful.

Nicholas bullies his way forward to compress Vash between a wall and a hard place, rolling his shoulder up and into sharp ivory meanwhile. Seizing his nape, he holds fast with an insistence bordering on frenzy. Muscle tenses, flexes, bunches underneath groping palms, flesh-and-blood and metal alike, a hands-free and utilitarian shimmy out of the shredded waistbands and hems that fall as things affected by gravity ought to. Stepping out of the crumpled pantlegs is an awkward affair, but he does not have the room to care about those particular appearances.

Better things to worry about. Naked and brazen and feverish, he aches, hiding nothing because he can hide nothing. He does not wish to hide. Not this vulnerability, not this drive, not this selfish want of proximity, not this compelling crackle, electric, not his state of bone-deep arousal in bellows-fanning breaths. Flesh begins to knit even as every movement reopens it, even as every heartbeat wells crimson, rivulets escaping to paint along the slope of his clavicle.

Want is a thing with teeth. His right hand squeezes, indenting fingertips into Vash's buttock before he sweeps his grasp down over the panels and buckles covering his thigh. There, then, he hefts, pulls Vash's leg up over his hip. More. More contact, bare-and-erect slotted to softer leather rather than the unforgiving metal of zipper and buckle.

"…gonna take that out of your ass later," he breathes, hot, huffed.

Hard to sound truly threatening when trying not to laugh. Rather, while actually laughing, trembling with it, with the firestorm of feeling. His only recourse is to return the favor. And so he does — aiming for a mirrored bite at the unprotected juncture of neck and shoulder, just hard enough.

Maybe he can grope his own way to ridding Vash of his stupidly complicated attire while indulging in his own taste. He can multitask.

Maybe. Proibably.