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evvyyypeters-fics · 3 months ago

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Intro/ Rules!!!

Hey! Welcome to my blog!

Just a disclaimer that I did have another blog, but that one got deleted on accident because I’m a silly goose so most of my posts in the start are reuploads from that account! (Boosts on reuploads are appreciated if you're seeing this at a recent time.)

Please follow my main account if you want to. Where I post my more personal, opinionated and laid back content.

This account is for my writing. I mainly write fics based around Evan Peters, but I will (rarely) post some more original content or even dip into different fandoms or familiar characters.

My requests are always open unless stated otherwise! Please feel free to send me your ideas and I will try and get to them as quickly as possible! Please make sure to read the rules (below) before sending a request!

Rules for sending a request

(Warning! I am still a student and I also get burnt out really easily, so please expect a week long MINIMUM before recieving your fic request. I will try my hardest to get to all requests, and ASAP, but I will not make promises to anyone. Even mutuals. Please keep in mind my mental health and work schedule, thank you.)

Dos:

Any character portrayed by Evan Peters or Evan himself (Disclaimer: All fics pertaining to Evan himself are NOT accurate depictions of the real-life counterpart/ his character. I will have a warning on those fics that they should only be seen as a fictional/ dramatic/ idealistic version of him and is not meant to substitute as real information or depiction of him.)

Any character from AHS (American Horror Story)

Other fandoms I’m in: MOE (Mare of Easttown), Umbrella Academy, Challengers, OBX, RE (Resident Evil), Pedro Pascal (drool), Heathers, My Life With the Walter Boys, The Last Of Us, NARCOS, YOU, Riverdale (might add more in the future. This isn’t guaranteed, but if you’re interested in me writing for any of these please suggest them to me.)

Smut, fluff, angst, whatever

I’m not picky, anything is fine with me unless it crosses my boundaries (below)

Don’ts (ick):

Scat and vomit fetishes. Absolutely not. Hard no. Not sorry.

Vore or any weird shit like cannibalism and other more “alternative” kinks

Any sort of r4pe or 4ssault/ non-con. I might delve into dub-con but there will still be a basis of consent (like a previous discussion or understanding).

Any sort of incest. That includes step-cest. Absolutely not.

Illegal age gaps or hard age gaps and ageplay. This includes an 18 year old/ barely legal with anyone over 24. My age gaps will always be 20+ if it includes someone the age of 30 or over.��I will also not do any sort of ddlg or “littles”. It’s not my forte and I especially won’t do it if you sexualize it.

On the topic of age, all characters (including reader) will be 18+ when it comes to smut or sexual-related fics. I will try to add this warning when it is crucial to specific characters, but please know that all characters that you request smut of that are originally minors WILL be aged up and that will be depicted inside the fic. There is no exceptions to this rule.

MLM, (T)MLM, (T)FLM, etc. are a no for me. As AFAB I only know how to write for the cis-fem experience and while I love my gays and theys, I just don’t feel comfortable in my ability to do gay or trans/ trans-gay relationships justice. I also don’t feel that it’s my place to write for them. On this note, most of my fics will be reader x male character related but that does not mean that I won't write F4F just because that's in my comfort zone and I understand that experience better.

Too specific of reader details. This also goes into what I said above, but I will no write for race or body type specific readers. I am a cis-white averagely sized woman and while I’m a hard ally, I genuinely just don’t believe I can accurately depict those experiences or people so I will always try and keep the reader as blank as possible so that anyone who reads my fics can be in that character’s shoes.

Tangent: Sadly, I don’t write lots of GN fics just because as a writer I DO insert myself into the story because visualization is how I write. So often the reader will be fem and may have more euro-centric features, typically unintentional. If you have a problem with that, I recommend you find another writer to consume/ create your fic ideas or make your own. (Please do, we need more writers in the EP fandom. This is tough work, truly.)

Now that we’re past the hard stuff, here’s some information about me! (Some may have been clarified before, but here’s a clearer run-down.)

Basic Information about me:

You can call me Evie or Evvy!

I go by she/her and they/them

I’m cis-fem and bisexual!

Some of my hobbies:

Writing (obviously)

Reading (duh)

Drawing (check out my main account for some fanart)

Collecting Bear Paraphernalia (figures, mugs, plushies, t-shirts, etc.)

Collecting vintage

Thrifting

Fashion

Some of my favorite musical artists!:

Lana Del Rey

Ethel Cain

Mazzy Star

Boa

The Smiths

Lesley Gore

Queen

Skeeter Davis

Lady Gaga

Deftones

Morrissey

Chappel Roan

Akira Yamaoka (underrated producer IMO)

Many others I will spare you to not list, including VOCALOID artists under this part

My favorite movies/ shows!:

AHS (uhm)

MOE

The Days 2004

Anything by Tim Burton and Jim Henson

My Life With the Walter Boys (cringe I know, but Noah Lalonde is so hot ok pls spare me)

Pearl, Maxxxine, etc

Anything by Sofia Coppola (queen)

The Breakfast Club

Pretty in Pink

Sixteen Candles

Riverdale (yes, sadly. Bughead is otp idc)

Alice in Wonderland (you know which one)

My favorite books:

The Virgin Suicides

Girl, Interrupted

Cuckoo Song

The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo series

Nana

Honestly anything by Ai Yazawa

Anything by Clamp

The Stranger

Lolita

My favorite games:

Silent Hill

Resident Evil

American McGees Alice in Wonderland

Siren series

Sims4

Animal Crossing

Alice by American McGee series

Anything by Puppet Combo and 616 Games

Hatsune Miku Project Diva and Mirari

My favorite Celebrities:

Evan Peters (no comment.)

Taissa Farmiga

Lily Rabe

Pedro Pascal

Noah Lalonde

Christian Slater

Emma Watson

Lana Del Rey

Lady Gaga

Chappel Roan

Aurora

Lili Reinhart

Things I hate (despise):

Emma Roberts

Julia Roberts

The Roberts

Tumblr creeps

Creeps in general

Bigots

Emma Roberts

Halsey

Incest

Zionists

Did I mention Emma Roberts?

Emma Snoberts

Thank you so much for reading this yap session of information! Please boost my posts if you’re willing and able, it really helps with reach and gives me motivation to keep writing! I love seeing all of your reactions to my work!

If you wish to contact me, whether about your requests or just to become friends/ mutuals and just chat, please feel free! My door is always open to anyone who wants to have a friendly discussion, or if you want to know more about me!

Masterlist to be added...

Main Account if you didn't see it

Tagging to boost/ mooties/ ahs fans (mainly users I can remember rn cuz my spirit animal is literally Dory from Finding Nemo istg):

@fear-is-truth @jazz-berry @irl-violetharmon @taintandviolent @evanpeterswifeyyy @lemoniiiiiii @t8-ak47

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dirtybg3confessions · 11 months ago

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Dead Dove: Do Not Eat Policy

What does Dead Dove: Do Not Eat mean?

Originally a reference to the show Arrested Development, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat in fandom refers to potentially upsetting content within a fanwork. Literally a "What you see in the tags is what you get, interact at your own risk."

What is considered Dead Dove on this blog?

Confessions that include the following will receive a dead dove tag: dubcon (dubious consent), noncon (non-consent), gratuitous violence or gore, vore, incest/psuedoincest, abduction/kidnapping, beastiality, piss, scat, and emeto (vomit)

These confessions will have the following tags: "dd:dne", "dbg3 dd:dne", and content warnings regarding specific subject mater "cw: subject"

Beastiality? But, you can literally fuck a bear in game.

Beastiality will be defined as anything you need to cast "speak with animals" to have a conversation with. Druids in wild shape will not count, nor will goblins/ogres/etc.

Ok, I don't want to see any of that on my dash.

Great! We'll be using the tags "dd:dne" and "dbg3 dd:dne" on confessions with Dead Dove content. Feel free to block appropriately.

#not confessions #faq

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thefanciestborrower · 8 months ago

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The Devouring of Prometheus

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

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

Characters: Victor Frankenstein and the Creature

Word Count: 2,830

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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unkillablegod · 6 months ago

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rae, 30, she/they, bi, vers switch. france. half catgirl, half puppygirl, one hundred percent feral gremlin with an obvious god complex. currently studying for a master's degree in film & the audiovisual arts. this is a personal, nsft blog that i use mostly to vent, post about k!nk & share lewds! USED TO BE: FERALGOD & YOURFERALGOD BEFORE BEING UNCEREMONIOUSLY NUKED (:

𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐒 are open for questions & confessions ONLY. i am not here to entertain anyone's fantasies but my own, so don't project yours on me & expect me to play along. you can send me suggestive asks as long as it's not about something i'd do for you. this is all fantasy! also, harsh reminder that anons, like pets, don't fucking get to make demands. i will not hesitate to put you on blast for all to see then block you if you make me uncomfortable in any way, shape, or form.

𝐃𝐌𝐬 are reserved for mutuals. fair warning: i'm a shy bean & rarely have the energy to interact with anyone, so if i don't reply right away or at all, please don't take it personally.

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 for mention or depiction of violence, graphic imagery, hard kinks & fantasies (cnc, cbt, branding, degradation, blasphemy, knife play), mental illness & overall unhinged & rage-fueled insanity.

𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓 if you're a minor, an ageless/blank blog, racist, a misogynist, a transphobe & anti-LGBTQIA+ (this includes but is not limited to TERFs, SWERFs and radfems) as a whole, a pedophile/MAP, a zoophile, pro-ana, fatphobic, ableist, a fat fetishist, a "sugar daddy" or "sugar mommy", or just an asshole/creep in general. unless we're mutuals DO NOT add comments, save for tagging someone, or roleplay on my posts. ANY OF THESE THINGS WILL GET YOU AUTOMATICALLY BLOCKED.

𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: nsft carrd / sfw carrd ; backup ; twitch channel ; patreon

.↓ 𝐅𝐀𝐕 𝐏𝐄𝐓 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒, 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒 & 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐓 ↓.

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐓 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 as a sub: my) baby girl ; (my) princess ; (my) puppy / pup ; kitten ; bunny ; (my) fucktoy ; (my) slut ; (my) whore ; (my) angel ; little one ; (my) property ; brat ; (my) good girl.

as a dom: mistress / master ; mommy / daddy ; (my) god ; ma'am ; (my) queen ; (my) liege ; your highness.

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒, 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐒 pegging ; begging ; blindfolding ; bondage ; body worship ; branding ; breath play ; breeding ; cock, ball & pussy torture ; consensual nonconsent ; corruption ; ddlg & mmlb ; dacryphilia ; degradation ; desacration ; dom/sub ; dumbification ; edging ; forced orgasm ; free-use ; hair pulling ; impact play ; knife-play ; masochism ; master/slave ; objectification ; over-stimulation ; orgasm control ; pain play ; pet play ; piss play ; power play ; role-play ; sadism ; somnophilia ; voice kink ; voyeurism ; video/photography ; worship

𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐒 vore ; scatology ; vomit ; extreme body modification ; birthing ; inflation ; self-harm ; age-play ; diapers ; enemas ; clothespins; needles ; pins ; cheating ; race play

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voraciousvore · 23 days ago

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Voretober Day 17: Rescue

Day 1 | Previous (16) | Next (18)

Content Warning: Unwilling soft safe vore, sexual themes, vomiting

Word Count: 3.8k

“Just stay quiet and let me do all the talking,” Leon advised.

Joey responded with a terse nod and fumbled with his tie. “Yes, of course.”

“And try not to fidget so much. Stop looking so nervous. You need to relax.”

Joey gulped. “Right.” He forced his hands rigidly to his sides and schooled his features into a neutral expression.

Leon looked him up and down with a skeptical gaze. He rubbed his chin and heaved a heavy sigh. “That’ll do, I suppose. Let’s go.” He opened the metal door in the side of the building behind him and began descending the narrow staircase. Joey glanced around at the dark, deserted streets, flanked by run-down industrial complexes, before following.

The cement stairs were cracked and worn, so Joey had to watch his feet as he lightly put his weight on each step. The overhead bulbs were stark white and flickered with a loud fluorescent hum at just the right frequency to give him a headache. He focused on the balding patch on the back of Leon’s head in front of him to quell his rising anxiety.

Leon reached the bottom of the stairs, where another metal door awaited him with a keycard reader. He swiped his card and gave Joey a stern look before twisting the knob. Joey dropped his hands down, realizing only just then that his fingers were fiddling with his tie of their own volition. He stuffed his hands in his pockets to get them out of the way.

The door opened like a portal to a different dimension, revealing a world in striking contrast to the bland, dingy stairwell. Joey blinked and adjusted his glasses as he was hit with a blur of bright colorful lights amid a sea of green felt. The bubbly jingles of slot machines, accompanied by the solid clinks of coins and chips, rang out amidst the lower drone of masculine voices. Joey wrinkled his nose at the strong odor of cigar smoke and alcohol that hung thick in the air like a haze.

Leon trotted in with confidence, and Joey matched his gait as he coolly slid alongside him. He furrowed his brow as he scanned the rows of slots and pachinko machines, searching with urgency.

“Slow down, Joey,” Leon muttered out the side of his mouth. “Take a deep breath.”

Joey inhaled through his nose in an attempt to remain calm, but only succeeded in choking on a toxic cloud of smoke. His palms were sweating in his pockets and his heart was racing like a ticking time bomb. He nearly jumped out of his skin when a perky waitress with big tits and a very short dress that hardly covered her panties addressed him.

“Would you like a drink?” she chirped with an excessively peppy affect. She balanced a tray full of glasses on one hand.

Joey opened his mouth to decline, but Leon interrupted. “Yes, martinis for both of us please.” Joey glanced at him questioningly as the waitress affirmed and scurried off.

“It would be strange for us not to drink here,” Leon explained. “Or refuse a smoke.” Joey nodded. “Besides, it’ll help you loosen up a bit.”

They kept moving. Joey restrained his powerful urge to march ahead with purpose, and allowed Leon to take him along a meandering path through the underground casino. As they strolled past the bar, the waitress returned with two drinks. Joey sipped his martini and absently stirred the toothpick with the olive, hoping for some liquid courage.

He couldn’t help but notice that the clientele were exclusively upper-class men, sharply dressed in expensive suits and groomed to an immaculate polish. Joey had originally believed his disguise would be sufficient, but now he felt shabby by comparison, with his messy hair and dorky glasses. His suit, rented from a pawn shop, was ill-fitted, slightly rumpled, and permeated with the scent of dust and mothballs. Even the hulking security guards lurking on the fringes were better-dressed by comparison. He ran a hand through his hair self-consciously in a futile attempt to smooth down the stray locks.

Leon guided him further inside the den of debauchery, to the roulette machines and the card tables. As Joey’s eagle eyes surveyed the tables, he stiffened, stopping in his tracks. Each table had a glass dome in the middle, like an enclosed bubble. The interior consisted of what could only be described as a stage, a raised platform with a metal floor. The performers on display were tiny human women less than the height of a single finger, scantily clad, twirling and gyrating in a titillating fashion on miniature stripper poles. Joey observed as a man sat down at one of the tables and pressed a button, causing all the women inside to flinch as if stung and begin to dance. He realized, with a twist in his gut, that the metal plates the girls were standing on delivered electric shocks.

He clenched his fists in anger and gritted his teeth. “Monsters,” he growled.

“Easy, Joey,” Leon warned. “Don’t lose it here.”

Joey huffed but didn’t answer. He struggled to maintain his composure, despite his blood boiling just beneath the surface. His eyes scoured each table frantically as his pulse pounded in his head. Leon frowned with concern but hid his expression behind his drink.

“Eren!” Joey cried, a bit too loudly. Leon paled as a few faces turned their way.

“Joey!” he hissed, clapping his hand on his shoulder to stop him from dashing forward. “You’re drawing attention to yourself!”

“She’s right there,” Joey choked, barely containing himself. At one of the poker tables, under the glass bubble, a diminutive woman with long raven hair was twisting around one of the poles. Her misery was plastered all over her face as a creepy older giant with gray hair leered down at her, his finger hovering over the button to shock her if she stopped. Joey felt like throwing up.

“I know, I know,” Leon said. “But making a scene is not going to accomplish anything. We need to be smart about this.”

“But what can we do?” Joey lamented. “I can’t just leave her there! I need to save her!”

Leon abruptly stiffened, sucking in a sharp breath. Joey felt the fine hairs on the nape of his neck stand on end. He turned around to behold a balding, bearded giant lumbering towards him. He was huge and imposing, both tall in height and broad in girth, and dressed in a black suit of the finest material. He regarded Joey with hard metallic irises that pierced through him like twin blades.

“Who’s this?” he boomed in a rich stentorian voice.

“Mr. Wolfe, I’d like you to meet my nephew,” Leon lied, placing a hand on Joey’s shoulder. “Joey, this is Mr. Wolfe, the owner of this casino.” He addressed his boss again. “I believe young Joey here has… potential.”

“Is that so?” Mr. Wolfe studied Joey intently, from his scuffed shoes to his ragged hair, as if examining a scrawny bug under a magnifying glass. What he saw didn’t seem to impress him much. “Hmph,” he scoffed.

“Why don’t we sit down to a game of poker?” Leon suggested, spotting an opportunity—a risky one, perhaps, but one that afforded them a chance to rescue Eren. “We can join Mr. Hardon and Mr. Greenwood over there, if they’ll have us.”

The big man scratched his beard as he continued to stare at Joey in a way that made the younger man want to shrivel up like a raisin. Mr. Wolfe’s metal eyes glinted and he peeled his rubbery lips back into a wolfish grin, like he was fantasizing about eating Joey alive and not just beating him at cards. “You’ve piqued my interest. Let’s test this fresh meat.”

Mr. Wolfe turned away toward the table, and Joey nearly collapsed after bearing the weight of his gaze for so long. Leon and Joey followed him to the poker table, where two other men were already seated. The gray-haired pervert who had been thirsting over the small women trapped in the dome was introduced to Joey as Mr. Hardon. The other man, Mr. Greenwood, resembled an old-fashioned mob boss, complete with a dark pinstripe suit and a cigar tucked in the corner of his mouth. They both regarded Joey with condescension as he shuffled into his chair. He was thankful to sit down before his quaking legs gave out beneath him.

“You gents can play without me,” Mr. Hardon announced. “I’m getting bored. I’ll just watch instead.” His pale eyes drifted down to the women in the dome, who were observing the new arrivals warily. With a grin that turned Joey’s stomach, he pressed the shock button and they all jumped in unison.

For a split second, a murderous expression flashed across Joey’s face and he leaned forward as if about to lunge. Leon swiftly kicked him under the cover of the table to bring him back to his senses. He reigned himself back with a pinched frown. Fortunately, the others were distracted by the tiny women dancing and didn’t notice his aggression. An idea sparked in Leon’s brain.

“Why don’t we make the game more interesting then?” he suggested. “We could play for a prize. Whoever wins all the chips gets to choose one of the women for himself.” He plunked his finger on the glass for emphasis. His heart broke as the humans inside trembled, but he didn’t allow any sympathy to break through his stony façade.

“I’m in!” Mr. Hardon proclaimed, slavering like a mad dog. “Now THAT would be fun!” He looked eagerly over at Mr. Wolfe.

“I agree, but only under the condition that we at least get to watch the victor eat their prey,” Mr. Greenwood said with a wicked smirk, chewing on the end of his cigar.

Mr. Wolfe smiled coldly. “Very well.” He gestured to one of the dealers with a flick of his wrist. The dealer divided up the chips, shuffled the cards, and gave each man their hands. Mr. Hardon’s eyes and rows of teeth gleamed as he drooled over the little women, his cards cupped close to his grinning face. Mr. Wolfe was deadpan, completely unreadable. Mr. Greenwood puffed on his cigar impassively. Leon scrutinized each man closely.

Joey was an honest, earnest young man with many admirable traits, but hiding his emotions was not one of them. He frowned as he peeked at his cards before he caught himself, but the damage was done. He had a terrible poker face and couldn’t manage to pull off a successful bluff. He tentatively placed a bet, only to lose his chips as the more hardened and experienced men saw through him as easily as if he were made of crystal.

He lost the next hand as well. And the following. The other men were ready to tear him apart like sharks drawn to blood. He began to sweat and fidget under the pressure, polishing his glasses and smoothing the folds in his suit. His tie felt like a boa constrictor around his neck, twisting tighter and tighter. He finally managed to get a decent hand, but his reaction was so blatant that nobody was foolish enough to bet against him. He was losing badly.

“Cigar?” Mr. Greenwood offered, holding out a box in his palm. Leon, Hardon, and Wolfe all accepted. Joey, recalling Leon’s advice that refusing to smoke would be suspicious, took one as well, oblivious to the fact that he was holding a luxury worth more than he’d ever be able to afford in his life. He bit his lip nervously as he lit the tip. He’d never smoked before.

Ignorant of the proper way to smoke a cigar, Joey took a drag like he’d seen people do with cigarettes and immediately burst into a coughing fit. Mr. Greenwood chuckled, as did Mr. Hardon, but Mr. Wolfe was not amused. He regarded Joey with disappointed disgust before shooting a scathing glare at Leon, who hid behind his cards and slumped down in his chair like a beat dog.

As the game wore on, Mr. Wolfe focused on Joey and waxed with increasing wrath and dissatisfaction over the pathetic specimen before him. Joey’s chips were dwindling and he was clearly losing his composure under the pressure, his eyes darting from his cards to his chips to the women in the glass bubble. Eren gazed up at her giant boyfriend with despair as she saw her only way out shrinking with the diminishing pile of chips.

Joey was almost out of the game by this point. He didn’t have a great hand, but he had no choice but to go all in lest he lose his only chance to retrieve his girl. In an excessive and unnecessary show of force, to really crush the man beneath his heel and demonstrate his supremacy, Mr. Wolfe pushed all his chips forward. “All in.” Joey blanched.

“Ah, screw it. All in,” Mr. Greenwood grunted, presenting his own pile of chips. Mr. Hardon did the same, grinning with a savage edge.

“All in,” Leon muttered without confidence, his face puckered.

“Perfect. Let’s see it, then, Joey,” Mr. Wolfe growled with a grotesque sneer. Joey winced as he flipped his cards to reveal… nothing. His hand was garbage and he knew it. His lips quivered and his eyes moistened.

Mr. Wolfe let out a slow, sadistic, soft laugh. He was thoroughly enjoying Joey’s pain. He turned over his cards in a dramatic flourish to show off an impressive hand: a pair of aces. Mr. Greenwood and Mr. Hardon frowned as they exposed strong, but inferior, hands.

Joey began to tremble all over as his mask crumbled. He had lost. He couldn’t save Eren. He considered, briefly, smashing the glass, grabbing her, and bolting, but he knew he wouldn’t make it to the door before security slammed him down. He didn’t even look at Leon’s cards as he put them face-up. The situation was hopeless.

“Leon, you sly fox,” Mr. Greenwood uttered. “I should’ve known.” Joey snapped out of his spiral to glance over, and was shocked to see Leon also had a pair of cards—tens, not aces, but combined he managed to score three of a kind. Joey blinked away the excess water in his eyes with shock.

“I win,” Leon proclaimed, a smile stretching out his face. “Allow me to claim my prize, please.” Mr. Wolfe glowered but pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked a panel in the table. He pressed a button and the dome split open and retracted with a smooth whoosh. The humans recoiled with fear, huddling against each other in the middle of the table. They had nowhere to run, since they were surrounded on all sides by giant men.

Leon hastened to grab up Eren and pull her to safety. He tried his best to be gentle and not squeeze her small frame in his enormous hands, but her terrified squirming made it difficult to maintain a mild grip. She looked over frantically at Joey and opened her mouth to scream his name. Leon swiftly clamped his thumb over her face to muffle her exclamation; he couldn’t have her reveal their connection and unwittingly sabotage their plan. She bit his thumb in response, but her teeth were too small to break the skin or cause any real damage.

Leon tucked her into his pants pocket, holding his hand over her so she couldn’t escape. His chest tightened as he felt her thrashing through the fabric against his thigh. She didn’t know him; she had no clue he was allied with her boyfriend and was trying to help her.

“Well, I’ll be off now,” he remarked casually, standing up out of his chair.

Mr. Wolfe knew he’d been outsmarted, and he was seething. “Hold on, Leon,” he snarled. “We’re not finished here.”

“Oh, I’m good,” Leon replied.

“SIT. DOWN.”

A hush dampened the voices in the room as nearby patrons of the casino were disrupted by his bellowing bass tone. Leon stiffened, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. “Very well, sir,” he answered faintly, lowering himself back into his seat.

“You’re going to finish what we started here,” Mr. Wolfe demanded.

“I’d rather save her for later, if that’s okay…” Leon said feebly. His remaining courage had vaporized in an instant as he understood he was at the mercy of his boss.

“No.” The authoritarian word, as solid as a wall of iron, left no room for negotiation. The big, brutish giant leaned forward in his chair, which squeaked under his prodigious weight, and clasped his hands firmly on the table. “Now. You’re not getting out of this.” Leon’s reluctance to consume humans was known to him, and he wasn’t going to let him slink out unpunished.

Greenwood and Hardon stared at Leon with ravenous anticipation. Joey looked as if he’d dissipate into smoke. Leon swallowed his misgivings and fished Eren, kicking and screaming, out of his pocket. With a stealthy motion under the table, he shoved a human anti-digestion pill from his other pocket into her hands before squeezing her tightly between his fingers so she had no room to flail her limbs. She fumbled the object with confusion before going very quiet as she registered what she was holding. She began to tremble as she looked up at him with pleading eyes.

Leon wanted to apologize, to console her, to tell her she was safe and everything would be okay, to let her know she’d soon be reunited with Joey. But he couldn’t. Not a word. He’d jeopardize everything. So, knowing he had no other choice, he opened his mouth and stuffed her in.

She tasted meaty and tender, like steak. A flood of drool filled his mouth; he gulped it down so she wouldn’t be swimming in his juices. Eren struggled with terror on his tongue and tapped against his teeth, punching them uselessly with miniscule fists. He tried to maneuver her into a more comfortable position for swallowing, so she would go down smoother, but she refused to cooperate.

He felt terrible as he tried not to imagine what the experience must be like for her. As gently as he could manage, he tilted his tongue up so she would slide into his gullet. He wanted to guide her down his throat slowly, but a kick to his uvula made him choke instead. He sucked her down in a harsh swallow, gripping his neck with pain as she slid through it, crunched up at an awkward angle. His Adam’s apple rippled against his palm and he nearly vomited with revulsion.

She continued to resist the constricting tunnel around her as she passed through his chest into his stomach. He felt her pushing and clawing, along with her frightened little heart pounding in a panicked cadence that matched his own. She dropped into the void of his gut and he gasped as he realized he could even perceive her tiny feet sinking into his stomach lining and wading through the gastric soup within. He covered his mouth in a dry heave, but fortunately kept down his stomach contents, Eren included. His face turned green with nausea.

Joey, too, appeared close to vomiting. Mr. Wolfe smirked cruelly at the display, since he knew Leon was not a fan of ingesting humans. Mr. Greenwood rolled his cigar in his hand with satisfaction, and Mr. Hardon seemed close to bursting.

“Mr. Wolfe? Can I have one too? Pleeeeease?” Hardon begged. “I promise I’ll keep her alive; I don’t even need to eat her! I’ll settle for a lap dance.”

Mr. Wolfe huffed. “Fine. Whatever.” The lecherous old man snatched up a busty blonde and dragged her under the table to his lap. Leon couldn’t take any more. He heaved himself to his feet and stumbled out, with Joey right behind him. Mr. Wolfe allowed him to leave, following his trail with a frosty squint.

Leon made it to the staircase and rushed ahead in a tizzy. Eren bounced in his belly with every step. He threw open the metal door to the outside world and slurped the cool, smoke-free night air greedily into his lungs. He ran around to the opposite side of the building, bent over on his knees, and promptly barfed into the alleyway.

He gasped for breath, holding his stomach with agony as strings of bile trailed from his lips. He spied Eren floundering in the rancid muck like a worm and nearly retched again. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m so, so sorry…”

“EREN!” Joey exclaimed. Without any regard for how dirty she was, he scooped her up out of the puddle and clasped her to his chest. “Are you okay?”

“I’m…” She started to cry, snuggling desperately into the folds of his suit. “Joey, I was so scared!”

“Shhhh, shhhh… you’re safe now, Eren. I’m here,” Joey murmured, petting her wet hair. He teared up as well. “I’m so sorry this happened… and if not for Leon…” His breath hitched in his throat.

Leon wiped off his mouth and dusted off his knees as he stood up. “You were essential too, Joey. Mr. Wolfe was so fixated on you, he didn’t catch my bluff. Usually he’s more perceptive.” He surveyed the alleyway. “We need to get moving, before someone spots us here.”

Joey nodded with determination and began to walk briskly, clutching Eren protectively. She looked up at him, along the curve of his chin above her. “What about the other humans? They’re still in danger!”

“Don’t fret, Eren. I’m wearing a wire and a small camera. I have evidence against them,” Joey assured her. “And Leon has been gathering evidence too, with his involvement in the organization. He’ll provide testimony.”

“I should’ve done this a long time ago,” Leon muttered in a sorrowful tone, laced with regret. “But once they started snatching up humans, I knew I couldn’t stand by any longer…”

“I’m glad you were there to aid us,” Joey remarked. “You’re doing the right thing.” As he spoke, he cleaned off Eren with his shirt.

“Yes,” Leon agreed. He sighed and looked up at the few stars he could see through the light pollution. At least there was something.

“I love you, Joey,” Eren whimpered, kissing his thumb. Leon felt warmth in his heart at the display. The small things mattered, after all—small and precious, like Eren.

Joey raised her up to his lips and kissed her back. “I love you too.”

#voretober #voretober2024 #vore writing #g/t vore #gt vore #unwilling vore #unwilling pred #unwilling prey #vore story #g/t vore writing

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justme315 · 6 months ago

Text

Tiny Best Friend 5/5

Final Part

First part:

Previous part:

!warning!

angst, vore mention, vore scare, ¿abuse?, treating a person as an animal, vimioting, blood, curse words

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When Jake began to regain consciousness, everything was different than before. His back and chest hurt terribly, he was also lying on something cold and hard, like... metal? He felt dizzy and had a hard time opening his eyes. He also had a bit of a gag reflex and the taste of blood in his mouth. Despite his sincere intentions, he was unable to sit down and see what was happening around him. He also heard ringing in his ears, but after a while the noise stopped and what he heard was... unusual. Someone was humming a tune. He recognized it, but couldn't remember where from. The voice seemed familiar to him too. He tried hard to open his eyes again. His vision was shrouded in black and blurred images showed through. How did this happen? How did he get there, wherever he was? He remembered that he was in the forest and... His headache blurred his vision of previous events. And the pain in his chest was becoming more and more unbearable. He felt like he was about to vomit his lungs and his entire arteriovenous system at once.

A sigh.

The borrower heard a sigh that sounded awfully familiar. Just like his - former - friend Lucas. Lucas. OH FUCK. Jake suddenly remembered what happened in the forest. He remembered meeting Lucas there. He remembered how Lucas had gone crazy, what he had said about "coming home", how he had shouted at him, how he had invaded his personal space, how he had grabbed him and... That was why Jake's chest was hurting so badly right now. Lucas squeezed him in his hands. He wanted to kill him. Lucas wanted to kill Jake. He turned into a monster. Jake had to get out of there, Lucas was near, he was going to kill him-

"Oh Jake, you're awake" Lucas' voice rang in the borrower's ears. It wasn't hard to hear the human's colossal footsteps. His voice was cold, showed no emotion, was different than usual. Jake tried to open his eyes, but his eyesight was still in poor condition. He could see only hazy shadows in front of him. Despite this, he rose to a standing position but quickly fell back down. He saw blurry shadows and colors moving in front of him - he knew it was Lucas. Jake's mouth filled with blood again and his vision slowly began to clear. He vomited in front of himself and it was almost all red, from what he could see, all blood.

“Oh, Jake… You look so pitiful when you're throwing up blood. I almost feel sorry for you" Lucas's voice mimicked to be concerned at first, but the sentence ended with a cold laugh. "I waited a long time before you woke up. A very long time. I thought you were dying or something. You scared me."

The borrower's vision finally cleared and what he saw made him wish he would still not be able to see. Or maybe even wish that he would have died in this forest.

Cage. He was in a cage.

Jake was in a small cage on Lucas' desk in his room. The cage was metal and impossible to open from the inside, let alone by someone as small as him. How was this possible? Did Lucas put him in a cage? Has he lost all his mind? The boy's body began to tremble more intensely, the vomiting reflex returned, and tears came to his eyes. He was terrified, devastated and furious. But mostly terrified. He wanted to look at Lucas, see what happened, believe it wasn't him at all, but he couldn't. He knew it was Lucas, but he wanted to hold on to a slender hope, he wanted to delude himself that it wasn't true.

"You know... I would feel stupid, even a little sad, if I killed you in that forest" the human voice sounded rough, but on some level also mocking and satirical "If you died there, you wouldn't see what I have prepared for you."

Jake lifted his head slightly and blood continued to drip from his mouth down his chin to the cages floor. His fear began to turn into anger, moreover rage. What right did someone who promised him support, care and safety in every situation have to now behave so recklessly? So terribly? So psychopathic? God only knew what possessed him, but whatever it was, it came from the deepest pits of hell.

"You have prepared something for me? Wow. First a broken rib and a kidnapping, and now another surprise? What a happy day for gifts from such monster." Jake's angry gaze finally reached the human, but he didn't seem bothered it. Besides, the words the borrower spoke didn't sound half as harsh as they were supposed to, because they were spoken by a creature the size of a mouse, locked in a cage, unable to stand on its own feet and spitting blood. Jake was pathetic at best.

"Are you that impatient to know what I'm going to do with you?" Lucas raised an eyebrow.

"It'd be nice to know what you're planning."

"Too bad. I haven't made a final decision yet. Fortunately, you're awake now and giving me more and more great ideas."

"What, are you going to lock me in this cage for the rest of my life and turn me into your little pet?" Jake spat blood "Or are you going to have bipolar disorder again and apologize and say you care about me?"

"You have very optimistic visions" Lucas smiled terrifyingly with teeth "Did you believe that I was really nice? Ha, you are even stupider than I thought. It was a farce, pretending so i could get you. Now you have no chance against me, I can take revenge for how you lied to me and left me. I can show you what the human you wanted so badly to pretend can do to a nothing like you."

Jake's eyes were filled with tears again, but he tried to suppress them.

"So that's how it must be. You were supposed to be a friend, but you turned out to be a monster. A wolf in sheep's clothing".

"You were supposed to be a friend, a human, but you turned out to be an edible animal. Who is really a wolf in sheep’s clothing here?" Lucas' words made Jake unable to hold back his tears anymore and he started shaking harder. The emphasis on the word 'edible' was obvious, and Jake knew it was a warning, maybe even a threat.

"Don't start this whole game of crying and begging for mercy. We both know you're below me in the food chain. You wanted to play "human", so now please, bear the consequences like a human. Maybe you want to fight? Settle it like men, like humans? But I can't promise that I won't crush you into flat with one move." Lucas spoke with a cold smile etched on his large face, looking at the tearful, shaking, terrified Jake with his ice-cold gaze.

Jake looked away from the giant, so as not to show how pathetically terrified he was of what was happening. His voice was shaking too much to speak and his body was hurting too much for him to think about how to get out of this hellish situation. For a moment he even wondered whether such a death would not be the best - quick, very painful, but quick. It was definitely better than what was supposed to happen.

"I even feel a kinda sorry for you" Lucas admitted "Nature hasn't equipped your species with a brain and survival instinct good enough to see through manipulation. But I must admit, you impressed me. When you pretended to be human, I was fooled. Too bad you didn't know back then how it would have ended for you, little creature."

Jake's heart began to beat much faster, his thoughts overwhelmed him, blood rushed to his mouth again, his entire body trembled with fear, and tears flowed mercilessly. The anger died in him. Every emotion but one died in him. He was completely consumed with fear.

Lucas rolled his eyes. "Enough of this talk, it's boring".

The man opened the cage door and before Jake knew it, his hand reached out to grab him. The borrower backed out at the last minute. However, it did not help him much, because despite his great effort to avoid the hand of his former friend aka the monster in front of him, he failed to repeat it and saved his life only for a few more seconds. The hellish pain in his chest cut off his ability to escape, and Lucas grabbed him the second time and took him out of the cage without much effort. Jake struggled, trying to get out of the grip he was in. His heart was beating much too fast and too loud. His breathing was restricted. The pressure on his already damaged chest was piercing him completely and crushing him from the inside. He didn't want to die just yet.

However, the threat of death was not the worst. Jake always believed there had to be something after death, so maybe it wasn't the worst. And even if there was nothing there, it would mean that death would end his suffering and that was comforting in a way. What was much worse was that Lucas could have had every terrible way in the world to kill him. But even that wasn't the worst, no.

The worst thing would be that even though Lucas would kill him, he would still love him. He would still be his brother. In his heart, Lucas would still be the most important person to him.

"Remember when we talked about borrowers?" Lucas smirked and brought the hand that Jake was in closer to himself. Jake gulped.

"Remember how I talked about meals made of borrowers?" his devilish smirk grew "Remember how I said I would eat one while it was still alive? How I would swallow it while it was still alive just to feel it dying in my stomach?".

"I'm b-begging y-you Lucas" Jake sobbed between heavy breaths and tears "Spare m-me".

"Nah, i don't think i will, lil' creature" the human smiled with his sharp teeth, looking down at the scared being in his hands.

Before Jake knew it, the hand he was in moved closer to Lucas' mouth. The human licked his lips.

"Any last words, lil' creature?" Lucas laughed.

Jake began to fall into the large monster's mouth. In the last seconds before colliding with the giant fangs of death, he shouted: "Lucas, please don't! Please Lucas!"

"HEY"

Jake looked around himself. He was sitting on Lucas' bed, the boy was sitting next to him, they were both human sized, and Lucas looked terrified.

"W-what's g-going on h-here?!" Jake shouted in horror, looking around and then directly at the human.

"Calm down, dude, you were only daydreaming for a moment and you scared me" said the boy, showing his friend to breathe.

"W-what..?"

"Well, we were playing video games and you won, remember? Then you suggested we have a conversation, you wanted to talk about something. I was waiting for you to say what it was all about, but you started daydreaming, sat quietly and thought about something and didn't react to me at all for a good 15 minutes, until tears just started falling down your cheeks. That's why I raised my voice, I'm sorry, but you scared me" Lucas tried to explain the situation.

Jake's eyes widened and he rubbed his eyes, wiping away the tears "Sorry, I was a little lost in thought, I didn't want to scare you Lucas, you're my best friend."

Lucas smiled widely, "You're my best best friend too."

"So what did you want to talk about Jake?"

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Thank you for reading! I hope you have enjoyed their story. Sorry for not posting for a long time, I hope new posts will make up for it❤️

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bramble-mouse · 3 months ago

Text

The Faery Doctor

Chapter 2

Tags: G/t, gentle giant, timid tiny, fantasy setting, adventure Content warnings will be tagged appropriately for subsequent chapters. These may include death, gore and vore. They will include no sexual themes. CW: Vore (non-fatal), gore, vomit, implied death (Trish is fine!) Minors, please do not interact!

A marriage of peace and fear saturated every inch of Trish’s body the moment she stepped foot in the northern woods. Places as old as these carried stories, the voices born of nature itself that whispered to any with an open ear. While kind things could dwell in wise old trees, hungry monsters lurked, cunning and smarter than any ordinary beast. In truth, Trish was unsurprised that poor tanner’s son had vanished here. She could taste the old magic in the air, the countless memories of blood.

If there’d been a road through these parts at some point, it hadn’t been maintained in a very long time. The only evidence it ever saw foot travel was an area where weeds didn’t grow between the remains of cobblestone. Trish had heard once from her mother that a great empire walked the world a long time ago, gifting roads, aqueducts and all manner of marvels to the common folk before departing to parts unknown. Some said these strange folk died out while others told of spying cities in the sky for a split second, only for them to vanish behind the dense cloud cover.

What would it have been like to know this mysterious folk, Trish wondered? Were they elves? Old fey that predated even the sidhe? Were they beyond mortal knowing? Perhaps there would never be a true answer to the question, but Trish satisfied herself with coming up with theories whilst she picked her way along the road.

The fork came quicker than expected- or perhaps Trish’s head had been so deep in the clouds she’d barely noticed time passing. She chewed on her lower lip. Perhaps being distracted was a poor choice.

At the centre of the fork was a ruined statue, only the legs and the bottom of a robe remaining, captured in cracked plaster. Trish lingered, reaching out to trace the weathered surface with curious fingertips. A twig snapped to her left.

Trish’s head whipped towards the source of the noise and found a wolf staring at her, stalk still and muzzle coated in gore. It’s eyes were intense, alien and focused entirely on Trish. Trish lowered her hand slowly, never once taking her eyes off the canine.

The wolf bolted and left its meal behind. She tiptoed forward out of morbid curiosity and peered over the small gathering of sparse brush.

Half a man’s torso, bare of clothing, with most of the ribcage exposed lay in a pile of gore and ichor on the permafrost. Trish covered her mouth and gasped, stumbling backwards away from the gruesome find. Was that from the tanner’s boy? No, frost giants generally ate their prey whole. The thought of the lad kicking as screaming as he was shoved into a maw of sharp teeth overwhelmed Trish with nausea.

The faery doctor found her feet and sprinted up the right path at the fork. There was nothing chasing her, yet she felt like a child rushing back upstairs when all the light went out for the night to escape the danger of shadows.

Trish knew what could be in these woods, and meeting man eating giants in their element would be a death sentence. She pushed on up the incline, remembering her duty as a doctor. She had a patient in need at the end of this path, and come what may, her journey would be worth it if she could treat what ailed him.

Blessedly, it was spring and the majority of the snow had cleared off from the mountainside. Occasionally Trish came across piles of dirt flecked ice that stubbornly refused to yield to the sun. The trees grew taller, scragglier here with little successful underbrush beneath their high boughs, and soon enough, there was no longer a road to follow. Trish kept her eyes forward nervously. Would she get lost?

The lake Filip mentioned came into view, sweet relief in the form of an open space peppered with wild flowers, grass still recovering from the weight of heavy winter snow now since mostly melted and the bullrushes that flanked a corner of the water. Ducks floated atop the still waters of the lake, disturbed only by their movements and the jumping of trout. The fish were large, no doubt lovely if baked with lemon and herbs and a good dollop of butter.

Trish felt sweat stick to her skin beneath her many layers. Despite the sunshine, she still felt the sting of the cold on her nose, a welcome relief after the most laborious leg of her trek. She longed to pause for a nap but there was a job to be done. Rest could come afterwards.

The faery doctor skirted around the lake and came to where the mouth of the cave should have been. Instead, there was a solid wall, seamless, jagged and unlikely to admit her any time soon. And yet the Sight bestowed upon her family generations ago by the faery yielded a flaw in the wall, a shimmering in a huge arch up the side of the cliff. Trish pulled out the stone Filip had given her and sure enough, the runes glowed, humming with a soft, electric power. The faery doctor drew in a few deep, grounding breaths before she touched the stone to the wall and watched her hand go through. The rest of her followed on nervous feet.

Inside of the cave was surprisingly bright, a tall corridor from the mouth illuminated by magical fire blue as sapphires. Every inch of this place thrummed with arcane power, both the wilder sort and the cultivated. The hairs on the back of Trish’s neck stood on end. She swore she smelled blood and ichor in the air still, shivering from both the chill of the higher elevation and the fresh memory of a discarded human torso.

There was a certain majesty to this place, carved into the very mountain as ancient dwarves had done. Though the handiwork was nowhere near as neat as a dwarf’s, the alcoves fit for the lights had been carved out by hand, high above on the walls. Trish still wasn’t sure she would get over just how high the ceiling was in this place. Would the end of this tunnel be just as massive?

Her answer arrived soon as she found a great opening nearly a hundred feet high, blocked off by a heavy patterned curtain embroidered with golden birds. The entire thing was beautifully sewn in a way only loving hands could craft.

Trish froze when she heard a pained groan from beyond the curtain. The voice was…big. Larger than any she’d ever known, like a clap of distant thunder.

‘I heard you treat anyone.’

The hooded woman had said.

Something dawned on Trish that turned her blood bitter cold.

Trish sidled around the heavy fabric and into a space that managed to be cozy despite being a cave. A kitchen counter had been carved from the stone, shaped and smoothed meticulously. She could not hope to spy what was on the countertops but she smelled something like stew and baked bread. There was a variety of rugs on the ground, handwoven, woolen and fur pelt alike. They served to make the hard ground more friendly to bare feet. There was a cold hearth straight ahead with an enormous iron stew pot over it, a well used kettle kept on the unlit augur in front of it. A plush cushion rested before the carved stone hearth, beside which was a ball of yarn and a half-knitted woolen shirt. Curiously, the shirt was a tiny thing, something made for someone her size rather than a giant.

A quick glance at the ceiling as Trish crept mouselike across the floor yielded a sight that made her gasp in quiet awe. Thousands of glowing crystals sprouted, like stars overhead. It was as if she were looking up at the nightsky, the soft myriad pinpricks of light chasing awake the lonely darkness in the cavern.

Another groan caught Trish’s attention and she snapped frightened eyes towards a large figure laid out on what appeared to be a bedroll. The figure appeared almost human- save for the sheer size, clad in simple grey breeches and a loose cotton shirt. The fellow must have been a good eighty feet tall, give or take. She was little more than a mouthful in comparison, and the consideration made Trish’s skin crawl.

But she was a faery doctor, Trish reminded herself, trying to bolster courage into limbs locked by terror.

She was a faery doctor and this creature was in pain. Trish had healed injured, grouchy dragons before, helped ogres with fevers and wargs with mange.

Would a giant be so different?

Trish decided not to dwell on that rhetorical question, lest what little bravery flee and send her running back the way she came.

“U…Um…Mister…Fr…Frio Frostfang?”

Trish’s small voice croaked out as she started forward towards the giant.

“E…Excuse me…Um..I…I’m s-s-sorry f…f..for b…barging in, I…”

Her throat closed up as the humongous figure sat up with some difficulty. The giant’s eyes reminded her of the wolf’s she’d seen in the woods- pale, with slit pupils and fixed upon her with the intensity that could only belong to a predatory sizing up if she was a worthy meal. And yet the rest of his face sat at odds with such an assumption, a soft mouth, smooth angles, and an expression that while sick, showed concern.

“...You…”

The giant spoke breathlessly, his voice low and resonant in the closed space.

“Forgive me, I…”

“A woman sent me to heal you.”

Trish blurted out with the same intensity as one vomiting. She froze, wide eyed and shocked and her entire face went beet red.

The frost giant regarded her carefully, and Trish did the same to him in return. She noted soft, white waves of hair that fell in his eyes and down his neck. He sported short horns, like a young buck’s. Trish wondered idly if they were soft and velvety like deer horn too. She also noted, much to her own chagrin, that this giant was unfairly beautiful, utterly unlike any depiction of the burly, bearded and terrifying frost giants she’d heard about.

The giant’s lips perked up at the corners into a smile that softened his gaze, but the welcoming expression was fleeting. He winced and doubled over, clutching his middle.

“M…my apologies. I am not usually so terrible…”

He grit his teeth, hissed

“...A host.”

Trish swallowed thickly.

“...N..No, no, you’re… you’re unwell and…you weren’t expecting me, s…so…”

She trailed off, playing with the end of one of her braids. The ribbon fastening the end had loosened.

“I…I should like to give you an exam…if…if you’re comfortable with it.”

Frio hummed in assent.

“Gladly. Though I would like to know the name of my healer, I might thank her properly afterwards.”

Trish found she couldn’t meet his eye. Was he..was he charming? Yes, this giant was charming and polite- a gentleman, of all things. Not at all what she would expect from a frost giant. And yet here Frio was, well spoken and minding his manners even when he felt under the weather. She chewed on her lower lip. She continued to play with her hair ribbon, feeling the smoothness of the mossy green silk.

“T…Trish Mctavish, sir. I…I’m Doctor Trish Mctavish.”

She stammered.

“Sir?”

Frio chuckled softly.

“Please, my dear. Frio suits me well enough.”

Trish’s heart pounded. His laugh was gentle, too.

Trish made to approach the towering figure and the closer she drew, the more her fear returned. Her blood surged through her veins, a deafening pounding in her ear. She fought to keep her breathing even.

“I would never hurt my benefactor, doctor. Be as at ease as you are able.”

Frio said, his voice low as if he could read her thoughts. She tilted her head up and caught sight of his nose twitching in a manner more beast than man. Had Frio smelled her discomfort? He smiled down at her.

“Ah, but…I should lay down. I doubt you would like to try and…”

He paused, his jaw clenching as another wave of pain from his middle surged through.

“Y-Yes please.”

Trish cut in.

Frio nodded and laid down gingerly, pressing into his belly with one hand. His fingers were tipped with dark talons. They looked sharp.

She stared at the side of his head, noticing that he wore a blue tear drop earring.

“W…Would you turn to… to face me please?”

Frio hummed in response and tilted his head to the side. His lashes were long and pale, a veil over his monstrous, yet kind eyes. She reached up to touch his forehead, painfully mindful of those immense gaze pinned to her form.

“You are quite pretty.”

He hummed, the statement decidedly too casual for the situation. Trish squeaked in response, her hand darting away. The giant laughed.

“My apologies. I am distracting you.”

Trish felt like she might explode from such velvety words- especially when they were close enough to rattle her very bones.

Trish went through a mental checklist as she scanned over his body. A mild temperature (at least for an ice aspected being), sharp pain in his belly, and persistent nausea.

“Would you...o…open…your…”

Trish trailed off.

A giant’s mouth. Trish felt her courage falter and dug her nails into her palms to push on.

“Mouth. I …I need to…see inside your…”

Frio frowned. He appeared as if he wished to say something, to offer some word of comfort. Instead, the frost giant parted plush lips and revealed long fangs, a bluish tongue and the cavernous darkness in the back of his throat. The sight set off alarms within Trish- her instincts begging her to run, to flee, to hide, that she was in danger.

Frio’s breath gusted past her frame, tousling her tartan dress, coat and hair. It smelled of elderberries, and felt like a welcome, sunny breeze in early spring.

Trish could do this. She was a faery doctor and Frio was her patient.

The little woman set down her pack, shed her coat atop the mound of her belongings on the ground and poked her head inside the giant’s mouth despite the protests screaming loudly in her head. She sought any sign of poor health- discolouration of the tongue, a sore in the cheek, any inflammation in the throat.

Trish backed up, shaking from the ordeal and the moment she was far enough away, Frio snapped his jaws shut, causing her to squeak.

“Ah…My apologies.”

He said. Trish noted his features were flush and he seemed hesitant to meet her eye.

“Perhaps I should give a warning next time? If there is one. I would not presume…”

Trish chewed on her lower lip and fiddled with her skirts.

“N..No, I…It’s alright.”

A moment of awkward silence passed between them both before Frio cleared his throat and turned onto his side fully.

“Do you know what ails me, Doctor Mctavish?”

Trish rubbed her upper arm. There were several potential diagnoses but none that make sense for the sharp pains Frio described. A dull ache or a sour feeling would have made more sense- food poisoning, or a giant’s strain of stomach flu. And yet…

“Frio, what did you have to eat when you first noticed these pains?”

She inquired.

The frost giant’s face fell. He pressed his lips into a thin line. His brow creased and it was not anger that crossed his features but shame.

“...A giant hunter.”

He admitted, and his own voice wavered.

Trish knew logically what most frost giants ate. By rights, she could be on Frio’s menu once he was well again. Perhaps it would be the best choice to leave him here in pain and run before he could scarf her down too.

But that look in Frio’s eye- Why would a frost giant feel shame for admitting he’d eaten what was natural to him?

“You don’t like to eat humans.”

Trish mused aloud, words that had been meant to stay in her head tumbling free.

Frio laughed humorlessly.

“My nature would have me kill thinking, feeling beings for no reason other than greed and hunger. It is…disgusting to me, every time I falter.”

Trish frowned.

“And…and you said he was…was a giant hunter, didn’t you?”

Frio’s eyes flew back towards her, lidded and tormented.

“I could excuse myself for murdering him because he wanted to kill me first. Yet that would taste like a lie. I chose to consume him like a common beast. A man who most assuredly had a family. Who will now be a hole left in a child's life, a widow’s heartache.”

Fear was a strange thing in Trish’s line of work. It could manifest so easily when dealing with a stranger. She felt it even when she treated ordinary human men. It ebbed and flowed as easily as a tide while Trish treated every manner of creature both friendly to humankind and enemy to it.

So when every last mote of fear fled from Trish’s body, replaced by the adrenaline of compassion, Trish decided to follow that flow- that ever wobbling march of fear and bravery every faery doctor required.

“I have met very many different souls in my profession,”

Trish spoke.

“And…When a man regrets his actions this way, I…I find that such mental pain can make his illness all the worse.”

She glanced towards the giant’s midsection, so far away from where she stood. She’d noted the telltale sounds of indigestion when she’d made her observations there.

Trish lamented when she realized just how far she was about to go for a patient.

“What I…I mean to say is…is that I trust a man who desires to cause no harm, even if he falters. Because someone who makes a mistake so terrible is that much more steadfast in his conviction not to do so again.”

Frio’s eyes shimmered, reflecting the glowing crystals on the ceiling. He reached for her gently, slowly and when Trish flinched at first, he paused, extending the back of his index finger claw to her. It was an invitation. Trish hesitated once before reaching for the fingertip, placing her hand atop the pad.

“You think whatever I consumed with the hunter must be responsible for my pain, I take it.”

He said in a near whisper.

“Just as well.”

Trish fluttered her lips.

“Did you…”

How should she word this…

“Did you…eat him whole? With…with all of his affects?”

Frio cleared his throat.

“I…Yes.”

Trish nodded slowly, her hand still rested atop his finger. The cogs turned in her head. Resignation had her shoulders sagging, her hands reaching for the hem of her dress to pull it up and over her head. She kicked her boots off.

“What are you…”

Frio inquired and stopped.

“I…I need to perform an…extraction. And…”

Trish swallowed nervously, her voice cracking

“An internal examination.”

Frio appeared as if he’d been slapped. His eyes went wide.

“Absolutely not!”

He balked.

“I am sure the pain will pass with time. I will not subject someone I hardly know to…this!”

Frio gestured towards his middle with a claw.

“So you would swallow a friend, then?”

Trish mumbled before she could catch herself.

Frio’s mouth hung open a little. He sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose.

“No, no I would not.”

Trish, dressed in stays, bloomers and woolen stockings that only served to accentuate just how boney her tiny form was, padded closer to his mouth. Her hands shook. The cold and the fear crept ever nearer and Trish had to begin before she could back out.

“I-It’s the doctor’s orders, i…if you please!”

She countered.

“I…I will be alright. I…I…”

Trish knew the words the sought their place on her tongue. They calmed her. Somehow, some part of her, faery gift or her own innate instinct on people kicked in.

“...I trust you, Frio.”

The frost giant was clearly at a loss for words. He looked utterly horrified at the thought of consuming this frail little woman, terrified she would break at his slightest touch.

Gods, was she brave. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath.

“You have known me for mere moments and you would trust me.”

Frio said.

“You are either a kind or foolish doctor.”

He opened his eyes again, fixing them upon the little human in front of his face.

“Are you certain you are willing to do this?”

Trish chewed her lower lip and went to his mouth, placing a hand on his lip. He tensed at the touch, felt something inside of him twist wonderfully. The doctor had no idea the effect she had.

“Yes. I cannot leave a patient to suffer. No matter who he is.”

Trish felt the careful weight of the giant's fingers on her upper arm. She felt the gentle stroke, a reassurance.

“You have my word that I will keep you safe.”

He spoke with conviction that gave Trish no doubt he meant what he said.

The faery doctor nodded, grabbed a few things from her pack and returned to his mouth.

“C…Could you…?” She said.

“Of course.”

Frio replied and turned over, mouth open wide and chin on the ground. The giant’s posture brought to mind a prostrated man praying to his god for salvation in one of the great temples.

Trish steeled herself for what would come next- for the horror she would find within this (thus far) gentle being’s belly. She lifted her foot onto his lip and hoisted herself inside. Her first step sank into his tongue. Trish felt his shuddering breaths rush past her.

Drool pooled quickly beneath the giant’s tongue. Was Trish making Frio salivate? The thought was unsettling yet…not fully unpleasant, to be delicious. Something to unpack when she wasn’t about to journey to the literal belly of the beast shortly. Trish lowered herself down, keeping a tight hold on a little satchel of supplies that thrummed with magic. She could hear the squelching of his throat, the way it seemed all too eager for her arrival.

“...You can..”

Trish whimpered

“S…Swallow me..”

Frio’s tongue slid her towards the back of his throat and she gasped in surprise. The giant stopped instantly.

“K-Keep going!”

Trish insisted.

Frio sighed passed her little body and pushed her past the point of no return with a deep, meaty gulp.

Trish had never been swallowed before and frankly, the entire experience was terrifying. She shook and stifled sobs as the darkness of Frio’s squeezing throat forced her downwards. Claustrophobia, the imminent destination below her- the faery doctor’s eyes prickled with tears as her whole body shuddered in fear. A powerful heart hammered behind Trish. Was Frio afraid too? The erratic pulse nearly deafened her as she felt the final squeeze before a free fall into an active stomach. She let out a cry, muffled by walls of thick flesh as she dropped into a pile of liquid that made her skin tingle. Trish gasped and scrambled backwards in the dark until she felt a solid wall at her back. A loud gurgle vibrated the fleshy chamber.

The inside of Frio’s belly was pitch black, humid but blissfully not sweltering; Trish had his frost giant nature to thank for that small blessing. The stomach grumbled again, the distinct sound of imminent digestion. Regardless of Frio’s wishes, the giant’s stomach viewed Trish as food. She would need to work quickly.

As Trish dug about in her bag of holding, she heard a muffled, yet booming voice cut through the squishing, wet sounds of bodily organs working around her.

“...Are you alright?”

Frio. He was checking on her.

“Y..Yes! I’m..I’m just getting to work.”

She shouted back. Would the giant even hear her? Evidently so, because his heart rate calmed some at the evidence of her well-being.

“I will give you five minutes, doctor, before I bring you back up.”

Frio stated firmly.

The time limit was a bit of a comfort, but it also meant she had a tighter deadline to find the hunter’s remains and figure out how to deal with his armour. Trish groped about her bag of holding until she found her quarry- a little piece of expensive parchment. It glowed faintly, then brighter when Trish read its incantation aloud. A trio of glowing lights, yellow like sunflowers illuminated the rippling space.

Immediately, Trish noted that she was wading ankle deep in masticated stew- and floating human bones. She yelped at the gruesome sight and started to hyperventilate, the sour air making her nearly sick as it stung her eyes and throat. Trish reigned herself back in, thinking of her mother’s calm voice, lessons that ingrained deep in her psyche.

‘Deep breath. Assess the patient, find the ailment and the cause, determine the treatment.’

Trish’s lip quivered, her whole body trembling, but she cast her gaze around the inside of Frio’s stomach. Wrinkled pale blue flesh pressed in against her, writhing and alive. There was a mark along the lining and instantly, Trish knew it was the culprit of Frio’s pain. It weeped dark blue blood and appeared raw and angry, unable to heal when constantly irritated by the chaos of a working stomach.

“An open wound…”

Trish mused quietly to herself as she dug about in her bag for a solution. The holding enchantment afforded the doctor the ability to bring all manner of potions along to unique locations- and the perfect one for the job sat in her hands now, a soft lavender coloured liquid that resembled a milky sweet tea. Normally, Trish would have had a patient simply drink it but she doubted it would do little other than get lost in the rest of his stomach contents.

Trish felt her ankles begin to itch as stomach juices soaked through her stockings. She quickly but carefully poured the potion over the wound- and thankfully got enough on it before Frio let out a grunt of pain and the entire fleshy chamber shifted. Trish screamed as she was thrown backward against the opposite wall, the wind blown out of her. A splash of stomach liquid on her front made her panic. It burned.

“Gods, I am so sorry.”

The giant fretted.

Trish shoved a stomach wall, a silent reassurance that she was still alive and well, and heard the way Frio’s lungs filled and emptied like a relieved hurricane.

“Forgive me.”

She felt something press in against her. His hand, perhaps.

Trish found her balance again and toddered back over towards the site of the injury. It steamed and already, it was closing. Good. That would be enough.

And now, the disgusting bit.

Trish turned around with a grimace and stared down at the pile of bones surrounded by horrifically blood red, murky liquid. While even the bones had begun to slowly erode, the chain mail and the leather armour the hunter had worn over it remained nearly untouched. If the faint shimmer of magic rising off the articles was any indication, they were enchanted to be incredibly durable.

Frio’s stomach let out a bubbling groan around Trish, the wrinkled walls closing in on her. She wobbled but mercifully stayed upright; Trish never would have recovered from falling on the hunter’s corpse.

“Whatever you have done is working wonders.”

The giant’s voice spoke again with a deep sigh.

Trish chewed her lower lip. His relief would mean nothing if the armour made another wound. With that, the faery doctor let out a whine, picked up a vomit covered chain shirt and stuffed it into her bag of holding.

“Oh…Good heavens above…”

She gagged, the bits of tougher leather going in next. The bones Trish would leave. A frost giant could digest that when given enough time. The bag of holding would be the best method of transporting the indigestible bits out without potentially tearing up Frio’s throat even if Trish feared she’d never get the smell out.

Trish cinched the bag shut and found her voice again.

“I’m…I’m done!”

She called up.

Trish’s expulsion occurred faster than expected. Frio’s stomach lurched around the live human and propelled her and a load of chyme rapidly upwards. Trish’s shriek cut off in his throat.

Frio remained doubled over and coughed the little doctor up in a pile of half digested lunch. He caught his breath, then rolled over onto his side, his collapse like an earthquake.

The faery doctor stared up at the ceiling, panting, gulping in lungfuls of clean air.

Trish had just been in a stomach. In a stomach. In a giant’s bloody stomach.

And she was still alive to hopefully never tell the tale to a living soul.

She shivered in the open air, her whole body soaked and slimy. Trish felt dizzy, overwhelmed.

Shock prevented her from registering when a pair of massive, gentle hands slid beneath her body and lifted her up. Trish’s last view before passing out consisted of two frantic, pale eyes fixed upon her, and a soft, rumbling voice apologizing repeatedly and thanking her in a jumbled mess of words Trish felt too exhausted to make out.

#bramble stories #g/t #g/t writing #giant/tiny #safe v0re #v0re #cw: vore #cw: vomit #cw: gore #cw: death #g/t community #clean vore #mdni #clean v0re

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drunk0nheat · 10 months ago

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Horny Blog Info [NSFT]

Hiiiiiii! You can call me Shy [not my real name], or Drunk! I use they/them, it/its, and she/her* pronouns, I'm 22 years old, I'm a switch, and I'm somewhere in the realm of lesbian and demi-bisexual. I generally prefer interaction with other queer folk, but I'm not exclusively t4t.

Featured tags: shy-writes

Posts with extreme words or subjects will either have a warning or be hidden in a read more.

Also, I made a BlueSky! Same handle as here: drunk0nheat.bsky.social

{*I only use she/her when I request it specifically, it's not my default.}

Mostly, I'm just here to flirt, share with people who like the same things I do, roleplay a little bit, and make some friends!

Tag for finding writing is #shy-writes, it may not all be kink based, but it probably will be related in some way. DMs and asks are open, just be aware that I reserve the right to block anyone who crosses a line.

Red (Hard Limits)

Unsolicited/personal threats

Homophobia

Transphobia

Racism

Sexism

Pedophilia

Ageless Blogs

Cops and Cop RP

Now that we have the important bits out of the way, time for the stuff that won't send me straight for the block button.

For the Yellow List, an item higher up means it's closer to the red, so it's the least likely to come up, or to get a positive or affirmative reaction out of me if brought up.

Yellow (Soft Limits) [can be discussed]

Pushy/Forceful Out of RP (ignoring "no," basically; requires safeword discussion, and safeword must always be respected)

Diaper play

Scat

Gore

Blood (heavy)

Snuff

Heavy Contact play (punching, severe injury, etc.)

Heavy Vomit

Vore

Gunplay

Blood (light)

If something does not appear on the Red or Yellow lists, but also is not on the Green or Pink lists, feel free to ask! I'm not judgy. In some cases I may have thought it didn't need mentioning out of a lack of specific preference.

Now for the really fun bits! The Green List is for stuff that I enjoy consistently. You can rely on me to be down for this stuff on any given day, and I generally don't prefer any one item over another regularly enough to position them on the list accordingly. If something doesn't specify heavy or light, it's probably both.

Green (Kinks and Preferences)

Vanilla sex (nothing wrong with predictable boring intimacy)

Oral/Vaginal

Over-the-clothes

Sadism/Masochism

CNC

MILF/Age Gap (no minors)

Toxic Power Dynamic (professor/student, boss/employee, etc.)

Knife play

Knotting

Watersports

Overstimulation

Unrealistic Anatomy

Inflation/Expansion/Growth

Petplay

Drug/Alcohol play

Hypnosis/Manipulation

Bimboification/IQ Decrease

Dollification

Orgasm Denial/Edging

Fantasy characters/scenarios

Sci-Fi characters/scenarios

Exhibitionism

Humiliation

Somnophilia

And last but not least, the Pink List. This is relatively exclusive: my all time favorites! Also a little loosey goosey terminology-wise. Some items on the Green List may occasionally surpass items on the Pink List, but the Pink List have a 24/7 100% approval!

Pink (Absolute Favorites!)

Breast play and Lactation

Oral Fixation (!!!!!!!!!!!)

Anal (!!!!!!!!!!)

Excessive Fluids (saliva, semen, discharge, etc.)

Size Difference (realistic + unrealistic)

Domination

Breeding/Creampie

Multiple Orgasms

Bondage/Shibari

Toys (dildos, plugs, pumps, clamps, straps, etc.)

Machinefucker

Monsterfucker

If you made it this far, you've probably picked up by now that I'm a bit of a freak, but far from the craziest. This may not all be relevant, especially if you're not interested in roleplaying, but I'm not ashamed to share these aspects of my sexual interests!

#nsft

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bylerween · 1 year ago

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List Of Trigger Warnings (TW) for Bylerween Posting and Tagging

Hello fellow Bylers! We have here a list down below of all the trigger warnings to properly tag your Bylerween creations if they fall under the more Graphic Horror Side than the Fluffy Spooky Side during Halloween Week. For those of you who are triggered by anything Horror-related, please take a look at this list so that you have these tags blocked to help better curate your Bylerween experience.

Note: we may update and edit this list as we receive feedback and find more tags. (Last edited 10/22/23.) See something missing? Ask us to tag something/add to the list!

Tags that should be used for the event:

dark byler au

dark byler agenda

tw animal abuse

tw animal cruelty

tw blood

tw body horror

tw cannibalism

tw candy gore

tw clowns

tw csa

tw csa mention

tw death

tw decapitation

tw demons

tw dismemberment

tw eating people

tw flashing

tw flesh

tw gore

tw gun

tw homophobia

tw horror

tw hunting

tw immolation

tw implied/symbolic horror

tw injury

tw injuries

tw insects

tw illness

tw implied death

tw jump scare (for audio and video)

tw kidnapping

tw kidnapping mention

tw knives

tw light gore

tw missing person

tw murder

tw mental health

tw mutiliation

tw needles

tw nudity (Sexual material does not apply to this tag, and is not accepted for this event. This tag is solely used for non-explicit, non-sexual, aged-up nudity within a horror fanwork)

tw obsessive behavior

tw obsession

tw razors

tw stalking

tw serial killers

tw self destructive behavior

tw self destruction

tw self harm

tw self mutiliation

tw slurs

tw spiders

tw torture

tw trauma

tw trypophobia

tw violence

tw violent imagery

tw violent thoughts

tw violent death

tw vomit

tw vore (no explicit sexual content)

tw weapons

tw wounds

tw yandere

#bylerween2023 #byler #rules and guidelines #2023 guidelines

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slenderfurdirty · 17 days ago

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Since this blog seems to be gaining a small amount of traction, I suppose it’s time I make an actual intro/pinned post.

Obligatory Minors DNI: seriously, there is shit in this blog that will fuck you up mentally and emotionally. I speak from experience.

I go by Fang, mostly. More on that later.

My clean blog (mostly for fandom stuff or the like) is @slenderfurclean

My writing blog (that I swear I’m gonna start using again) is @thewornoutandtired

While I’m accepting of most people, I don’t consider anything I’m involved with a safe space for anybody’s mental health. Consider this a warning.

I try to respond to asks as I see them, but I work long hours so it may take time.

Still with me after all that? Then welcome! You can get more info on me below.

Names

You can call me Fang, Pup, Angel, or Bro (Little or Big Bro is fine too). Most pet names (baby, sweetie, darling, etc.) are fine too.

Please do not call me pet, toy, slave, or degrading names unless I have given you permission to do so.

If you wanna call me something else that you don’t think is covered here, just ask me. I’ll tell you yay or nay, with no hard feelings.

Actual intro

I’m a 26 year old bisexual submissive guy, though I call myself a switch because on rare occasions I like to think about domming. I live in the US, and spend what little time I’m not working either reading, writing, gaming, or laying in bed craving death. I try to keep politics out of my tumblr life, but there’ll probably be some in here eventually.

Kinks you’ll see in here:

It’d be impossible to list em all, especially with how nuanced kink is becoming, so I’m just gonna hit some of the big ones and warn you that you’ll find all kinds of stuff in here.

Femdom

Pegging

Humiliation & degradation

Praise kink

Crossdressing/feminization

Omorashi/watersports

Teratophilia/monsters

Furry

Chastity

Exhibitionism

Fauxcest

Overstim

CnC/dubcon

Intox

Petplay

Masochism

Hard Limits

Things I won’t do. I’m a snarky bastard, so if you push me on them, expect to get told off if I don’t just block you. This list will expand as things come up.

Snuff

Gore

Vore

Scat

Diapers

Vomit

Musk

Feedism

Feet

Findom (I’m so fucking broke)

Minors (seriously, leave the kids alone)

Branding

Extreme damage

Rape (giving)

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lizardboiii · 8 months ago

Text

INTRODUCTION•MASTER LIST

⋄ ｡･:*˚:✧｡⋄ ｡･:*˚:✧｡⋄ ｡･:*˚:✧｡⋄ ｡･:*˚:✧｡⋄ ｡･:*˚:✧｡⋄ ｡･:*˚:✧｡⋄

Hi everyone! My name is Lizardboi and I’ve decided to expand my works from AO3 to Tumblr! I plan on using this account to create mostly one shots. But most importantly, take requests<3.

Check out my bio for the fandoms I am most comfortable writing characters for. I am open to trying other fandoms but I can’t promise I will be able too.

As of right now I don’t have any one shots completed but I do have a master list planned. I also plan on posting my already created works from AO3.

Warnings!!!

A lot of my works use NSFW content and are for 18+ ONLY. I strongly discourage minors from interacting with this page.

MASTERLISTS

Last updated: 3/25

Total Works: 3

┃JUJUTSU KAISEN

┃ONE PIECE

┃DCU

Anyone (18+) is welcome to request other characters/fandoms! The ones I have listed at the moment I’m pretty hyper-fixed on so you have a better chance of me taking your request. NSFW requests will only be considered if your page clearly lists you are a legal adult.

RULES/LIMITS (WILL NOT WRITE):

•P*dophilia

•Piss/Scat/Vomit kinks

•N*crophillia

•Incest

•Vore

•Others may be added as requests come in

WILL WRITE:

•R*pe/noncon

•Unhealthy Relationships

•Adultery

•Large Age Gaps (as long as they are both above 18)

•Multi Partners (Threesomes, etc.)

•SFW

•NSFW

•Other Taboos I Have Not Listed You Can Message Me!

Thank you for visiting, I can’t wait to start filling this master list! Please visit my AO3 for already posted content!

⋄ ｡･:*˚:✧｡⋄ ｡･:*˚:✧｡⋄ ｡･:*˚:✧｡⋄ ｡･:*˚:✧｡⋄ ｡･:*˚:✧｡⋄ ｡･:*˚:✧｡⋄

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voraciousvore · 1 month ago

Text

Giganterra (Chapter 58)

Prologue/TOC | Previous (57) | Next (59)

Content Warning: NSFW/ 18+! Non-con sexual touching, abortion, vulgar language, implied nonfatal vore, implied violence

Word Count: 2.1k

------ Chapter 58: Resolve ------

Bianca ascended from Hunter’s gloomy subterranean lair in tears. She felt awful, like a crucial piece of her was permanently lost in that dark, dank pit. The experience had been far worse than she’d imagined. Not only did the greedy soul-sucking stone slurp out the life force of her fetus, but her womb physically expelled the dead tissue in a graphic, bloody mess. Bianca believed the gaping emptiness inside her would never heal.

She was not ready for the inevitable emotional blow that followed when she returned to her boudoir. Her chest clenched when she walked in only to see an empty nightstand: no dollhouse, no human men, no sign of any life. Fearing the worst, she called in her maid. “Where are my humans?”

The maid turned ashen. “Oh, Princess… it was horrible! King Richard… what he did to those little creatures…”

Bianca’s legs failed and she sat shakily on her bed. “No…” Her heart stopped. She felt like vomiting as spasms erupted through her body. Her brain recoiled as her imagination conjured the most phantasmagorical images of her innocent men broken and bloodied from ghastly cruelty.

“He killed them. Violently. All the screams… and the gore…” The maid covered her mouth with her hand. “Truly terrible!”

Bianca collapsed on her bed. “Leave me.” The maid obeyed, thoughtfully closing the door behind her. Bianca stared at the ceiling in shock as the full magnitude of horror and grief sank in. Cesar, Graham, Gio: They were gone. Dead. They lost their lives in an unthinkable display of gruesome carnage, all because of her irresponsible actions. Because of her father’s savagery.

Deep down, she knew that she was to blame. She hadn’t killed them herself, but their blood stained her hands. In her selfishness, she had requested the men be harvested from their homes in Minimaterra, taken from their lives to be enslaved to her whims. She took advantage of them in the worst ways, eating them and pleasuring herself with them. She sowed the seeds for their destruction. Her flimsy attempts to improve herself paled in comparison to all the hideous wrongs she had committed. She reaped the disaster and damage of her own design, and they were the ones to pay the price, with their own blood.

Tears flowed down her face in a cascade of sadness and guilt. She felt so alone, even more than when she believed that everyone hated her. The new life within her had been sapped away, and the people she had grown attached to were butchered. The idyllic fantasy she had clung to, of a perfect future with a loving family, was extinguished in an instant. Fiery anger flared up in her heart. They didn’t deserve such a tragic fate.

She sprang out of bed and stormed out of her bedroom. She couldn’t stand the pain any longer. Her only chance at happiness had gone up in flames. Her life was a prison, all because of her beast of a father, killing the people she loved: her diminutive companions, her eldest brother, her romantic partners, her possible children. She couldn’t let him continue to hurt people and lay a path of destruction. Even if she couldn’t have a happy ending, she had to do something to stop him.

Whatever action she needed to take, she couldn’t do it alone. Ignoring the waterfalls running down her face, she stomped out to the courtyard and located Ronny, still conversing with Joey. She marched up to him like a tempest.

“Ronny! I need you!” she shouted. Without waiting for a reply, she grabbed his sleeve, hoisted him off the bench, and pulled him away.

“Hey! What the heck?” Ronny protested, but she didn’t answer her brother as she dragged him across the courtyard. “Bianca?” He noted how upset she was and went quiet, allowing her to take him. The state she was in didn’t reflect one of her usual tantrums: Something was very wrong.

Joey and Eren stared after the royal siblings, baffled. “I wonder what that was about?” Eren questioned. “Bianca has been so strange lately. I just don’t get her.”

The giant squire, however, wasn’t concerned with Bianca or Ronny. With the prince gone, he could help Eren escape, just like Martin did with Candy. “Now’s our chance, Eren!” he whispered with urgency. “I can get you out of here!”

Energized, he stood up in a hurry, causing Eren to lose her balance in his palm. “Hey! Hang on a second!” she cried out as she fell on her hands and knees.

“Oh. Sorry. I got too excited,” Joey admitted sheepishly.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Eren clarified, settling on her knees. “I’m not ready to leave. My work here isn’t done yet.”

“What?! Aren’t you sick of this place? I need to help you before it’s too late!” Joey argued. He held her closer to his face. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. If you got hurt, I don’t know what I’d do…”

Joey looked so sad, with those big, soulful, chocolate eyes of his glistening behind his glasses, that Eren almost relented just to placate him. However, she was firm in her mission. “I admit, it really is awful here. I hate getting eaten all the time, I hate Bucky, and I hate the king. But Joey—I’m so close. If I could just find a way to get past Chester, I could poison or kill the king. If I killed one giant, I can kill another. I’m not ready to give up yet.”

Joey curled his other hand around Eren, as if to shield her from danger. “Are you sure about this?”

“Absolutely,” she confirmed, shining with intensity.

Joey sighed. She was too stubborn for him to sway her to a safer path. “What can I do to help you? Do you have any ideas? Do you want another weapon?”

Eren frowned. “I… I don’t know yet. I don’t think that stratagem will work. But… maybe we can brainstorm some ideas, and meet up again another day, with the prince’s help?”

“Well… I guess…” Joey acquiesced reluctantly. He wasn’t happy with the whole situation, but he did appreciate that he would have another opportunity to see Eren and maybe help her escape if she changed her mind. “Alright. Just, please... don’t put yourself in danger...” He gingerly stroked her hair with his finger. Eren flushed pink again. She’d never had a man touch her like that, with such ardor. His concern for her tamed her fierce spirit within. She was sorely tempted to snuggle up in his hands, rest and forget all her worries, let him hold her and tell her everything would be alright. She was filled with longing for a beautiful fantasy that she could make real, within the comfort of Joey’s loving embrace.

However, she couldn’t let herself give in. Not yet, anyway. “Take me back to the kitchen,” she insisted.

Joey sighed again in a great gust. “Alright.”

Meanwhile, Bianca showed Ronny to her room. “They’re gone,” she blubbered, gesturing to her nightstand.

Ronny stared blankly. “Who?”

Bianca was crying already, but Ronny’s inquiry really opened the floodgates. “My humans!” she sobbed, rivers gushing down her cheeks. “That motherfucker slaughtered them!”

In an instant, a black cloud of dread descended over Ronny. Bianca had no need to elaborate whom she was referring to when she uttered “that motherfucker.” He knew. And he abruptly sensed that he needed to check on Tanya. She might be in danger.

“I’m gonna kill him!” Bianca yelled, slamming down her fists on the nightstand. “This is the last straw! I hate him! I fucking hate him!”

“I’ll be right back,” Ronny stammered. He backed out of the room and hurried to his quarters to find Tanya. He just needed to reassure himself that she was okay. She was fine, right? She’d be there, clueless as to why he was so sweaty and flustered. She’d give him a little smirk and tease him for being a baby, but she’d be flattered that he was so worried about her. He’d cup her in his hands and give her a kiss and everything would be right with the world.

“Tanya?” he called as he entered his bedroom. His nerves tingled with apprehension at the silence that greeted him. He rushed over to the house and opened the lid. “Tanya?” He didn’t see her. His anxiety spiked. He rummaged through the furniture, even though he knew in his gut the harrowing truth: She wasn’t there. She wouldn’t hide from him. She was gone.

“Tanya!” Ronny cried in alarm. He dashed out without a second to spare, racing around corners so fast that he nearly tripped over his own feet in clumsy haste, particularly as he ascended the spiraling stairs to his father’s wing of the castle. He shouldered his way through the door past Ajax and burst into the king’s private inner sanctum.

The sight that greeted him made him want to claw his eyes out. King Richard was propped up in bed, shirtless, clasping Tanya to his naked hairy flesh. He’d stripped her dress off and was fondling her bare breasts and thighs, investigating her body with filthy lust. Ronny belted out a feral yowl and surged towards him, but Ajax seized his arms and held him back.

“Ronny! Help m-” Tanya squeaked before Hardon clamped his finger over her mouth to muffle her cries.

“Let go of her, you monster!” Ronny roared. He bit Ajax’s knuckles hard, but the guard didn’t budge. The blood was bitter, tainting his entire mouth with the rotten taste of death.

“Ah, Ronny! How nice of you to join us,” King Richard jeered. His lips curved into a wicked grin as he petted Tanya on the head like she was nothing more than a pet hamster. Ronny fought against Ajax’s grip with the ferocity of a wild animal. Tanya trembled; she didn’t make a sound even after the king removed his fingertip from her face.

“You did such a good job training her. She’s very docile and obedient. I think she’ll make a fine pet for me,” Hardon drawled on with a nasty sneer.

“She doesn’t belong to you!” Ronny snapped. “Don’t you dare touch her!”

The king chuckled, humming to himself as he raised Tanya to his lips. “Look at that lovely figure. Nice fertile hips, buxom breasts, toned waist, cute little bottom... mmmmm...” He curled his finger around her waist lasciviously. His tongue slid out from his lips and sensually licked her thigh, up her side all the way to her ear. Tanya whined and tried to pull away, to no avail.

“STOP IT!!” Ronny bellowed, straining against Ajax’s bulging muscles. The guard grunted and jerked him back.

“Take him away so we can have some privacy,” Hardon ordered with a dismissive wave. His lips parted, closing over Tanya’s head and shoulders. Ronny could just make out a muted scream from within the giant’s maw.

“NOOOO!” he howled. Ajax dragged the prince out of the king’s suite and threw him into the stairwell like a vagabond, slamming the door and locking him out. Ronny cursed and screamed and banged on the door with frantic energy, but failed to gain reentry. From within, he could hear the squelching gulp of that repulsive beast of a man swallowing his beloved. Ronny hurled himself against the door until he gradually slid down in defeat, sobbing. There was nothing he could do. Tanya was in the hands of the worst giant imaginable, and Ronny was helpless to save her.

After a while, Ronny heaved himself to his feet. He wiped his eyes and trudged down the stairs, then though the halls to his sister’s room. He found her lying in bed with dull, bloodshot eyes. She looked up at him, searching his face. Despite her listlessness and despair, there was rage boiling inside her, threatening to explode.

The qualms that Ronny had earlier, regarding the assassination of his father, had washed away. His resolve was firm as steel, hardened in the forge of his passion. A flame ignited in his belly as he met the gaze of his sister, and an understanding passed between them. “I’m ready,” he stated, jaw rigid. “Let’s kill him.”

Chapter 59

Tag List: @tinycoded360 @yummynomms @maybeiamdownbad

#nsft

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astraymetronome · 2 months ago

Text

I know this is a really overdue post! Sorry it's taken so long but here is the next chapter of the Trapped Dream AU! I've been pretty busy with college and work but I'm gonna try to get these chapters out more often.

Warnings: Vore, Vomiting, Self-Harm mention, Panic Attacks, Mentioned fatal vore

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

Tommy had expected more of a reaction from his older brother other than well... Laughter. Techno burst into loud and boisterous laughter when those words passed his lips, it confused him but he understood his brother’s point of view. It probably sounded crazy, one of the best fighters being beaten by some teenager.

The piglin hybrid was still laughing, leaning over the counter in the kitchen as Tommy anxiously hugged his abdomen. He felt nervous as his brother began to calm down, the avian watching as he caught his breath before speaking up.

“I need you to be serious with me Tommy.” His brother said simply, the humor still riding his voice as he spoke. The blonde could feel his nerves getting the better of him, he didn’t like being brushed off like some child. He was old enough to be treated and respected the same way anyone else would be. He gave a small glare as he spoke up.

“I am being serious, I ate Dream.” He said sternly. The avian’s wings opened behind him, the feathers flaring as he glared at the man. He knew Techno wasn’t trying to be mean. He knew full well it just didn’t sound like something real, but it was real! He had the bastard green teletubbie sitting in his body where he wouldn’t get out unless he let him out. Tommy watched as Techno’s face shifted through his emotions, a mix of uncertainty and astonishment.

“Okay, Okay,” Techno mumbled, it was pretty obvious his brother didn’t understand it or really believe him. The blonde knew the piglin didn’t want to know if this was true but he didn’t know how to prove this, if he coughed Dream up he’d either have him taken away, released, or maybe killed. None of them seemed like good options, he couldn’t bring himself to kill him. Dream may be his enemy and his killer, but he still couldn’t fully get himself out of the mindset from those years in exile.

He recognized the bad situation and how tragic it was to be trapped in such a shitty way of living but he couldn’t bring himself to treat the ram hybrid with any form of remorse. Tommy had been so stuck in his own brain that he only blinked back at the situation when the mug of hot chocolate was pushed up. “Drink up little bird, you need to warm up,” Techno told him with a huff.

Tommy reluctantly sipped at the mug of liquid, he blinked a little bit at the lack of any real flavor as he swallowed a mouthful of what was probably just pure milk. The blonde blinked for a moment once he swallowed the liquid before panic swelled in his chest. He pushed the cup into his brother’s hands feeling the swell of magic under his skin fade within seconds. “The fuck!” He yelled, looking up at his brother as the piglin spoke.

“You were acting weird and with pot particles around you-” The man started before Tommy growled, his wings flaring behind him as he glared. He looked a lot like Phil when he flared his feathers, the main difference being their size and wings. He glared, angry as he leaned over the kitchen sink, feeling as Dream began to return kicking up a fuss in his stomach. The teen gaged himself, his older brother quickly trying to stop him as he did this.

Tommy folded his wings close and chirped angrily before he felt his stomach clench and force a wiggling form up and out of his body. He coughed, a familiar man slipping out of his mouth and into the basin below. He was uncomfortable, trembling slightly as he wiped the mix of saliva and milk off his lip with his sleeve, the uncomfortable tingle of acid burning the back of his throat as he gave a thick swallow. The avian swirled himself around, his finger immediately being pushed against the other man’s chest.

“You just fucking assumed I was lying!? You could have killed him!” He squawked out. Tommy was mad that Techno had believed he’d lie so much he seemed eager to prove himself right.

The piglin had quickly put his hands up, a defensive and passive motion to fain innocence. “Heh-” The man started before he stopped and spoke up. “I didn’t know if I believed you! You were talking kind of crazy and had particles, I assumed a potion had a bad effect on your head, Runt.” Tommy found himself growling as he looked at his big brother with a mix of anger and frustration. He understood his brother while also being mad that he’d not believed him.

“But shit… You actually ate him.” Techno mumbled, taking Tommy’s attention back to the small man. The avian’s eyes drifted, zeroing in on the small form that sat inside the sink. His eyes drifted over his body, taking in the slight red spots of irritation on Dream’s neck and around his ankles. The ram hybrid had started to itch at his skin, clearly unhappy with the situation. He avian glared right back, not scared to meet the blonde man’s gaze as he was spoken to.

“You’re so fucking stupid, Tommy! You seriously thought eating me was the best way to trap me! How ignorant are you!” Tommy rolled his eyes as he listened to Dream ramble on about how horrible and stupid he was. He glared before moving his hand and turning on the faucet. He held back a giggle as his tormenter sputtered, the man looking like a drowned rat. His pointed ears twitched at the loud laughter behind him, turning over to see Techno kneeling over as his chest racked with chuckles. He couldn’t help the smile that pricked his lips,

He missed hearing his big brother’s laughter as his wings fluffed up a little. Tommy could feel his flock instincts swelling, wanting to chirp and trill at seeing his flockmate so delighted at something he’d done. He was pleased but he quickly forced the sensation down as he spoke up. “Shut up, you’re lucky I even let you out.” He said sternly.

He saw the slight look of panic in the man's eyes and the avian was guessing that he wasn’t fond of the sensation of acids against his skin. He felt a sense of control wash over his mind, it was intoxicating but he was swift to shove it away. “Tommy, how long have you… been in this predicament?” Techno asked. He looked over at his older brother, blinking in a bit of surprise. He’d kept Dream for probably just a day… It’s only just a day but it’s felt like he’s been doing this for a week. He ran his hands through his hair.

“It’s been most of today? But I um… I’ve only had him in for probably about two hours.” He said softly, he felt uncomfortable but he’d been the one to get into this situation and the one to bring it up. He looked up at his older brother, taking note of how the piglin stepped towards the sink. He watched as Techno began to push Tommy away from the sink.

“I’ll handle this, go drink some water and take a hot shower. You need to warm up little bird. Phil will kill me if he comes back to find you with a cold.” The blonde felt his heart sink at the idea of leaving Dream alone. He didn’t want to risk having the ram hybrid escape! He finally had Dream somewhere he couldn’t escape from and he wasn’t gonna risk letting him hurt others.

“You can’t let him leave. He’d been threatening Micheal! He’ll hurt him or worse… try to turn him into some reliant puppy..” Tommy found his words hesitantly, it felt too close to home as he held back a shutter of discomfort. He still remembered being treated like some kind of pet back in exile. He refused to be the reason someone else had to feel that way.

He looked at his big brother, knowing his blue eyes were bleeding with a silent plea. The avian could only hope the piglin would recognize how desperate he seemed. He didn’t like to talk about exile, not even bringing it up to Puffy back in his therapy sessions. He knew she’d had some idea of the things he’d experienced but he hated getting into the thick of the trauma. “I promise I'll keep an eye on him.”

Tommy nodded at the words, knowing Techno wasn’t someone who liked to lie over something so trivial. He walked towards the stairs, heading up them without another say. He was careful, stumbling into the bathroom. He let his eyes drift down to his wrist, his bandana had slipped free at some point. He’d paniced at the lack of the deep green fabric but the sight of his bare wrist was the cause of his stomach to churn again. He gaged, throwing up this time but not of his fruition.

He was panting as he leaned over the toilet, finally noticing how his body shook and he felt so much panic in his chest. He got to his feet, nervously as he covered his right wrist with his hand. He was quick to turn on the sink, washing out his mouth of bile before turning on the shower.

He needed a distraction.

▪──── ⚔ ────▪

Techno had noticed Tommy’s building panic the entire time they’d been talking. The truth was, he had believed the avian from the start but he knew that right now playing the role of an ignorant observer was the safest situation. He let his eyes drift from the stairs and instead focused on the small man who was sitting in the basin. He held back a growl as he reached over and picked his rival up by the scruff of his green hoodie. His eyes kept flashing back to the marks that littered Tommy’s wrist but mostly the very obvious scar that had been branded into the location of sensitive tendons.

Tommy’s sword skills had been rougher since his exile. The man had assumed it had been due to the lack of practice in the five-year period but that made more sense. He had recognized the shapes, they were identical to the mask that was currently attached to the small man’s waist.

“We’re gonna have a long talk.”

⊹ ˖ 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊⊹₊⋆

Thank You guys for reading! @cyncerity

#fanfic #mcyt g/t #mcyt vore #dsmp tommy #avian!tommy #dream smp #tiny!dream #ram!dream #trapped dream au #starling au #mcyt technoblade

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