#nonfatally

[safe-from-sharp-teeth]

a bit wet, a bit loud, but it's home.

[officialspec]

ill be honest as much as i love to criticise the use of fatphobia for comedy ill never be able to hold the fatphobic jokes in kung fu panda against it

like yea those movies are guilty of dipping into The Usual Tropes for a cheap laugh but not only is the character writing for the fat characters the strongest and most sympathetic ive Ever seen literally just the character designs of the pandas in the 3rd movie get me choked up sometimes. theyre all so appealing and clearly treated with the same care and attention as everyone else without copping out and making them Barely Fat. po is already a size that doesnt exist in film protags and hes still the thinnest person in that whole village and that meant a lot to me

[sinfulforrest]

Full of many thoughts tonight...I wanna make a yandere oc that's essentially a building-like entity that wants you and will do anything to keep you within it...the structure of it is fleshy and full of gore, but uncanny blends of normal arcitrcture seamlessly meld into the living tissue to make a strange hellscape that you can't escape from.

It creates an 'ideal' human form to take in order to interact with you, to take care of you, to love and nurture you and your fragile human body. This shell can't leave from the depths of whatever the hell you're trapped in as it gets too weak away from its body otherwise, so it goes above and beyond with keeping you under its surveillance and care.

It'd feed you prey that it drags in, or pieces of its own flesh that the shell lovingly carves away from the walls with tears in its eyes, smiling unnaturally as it forces the raw flesh into your mouth. Loving you is so painful, but in a beautiful way; it doesn't know how to put the feeling into words yet, but it hopes that one day it can explain it to you.

It loves being able to surround you completely and nurture you within it, often times using its shell to force place you within a fleshy patch so it can wrap its slick tendrils around you and spend some quality time with you...the more you struggle and thrash against its love, the more that you sink into the suffocating flesh and the tighter its tentacles secure you into your rightful place. You will rest and lay with it.

The shell often becomes unstable, not being able to hold a human form for a little while as it experiences intense emotions towards you, being reduced to a shambling mess of flesh and bone that constantly reaches for you with malformed, sinewy limbs whilst it constantly whispers your name over, and over. Even when you cover your ears, its voice penetrates your thoughts and chips away at your sanity over time, becoming more relaxing and soothing as it whispers its never-ending confessions of love to your very soul.

(More Home posts can be found on its masterlist!)

[wildechildwrites]

Run, Rabbit

König/Reader

Wordcount: 3.8k

Warnings: 18+, Violence, Injury, Smut, lightly noncon but in the way that you're fighting it but are down, König being insane

No use of Y/N

Summary: You're on a solo mission in Romania, and König goes hunting

A/N: "Oh look another predator/prey coded Konig fic how original" SHUT UP I KNOW

AO3: Run, Rabbit

18+

You’re in the forests of Romania on a solo mission, snooping around an abandoned military base that’s been the location of some suspicious activity, according to your sources. You find the ghost of the for-hire group Kortac in rat-chewed maps and files, faint footprints in layers of dust, but the trail has long gone cold, the building slowly being reclaimed by nature. The trees show no sign of the changes of autumn, but it's in the air, the late summer whisper of a chill in the breeze. You take your time picking your way along the overgrown roads, enjoying the tranquility of the forest. The extraction point is ten clicks west of your position, but you’re content with your steady pace, the sun still high in the sky, shining brightly through the thick foliage, and the hike is an easy one. Your meager findings are carefully folded in your bag of gear, your gun snug on your hip. Ten meters to your right, a red deer raises its head up, watching you warily, before bolting away into the trees. You smile to yourself and raise your face to better feel the sun. 

You hear the crack of the shot and drop, but not quickly enough. Your ears ring, your shoulder burning agonizingly, like someone’s pushing a hot poker against it. You fight against the nausea and pain, willing yourself to move, scrambling into the brush for cover. The shot came from your six, and you grapple for your binoculars, trying to locate the shooter on the hill above you. You recognize the mask first, the bleached tear tracks down an executioner's hood, the hulking form of the figure wearing it unfortunately familiar. König is standing casually, seemingly unafraid of any return of fire, staring down like he can see you through the trees. The hairs on the back of your neck prickle instinctually as he begins to move, a sauntering pace down the hill like the slow lope of a wolf. You drop down again, ignoring the pain in your shoulder as you crawl through the underbrush. 

Nestled low on a hill, large body half buried in the underbrush, König watches you through the scope of his rifle, toying with the idea of killing you. He recognizes you from the files he’s seen on the 141, but there was nothing left at the base for you to find, no reason to draw suspicion and attention back here. You were harmless like this, and magnetic, head tilted towards the sun, your face lit up in a wash of gold light that plays up the color of your hair. His finger brushes lightly across the trigger as he contemplates his options. He rolls his neck loose before glancing through his scope again.

You stop behind a small boulder, pressing your back to it, breathing heavily, and pull your radio off of your hip. “Bravo Six, this is Bravo Seven Four, over.” 

The crackle of the radio is a relief, Price’s voice faint but firm. “Go ahead Bravo Seven Four, over.” 

“Enemies one; direction east of my grid two hundred meters, injury sustained, six clicks out of extraction point, over.” You peek out from behind the rock, but can't see anything, so you continue your crawl, waiting for a response. The birds have stopped singing, a deadly quiet that warns of danger.

“Stay calm Bravo Seven Four–” Price’s voice is cut off by the sound of another bullet whizzing near you. You can’t have your radio giving away your position, and the squad is too far away to reach you before König could. You grab your radio and quickly press the button. 

“Bravo Six, silence, meet at extraction, over.” You turn it off, not waiting for a response, and tuck it back into your belt. Ignoring the growing burning in your shoulder, you move as quickly through the underbrush as you can. You need to cover more ground if you’re going to make it out of here, so you weigh your options, propping yourself into a low crouch, scanning the woods behind you. You can’t see or hear anything. You inhale deeply, then break into a sprint.

The cracking of branches is faint, but König is listening for it, his rifle slung over his shoulder as he searches for you. He immediately changes directions, moving towards the noise and quickening his pace. If you want to run, he’s more than happy to indulge you, relishing the adrenaline of the chase. Your trail is clear, broken branches like a beacon beckoning him closer. He spots blood on one of the low boulders, and swipes it up on his gloved hand, smiling under the mask. 

You're hyper aware of your disadvantage, the sounds of snapping branches as your pursuer draws closer, the sluggish flow of blood down your shoulder from where the bullet grazed you. Your lungs burn, head woozy as you run hard, branches scraping at your form. You risk a look over your shoulder, searching for König behind you, and your heart drops when you miss a step. 

All of a sudden, you're falling, hands stretched out in front of you as you tumble down a steep hill. You hear and feel the snap of your ankle in your boot, a whimpering sob yanked from your chest as you finally land heavily in some thorn covered bushes, branches scratching your body even through the thick fabric of your uniform. You pull yourself out, ignoring the pain as thorns drag against your face, drawing blood, then scan yourself quickly, the prognosis bleak. You can't run, not with what is definitely a broken ankle, and your shoulder is still oozing freely, but you won’t go down without a fight. You drag yourself through the dirt using your good arm, stopping periodically to listen to the sounds of König moving through the trees. Your entire body burns, and you fight against the growing fatigue that’s threatening to overwhelm you, trying to hold onto your quickly waning adrenaline. 

The sound of breaking branches draws nearer. He’s moving faster, heavy footfalls that make your leg muscles twitch with the urge to run. König whistles, high and loud, and you reach for your gun, cocking it as quietly as you can, turning around to face the direction of the noise, crouching low. Your heart pounds in your chest, fear creeping in, the weight of your situation crashing down on you.

“I heard you cry out,” a voice rings through the trees. There's something light in König’s tone, like this has all been a game of tag. “You can't be too far.”

Then the only sound is the breeze, rustling in the leaves. Blood from a cut on your forehead drips into your eye, and you resist the urge to wipe it away, scanning your surroundings as best you can without moving.

The unwelcome feeling of the muzzle of a gun presses against the side of your head, and your body shudders involuntarily. 

“Drop your weapon, Häschen,” König murmurs. You comply immediately, tossing it at his feet, unwilling to argue with a Beretta at your temple. The large man quickly kicks your gun into the bushes. “Sit up,” he commands, and you move slowly, trying not to aggravate your broken bone. 

The small shack hasn’t been used in a while, the table in the center of the room is covered in dust, and spiders have made their home in the corners, spinning silvery streamers that hang down, brushing against his helmet. König places you lightly on the small bed in the corner, stooping over uncomfortably in the low room. Your hair is full of sticks and leaves, your face scraped and bleeding. He needs to look at your shoulder, and the ankle you’d been hovering over protectively, but work comes first. You’ve thrown him off, his fingers tingling where he held you to him, the phantom pressure of your head on his chest as he carried your unconscious body through the woods haunting him even now. He grabs your gear bag, dumping it unceremoniously onto the table, pulling your medkit to the side before rifling through the papers you’d found. The information was outdated, but he shoves the papers into one of the pockets of his pants for disposal later regardless.

You knew he was large, but kneeling at his feet he feels like a goliath, towering over you, the gun held in his grip looking comically small in his giant hands. He holsters it, and you get a stupid, moronic, brilliant idea. In a quick motion, you’ve ripped your radio off of your belt, pressing down on the button and bringing it to your lips. “MAYDAY MAYDAY MAYDAY–” König slams the heel of his palm into the back of your head, and the world goes dark.

He doesn’t bother stripping you properly, just takes his knife and slices it up through the collar of your shirt, baring your shoulder to him. His eyes, unbidden, trace the line of the now exposed column of your throat, and he swallows loudly in the quiet of the room. König draws his attention back to your injury with some difficulty. He barely even grazed you, the puckered wound bleeding sluggishly, and he quietly gloats at his own aim. When he pours alcohol on it, you awaken with a hiss, throwing your arm out hard in his direction reflexively before your brain catches up with you. He deflects you easily, wrapping large fingers around your wrist, enjoying the feeling of the delicate bones, watching with silent smugness as your confusion reads clear on your face. 

“Guten tag,” he says, pleasantly casual, as though you’ve run into him at the grocery store. Your head is pounding, and you’re thrown, trying to grasp your surroundings. Your shoulder is burning, and you’re suddenly aware of the air on your bare skin. You rip your hand out of his grasp, pulling yourself as far away from him on the small bed as you can manage. He tilts his head, studying you. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, your voice hard. 

König gestures with the alcohol he’s holding. “I’m patching up your injuries.” His voice is low, his accent curling around the syllables of his sentences like smoke. 

You blink at him, utterly disarmed. “Why,” you pause, biting your cheek as a wave of pain radiates through your ankle, “Are you patching up my injuries?” 

“Would you prefer it if I left them?” He volleys back lightly, tilting his head. 

You don’t say anything, staring at him with suspicion. He’s got you cornered, quite literally, and there’s no way you can get away from him with your ankle like this unless you can get your hands on a weapon. There’s a knife tucked in your boot, but you can’t exactly pull it out subtly. His beretta is on his hip, his rifle is leaning against the table, but you’d be lying to yourself if you thought you had a chance in hell of reaching either before he could. 

 König takes your silence for compliance and goes back to dabbing your wound with alcohol. You flinch when he places his hand on you, and he makes a dissatisfied noise in the back of his throat. “Such a nervous little rabbit.” The mask conceals his expression from you, but you can hear the frown in his voice. 

“You shot me,” you respond dryly. “Doesn’t exactly foster trust.” 

 “Just a scratch. I could’ve killed you, if I wanted to.” He shrugs, a casual movement that’s unintentionally intimidating, your eyes on the way his shoulder muscles move beneath the layers of clothing he wears. 

You spend your time with large men, the boys of your team all averaging above six feet, but König is just startlingly gigantic. You scan his torso, eyes tracing across the wide planes of his chest, lingering too long to be decent. You catch yourself and drop your gaze down to your hands. “If you don’t want to kill me, what do you want?”

“I want to know what you are doing here.” His tone is still pleasant, but interrogative. His fingers are deliberate, surprisingly gentle as he bandages your shoulder, but there’s an unspoken thread of tension in the air. 

You’re much more docile when he patches up your ankle, an uneasy truce between the two of you. You sit still as he splints it, legs draped almost intimately over his lap, his large fingers curled around your injured leg, gentle pressure holding you steady as he works. He adjusts his hold, squeezing lightly on the meat of your calf, and your breathing stutters. His eyes flick to yours, something dangerous in their expression, and you hold his gaze as you deliberately drag your uninjured leg closer to you, your boot trailing across König's upper thighs intentionally. His eyes slip close at the sensation, just for a moment, and that's when you act, yanking your knife out of your boot and sinking it into his thigh and launching yourself to the floor. He lets out a snarling cry, and you scramble up, your vision going white from the pain of your ankle, but you push through it, sprinting out of the shack. 

“Chasing shadows.” You respond, your voice equally mild. You know he looked through your pack and probably found the papers. You wonder if he thought it was ironic that you came sniffing after KorTac, just to run right into him. You certainly did.

You can't run properly, reduced to a hobble that's made all the more difficult by the fact that you're on uneven terrain in the quickly growing dark. You need to figure out your location and find a way to contact your team, but you’re disoriented and disarmed. You haven’t made it more than a few meters when you hear the sound of the front door slam open. You pick up the pace, trying to put as much distance between you and the very angry Austrian hot on your trail. 

“Häschen,” König’s voice rings through the trees, and a trickle of fear runs through you. You duck behind a tree, pressing yourself against it firmly, trying to blend in with the darkness. 

“Always trying to run away,” he snarls, shoving his body against yours. He thrusts his uninjured thigh between your legs, pinning you further, and you let out an unintentional gasp at the sudden pressure of hard muscle against your core. König instantly pulls away, his eyes shooting down to your ankle with concern, before dragging slowly up your body, his gaze accusatory.  

He can hear you breathing, light and quick, and he doesn’t even try to disguise the heavy sound of his footsteps as he closes in on you. He whips around the tree you’re cowering against, and you try to bolt, but he wraps his fingers around your bicep, yanking you back, slamming his hands above your head, trapping you against the tree. 

“You like this,” he says, and you shake your head desperately. 

“I don’t–” he interrupts any denials you might have, deliberately grinding his thigh in between your legs. You clench your teeth against the noise it draws from your throat. 

He leans impossibly closer, your noses almost brushing through the hood he wears. “Did you like the chase as well?” His voice is a husky rumble, full of heat, and you have to bite back a whine. “I liked the chase.” You realize the hard length against your stomach isn't his Beretta, and an unwanted spike of arousal shoots through you in response.

“You’re insane,” you snap, grappling for some semblance of control over the building pleasure in your core. König pulls away from you abruptly, and you flush at how wet you are, soaking through your underwear. 

“How about a game, Häschen?” his voice has lost its edge, back to the pleasant tone he used in the shack, and your head spins at the sudden change.  “I'll give you five minutes to run or hide, and if you can make it ten minutes without me finding you, I’ll take you to your extraction point myself, safe and sound.”

Your heart races. You don’t trust him, but there's no way you'll get another chance to get away from him. “And if I can’t?” You ask. 

You know you’re fucked, but you scramble through the darkness as quickly as you can, trying to find a good place to hide. If your ankle wasn’t broken, you’d climb a tree, but you’re stuck searching for ground cover, listening with mounting paranoia to the quiet noises of the forest. You’re a celestial body pulled unwillingly into König’s orbit; collision unavoidable.

He says nothing, just purposefully presses his hard cock against your center. Traitorous want flows through you.

You hear him coming, branches breaking as he stalks towards you. You stand as straight as you can, letting him approach you, his eyes bright in the dim of twilight. When he comes within range, you lunge for his gun, almost succeeding in yanking it out of the holster before he grabs you around the waist and pulls you to the ground, pinning you roughly beneath him. 

Even as he manhandles you, you're hyper aware of the delicate way he avoids putting any weight near your injured shoulder. He's got your legs splayed around him, but he's careful, adjusting you just so, keeping your ankle tucked safely away, angled so he won't jostle it. His hips press obscenely against your ass, and you can't help arching your back into him, begging for his cock even as you swear at him.

“Get the fuck off of me,” you spit, and he just laughs, an off-putting, mean sound, before reaching around and ripping open your pants. The button pops off, and the zipper teeth split forcefully apart as he shoves a hand into your underwear. 

“Complain all you want, Häschen, but you're soaked for me,” he coos into your ear, roughly rubbing your clit. You moan at the contact, and he moves his hand lower, pressing his palm against your clit before shoving a finger into your wet center, roughly splitting you open. You gasp at the sudden stretch, König giving you no time to adjust as he pulls his finger out for a moment and plunges it back in, moving in and out at a punishing pace.

“Tell the truth.” He orders, adding a second finger. He curls them, stroking your inner walls, bullying you open until he finds the spot that makes you see stars.  “Say you want me to fuck you.” 

You're beyond words, making a derisive noise that transforms into a whine as you move your hips back, driving König's fingers deeper, your ass rubbing against his clothed erection. All you can focus on is the press of his body against yours, his fingers unspooling you, pulling you apart as he pants along with you. The tension is building, the knot in your stomach tightening as König forces you closer to the edge. 

He pulls his fingers out abruptly, leaving you devastatingly empty and unsatisfied, and you let out an anguished whimper despite yourself. He pushes your pants roughly down around your thighs, and the purr of his zipper opening makes you clench reflexively around nothing. 

He presses right against your entrance, a breath away from splitting you open on his cock. You shove your hips back, trying to fuck yourself onto him, and he pulls back. “Say you want this,” he demands. 

“Fuck. You.” You snarl, even as your thighs tremble. He drags the head of his cock up through your folds, coating himself in your wetness, and you gasp. 

“Such spirit,” he murmurs. In a single motion, he sinks into you, splitting you in open, pulling the air from your lungs. 

He thrusts into you fast and hard, like he wants to tear you open, and it hurts, even with how soaked you are. You cry out, trying to squirm away from the pain. His fingers find your clit again, his breath hot in your ear. He dwarfs you, your legs shaking from pleasure and the weight of him on top of you, pressing you into the dirt. 

“You wanted this.” His voice is a panting snarl, his talented fingers stealing your senses as he forces you closer to your orgasm. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the forest air as he pounds into you without mercy. “Say it.” 

“I want this,” you whimper. You feel the shocking whisper of his lips against the junction of your neck and shoulder and realize with a start that means he’s not wearing his hood. All thoughts are shoved out of your head as he sinks his teeth into your skin, and you wail as you snap, the sensation dragging you over the edge, your body trembling as you cum. His thrusts become sloppy, his cock twitching inside you as he shoves his hips against yours, filling you up. He stays like that, flush against you, as his dick softens, keeping you full and trapped under him. 

You lay in the dirt panting, hollowed out and raw. There are pine needles prickling against your skin, soreness awakening in your limbs as you come back to yourself. König climbs off of you, still cognizant of your injuries, and pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you like a lover, the brutality melting into tenderness like watercolor. His hood is back in place, and the world comes crashing down around you as your senses return, the weight of your actions pulling you down as regret and shame bubble under your skin. 

The walk to the extraction point is silent. König holds you cradled against his chest; your hand fisted in the front of the vest he wears. His thigh burns, his entire body consumed with exhaustion, but he clenches his jaw against the pain, focusing instead on your face, turnt up towards him, open and vulnerable, eyes rimmed with red. If he was a better man, he'd be sorry. 

König notices your eyes glazing over, the warble of your chin, and reaches up a large hand to cradle your face, wiping away tears you didn't realize were threatening to fall. “Hush bunny, you did so well,” he croons down at you, his saccharine actions thrown in high relief against how violently he handled you before. “Such a good girl for me.”

He sets you down gently on a large rock, and pulls your knife out of a hidden pocket, his hand raised in a placating gesture as he slowly places it beside you. It’s still got his blood on it, dried to rust on the tip. You don’t reach for it, pulling your uninjured leg up and wrapping your arms around yourself. You look even smaller than you did before. 

He straightens his spine against the odd sensation in his chest. “Tell your captain to keep a closer eye on his men,” He orders, then reaches out a hand, hovering just above your cheek bone. Neither of you bridge the gap.  

You watch him disappear into the trees, the shadows swallowing him whole, the sound of a helicopter in the distance.

[morsels-and-monstrosities]

"You poor thing..you're freezing." The predator slowly bent down, the leaves in the trees rustling as they shifted. They were the biggest giant you'd ever seen..their features shadowed by their hood. The moonlight behind them illuminated their outline and you could see a faint glow of purple from somewhere in the void that was their face. A ginormous clawed hand suddenly pressed against your back, jolting you from your terrified daze.

"Humans like you shouldn't be out here this late..you're far too fragile. If any other giant had found you, you'd be dead by now. Luckily I found you." There was an air of smugness in their tone as they wrapped their fingers around your torso, lifting you to their face. You could see them a bit better now that you were closer. They were pale, face covered in scars, and eyes glowing a gentle purple color. "Don't worry, I'll help you out of the woods." Their voice was quiet, but still confident. You could see a glimpse of sharp white teeth from behind their lips as they spoke, teeth easily big enough to cut you in half with one swift bite.

They gently tucked you against their chest, a claw rubbing against your back in an almost comforting way as they began to walk. "Humans like you aren't built to survive the snow like this..how did you get lost out here?" They looked down at you. Your mouth felt dry, you wanted to speak but no words could come out. You heard a quiet unintelligible grumble from the giant. "Can you speak? I need you to tell me where you live.." They shifted you so that you were pressed a bit lower towards their stomach. A loud growl thundered from the predator's core, making you sweat.

"Ah..sorry, small one. I didn't eat today." They said quietly, stopping their walk to look down at you. "I really do need to know how to get you back, I doubt you'd want to spend the night in my cave." They reasoned. You opened your mouth but you found yourself still unable. This was the scariest situation you'd ever been in, your brain completely blank as you tried to scramble for something to say. They didn't seem annoyed..but they didn't seem too pleased with your silence either. You'd hardly noticed that your trembling was worsening, but they sure did.

"Are you really still that cold? Poor thing..it's been so long since I've handled humans, I forgot how weak your bodies are to nature. I can't have you freezing! That wouldn't be very fun, now would it?" They shook their head and lifted you once again up to their face. "I have a way to keep you warm until you can tell me where you live, but I doubt you'd like it much." They gently brushed the hair from your face with a claw. You felt a pit form deep in your stomach..what did they mean? You figured that whatever it was couldn't be worse than being out like this.

"I'll be gentle, I promise. Just try not to struggle too much.." You felt a claw gently prod at your shoes. You looked down just in time to see them fall off and onto the forest floor below. The giant didn't seem to care, and you'd been so distracted staring at the ground you didn't realize you were now directly in front of their mouth. The moment you looked back up, you were greated with a flourish of warm air, their mouth opening up wide. It was dark..you could only see their first few teeth and a faint purple glow from down their throat. Your shaking worsened but they didn't hesitate, setting your shivering form down onto their tongue. You immediately tried to turn and jump from their mouth bit their teeth snapped shut with a near-deafening click.

You were pressed against the roof of their mouth without a moments hesitation, their tongue soaking you in saliva. Their mouth was overwhelmingly warm, a complete contrast to the world outside. They kept you pinned, gently licking you a few times, before allowing you to gather yourself, laying flat against their tongue. You felt something metallic against your leg, turning to try and see what it was. Your eyes had somewhat adjusted, and with the help of the glowing from their throat, you saw that it was a tongue piercing. You hadn't seen that before in your sheer panic.

The world around you began to shift and pull you backwards, causing you to panic. They were tilting their head back, you could only assume they were going to swallow you. You quickly twisted your body as fast as you could, tiny hands reaching to grab onto the ball of the piercing. You missed by just a hair, slipping backwards and closer to their throat. In just one gulp, you were completely swallowed, sliding down their throat on your way to what you assumed to be your final destination. Their throat squeezed around you- you could hear a powerful thud from deep inside of them. You assumed it was their heart beating, drowning out the sound of your own thumping in your ears.

You slid into their stomach, rather shocked to find the source of the glowing had been from here. It was the same color as their eyes, but a bit more dim. There was no liquid filling the space around you, and you breathed a sigh of relief knowing you weren't about to be digested. They began to walk once again, their stomach gently swaying with their pace. "Sorry about not warning you beforehand, your kind are so skittish, I knew you wouldn't have agreed if I gave you a heads up." Their voice was a bit muffled, but you could still hear them clearly enough.

You began to move, shifting so that you were leaning up against the stomach lining. Well..it was definitely a change compared to the cold outside. It was almost comforting, knowing that you were this safe, even if that safety was coming from a total stranger. "You tasted pleasant enough..the fear made you a bit bitter, but I'm not complaining." They told you, making you almost roll your eyes. They'd just scared the life out of you and they were complimenting you on your taste now? They were right though- they definitely weren't the worst giant that could've found you.

The more you sat there the more tired you found yourself. The gentle swaying combined with the warmth and the way you practically sunk into their stomach was too good to resist. You allowed yourself to close your eyes..you weren't going to sleep, no, you just needed to allow yourself to rest. That was the last thought you had before drifting off into the deepest sleep you'd had in awhile, surrounded by the warmth of the stranger.

[knifey-connor]

More val 💕 art by @toothpaste-pyjamas <3

[pineappleparfaitie]

HAPPY (LATE) 8/8 PART 2 (electric boogaloo)

HAHA SORRY BEEN BUSY SO TOOK A BIT TO RENDER THIS UH HAPPY LATE SECOND PART TO THE 8/8 THINGIE! NSFW DNI!!KINK DNI!MDNI DNI!!

Soooo uh some peepers here so the pred is the oh so lovely @zetsweirdtherapyblog thank you bro for letting me draw this ily /p as for the preys: @chomp-o-rama , @lobotomysbrajn , @frootietoots , @suzyandthefox, @yuco-the-alien116 , @citrus-kiddo and me !

OK HAPPY LATE V-DAY *explodes*

[disintegrateddog]

hes stabbed through the chest. yay! what an excellent way to wake up! akutagawa is standing above his bed looking like a fucking. creeper.

- @subject-rashoumon (ignore this if you wanna. this is just for plot.. not an attempt to actually kill off ur character.)

Jouno woke up in a shocking, excruciating pain, crying out loudly. That probably hurt himself for than doing much else.

He jerked up, feeling a shortness of breath due to the anxiety and heightened senses beyond what was his normal, trying to kick away whoever was there. They had a familiar heartbeat and breathing pattern but he wanted to be sure.

His kicks came across weak, panicked. He put a hand over his chest where the stab wound was, trying to hold back the bleeding without a tourniquet.

[yummynomms]

Accidents Pt. 1!

VERY angsty, proceed with caution!!

I LOVE this type of situation, When the pred is so scared for the tinies life, its so heartbreaking when they know that they are the reason for their danger even if thats the last thing they want. like uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh the angst I YEARN for it!

Next

btw they are drunk! not aroused! the blushing is from the alcohol!

@voraciousvore

[lichqueenlibrarian]

Spock’s a pacifist until Jim’s in danger at which point all bets are off.

[safehaven2]

Oh yeah. This is gonna work! This is how you get a nice firm gut to last forever! Jaden, you look perfect in my stomach, and together, we look sexy as hell! Yeah, now that I've got the look down, all we need to do is keep you in there. What, you don't like the idea of staying in my belly forever? Don't worry, I'd lose this perfect ball if I digested you into fat, and I'll be sure to eat enough for both of us. What's that? No, I'm not letting you out right now or for the next couple of weeks, because I'm in charge, and if you keep acting up, my belly might need a new filler and I might mistake you for meat. Oh, you agree that staying inside of me is good for both of us? Great! Except while you're in my stomach, you're just food, so I'm gonna make every decision, and you're gonna learn to enjoy being a part of me. That's a good belly, now how about I rub you to sleep while I admire how full you make me Jaden.

[thefreak09]

VORE DRIVE YIPPEE

This time each Milestone equals one normal-sized prey!

Have fun!

Yall have to do the 20 likes and 40 reblogs for the first part ot happen btw

[sinfulforrest]

some Home thoughts because I'm feeling for that weird fleshball!! Some are fluffy, some are more smutty.

More Home writing can be found here :3

SFW

♡ Home loves being very close to you, and is surprisingly handsy and clingy. It loves snuggling up behind you and holding you whether you're up and about or trying to rest. It's big on handholding too, and loves watching the movements of your fingers as they intertwine with its own limbs.

♡ When it feels content, it emits a deep rumbling noise, almost like a cat's purr. Its shell will shiver and tremble with excitement at points, and the fleshy walls that make up the true form of Home that you both reside in will pulse and throb with affection as well. Gets a little embarrassed by the purring, but it instantly melts away when it sees you smiling at it fondly.

♡ Sometimes it gets a little too excited though, and its back will split open! It's nothing to be scared about though; the thin tentacles and tongues and tendrils that emerge from the cavity lovingly wrap themselves around any part of your body that they can reach. It loves being able to delicately touch such a small being like yourself in this shell that it made.

♡ It loves having its hair petted and played with, and it made its shell with long hair in order for you to fuss over it! It would adore you if you did its hair for it, gently brushing through its soft locks would make Home relax and lean into your touch.

♡ As it doesn't have proper lips, Home is a bit frustrated that it can't properly kiss you. It often nuzzles the top of your head as its way of giving you a kiss, or will gently take your palm and hold it up to their exposed teeth.

♡ Home loves observing you, both when it's in the shell and when it chooses to occupy its true form. When in its shell, Home is endlessly fascinated by all the little unique parts of your body that make you...you. Within its endlessly expanding fleshscape that's constantly shifting, it loves how you remain the same under its tender care, and will constantly tell you small little features of yours that it becomes smitten with.

NSFW

♡ Home is a pretty gentle lover, all things considered. It's very clueless about romance and love, being an eldritch monster and all (that also isn't used to being in a miniscule shell of a human!) so every sexual experience with you is a learning opportunity to understand your bodies even more.

♡ Prefers slow, passionate sex with you. The sensations are so alien to Home, but it just simply adores burying itself into you and filling you up. It's very observant though, and will learn rather quickly what gets you going or turns you off.

♡ Home got rather flustered when designing its shell so it never put proper genitalia onto it; in its place, however, is a pretty fat and meaty tentacle. It secretes lubricant so it can enter you more easily, and it can freely move it as well. It's pretty textured in different places, and Home likes it when it can make you come undone on it.

♡ It loves to pleasure you orally and can't get enough of how you taste on its tongue. Home can unhinge its mouth to an abnormal degree, so expect it to look as though it's consuming your entire lower region as it pleasures you with its ever-hungry tongue.

♡ If you give it consent, Home will use the hypnotic bulbs on its torso to lull you into a semi-conscious state whilst it fucks you. Home loves the difference in sensations within your body when you're like this. It also feels like it can be slightly rougher with you when you're under its compulsion, and will often set a pretty punishing pace if it gets too lost in those good feelings.

♡ Home will often use its tentacles to pleasure you as well, teasing you with them until it drives you mad. It can change the look and feel of these tentacles at will, and can make them have a variety of different functions to help reduce you to a fucked out state. Would absolutely have a tentacle in every single one of your holes if you wanted it.

♡ Sometimes it hoists you up against the fleshy walls but lets you sink into the flesh as it fucks you. You don't need to worry about getting truly consumed by Home as the flesh holds you firmly in place and will instantly cease its grip if you ask Home. Home wouldn't admit it, but it likes how helpless and at its mercy you are in this position.

♡ On occasion Home's gotten so lost in the moment that when it climaxes, it often releases a clutch of non-fertilised eggs deep into you. It gets pretty turned on seeing your stomach swell full of the eggs, and will often keep its tentacle inside you and feel up your stomach as you lay there panting in each others embrace. Wishes that it could work up the courage to truly impregnate you, but worried that it could end up hurting you or affecting your purity.

♡ Huge on aftercare though. Absolutely loves doting on you after the two of you finish making love, in its weird Home way. It always ends the same way though- with the two of you tangled up together as you hold each other closely, listening to the steady pulse of yourself and Home's true form.

(More Home posts can be found on its masterlist!)

[glitchedoutnoms]

Prey who wants nothing more but to be eaten and tucked away from the outside world. But every time a pred opens their mouth to invite them in, all the prey can do is scream, cry and scramble away as fast as possible. No matter how reassured they are that they wouldn't be harmed or how dull the preds teeth may be, the prey just cannot help it.

Prey being deathly afraid of sharp objects like needles, knives or teeth. Prey having a pred s/o or friend who helps them overcome that fear so they can both enjoy the noms. Perhaps the pred gets the idea to let them rest the prey's head/body on their tongue to try and get them used to seeing the preds teeth and be reassured they won't harm them.

Mouth therapy for an anxiety ridden prey just seems so wholesome and comfy oml

[iloveyou8600]

the beginning and end of all teen drama men

[tt-gt]

Big guy gets his favorite snack today