#g/t imagine

[st4rsinthenight]

★Y'know what I've been thinking about lately ?? Tinies witnessing crime scenes.★

TW: MURDER, KIDNAPPING, VERY BRIEF MENTION OF SOMEONE BEING CHAINED, MENTION OF WOUNDS, MENTION OF STARVATION, THIEVING, MENTIONS OF HOLDING SOMEONE AT GUNPOINT

|☆| A tiny being a witness to a murder, silently peering in horror as they find themselves heaving at the sight of the innocent victim on the ground, all bloodied and wounded thanks to the killer's vile attacks. Though they know for a fact that they can't do much to prevent the innocent citizen from dying, so that leaves them with the option of running to prevent themselves from being yet another addition to the killer's hit list. That is, unless the killer did notice them- and is now on the hunt for the tiny little creature that knows that they committed a murder.

|★| A tiny hearing the screams of a human who is pleading for help to get out of a kidnapper's grasp- or maybe they happen to live in said kidnapper's residence, being exposed to the horrific sight of the poor, and perhaps tortured victim who is kept away from the outside world by a human with ill intentions. Though, the tiny could try and help out on their situation, for instance trying to sneak in couple small bags of snacks to give to the hostage in order to fuel at least some of their energy if they are being starved- or swoop around the house to try and find a key to unchain- or unlock the victim. However, if they just so happen to be outside, the feeling of being helpless and at loss would be quite overwhelming for both the tiny, and the victim.

|☆| A little borrower staying hidden as they watch a thief break into the human's house that they live in- maybe they saw them while they were out hoarding for their survival and they just saw.. a bigger, more intimidating hoarder pick locking the front door. Who is also thieving either for survival, or pleasure. Now, this could be a little silly scenario— if the thief is not willing to harm anyone and is just there to take stuff, and the borrower would see it as a bit of a competition between them two, or maybe even view them as an aspiration, enging them on to continue their 'borrowing missions'. However, where it would be quite disturbing— is if they overhear said thief yell absurdities and threats at the human if they are awake, demanding to hand over all their belongings while having them at gun point. Now, if the borrower does not care about the human, they could just remained secured inside the wall until the hoarder left, though if they developed a little relationship with them, they could try and sabotage said thief with the help of little distractions and such, maybe knocking over something off of a shelf to catch the criminal's attention as their human friend takes the opportunity to call the police.

I might add more to this but. guys. guys. I am quite normal here. I do swear that I am quite normal about these type of tropes, honest guys.★

[yami-yomiel]

ok I’m horribly g/t brained here but hear me out: Joel Hayes right?

I can just imagine his ego getting the best of him and he starts growing. Maybe he sets up a stream and shows his cool new ability off or whatever, and chat just eats it up.

Chat is just constantly feeding that ego - and rightfully so~

I can confirm this happened i am a uh.. mod for his chat /j

[so-very-small]

The tiny nervously crept to the edge of the kitchen cabinet. They were wide in the open, but the human hadn’t even seen them yet.

“Excu- Excuse me!”

Giant eyes fell down to them.

“Oh my god,” the giant said, leaning down so their huge face filled the tiny’s vision, “What are you?”

“I’m a tiny person. I live in your walls, and I borrow supplies,” the tiny said nervously. “I cook dinner over a little candle, behind one of the walls in the attic.”

“That’s amazing,” the giant said breathlessly, “Why are you telling me all of this?”

“Cause the candle got knocked over while frying some rat and the flame fucking caught the wall insulation, and that shit is spreading fast, man.”

“………what.”

“Your attic is on fire, dude. Like, crazy bad.”

“…”

“We should probably run.”

[glitchven]

What if sun and moon were small enough to hold in your hands? What then???

(Click for better quality)

[gt-squirrel]

That tiny lil octopus-mer you saved from being stranded in a tide pool and released back into the ocean? Remember them?

Whelp, flash forward a couple years later, you’re at that same beach you found the lil mer at. One problem though, that lil octopus mer is now the size of a massive kraken, looming over you with a happy look in their eye.

[chokepoints]

Mute giants <3 i gotta post about them more..

Giants who can't verbally tell you that they won't hurt you, so they either have to resort to signing (if they know how) or straight up picking a tiny up to show them that they aren't going to do anything. There are various other options but!! not as fun

Having to prove with actions that you're not a threat because you literally can't get the words out. You have to either hope the tiny realizes what's going on and what you're trying to convey, or give up and let them go.

Oughhhh mute giants my beloved ...

also.. i should probably make an intro post ..

[juniemunie]

"Why am I still doing this?"

"Don't you get it?"

"This is all just a show... and we're playing parts~"

[averagegtenjoyer]

Giants who are sooooooo big… tinies who are soooo small?? Just the immense size difference?? The horror of realizing this weird landscape is alive, and staring right at you. Realizing that speck isnt dirt, its a person, and you just dont have your glasses on. The rumbling of words too big and slow to be coherent. The squeaky tiny voice yelling … something up at you, you cant be sure what, they’re just so small. Rrgrgghhrhrg

[bonkalore]

I am really not much for designing any kind of graphics but I ended up thinking of something potentially for the size spells that Jayce ends up having to take. This being the shrink formula, but they have growth ones too. The main use being for folks who need to fit into their human glamours for hours at a time. I'm not sure still if some of that might have changed storywise with how it works for him personally, but it's still a fun concept nonetheless. Went with an Alice kind of brand but def think it could have a better name lol

I just feel in a magic modern world they'd probably have some kind of magic products that are still legal and regulated also available in stores and pharmacies for the average folks that aren't just doing black market Tracker stuff.

[lavenderskye29]

Drew some of @semisolidmind (sorry for tagging you in pretty much all of my recent posts, bro) leetle monkey man getting some smooches.

[fiber-optic-alligator]

Thinking about being in bed long after midnight with a giant looming right outside your window. They were just passing by and unfortunately for you, they noticed you watching them, and now you’re hiding beneath your covers, trembling, sweat heading your brow while you try to hold in your labored breaths while your heart roars in your ears and you feel so terrified you might pass out. The giant, however, isn’t as malicious as you might think. They wait outside your window, patiently trying to coax you out of hiding with just their voice, quietly whispering gentle pleas and reassurances that they don’t intend to harm you. You might have seen them when you shouldn’t have, but you aren’t going to die for it.

Eventually you do pass out and when you wake up the next day you find your window is still open but the giant is gone. There is no trace of which a massive being ever being there, and for a moment you think you might have conjured up the whole thing in a sleep-paralysis nightmare…until you see a paper atop your windowsill and in neat, fancy handwriting with a tone that somehow is soft and gentle, there’s a note: “You don’t have to be afraid. I won’t hurt you. I promise. Please, don’t be afraid. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

It turns out the giant might not be a permanent giant after all. They are someone in your community, and now they are fully aware that you know their secret.

Idk I’m up really late tn and just listening to the sounds that are happening outside and I’m just thinking about what if you accidentally caught a size shifter/giant walking through your neighborhood at night and they notice you watching them. Decided to make it fluff bc I’m in that mood.🤷‍♀️🫤

[pinkanonwrites]

HEHEHE I LOVE THE RODIMUS STORYY I'm obsessed with all the first contact au stories with rodimus and I would love if you could please do more if you ever feel like it 😭 the ones with language barrier and size difference are muah 🤌💫

If youre ever up for it or would feel comfortable, would you be willing to please write one where maybe the reader is sick with the flu and is either about to or actually does throw up and rodimus has no idea what the flu is or what throwing up is for humans and he has no idea how to deal with it 😅 and ofc the human can't explain bc language barrier.

Or any other rodimus with lil human stuff you can post I will happily gobble up hehe

I liked this idea too much for it to just be in bullet points, so it turned into a mini fic. Hope you enjoy!

Rodimus/Reader First Contact AU, Human Reader, GN Pronouns, Sickfic, emeto mention

Gazing blearily up at the ceiling as fluorescent lighting above whizzed past, you couldn’t fully tell if the nauseating pitch and wave of your surroundings was just from your sickness, or if panic was making Rodimus significantly less gentle than usual. Either way, if you had anything left in your stomach you probably would have thrown up again by now.

How foolish you were, to assume that being on an interdimensional traveling spaceship meant you would be less likely to suffer from the illnesses and maladies that you would normally find on Earth. No, now you were subject to an entire galaxy’s worth of potential contractible ailments instead. And though you could compare this one to some of the worse stomach viruses you’d had throughout your life back home, you didn’t really have a way to communicate to Rodimus that you weren’t, in fact, dying. No matter how much it felt like you were.

The hiss of a hydraulic powered door was almost drowned out by your caretaker’s panicked boops and screeches as he ran up to another one of the bots aboard the ship. A black helm and a shoulder-mounted cannon stepped into your nausea-warped vision, and a familiar gleam of a single, blue lens stared down at you. One of the scientist bots, the nicer one of the two that had poked and prodded at you when Rodimus first presented you to them. His name was… Perceptor?

But when he reached out a giant metal finger to you, Rodimus was quick to pull you back against his chest and out of the other’s reach. A kind gesture, but one that left you nearly gagging from the sudden wave of vertigo that racked your system. You winced at the feeling of Rodimus’s thumb brushing your cheek, the sticky pull of sweaty skin against hot metal, and the warble he let out in response sounded absolutely heartbroken. Through your hazy vision you could see tense corners of his mouth pull down, the soft glow of his eyes looking dimmer than usual as he cradled you. Then, with as much care as he could muster, he laid you so delicately upon Perceptor’s desk. His fingers stroked the top of your head, hands still bracketing you as if he was afraid you’d slip through his fingertips and right off the edge of the table as soon as he let his guard down. Despite everything, you couldn’t help but feel safer knowing he was worried about you. It was hard to imagine many worse scenarios than getting sick in outer space, but getting sick alone in outer space seemed pretty high up there.

So you let yourself be gently prodded at and scanned by Perceptor, Rodimus’s hands never straying far enough for you to not reach him. They murmured back and forth to each other all the while, a chittering of mechanical whirs and buzzes like an old fax machine pumping out a distant message. The chill of the metal surface under your back left goosebumps crawling up your skin, another detail that quickly drew Perceptor’s curiosity. After an amount of time you couldn’t possibly have estimated with your sickness-addled, swimming mind working at less than half the capacity of usual, both bots leaned away from the table to discuss something, like they were afraid you’d somehow overhear.

The sudden, harsh glow of the ceiling lights above left you squinting, a soft whimper escaping your throat despite yourself. Immediately Rodimus was upon you again, his giant chin resting on the edge of the table as his eyes flitted about over your shaking, exhausted frame. His hands hovered around you, fingers tense like he wasn’t sure if he should pick you up or not. But the warmth of his massive hands was a lot more comforting right now than the sterile chill of the tabletop, so with a great amount of effort you wormed your way back into his grasp.

Perceptor let out another, stern sounding buzz. Rodimus brought you back to his chest, resting your cheek against the smooth slope of metal as he responded in kind. You let your eyelids flutter shut as they continued to chatter. Whatever they were talking about didn’t really matter to you right now. Regardless of whatever was going on, you knew Rodimus would take care of you.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“And it’s not atrophosia? You’re sure?”

“Just because atrophosia comes from organics, Rodimus, does not mean they can contract it. No, what we’re looking at seems to be some form of organic virus.”

“That’s good, right?” Rodimus peeked at Perceptor from the corner of his optic, unwilling to take his full attention off of you for too long. Your little frame was sprawled weakly across the scientist’s desk, organic coolant and these strange, microscopic bumps beading across your body. Perceptor let out a curious hum, lifting your tiny servo up with the tip of his pen. Rodimus stifled the urge to slap it away. “If it’s a virus, it can be removed, right?”

“It’s not quite that simple. Organics don’t have accessible coding to allow ourselves entry. Their only solution is the old fashioned way, get plenty of recharge and wait it out.”

“But look at them! They’re all shaky and covered in coolant! A-And just earlier today, they purged their tanks!”

“That’s a good thing. Organics will purge their tanks as an emergency reflex to intrusive disease or illness. There’s actually a fascinating organic, a form of amphibian which can expel their entire tank when in-”

“Great! Cool! Love the fun facts, Perceptor! But are they-” And here Rodimus gestured to your small, shivering frame, “-going to be okay?”

“I’ve acquired some information on human illness- from Swerve of all bots, if you’d believe it. When humans are ill they require copious recharge, plenty of clean, desalinated water, and, apparently, a fuel comprised of the boiled carcass of an Earth bird and various edible flora.”

“I don’t have any Earth birds! Earth has the Earth birds!” Rodimus sat up with a jolt, a bristling wave of heat rolling off of his frame that was swiftly ignored by Perceptor.

“I am certain the replicator could produce a suitable substitute. It has worked for providing nourishment thus far.”

Both bots’ attention snapped back to you when you let out a small whine, squinting under the blaring light of the overhead systems. 

“Oh, hey, I’m sorry bud!” Rodimus’s voice dropped to a soft coo as he hovered his servos back around your frame. “Is it too bright in here, your optics sensitive?”

“Perhaps it would be good for the human to rest here, where they can be monitored. You have other duties aboard the ship, after all.”

“Yeah, but…” Rodimus stared as you dragged yourself across the table, curling weakly into the crook of his servo with a soft sigh. He cradled you again, letting you rest your helm upon his chassis as he supported you with both arms. “I- I think I’ll keep an optic on them. What if being in here makes them nervous? Then they can’t recharge properly.”

Perceptor let out a soft huff, pinching the bridge of his olfactory ridge between two digits. “...Whatever you insist, Rodimus. But do allow them to rest. No joyrides.”

As Rodimus looked down at your frame in his arms, for once, joyriding was the last thing on his mind.

[so-very-small]

pro-tip for people with borrowers in your walls: make sure your weed gummies are clearly marked as such, lest a tiny find one, think it’s a normal gummy, and accidentally ascend straight into space

[nombitenary]

Spelunking.

Super short (2.5K) self indulgent story of a borrower!you getting caught by Christopher and swallowed up <3 Maybe bring better equipment next time you try borrowing from a maneater...

G/t, ambiguous ending, rope play in the throat, and mentions of fatal <3 enjoy!

You can’t believe you got caught.

The man who lives in the apartment you’ve been borrowing from is home so rarely that you suppose you’ve gotten careless. After all, he’s never around to hear your heavy footsteps on the counters or the scrabbling of clumsy hands against drawers. His two cats are easy enough to maneuver around as well, seeing as one of them is trained well enough to not go on the counter, and to scream at the other one whenever it gets the bright idea of chasing you along the countertop. 

You’d been testing your new rope, tying it to all manner of things in the kitchen and letting yourself be slowly lowered off the edges of drawers, tables, counters… and hadn’t been bothering to keep your laughter at your successes quiet, nor the thuds of your tiny boots as you’d climbed up the edges of his walls and cabinets. 

Everything had been going so well that you’d somehow missed the sound of the bedroom door opening and the light in the hallway, and by the time you realized that something was amiss… was only due to clawed fingers wrapping around your waist and a soft coo of: “Oh, what do we have here?”

And now, here you are, dangling between his fingers from the rope you’d thought had been such a clever tool to get around the maze of his apartment. You can’t bring yourself to speak as you stare up at him meekly, the light reflecting off his glasses making his eyes seem cold and far away- near impossible to read. 

He hasn’t spoken since his initial greeting, if you can even call it that. All he’s done is stare at you with that coldness in his eyes, almost as if he’s calculating something- blinking every now and again, though it does nothing to set your mind at ease. If anything, it makes you feel worse, and when he opens his lips and finally speaks to you properly-

“Well. You should fit. This should be interesting.”

-it does nothing to calm your nerves. 

Before you can ask him what he means, the air is forced out of your lungs by him tugging on your little rope, effortlessly and haphazardly lifting you into the air above his face and leaving you to stare down at him in terrified disbelief. You’ve never met this human before, but from what you’ve gathered, there’s nothing too horrible about him. 

With your lower lip trembling, you look down into his deep brown eyes, searching for any trace of a joke or flickers of sympathy. 

What you receive in return is a toothy smirk. One that plays out almost in slow motion, leaving you helpless to watch as his lips curl away from his teeth, showing the gleaming, drool-slicked and sharp points lining his gums. Your heart starts racing at the sight of them, and again, you try to find your words- but you’re once again interrupted by something terrifying. 

Those teeth were bad enough on their own, but as you stare down at Christopher’s freckled face… they begin to part. 

A warm blast of air rises from the chasm opening beneath you and you find yourself unable to look away as the huge muscle of his tongue shifts- easily the size of a small mattress and just as cushioned- moving from one side of the pink and dripping cavern to the other. The surface of it flexes in waves, and you follow the muscle back toward the darkest pit in the back of his jaws- marked by a swinging uvula and a streamlined tunnel designed to cram anything it can fit inside down.

His throat flexes, and his whole mouth shifts at once- a mess of moving pieces and parts and flesh and teeth rearranging to allow him a soft swallow- and when it opens again, strings of drool connect the bottom of his jaws to the top like the bars of a prison cell. 

Unable to speak, your own mouth opens and closes as you watch his throat shift with his every breath, the idle motions of his tongue twitching and swaying as more and more saliva floods the cavern. 

You’re transfixed, though the spell breaks when his grip on your rope abruptly falters- sending you falling a few inches closer to the gaping maw with a scream. 

A laugh rolls over you in response, and you gasp, clutching the rope in your fingers despite the knot keeping you secure. You’re spinning now, watching the gullet beneath you pulse as you rotate, unable to keep yourself from noticing that it seems to be pulsing in anticipation, the tongue stretching out from between those lips as if to echo the sentiment. 

He’s going to eat you.

No. No, he won’t. 

Surely he won’t. 

Despite not being human, you think for a moment that you’ll be able to appeal to his sympathy, though when you manage to tear your gaze away from his maw to try looking into his eyes--

The rope slides easily through his fingers, and with a rush of air, you plummet- your scream being cut off and muffled by his tongue greeting you. It all but wraps around your sides, and you feel it constrict, pinning your arms to your torso as its owner tips his head back and allows you to fall backward into the cage of his mouth. 

You scream as the tongue folds over you greedily, drinking in your flavour and slathering you in thick saliva. The surface won’t stop moving beneath your hands- cushy and soft and speckled with taste buds that leave a faint bumpy texture pressing against your palms and fingers- though when he abruptly licks you again, you’re flipped onto your side, helpless to do anything but let his tongue squish tightly against your back. The muscle is hot and explorative, wasting no time in dragging its tip along your flailing limbs. 

Everything around you is hot and slick, but the more you fight against it, the more of his saliva seeps through your clothes, soaking your skin and causing you to slip around easily in the chasm of his mouth. A zigzag of light filtering between his teeth is the only way for you to see the warm pink of his tongue as it continues to effortlessly bat you and part of your flimsy rope around. 

It’s… so easy for him. 

So easy to treat you as nothing more than a sweet treat. You find yourself pushed against his fangs more than once, and each time, you suck in a sharp breath and wait for him to chew you to pieces- all the while trying to peer out past his lips for one more glance at the world you’re leaving behind.

You don’t get one. 

All your squirms earn you is more buffeting from the tongue, more hums of delight from the throat that you know is yawning wide behind you, but you don’t allow yourself to look at it, trying instead to drag yourself forward in the dripping mouth of the beast. You’re close. Your fingers reach the very edge of his gums and you strain to pull yourself up from his gullet even as you feel your legs brush the very edge of his throat.

A throat that twitches eagerly, the muscles there relaxing with a soft slrrrk of noise- and you yelp as you find yourself falling deeper into the squishy tube. 

“NO-”

The tongue that had been idly sloshing you around arches, filling his mouth and squeezing the air from your lungs in a strangled cry- though you don’t have time to be worried about that as you realize what the predator’s doing.

Swallowing. He’s swallowing. The gullet behind you lurches, a tiny hlrk and a bob of the muscles behind you causing you to throw your arms forward as gravity changes- but you’re too covered in saliva to get a grip on anything. Instead, you’re forced to feel his uvula drag across the back of your shoulders as he hums- the noise loud enough to make your chest feel like it’s buzzing. 

You’re squashed under his uvula entirely with another firm swallow, leaving you scrambling against the plush back of his tongue as you try to reach the swinging tab of flesh. Your fingers are tangled tightly in your rope, clutching it in utter desperation. It’s still holding fast. Still tied to something. 

You try to remember if you saw it caught between his molars or canines as you try to hoist yourself further up his gullet- barely able to even paw the backmost part of his tongue in your attempts to reach freedom. It’s still somewhat taut, taut enough that there’s hope…

…as light falls over you, you look up from the depths of his throat, for one fleeting moment allowing yourself to think that he’s about to cough you up. It must be a mistake. He seems like a kind enough man, and you shift your position slightly to see better, wiping a string of drool out of your face as a shadow falls over his jaws. 

His hand. 

And in his fingers…

No…

In his fingers, he’s lazily clutching the end of your rope. He holds it there with a soft chuckle, one that makes the throat around you ripple, before you watch his mouth start to relax as it closes for what you realize in terror is the final time.

“Wait- wait wait wait-!"

When he swallows, the walls of his throat clutch tight around you, rippling with a soft ulp that folds around you and tries to squeeze you down along with it. Your whole body jerks in place, being squashed tighter into the living tunnel before the rope pulls taut and forces you back up- which causes the muscles around you to quiver and the predator they belong to to hum. 

It’s absolutely deafening this close to his voicebox. 

You gasp as the slimy walls finally ease up, trembling at the sensation of something pressing at you from outside of your new prison. At first, you almost think you’re imagining it, but when the throat around you twitches in response to a firmer press, you realize those are fingers pressing against you from the outside. 

You can’t help but imagine yourself as a lump in Christopher’s throat. 

As you struggle harder, forcing your elbows out against the taunting squishes, in you mind’s eye, you see the small flutter of your movements settled just above his collarbone- the way you stretch the freckled skin and wriggle just beneath it- and as you tug on the rope in a desperate attempt to shimmy back up the way you came-

GLURK.

-the throat constricts tighter, and this time you can’t keep yourself from giving a yelp as you’re sucked further into Christopher’s esophagus- settled just beside his thudding heart. The walls of his gullet have grown tighter, as has the knot of the rope around your waist thanks to said walls hungrily rippling around you in an attempt to squeeze you deeper inside. Again, you struggle to haul yourself further up the rope that’s keeping you suspended in his chest. Your saliva slicked hands fumble to get a grip, and you curse yourself for not having tied too many knots in it before trying to use it out borrowing. In the pitch darkness of his throat, you can’t see much aside a very faint red- the light from outside only penetrating deep enough for you to see the faint outlines of the esophagus squeezing around you. 

Your rope is still being held snugly by the gullet’s walls, the red lifeline almost vanishing into the pulsing darkness, but you squint through the saliva running down your face just long enough to realize how far down you’ve been squeezed. Seeming miles of throat stretch above you, and a flicker of light from the top of the tunnel causes your heart to sink. On either side of you, you hear a rush of air filling your devourer’s lungs, and everything tightens as they fill with oxygen, preparing for another-

Gulp.

-for him, it must be nothing. Just soft and lazy bobs of his adam’s apple that allow your rope to fall deeper into the folds of his throat. You can almost imagine how faint the sound of him swallowing must be outside of the sweltering confines you’re in now- but you can’t quite cling to the illusion long enough to mute the disgusting squelch and ULLLLK that draw you deep enough to feel a distinct change in heat.

Heat from below you.

Heat coupled by the sound of an organic growl, and your heart grows cold despite the warmth of the predator surrounding you as you realize how close to the belly of the beast you’ve gotten.

You scramble against the soft walls, tugging on your slack rope more and more as the sound of gurgling grows louder beneath you. You can’t end up in his stomach. You won’t. You’re a borrower, you’re not-

Glmpk.

He swallows once more. 

Firmly. 

Firmly enough that you manage to look above you in terror, watching the tunnel of his throat constrict in a wave that rushes toward you in the dark, too fast for you to do anything but take a breath in before you’re squished firmly into the upper stomach sphincter. 

Then through it.

Your tiny form lands in his stomach with a wet plop.

The walls around you shudder with a gurgle of greeting, and above you, you hear a long and contented sigh breeze up from the throat you fought for your life not to get squeezed down- unable to keep yourself from envying the air for being able to get past his lips.

You’re not as lucky as the air. The stomach containing you groans in emphasis, the organ steadily starting to rock this way and that, the walls rippling inwards eagerly in what you realize are the beginnings of digestion. Your hands find the rope and you pull on it sharply, earning the sound of a muffled glp from above and the sensation of more and more of it pulling into his belly, coiling around you on the fleshy floor, gulp after gulp ushering it down, down…

The piece of yarn bobs momentarily at the back of Christopher’s throat, and it brushes the folds of flesh there as its pulled down his gullet. It isn’t fully soaked through with his saliva, not yet, and as he sits with his jaws open, he gulps, feeling it stick dryly in his throat- though he persists in his task anyway. 

With a few more short swallows, there’s no trace left of you at all. No rope dangles from between his lips. No shape wriggles in his throat, and as he trails a hand down to his comfortably full stomach… he grins at the realization that you fit so perfectly inside that you’ve completely vanished from the outside world. Not even a lump against his middle surfaces to show anyone where you’ve vanished to, and he purrs in delight, trailing his fingers over his middle and hiccuping suddenly when you squirm. 

“Oh, don’t worry.”

His voice rumbles around you, echoing over the sounds of digestion. One of the fleshy walls folds inward with a prod against you and you feel the tip of one of his claws massaging you into the lining. 

“I think I’m going to let my guts take their time with you… best get comfy in there.” 

[entomolog-t]

Stupid lowscale gt brainrot but like--

You know the "stranded on a planet with sexy 8ft-10ft tall alien men" monster "romance" trope???

Give me a story just like this but like humans are smaller because of higher gravity. Its nothing so severe that anything super off is noticeable at first. Similar body types, perhaps even the alien species is much more physically intimidating looking (especially if we're going to the ye old hunter gatherer/barbarian trope), maybe they notice that they feel really good on this planet, perhaps even they make the connection that they can jump a fair amount higher. To them its nothing crazy. Going from a 2ft vertical to a 4-5ft vertical is cool, but its nothing like the videos of walking on the moon.

The aliens however, notice something is off fairly quickly. With a language barrier there might be the need to physically pull someone out of harms way, try to direct them one way or the other etc... and humans?? Despite their size, they're *heavy.* Not as heavy as the aliens, but far too close for someone half their size. Watching the humans aid them in tasks is surprising, and they're quite impressively able to carry a fair amount.

Perhaps it takes a while for the humans to notice, and it comes as a shock. Be it something perhaps cute like playfighting, or something more severe like an actual physical altercation, it becomes apparent that the humans are leagues stronger than the aliens.

Some Local coffeshop employee Becky Smith of middle of nowhere USA is suddenly able to lift the equivalent of 800lbs and is now seen as some warrior class being and is just trying to live out her monster romance fantasy. Girly was looking for a fearsome warrior and somehow became it instead.

This is so silly and stupid but I love it and would PAY to read it.

[imagine-darksiders]

Hear me out: Samael with a pregnant (from before they met) reader.

- Finding out the object of his obsession affection is pregnant dredges up some long-buried instinct in the demon prince, one that has him plagued by the urge to nestle you away somewhere until well after the baby is born.

- You, however, are decidedly against the idea of Samael squirrelling you off to goodness knows where, so you try to go into hiding.

- He’ll burn the word down to flush you out if you do though.

- When he has you, he’s nerve-wrackingly gentle with you. Uncharacteristically so. You can’t help but feel like you’re waking on eggshells around him, like at any moment, the other shoe is going to drop and he’ll throw you in a cage or tear you apart just for the Hell of it. But that never happens.

- Samael grows agitated because his human is stressed, and that feeds into his primal nature, telling him he’s doing an inadequate job of making you comfortable in the ‘nest’ he’s built you.

- Said nest consists of an insanely large bed with scarlet, satin sheets, the colour of freshly spilled blood. He puts you in his own private chambers, under lock and key and guard, and though he’s often absent to attend to his affairs, he always returns at night to gloat about his latest scheme or the enemy he’s just overthrown, all in a bid to impress you and make you realise he’s a strong, accomplished provider.

- There’s also the matter of the child’s existing father… Samael has several plans in place for the assassination of your old flame, a cold act to be sure but a necessary one that’ll secure himself more firmly in your mind as your sole caretaker.

- He really wishes you’d allow him to help you ease some of the pain in your abdomen that comes in the latter stages of pregnancy, but every time he makes a suggestive comment to see if you’re receptive to his unorthodox yet effective methods of pain relief, you end up curled in the corner furthest from him, a quivering wreck, and not in the way he intended. So he leaves it alone… reluctantly.

- He’s unaccustomed to someone rejecting his advances. You don’t even fall in line due to fear, which you have in spades.

- You won’t let him touch your belly, fiercely protective of the baby growing inside you. And it’s a funny concept to the demon, that you won’t ’let’ him. As if a Prince of Hell could be commanded to do anything… but… for you, he at least keeps up the pretence that he’ll comply. At night however, after you’ve fallen asleep, Samael lays his immense head down right beside you, chuffing warmly through his nostrils as he peels back the covers and rests the very tip of his forefinger on your swollen belly.

- He tells himself he only does it in defiance of your wishes. But in truth, he seeks reassurance that the tiny life inside you is still alive and healthy. Humans are notoriously fragile, their offspring even more so.

- Several times you try to escape, citing that he can’t really expect a baby to grow up in a fortress in Hell. He doesn’t see the problem. It’s perfectly safe here. Certainly safer than being left up on Earth where all manner of things could happen to you without his protection.

- He doesn’t want to have to chain you to a wall to keep you from trying to leave him, but if you keep pushing him, you won’t leave him with much choice. You belong to him, and the child inside you, though not sown by his own seed, is his as well. The sooner you come to terms with that, the happier you’ll be, he’s sure.

- He’s no threat to you or the baby, although you seem to have some preconceived notion that as soon as they’re born, he’ll hold them ransom to control you.

- Admittedly, the idea had occurred to him briefly. But he soon realised he didn’t want that. He didn’t want a mindless thrall who followed every order and complied with his every whim. He’s not her. He’d rather have your cooperation. He’d rather have your true affection, to know for himself that notorious affinity humans have to love. It has eluded him for eternity. He wants that.