#vore crack fic

[trashytummies]

jason & dick crack vore excerpt

the plot is really stupid but jason ends up time traveling and ends up in dick NTT era's belly (back when dick was mad angsty and kind of an ass about being robin/leader/away from bruce's shadow/expectations)

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Jason lay back against the now all-too-familiar walls of Dick’s stomach, his arms folded behind his head, staring into the pitch darkness. The soft gurgling sounds were like background noise at this point; white noise for the eternally frustrated.

You know what would really improve the situation? Jason thought, half to himself and half to Dick. A gut air freshener.

The silence that followed was heavy, as if even Dick’s internal organs were processing the sheer absurdity of what Jason had just said.

Seriously, Jason continued, warming to his own idea. I mean, think about it. I could pitch it on Shark Tank. You know, walk in—well, I guess I’d roll in on a cart or something, still one-inch tall—and be like, “Hey, Sharks, are you tired of your stomach being a claustrophobic hellscape filled with digestive smells? Well, I’ve got just the thing for you. Introducing ‘Gut Fresh’—the first-ever air freshener for your insides.”

Jason grinned to himself in the dark, imagining the horrified looks on the faces of the Shark Tank judges as he explained his revolutionary product idea.

We’re talking lemon zest, lavender, maybe a little eucalyptus for that soothing touch. It could be huge. Everyone’s always talking about gut health. Why not gut smell?

Jason, Dick’s voice cut into his mental monologue, flat and thoroughly exhausted. Please stop.

Jason chuckled. What? You don’t think Mr. Wonderful would go for it?

No, Dick groaned. I think this is the stupidest conversation we’ve ever had. And that’s saying something.

[sailorsenshishitposter]

Sukuna x Megumi

⚠️ Spoilers for chapter 212

"Shit! Not again!" For whatever reason, Yuji had lost control after eating another one of Sukuna's fingers. Megumi was alone and knew he had no choice. He then uttered "with this treasure I summon!" There was now a burst of light and Mahoraga had been summoned. It was too late though. Sukuna lifted his face down cards to reveal all five pieces of Exodia.

However Sukuna had no intention of walking into a store and buying a card pack like a common peasant so he decided to use Yuji's computer to illegally print off the cards. Due to being a thousand years old however, his understanding of modern technology was highly flawed, something he refused to admit. He ended up printing five copies of Exodias right leg. "I'll be damned before I let that brat refer to me as a boomer!"

Back in the present and Sukuna had just sent the abomination to attack Mahoragas life points. It wasn't very effective. Mahoraga used adapt and now shifted it's form into a jumbled mess of five legs. "The fuck?" cried Megumi. Sukuna now realizing he had a chance, sprinted and then tackled the boy while he was distracted.

Sukuna then whispered into his ear. "I want your body..." Megumi blushed. "It's not like I like you or anything, baka!" The older man chuckled. "I'm afraid you don't understand." He then pried open Megumi's mouth with his long claws. "This is my hole. It was made for me..." He then forced the sorcerer to vore him in entirety. Sukuna then started to inspect his new vessel.

"Ah, nothing beats the feeling of being at home. I can't believe I haven't used my vore technique since the Heian era. I should go find Uraume so we can open up that restaurant we always dreamed of. Wait, why is the sky turning purple?" He turned around to see none other than a furious Gojo. Sukuna started running like his life depended on it as he began screaming "MAHORAGAH, SAVE ME!!!!!!!"

[fiber-optic-alligator]

I wrote a thing.

I don't know exactly what to title it, but I do plan on putting this onto Ao3, so it'll have a proper title then??? Idk, I'm really into Poppy Playtime rn and I just want to give Doey a hug, those kids deserve everything. So here's a very indulgent fic involving the reader adopting three very traumatized, very confused children who have decided YOU are their new mom.

Word Count: 3695

WARNING: THERE IS SOFT, SAFE, SFW PROTECTION VORE IN THIS FIC. IF YOU DO NOT LIKE, DO NOT READ.

  Doey is dead.

  You stare at the massive broken body of what was once your friend, battered and hardened with piercing freeze, colorful hues now dull with the lifeless depression of loss. Blood stains your frayed clothing while you pant out heavy puffs of air from the frigidity of the room. Your grab pack slips off your shoulders, clattering to the floor, yet you pay it no mind. You move in a daze, dropping to your knees before the fallen experiment. One trembling hand reaches out, your fingers brushing against Doey’s head.

  “Doey?” you whisper.

  Nothing. He is cold. Cold, like everything else.

  The waterworks start shortly after you comprehend he is really, truly gone. You shuffle closer, cradling the head in your lap while you cry, tears splattering messily against the dough. You’ve killed him. You crushed him. You took everything away from him, and then you took his life, even if you didn’t mean to. The guilt weighs heavy like the crusher shattering its way through Doey’s corpse. You don’t know what to do. Good lord, what will Poppy think? What about Kissy Missy? Do you even know where they are right now? Is the Prototype still here? You don’t think you can manage to make yourself stand up and fight, let alone run. You can’t leave Doey, you can’t, you-

  Crack.

  Your head whips up so hard your neck pops.

  There are splinters rapidly growing across the top of Doey’s head. At first, you think it's because his body is crumbling, until you see the intricate web pushing upward like the shell of a newborn chick pecking its way through. It’s gradual at first, hesitant, until it picks up in ferocity, desperate, urging.

  Something is trying to get out.

  You are on your feet in an instant, fumbling backwards and nearly tripping over your grab pack in the process. In horror you watch Doey’s skull break apart, pieces falling and splintering into tiny bits. The mouth cringes and the lips yawn wide in a mock imitation of pain, the entire head unfurling grotesquely as hands-gigantic hands, the length of your entire body-grope their way out, clawing a head into open air, followed by narrow shoulders and a spindly torso, ending with long legs. There is a ghost of jeans and a plaid shirt flickering over its sunshine yellow image; the creature is so bright in appearance compared to the darkness of the prison, your eyes ache. It tumbles down the length of Doey’s side and curls up into a partial fetal position, sides heaving with gasping breaths.

  You are silent, staring bug-eyed at the figure birthed from Doey’s body. It’s big, around the same size as Catnap, maybe taller. Though it holds no threatening aura, you know better than to trust its appearance. Looks are always deceiving in Playtime Co. You know that from the other monsters you’ve faced.

  The creature lifts its head. Turning towards you, its eyes are pupiless, black. It opens its mouth, and the soft, shaky voice of a young boy wafts out, making your heart tremble.

  “Mommy?” the giant says.

  Your answer is a swift turn of the heel and a bolt, your legs pelting you down the nearest hallway while your terrified brain howls for you to run.

  “Mommy? MOMMY! WAIT!” There are loud thooms reverberating through the area. The giant throws his hands into the hallway, long fingers grasping for you and just barely brushing against your back. You ignore the gut wrenching wails and continue running, panic making you forget about your grab pack, the only source of survival you have in this fucked up factory. “MOMMY! PLEASE, COME BACK!”

  Steam hisses out of a few faulty vents while you run. You don’t stop. Blood roars in your ears and every fiber of your being is on fire. The screams of the boy behind you begin to sound like the screams of Doey before he…he…you shut your eyes and feel the tears fly down your face. Don’t stop. Don’t think. Just run.

  You don’t know how far you’ve gotten before your legs decide to give out. The sheer exhaustion of the past few hours finally gets to you, and you collapse onto your hands and knees. The familiar weight of your grab pack is gone; you have nothing to defend yourself now. Fuck. How did things become so disastrous so quickly?

  It’s awful to think about. The Safe Haven is gone. Poppy and Kissy Missy are nowhere to be found. The Prototype is lurking and it is only a matter of time before another monster finds you, whether it be him, or something else.

  I can’t take this anymore. You are scared, tired, and hurt. Dragging yourself back up again, you limp over to a small room and push the door open. It looks like some sort of security room, grimy and long abandoned…yet its safety, for now. You shut the door and practically crawl to the other side of the room, pressing yourself into a corner. Your arms tremble with how hard you hug your legs, and you bury your face into your knees, soft sobs echoing through the dark room, truly signifying how alone you are.

  You are dozing off when you hear a massive thump outside the door, jolting you to your senses. Loud sniffles and the drag of nails against steel. “Hello? Mommy? Please…please come out…”

  You flinch back and whimper, covering your ears. No more monsters, no more monsters, please, please…

  The door creaks open. You see a single abyssal eye peering in at you, blue tears dripping down and splashing onto the floor. For a moment, you and the creature simply stare at each other. Then the eye moves, and the great hand shoves its way through.

  You shriek, not fast enough to evade the fingers closing around your body and yanking you out of the room. They squeeze against your chest and constrict your rips painfully, shoving the air out of you in an agonized wheeze. You slam your own hands against the surprisingly soft skin which gives a little under your touch. Too much, it’s all too much, too tight, you can’t breathe-

  “O-Oh! I’m sorry, I’m-I’m hurting you!” The monster’s grip lightens. You gulp up grateful lungfuls of oxygen and flop forward, shuddering. “Are you okay?”

  You lift your head and look up into the boy’s eyes. He looks…very worried. With a soft tilt, he brings you closer, examining you, poking you lightly in the sides. “I feel no ouches or rough bumps…that’s good! I’m so happy you’re safe, Mommy. I was so worried! You looked so scared when I woke up, and I was afraid you-” He pauses when he hears your soft weeping. “Wait…why are you crying?! Did I hurt you? Mommy? Please talk to me!”

  Your stomach lurches as he clasps you in both hands, shaking you a little. His frantic words fall on deaf ears; all you can hear is the pounding of your heart, hammering too fast, too much. It hurts. The fear hurts. You can’t breathe, you can’t think. Too much, too much, too much.

  “Matthew? Matthew! Something’s wrong with Mommy! They’re crying!”

  You don’t register being passed to another pair of bigger, gentler hands. These hands cradle you like you are made of glass. There’s a soft press of a thumb wiping your tears away. “It’s okay,” a new voice whispers. “Please, breathe. You need to. I’ll help you through it.”

  “I…I can't,” you gasp.

  “You can. Please…breathe with me. In…and out. Listen. You can do it.”

  You feel the tickle of breath tousle your hair. Despite your terror, deep down, you know this new monster is right. You need to calm down, or this panic attack is going to hurt you. So you fight your fear, and slowly follow his instructions. In…and out…

  “That’s it. Good, you’re doing good. I’ve got you, Mom. Just keep breathing with me.” There’s a soft tap on your head. It registers as a gesture of comfort. For some reason, it somewhat reassures you.

  Eventually, you manage to successfully steady yourself. One last exhale leaves you, and you finally feel like you can get ahold of your body again. You drag a hand over your face, feeling a collection of tears and sweat on your palm.

  “Are they okay?” the voice of the yellow monster asks.

  “I…I think so.” Whoever is holding you presses their thumb lightly against your chest. “Their heart isn’t going fast anymore. They’ve calmed down.” A sigh. “Mom? Can you open your eyes? Please?”

  Stop calling me that, you want to demand. You are not their mom, you don’t know who they are. But regardless, you listen, lifting your head to tentatively look up at the orange giant holding you. This one is taller than the yellow one, older, with wavy hair and eyes with some discoloration under them, displaying a sign of tiredness. Yet, he smiles without his teeth, as radiantly bright as his companion. “…Hey,” he says. “Are you feeling better?”

  “…Who…who are you?” you whisper.

  A pause. The orange giant looks like he’s contemplating how to answer, when the yellow one speaks. “That’s a silly question! Don’t you recognize us? We’re your kids, Mommy!”

  “Jack,” the orange giant hisses. “You’re going to confuse them.”

  “But they have to know, Matthew! Why wouldn’t they? They’re our adult now, remember? One of the good ones!”

  Jack…Matthew… Suddenly, it all makes sense. You remember reading their files, watching the VHS tapes, looking into the reports. Doey was created using three young boys. You recall him expressing different tones of speech and words, how his personality would almost flip like a switch. When you killed Doey, were his three souls finally freed? Are these two giants really Matthew Hallard and Jack Ayers?

  Matthew notices your dawning expression. “You remember…don’t you?” He brings you closer. “We are Doey…or, we were. I’m still not entirely sure what happened, but…”

  “After Doey got squished, we came back! Like this! Pop!” Jack makes an exaggerated motion with his hands. It’s supposed to be comical, and you suppose in a better situation, you’d laugh. But right now, the realization is making you dizzy, and you don’t know how to react.

  Matthew softens. “You’re overwhelmed.” He pats your head again. “It’s okay. I know this is all a lot to take in, and we haven’t made it easy for you. But we aren’t mad. Doey, he…we…made some bad decisions. We never wanted to hurt you, and-”

  “What is going on here?”

  Matthew goes silent. He draws you to his chest, shifting his hands to hide you beneath his fingers.

  The third voice is rough, angry, and pained, all at the same time. You hear loud stomps as whoever joins Matthew and Jack growls, sounding more like a wolf than anything else you’ve heard in the factory. You peek between your captor’s digits and see a final bright red giant trudging into the hallway with a scowl on his face. He brushes his hair back and grumbles out his woes. “Stupid hallway, too tight for us to get through, too small, why are we so big-” He glowers at the other two boys. “Alright, why are we here? First thing we do after separating is chase some random feral? Sounds like a waste of time to me!”

  “Don’t be mean, Kevin!” Jack exclaims indignantly. “You’re gonna scare Mommy! We just managed to calm them down!”

  You feel Matthew tense. You remember Kevin; you read his file about his anger issues, his grief, the way his trauma blossoms into destructive violence. This…isn’t good. Not at all.

  “Mommy? What are you talking about? Mom’s not-” His eyes trail to Matthew’s hands…and he spots you. He makes direct contact and you watch the way his face falls into multiple expressions: shock, dismay…and then, fury.

  “You,” he snarls. “It’s you. You! You traitor!” He launches himself at you, fingers extending with wickedly sharp talons morphing from the tips.

  Jack cries out in concern. Matthew shoots his hands up high to prevent you from being grabbed; you yelp from the vertigo, and you see Kevin grabbing the other’s arms, attempting to force you down. “Give them to me! Give them! They need to SUFFER FOR WHAT THEY’VE DONE!”

  “Kevin, stop!” Matthew cries. “We can’t hurt them! They did nothing wrong!”

  “They KILLED our friends! They caused the explosion! Them and Poppy, that stupid doll! It’s ALL THEIR FAULT!”

  “Kevin, please!” Jack throws himself around Kevin’s torso, desperately trying to pull him away. “Don’t hurt them! Don’t hurt Mommy!”

  Kevin fights the other boy off, sending him careening backwards. There’s a horrible sound of dough slamming against metal, followed by a pained yell from Jack. He slumps, clutching his shoulder, tears already gathering in his eyes. Kevin is far too caught up in his anger to even notice.

  “You lied to us!” he roars at you. His mouth is agape with needle sharp teeth, red as blood, ready to rip you to shred and erase you from existence. “You said you cared for us, loved us! Loved me! So gentle, so caring! All for you to end it in FLAMES!” He slashes his talons and nearly tears Matthew’s wrist off. You scream in terror, unable to keep your fear at bay.

  Matthew grits his teeth and uses all of his strength to harshly shove Kevin aside. “ENOUGH!” he bellows. “Stop it, now! Killing won’t solve anything! THEIR DEATH WON’T BRING THE OTHERS BACK!”

  Kevin pants, hunching over and baring his fangs, spikes growing along his arms and shoulder blades. Matthew doesn’t back down; both monsters are growling, ready to fight, all over you. You cling to the orange boy’s fingers, your entire body vibrating with fear.

  Jack’s sniffles knock his brothers out of the instinctive stupor they are caught in. Both of them look at the youngest, falling silent. “Stop,” he begs. “No more fighting. Please…”

  There’s a tense moment where you don’t know what’s going to happen next. But you release a sigh of relief when Kevin relaxes. His fists unclench and his spikes retreat back into his form.

  Matthew hurries to Jack and helps him up. “Are you hurt?” he asks urgently.

  Jack keeps his eyes on the floor. “M’ fine. Is…is Mommy okay?”

  “They are not our mom,” Kevin mutters.

  “Kevin, shut up.” Matthew shoots him a glare, then looks down at you. His eyes soften tremendously and his grip loosens. “M-Y/N? Are you alright?”

  You give him no answer. You're too shaken to speak and simply stare at him, scared out of your mind. It’s the first time you’ve heard either of them say your name, and it confirms your suspicions: these three boys are indeed the remnants of Doey.

  It doesn’t make you feel better. It makes you feel worse.

  “You’re trembling.” Matthew makes a pained noise. “Oh, Y/N…I’m-I’m so sorry we’ve scared you. This…this never should have happened.”

  “I’m not sorry,” Kevin says.

  “I thought I told you to stay quiet.”

  “You aren’t in charge of me!”

  “Guys, please!” Jack steps between them. “Mommy’s scared, and it’s all our fault! If we keep acting like this, they-they-” He chokes on a whine. “They won’t want to be our mommy anymore!”

  “Hey, hey, shhh,” Matthew soothes. “It’ll be okay, Jack. We’ll…we’ll fix this. We’ll help them not be afraid of us anymore. Once they see we don’t mean harm.”

  Kevin begins to protest, but another growl from Matthew silences him. You cover your face and murmur a soft “I-I’m sorry…”

  “…Don’t be sorry.” Matthew touches your cheek. As you flinch away, he whimpers. “Please. Don’t be afraid of us. We know you didn’t mean for the explosions to be so destructive. You trusted Poppy, and…and so did we. No one is going to fault you for that.”

  Your heart is breaking. The flames, the smoke, the tiny bodies littering the debris…it makes you want to pound your fists against your skull. “I couldn’t save them. They were just kids. I…I just wanted to keep you all safe.”

  “I know. I know, and…it’s a horrible feeling when you try to protect others from a terrible fate.” He sounds haunted, and you remember his file, how it described him as a protector of the other orphans in Playcare, a universal big brother who strived to be everyone’s friend. How many friends did he lose to the Doctor’s experiments? How much pain has he truly seen? “But there are others. Safe Haven isn’t the only refuge for those who still remain. We can still rescue them. We can get them out of here, and-and atone for the mistakes we’ve made.”

  Kevin snorts. Matthew ignores him. “We want to protect you,” he says. “You’ve been so good to us since the moment we’ve met. Let’s start over. No Safe Haven. No Doey. Just you, Matthew, Kevin, and Jack.”

  He tilts your chin and gently forces you to look at him. He offers a lopsided smile. Jack slinks closer and grins with hope. Kevin turns his back and remains silent.

  So many emotions are running through you. You loved Doey. You truly started to see him as a friend, as…as a sort of son. This last part causes you to internally cringe, because what business do you have with taking care of a child, let alone three? With your history entangled with Playtime Co’s, there seems to be no hope of you ever carrying the courage to adopt a kid, even though you desperately want to.

  “Trust us?” Matthew asks.

  You can’t say no to him. You love him, and his brothers. Damn it, you really are thinking like a parent now. “…Okay.”

    Jack squeals and claps joyfully. “Yay! Oh, thankyouthankyouthankyou, Mommy! I’m so happy you’re gonna stay with us! I don’t know what we’d do if we lost you!”

  “I know plenty of things I’d do to make them get lost,” Kevin grumbles.

  “Matthew, Matthew, can I hold them? Pleeeease? I’ll be super gentle, kind, and careful, and I’ll love them so, so much and keep them safe!” Jack makes grabby hands for you. The action is fast and startling. You gasp in fear.

  “L-Let’s let them rest for a moment, okay bud? They’re really tired from all that running and fear. I think they need to take a nice, long nap.” Matthew regards you, biting his lower lip. “I…I know where I can keep them while they recover.”

  There’s a strange look in his eyes that immediately has you on edge. “M-Matthew? What…what are you thinking of?”

  He winces. “Don’t worry about it,” he says. “It’s…it’s not as bad as you think. It’ll be warm, comfy, and safe. Safe from those who might want to hurt you right now.” He glances at Kevin. “Don’t…don’t be afraid, okay? I’d never hurt you.”

  “I don’t understand.” You pick up a struggle, alarm bells beginning to ring in your head. “Matthew, I don’t-please, what are you planning on doing with me?!”

  Matthew winces. “Please…please don’t look at me like that. I hate when people think we’re-we’re just…a monster who wants to hurt them. You’re our mom. Our mission. And we’re going to get you out of here…whatever it takes.”

  You watch in newfound horror as the boy draws you towards his face. Your struggles turn into futile thrashes when opens his mouth wide. There’s no sharp teeth, not like Kevin’s, but the sight isn’t any more comforting when you are carefully pushed past hardened dough and onto a plush tongue. There’s no saliva here, because you realize he can’t have saliva, not like the other monsters, not like you. You can’t really believe this is happening until you watch his jaws click closed and you are sealed in darkness.

  You scream. “No! No, wait! Matthew, please! Don’t-don’t do this, I don’t-” Everything tilts; the boy is moving his head up and allowing you to slide towards the narrow tunnel of his throat. Another wail wrenches from you, and you dig your nails into his tongue, fingers sinking into the dough, but it offers no aid as the substance easily stiffens and doesn’t allow you any hold. It’s a cruel, terrible thing, to be told you are a creature’s mother, only for that very creature to devour you, trapping you in a twisted fate you’ve fought for so, so long. And there’s no fighting left within you. As a resounding glk echoes in your ears and you are sucked down the monster’s throat, you give up. You go still and let yourself be pushed down, down, down, into the darkness you cannot escape.

  When you slip into a tight, enclosed space-the stomach-the walls close in to hold you, pulsing with a sense of breath. The dough making up this little pocket is a pale citrine which gives off a faint glow. When you try to stand, the floor gives out, causing you to fall forward onto your underside. There’s a press from where you can no longer reach; Matthew’s feeling you out, and when he locates your form, he begins tenderly rubbing you. It makes you stiffen up and shy away from the touch.

  “It’s okay.” Matthew’s voice rumbles. “You’re safe. It’s only for a little while. Just until I can convince Kevin to leave you alone. Then I’ll let you out, alright? I’m just…I just want to protect you.”

  Exhaustion weighs on your weary bones. You try to push yourself up, but you only sag back down, laying against the cradling dough. Some of it begins to cover you, moving over your body like a blanket. It’s warm, and soft, and it only makes you want to pass out even more than you already do.

  “Please…” you whisper. “I’m sorry. I…I’m so, so sorry…Don’t…don’t kill me…”

  “I won’t. I promise I won’t. You’re safe. I’ve got you. We’ve got you. Just-just rest. When you wake up…all of this fear will be nothing more than a bad dream.”  It’s too much to handle. So you listen. For the first time in four days, you finally, finally, fall into a deep, deep sleep.

[tinydefector]

reading that perfume scenario i js imagine a bot spraying their human lover with a lil bit perfume before going down on them like adding salt to steak

It truly is a favourite of mine because I love the idea of perfumes and working like a pheromone enhancer, but like the number of scenarios this can lead into outside of the fic I wrote for Ratchet.

Let me know you you guys want more little pieces like these ɓecuase I like doing these kinda things when I'm not up for writing a fic so enjoy. ^^

Megatron masterlist

Optimus Masterlist

Prowl masterlist

Thundercracker masterlist

Such scenarios as

- date night with optimus where you dress up nicely with a lovely perfume/cologne and from the moment you get into his cab to go out he's struggling, and trying to be polite and a decent date but he turns into an actually feind when he gets to kiss you and every part of his stoic facade is out the window as he kisses across your skin taking in every inch and savoruing it like its the last time he's ever going to taste something this divine. It's fair to say your very sore afterwards, to Optimus you taste like Energon Z with bismuth and copper.

- sensual nights laying in bed with Megatron as he runs his servos over your waist holding you close as he admires and denies himself the luxury of so much. So to speed things up you decide to put some perfume on and it humbles Megatron very quickly. How much restraint he has despite how the perfume enhances everything. He's a slow and very dedicated lover despite what many would think. It turns into a very long night of soft kisses and soft vore. Him enjoying the taste of your skin on his glossa and when the taste fades he ask for you to put more perfume on. To Megatron it taste like Red energon with Magnesium, Lithium.

- the late night work hours where Prowl is focused on work, hours after he should have been back due to someone else mistake, he goes to snap at whoever had intupted his work when the scent hits his nasal Ridge and his helm shoots up and locks on to you. Watching like you're a meal prepared for him. That's how you end up on his desk, legs over his shoulder plating as he indulges. Prowl isn't one to indulhe like this. He isn't easily swayed by lust. but this late at night, he enjoys taking it slow and indulging in your company. To Prowl, you taste like his favourite energon blend from before the war. Just casual energon, Mercury, and crystal.

- the first time. Thundercracker's first-time smelling perfume on you was when you were testing out different ones you had been given. The sweet scent catches him off guard, and that's how he finds himself watching. I'm watching as you try new clothing and test spray perfume on your wrist. But when you make your way over to him, asking him to tell you what he thinks, it leads to him pressing your wrist to his lips, It turns into a night of taste testing. It has Thundercracker riled up, and you aroused, but it turns into a game of how long it takes either of you to finally crack. For Thundercracker, it takes like pure energon with Uranium.

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[cyberhalfling]

I had the absolute pleasure of joining the @destiel-shit-post-mini-bang and working with @castielafflicted on his fic!

All I knew at the start of this project was there would be Safe For Work Vore, and immediately I wanted in! Zeph was great to work with, and he created the cutest most adorable squeaky cas that I loved to draw! Enjoy!

Fic Title: Handful, Mouthful, Earful

Author: SystemMalfunction

Artist: me!

Summary: Cas is shrunk down very small and is very insistent about climbing into Dean's mouth.

Tags: Vore, kind of, Cas just wants inside Dean's mouth, this isn't a sex thin, Dean has no idea what's going on, Crack Treated Seriously

Link to fic!

[thegeminisage]

Rating: Mature Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con Category: Gen Relationships: Lucanis Dellamorte & Spite, Illario Dellamorte & Lucanis Dellamorte, pre Lucanis Dellamorte/Rook Characters: Lucanis Dellamorte, Spite (Dragon Age), Zara Renata, Calivan (Dragon Age), Illario Dellamorte, Caterina Dellamorte, Rook (Dragon Age) Additional Tags: The Ossuary (Dragon Age), Action Scenes, Blood and Gore, Blood Magic (Dragon Age), Kidnapping, Captivity, Imprisonment, Demisexual Lucanis Dellamorte, Starvation, Horror, Force-Feeding, Possession, Body Horror, Torture, Nightmares, Psychological Torture, Mind Games, Suicide, and a TEENSY bit of vore. don't judge me.

ossuary (ˈäSHəˌwerē) noun 1. a container or room in which the bones of dead people are placed. 2. the final resting place of skeletal remains. Thought dead by his family, Lucanis Dellamorte, the infamous Demon of Vyrantium, spends over three hundred days languishing in an impenetrable Tevene prison at the bottom of the sea. But he doesn't do it alone—and like it or not, his new demonic cellmate may be his only hope of escape. Sometimes the only way to fight your demons is to make a deal instead. Fic is complete; updates are posted on Thursdays.

Lucanis slips his gambler's knife out of his boot. A well-aimed throw to the vocal cords keeps the first mage from casting. One for silence. While the mage's friend is still in shock, Lucanis has time to make a run for her and snap her neck. Two for surprise. Lucanis ducks in time to avoid a strike from behind, and that leaves him close enough to yank his knife out of the first corpse's throat and plunge it backward between his attacker's ribs. Three for good measure. He uses this newest body as a shield, and the fire spell meant for him lights up the dead mage instead. This he throws into the next pair of Venatori, and the one on the left cracks his head open against the edge of a shipping crate. Four's exercise. 

⋆

Zara snaps her perfectly-manicured fingers, and immediately, a Venatori that was standing out of sight enters the cell, a familiar-looking tin plate in his hands. Only this one isn't empty.

What's on it cannot be called food. A lump of flesh, if anything, though flesh from what Lucanis cannot say. It's small and round, just large enough that it would be a little difficult to choke down in one swallow. Some kind of sticky-looking red veiny texture keeps it fixed to the plate. The surface of it is wet. Lucanis can't be sure from here, but it might be pulsing.

"My staff tells me you're hungry," says Zara. "Would you like something to eat?"

[jaggededges123]

jaggededges fandom trumps hate auction

hello! this year i set up an auction with fandom trumps hate (click here for their about us and here for their faq). if you would like to bid on me or one of the other 1.2k creatives offering varying types of fanworks, you can browse using a variety of tags here. some fandom tags that might be of interest to my followers are star wars, mdzs/cql, the locked tomb, and the any tag! bidding opens on the 25th and ends on the 1st at 8pm EST.

my auction is here, and here are a few of the details from it:

Organizations this auction benefits: Bidder's choice of any of the listed groups (See full list.)

Type of fanwork: Written fanwork Subtype(s): fan fiction (new) Fandom(s): Star Wars: Original Trilogy, Prequel Trilogy, The Clone Wars, Obi-Wan Kenobi; MXTX (works): Mo Dao Zu Shi / The Untamed Highest rating: E Minimum Bid: $5 Audience: 18+ only Length/scope: Less than 5k words Special interests (what is this?): Genderswap/genderbending, Poly ships, Rarepairs

Characters/pairings of interest: For Star Wars, my favorite pairings are Anakin/Obi-Wan (also Obi-Wan/Vader) and Obi-Wan/Qui-Gon. I'm willing to take a crack at a variety of other pairings (including throuples with Anakin and Obi-Wan), but I'll be a little less sure-footed with them. For MDZS/CQL, I specialize in Nie Huaisang/Nie Mingjue, but I am also very fond of Lan Xichen/Nie Huaisang, Lan Xichen/Nie Huaisang/Nie Mingjue, Lan Xichen/Lan Wangji, Jiang Cheng/Jin Ling, Wen Chao/Wen Xu, and Jiang Yanli/Yu Ziyuan. I'll happily do platonic for the Nie brothers as well.

Subjects/theme/tropes of interest: I'm particularly good at canon divergence or other primarily canonverse AUs, hurt/comfort, and pwp. I'm happy to do other things though as well! I'm a big fan of omegaverse and especially uncommon pairing types in omegaverse (like a/a, o/o, anything involving betas, or presentation changes). I really enjoy focusing on the taboo and the intersection between guilt and desire in my works, but also making things tender despite the rough edges. You can check out my works linked above to get an idea about the wide variety of kinks I enjoy writing. I'm very flexible though, so if something isn't in my list of things I won't do, I am always willing to give it a try!

Unwilling to address: Any MDZS/CQL ships not listed in my offer, underage under the age of 16, major character death, hurt no comfort, infidelity, scat, vore or cannibalism, emetophilia (vomiting during sickfic is okay), BDSM, piv sex, pregnancy, sex injuries, finger and toe trauma, genderbends that make a couple cishet, bestiality, reductions in canonical age gaps

Other notes: I'll guarantee at least 2k of fic for this offer, but I can be very verbose so the odds of the fic being longer are good. I'd be happy to take your favorite kink or trope and inflict it upon the blorbos, or you can give me a couple sentences or lyrics or whatever you'd like detailing the vibe/AU details/etc of the fic you want. Very specific plot lines would probably be too much detail for the amount of fic I'm offering, though. I'd be more than willing to share wip snips as I'm working on it if that's something you would want, or I can just keep it a surprise until it's ready to post. Small adjustments after the initial prompt (for example, if you'd prefer something to be slightly different in a snippet I sent) are more than welcome!

[kyliafanfiction]

Amy's crush on Vicky and her self-loathing over it is such an interesting thing.

Because like, if Vicky had also natively developed a crush on Amy and at some point realized Amy had feelings for her, and then Vicky actually like, went and talked to Amy about it, etc -

Amy's first instinct (under anything resembling her pre-Bonesaw mental state) would of course be a panic attack, right? She'd assume she changed Vicky's brain at some point without anyone realizing it. She might even try to 'fix' Vicky before anyone finds out (especially Vicky or Carol). Assuming she doesn't do that, I'm still not sure she actually like... jumps into this prospect headfirst.

Like, eventually, sure, if Vicky convinces Amy this was genuine and not Amy accidentally mastering her, Amy's probably still convinced she somehow tainted or ruined Vicky, and she's probably still not going to want to act on anything, though I think Vicky could probably soothe her fears and convince her (not in like, an undue pressure way, I'm not saying Vicky would do that) eventually.

But though I've read fics where Amy acts like Vicky being straight or even just 'Vicky sees me as just a sister and wouldn't return my feelings because of that' are the primary obstacles to her and Vicky flying off into the sunset together (though they're obstacles she still doesn't want to use her powers to bypass), I think the biggest obstacle is her own self-loathing, shame and disgust for her feelings.

Which of course, is honestly a bit silly. Like, crushing on your sister isn't necessarily normal, but incest is a very popular porn category. And Vicky is her adopted sister, so that's slight less abnormal - slightly. And like, as far as ill-advised desires and crushes go, crushing on your maybe a few months older sister is like, one of the least bad option. Of course, the fact that Amy has the ability to force the issue thanks to her powers is what makes this abnormal and then that ties in all her power-related issues.

I mean, there's a lot worse things Amy could desire. It's not uncommon in smutty fics for Amy to have like, really off-the-hook body horror kinks and stuff too, which - I can see, but we don't know if she's into that in canon... unless you think the Wretch was a manifestation of Amy having a Shoggoth kink or whatever (I don't, and Ward's implications she does can be safely put away, tyvm). Amy could have a vore kink, or be one of those people who have a lot of crossed wires between sex and violence (to dangerous extents) or whatever.

Of course, telling Amy that 'you could have more unnatural desires, your crush on your sister is pretty milquetoast as far as 'deviant' desires go, just check the dark corners of the internet (or, you know, any random ao3 fic)' doesn't really work. It would be nice if it would, because Amy badly needs some perspective (as I noted during my live reaction to 11h, while Marquis was unquestionably a criminal and a killer, given all the other villains active at the time in the Bay that could have been her mysterious villain parent, Marquis is probably one of the better options. I read one fic where Carol accidentally gave Amy the impression one of the Butchers was her father, for instance), but she's got such a dense and interlocking network of issues that she wouldn't be able to accept that perspective on it's own.

If something else managed to crack the outer layers of her issues, then maybe some perspective could help her at that point, but Amy is so convinced that she is uniquely monstrous and terrible (Thank you, Carol) that pointing out that 'on balance, you're almost normal, relatively speaking' wouldn't get through the armor of her self-loathing and shame.

[cassidy273]

What different Ao3 tags mean

This post is for people who are starting to read fics on Ao3, or just people who don't get some of the tags.

Fluff - Basically just nice and fuzzy feels

Lemon/Lime - I don't think I see these tags too much on newer fics, but I used to see them all the time when I still used Wattpad. Lemon means that the fic contains graphic sexual stuff, and lime means that the fic contains sexual situations without being graphic.

Watersports - This is one of the freaky tags. Do NOT make the same mistake I did when I first went on Ao3, and assume that this is for fics about actual water related sports. This tag is for fics with piss kinks.

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat - This tag is for fics with themes that may be considered problematic/not morally okay, and it's basically a warning to readers to mind the tags. I didn't know what this meant a while ago, and I read a very graphic fic about a guy murdering his boyfriend during sex...consensually.

Angst - Just angsty/sad feels.

Whump - If I'm being honest, I didn't know what the fuck this could even mean when I first went on Ao3. It's basically just hurt/comfort, but emphasis on the hurt. I'm honestly too scared to read fics with this tag just in case I cry lol.

Crack - A fic that was written as a joke/parody that is not meant to be taken seriously. Like, you wouldn't leave genuine criticism on a smutty Shrek/Christine Daaé fanfic with the tag Crack/Crackfic.

Hurt/Comfort - The title kinda speaks for itself, but it's basically a fic where a character gets sick or feels bad emotionally, and another character comforts them.

Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics - This means the fic contains stuff from the omegaverse such as alphas, omegas, and betas. I remember forgetting to read the tags a while back, and when I started reading the actual fanfic, I was so confused as to why Christine was talking about Erik's pheromones and stuff like that. I'm not gonna explain too much about the omegaverse, but y'all can google that stuff yourselves if you want. There might be some sexual stuff, though.

Vore - This is basically just a fetish where someone wants to eat someone/be eaten by them.

I might make a follow-up to this but idk.

[rainbowsillz]

˗ˏˋ I'm Etihw from Thailand, nice to meet you! This account will brainrot yandere fics and I make reader inserts. ´ˎ˗

My other writing side acc is @mewpangxin . . ! Anyway, my pronouns are she/her if you're wondering about it.

About me. | Tag system. | mutuals + anons (tba).

WALKING THROUGH THE FIELDS OF ROSES, you stumbled upon an unfamiliar venue, you ought to be careful, gorgeous.

The Red Queen doesn't take kindly for a guest showing up uninvited after all, I hope you brought a letter to his party, yes?

⤷ Shh, listen closely.. the monarch.. he is observing you.

♝•°•═════ஓ๑【 ♛ 】๑ஓ═════•°•♝

-> Masterlist for Twisted Wonderland. <-

✦ — The Doll Maker || TWST HC. — ✦

Yan! Overblot Riddle X GN! Reader.

Yan! Overblot Malleus X GN! Reader.

“That guy is my pookie, so stop touching him—!” - Pairings: Multiple Characters X GN! Reader.

Rollo Flamme. | Character interaction | Genre: Fluff?

Floyd Leech. | Character interaction | Genre: Fluff?

TWST SQUAD BEING A FATHER + WITH A BABY.

✦ — THEM WITH AN AFFECTIONATE S/O.✦ —

“ Dating? As if they would let this continue on.. ”

Their voicelines about you.

Mysterious disappearance 🦢✨

Azul Ashengrotto. | Interaction | Genre: Dark?

How they react with someone mocking you.

How they react with a marriage proposal.

The dorm leaders x GN! Reader that plays with their hair • (Multiple Characters).

♝•°•═════ஓ๑【 ♛ 】๑ஓ═════•°•♝

X. Masterlist for Kimetsu No Yaiba. X

𖤐 A MODERN READER THAT CAN'T TALK IN JAPANESE 𖤐 (FT. Yandere Douma X GN! Reader).

♝•°•═════ஓ๑【 ♛ 】๑ஓ═════•°•♝

BYI AND FOLLOW ME; ˖✶

I don't write explicit smut or nsfw. Not that that I don't wish to, it's due to my lack of inability.

Asking to be moots are alright through DMs. Or in my inboxes, don't worry about it.

I do not support any fandom drama, this will be sfw and where you can be cozy and warm :)

I love ocs and yume inserts, so you can share.

♝•°•═════ஓ๑【 ♛ 】๑ஓ═════•°•♝

★⋆RULES ★⋆

I will not accept anything about gore, incest, pedophilia, vore, age play, and etc.

I don't romanticize yandere irl, it's for fictions so if anyone do it, please contact a therapist because that's not normal and it's not alright.

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat is a big nope because I'm admittedly not that dark T-T of a person.

I don't do requests currently 🩷 Okay I lied, I can haha but only for characters that I'm familiar with- most dorm leaders are fine for me.

Please don't send anon hate or mean things.

Genres which I do? Yandere, fluff, mature, a bit spice? Oh, maybe crack.. and that's about it.

Readers are gender neutral, however if it's for male and female readers, I'll tag on for such.

I will reblog dark contents, so be careful.

 Character x Character and Character x OC? I have no problems to chat about them except if it's incest (Naur —that's a no.) but I doubt my characterization on them will be decent.

There are characters that I don't write for, NRC staff + teachers, Ortho and RSA students.

Sebek, Jack and Silver probably not yet too.

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦

© I don't agree if anyone is going to repost, translate or modify my fics without permission.

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦

[daisy-01-blog]

Open Nsfw fic comission!

Comission Open!!

Hey guys! I won’t sugarcoat this. I need money, and I figure this would help me. 

You can commission me for NSFW fanfic! Animes and other fandoms. I knew lots of animes but the ones that I follow right now are: HxH, JJK, Haikyuu, Disastrous life of Saiki K, Mob psycho 100, etc. 

Here’s what I’ve written here:

Here is the price list and estimated days on making it: 

500 words: 5$ (2-3 days) 

600 words: 6$ (3-4 days) 

700 words: 7$ (4-5 days) 

800 words: 8$ (4-5 days) 

900 words: 9$ (6-7 days) 

1K words: 10$ (6-7 days) 

What I won’t do: Scat, gore and blood, vore, poop, incest, minor. 

You can pay me through Paypal. You can pay me AFTER I told you the fanfic is done. And I will give you your fanfic AFTER you paid me-I will ask for your e-mail to make your invoice. You can tell me if you want the commission to be sent in a PDF or google docs link. It’s up to you. 

DM me this format: 

Hi! I would like to commission you. Here’s my request:

Fandom: 

Characters: (whether it’s character x reader, character x character, or character x oc. If you want an x oc send me info about your oc) 

Plot: (the more detailed the better) 

I have the rights to refuse any request if I feel like it. And I also ask you to not post it anywhere since it’s copyrighted by me. Thanks for reading!

[sailorsenshishitposter]

Jogo x Reader

Jogo:

Your favorite Disney character is Mike Wazoski, you were voted most likely to need anger management or you're secretly Squidward Tentacles

First Date:

You decided to take a break from your stroll and sit down on a park bench. You were in your eighties and nearly blind at this point but you thought that you were doing pretty well for someone that wasn't locked up in an old folks home. You then heard the sound of laughter. Ah, children. Gone were the days of your youth  "It's nice to see kids playing outside instead of being on their gizmos."

Your hearing aids then picked up something. "Hey granny, you can see me?" It was the boy you heard laughing earlier. "My eye sight isn't what it used to be but yes, I can make out various shapes. "Hmm... You've got a strong soul grandma, I can see it!" You were flattered. "Why thank you young man. Would you like some candy?" The boy pouted. "I don't think I'm supposed to take candy from strangers. Tell you what, I'll give you my name so then we'll know each other. I'm Mahito. Nice to meet you!"

You tried to give Mahito some candy but he politely refused. "I think you need it more than I do. Don't old people have lower nutrients?" He seemed to be asking himself rather than you. "Ah! Here granny! Take some of my home made candy!" He then dropped some small drops into your palms. The texture was strange and it almost felt like skin but you didn't want to be rude so you accepted the gift and placed them in your purse."

Guess she can't hear their cries due to her hearing. Too bad..." Mahito uttered to himself. "What was that son?" He stopped blowing bubbles and then came up with a plan on the spot. "I was just wondering if you wanted to meet my family! I think they would really enjoy your company. What do you say?" You smiled and gave a nod. "All right Mahito, let's go find them." The curse walked ahead of you and began to maniacally grin. "Jogo, Jogo... You shouldn't have screwed me over while we were playing monopoly... I'm going to make you regret being born!"

Mahito brought you to the play ground and walked over to the slide area. Kenjaku raised an eyebrow but made no attempt to stop him. "This is my family grandma!" You walked over to the man Mahito was closest to. "You have such a wonderful son. You must be so proud. He even gave me candy!" Mahito was trying not to burst from laughter while Kenjaku began to respond. "Unfortunately he's not my son. I'm more of a care taker. He has no patents sadly." You gasped. "How unfortunate."

"Yes, well luckily I'm a father myself so I thought it would be best to add him to the family." How sweet. "That's so kind of you. If you don't mind me asking, where are your other children?" The man's eyes narrowed at Mahito, giving him a look that said 'be grateful I haven't eaten you yet'. "My son's are currently enrolled in high school. They used to be home schooled but we thought it would be better if they were closer with their youngest half brother. Yuji is a growing boy after all and I'm sure that his nine brothers will help his potential grow."

Wow. Nine kids? You started to wonder how all of them could attend school but decided it was better not to ask. They might be more children from a previous relationship or at the very worst, some of them might be have been held back a grade or two. "Mahito, why don't you introduce them to the rest of the family?" The curse gulped and quickly got the point.

As you walked away, the thousand year old brain was happy to finally be rid of you and your irritating questions about his previous failures (children). Mahito then introduced you to his next "family member". "This is Hanami. He doesn't speak our language unfortunately but I can translate for you." The curse then started to speak it's strange language. "He says that he'll be sure to bring lots of beautiful flowers to your grave once you pass."

You chuckled nervously. You didn't think you were in that bad of a state yet. Next Mahito introduced you to Dagon. He told you that he was their beloved dog and that was why he was so large. You could hardly see as it was so of course you bought it. "And finally..." Mahito then walked up to the sleeping curse and began dumping mentos into its volcano head. Suddenly there was magma and the curse was stringing profanities at the boy. "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, MAHITO!?"

"Oh my. Did it suddenly got hotter? The forecast called for cooler weather today. I suppose I'll need to take my sweater off." Jogo's eye then opened wide. "Granny, this is my old man. Grandpa, say hello!" Jogo then tried to use his domain expansion but Mahito quickly cut off his head. "If you know what's good for you then behave or I'll use your head to play soccer again..." The curse relented. He didn't need to be told twice.

Jogo grit his teeth and glared at you. "H-hello..." Mahito then kept pestering him. "And what...?" Jogo sighed. "Ni-ice to m-meet y-you..." The younger curse began to laugh. "See? That wasn't so hard! Now I'm off to go get some groceries old man so you better behave! See you both later!"

Now it was just the two of you. "Huh? What's that awful racket?" You couldn't hear as well as Jogo did. "I believe it's coming from your purse... May I check it?..." You promptly handed over your bag. The curse opened it and found the source of his complaints. "That damn punk!" He took the "candy" out of your bag and quickly incinerated it. "You can have this back now."

"Your grandson is so sweet!" Jogo scoffed. "Don't trust anything that comes out of his mouth!"

"Well, he can't be that bad if he's yours."

"You don't even know me..." You laced your fingers with his palm. "Then let me get to know you..."

Over the few hours the two of you began to bond. You both loved nature, preferred to relax. You even both hated those kids that always skate on the sidewalk. "You're the first hum- I mean, person I can relate to. Maybe the human race isn't so bad..."

Suddenly two boys came running towards you. "MAHITO!""Here granny. Try some of the jerky I brought!" You went to reach for a piece but the other boy was quicker and scarfed them all down. "Mahito... How many fingers did you let him eat..." The curse whistled. "Dunno, I lost count after five. Well, I'm done. Later Jogo!" You stared at the unconious boy. "We need to call an ambulance!""... Listen carefully... You need to step back..."

You didn't understand what he was talking about and then something happened. "Hey, I think he's starting to wake!" Jogo tried his best not to shit himself (can curses shit?). "We're doomed..."

"I see you think pretty highly of yourselves..." Jogo immediately began to bow. "Hey! You better follow my lead or you're as good as dead!" You however refused to comply. You stood in front of the boy and waved your finger in his face. "Why I never! Back in my day, children respected the older generations! Youth these days are so arrogant! You need to be taught some manners my boy!"

Kenjaku stood on the sidelines with a bucket of popcorn in his hand. Internally Jogo was screaming "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!!!" "Wench, it is you who do not know your place. If anything, I'm far older than you. If I were in my true form, I would not even eat you, your body being nothing but a rotting sack of bones at this point. For you I have something else in store. I haven't used this since the Heian era. Domain expansion, elder abuse!"

Suddenly your right ankle had been slashed causing you to fall over. "My leg! Help, I've fallen and I can't get up!" The king of Curses chuckled. "What's this Karen? Didn't you say that you were going to put me in my place?" You desperately tried to use your cane and swat him with it. "That's it! C'mon, try harder!" You then moved to bash his kneecaps. Sukuna swiftly doged it. "Keep trying!"

It was ten minutes later and you were still writhing on the floor in agony. "Pathetic..." You reached your hand over to Jogo. "I'm glad to have met you. You remind me of the boy my granddaughter fell in love with. They would often play chess..." With your last ounce of strength, you opened up your locket and showed him a picture of the couple. It looked like a blind girl and a ninja turtle? It must be that ant curse that Geto was talking about.

The next thing Jogo knew and your head had been crushed underneath Sukuna's foot. "Know your place... Fool!" Jogo's heart had been crushed just like your brain. The curse began to fall over and go into cardiac arrest. "I thought you would stand proud and face me? I guess you aren't that strong after all." Sukuna was about to finish off the curse until his old brain buddy showed up. "Hey, Sukuna. Mind if I take this one?" After receiving the go ahead, Kenjaku began to vore down the weakened curse.

Sukuna smirked. "Kenjaku always does the grossest things!" Kenny then walked right on up towards Mahito. "You see that? That's what will happen to you if you pull another stunt like this again!" Mahito had won but at what cost? 

[eternal-kosmo-ghoul]

❧ vore novels — sleep token

key: fluff ✿ , angst ❦ , crack ✦ , platonic ✩ , slight nsfw ❤︎ , au ✪ , smut ❣︎ , yandere ➷ , dark fiction ✝︎

❝take a turn to a more quiet and discreet section in our library… the vore section. these mysterious beings sometimes linger within our church walls. they posses an energy that we enjoy… it helps bring us sleep.❞ —kosmo

—

• WARNING: any of the keys that are in red that they will get an extra warning due to the intensity of the themes. please exert caution when reading fics with these keys

DISCLAIMER: all papas are written as FICTIONAL characters. how they’re written in my fics is not intended to be a reflection of the performer/actual person. everything written is purely fiction and is meant for entertainment purposes.

┅✦┅

➵ vessel

➵ “no purity” —afab reader, vessel, [nsfw] ❣︎

➵ ii

sorry! we are currently out of stock!

➵ iii

sorry! we are currently out of stock!

➵ iv

sorry! we are currently out of stock!

➵ vesselettes

sorry! we are currently out of stock!

➵ all members

➵ “even i’m not into that shit”, gn reader, all, ✦

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[darlingsugu]

"THE EYES OF OTHERS OUR PRISONS; THEIR THOUGHTS OUR CAGES."

name; sade age; 24 location; somewhere in the ether

|| GENERAL FAQS ||

My name is Sade, and I've been writing for over ten years for various different fandoms here on Tumblr. My most recent blog venture (this one) is dedicated to Jujutsu Kaisen, and in the future, other anime. Right now, I'm just writing for JJK. I write for both SFW and NSFW content, so if you're a minor reading this - please, do not interact. I don't care what you do in your private time, but I don't want to know about it, thankies.

CONTENT I WON'T WRITE

Any content relating to deliberate self-harm/suicide.

Vore

Scat/Piss Kink (go to AO3 for that)

Crack fic

Anything that you would have to tag as 'Dead Dove Do Not Eat'.

ADDITIONAL FAQS

I am slow to write and slow to update any fics. I will keep requests open, but I do not have a definite timeline as to when they might be completed (if I get any lmao). Secondly, I do have a full-time job that limits my time for writing. Much as I want to spend my entire day writing, I cannot anymore *sigh*.

Lastly, I swear I'm actually super chill. I have a small rule list and as long as you follow that and don't spam the inbox, I'm going to be chill. Don't be afraid to interact, whether it's to be thirsty, to drop a prompt, or just to talk! I love interacting with people on here and I really want to get back into fandom spaces like I was when I was younger.

[spiralinghours]

“Office Hours”

Fandom: Saw franchise

Pairing/Characters: Mark Hoffman x Peter Strahm

Rating: 18+ (R? M? I’m not the MPAA, you know the drill: if you’re a minor, scram, this ain’t for you)

Content Warnings/Tags: feeding kink/weight gain kink/fat fetishism, (mild?) pet play/pig play (Peter calls Mark animal names again), teasing/humiliation/degradation, blink-and-you-miss-it vore-ish reference (but it’s mild and kind of joking……..)

Summary: Peter and Mark are pretty much the only ones left in the precinct late at night… with boxes of donuts.

Author’s notes: Welcome back! I still don’t know how to write these fic intros, sorry!

This is continuation/installment 3 of “Filth”. Let me know where you’d like to see this turn and I might consider it? I’m literally only writing these one scenario at a time as they pop into my head.

But like seriously, comment on this or drop me a line. I wanna hear y’all’s ideas.

Days came and went, again, a blur. It was uncertain if it was a Tuesday or a Thursday, or maybe neither. But the day that Erickson announced that he wanted his agents to crack down and wrap it up was the day that felt ongoing.

On his end, Hoffman didn’t have as much to do. He was sure to get his part out of the way and remain on standby. The downside to that was having to stay as late as the last federal agent that hung around. It was like waiting for the final remaining patron at a bar to leave so the staff could lock up for the night. (Oops, he was that asshole before.)

Milling around the precinct, he shuffled down each hall, trying to look busy, on the way to something, as he checked to see who was where. A few uniformed officers nodded and gave brief acknowledgments before trickling out the back exit.

“Detective,” a voice darted, sounding like it wanted to laugh at something stupid. Of course: Strahm, with his rigid posture and tightly-lined features that made Mark’s insides go cold and fluttering at the same time. “Working late?”

“If everyone here is working late, I’m working late,” Mark shrugged as nonchalantly as he could.

“Right, right, ‘cause you’re the Big Boss.” Peter turned his head a little and grinned to himself, creeping and vicious.

“Mmhmm, yeah.” Mark tilted his head, staring down his nose at the nuisance. “So, I’ll be around if you need anything.”

Peter narrowed his eyes under dark lashes and serious brows, cutting a nasty line from Mark’s face, to his stomach, and then back. Really subtle. “I’ll be sure not to need anything.” He pushed past Mark, side-stepping his broad frame despite fully making contact.

It was a lot like the day they first met on the scene of Kerry’s murder. Peter was just as bitchy then, making faces, and shoving up against Mark as he left, despite having plenty of clearance in the space. Was that something too?

—

A few espressos and two 5-Hour energy drinks in (which equated to how many hours awake, he did not know), Strahm was wishing he had done a few lines coming in, mostly joking with himself about finding a bag in evidence somewhere. (But only mostly joking.)

He had to accept that he did have to question Hoffman on a few things, just to get the last details on some paperwork out of the way. But he had been putting it off, trying to tackle everything but. Mark’s content smugness mixed with absolute incompetence put a scowling, bitter taste in Peter’s mouth. He didn’t think a man like that deserved to be so high in the ranks, let alone get the satisfaction of “helping” someone with such seasoned experience in federal affairs. The fist-clenching, vein-popping cherry on top was that this was the same man who turned out to be the very serial-murdering accomplice Strahm was tasked to seek out. And he was so idiotic about it! Strahm was sure if the department hadn’t already been annihilated, one of them would have found out the truth. Surely. He had to have that faint hope.

Despite all that, Peter could at least revel in putting Hoffman in his place. Even if Hoffman’s given place was on some undeserved, decorated pedestal, Peter could easily knock it down, tapping into the squirming, friction-inducing shame Mark was a glutton for. Among more tactile, decadent things.

“Whatever,” Peter huffed, shooting his espresso down like it was cheap whiskey. He wished it was.

Before exiting his dead workspace, he considered the stack of donut boxes left on a random table, from hours earlier when more officers and agents were bustling around, ant-like. He strode over, shaking the first two boxes on the top before looking inside. One was straight empty, and the one below that had a chewed up fourth of a glazed remaining. He could have sworn on his childhood baseball cards that there were more untouched boxes. It was possible some officers took some home. But like a blessing, a wish granted, the power of manifestation—something—Peter inspected the remaining bottom two boxes to find them completely stocked.

“A nice little treat for Big Boss,” he hummed to himself, walking out with the one box poised on his palm like a serving tray. It was within the same minute that he turned back for the other one.

—

There was an awkward, light knock, but no answer. “Lieutenant Detective Mark Hoffman” in vinyl lettering stared back into Peter’s face obnoxiously from the shut door. He clanked his knuckles as hard as he could on the glass again, trying not to lose balance of the sliding boxes on his other hand.

“Hey! Detective! If you’re still on the clock like you’re supposed to be, you’d answer!”

There was a clearing of his throat, and some other obstructive sounds before Hoffman could reply. “Gimme like twenty minutes. Bit tied up.”

Bullshit. Was he… chewing?

The request fell on deaf ears, Strahm already turning the handle, finding it luckily unlocked. “Stupid,” he huffed.

The clanking of the metal handle mixed with muffled grunts—warnings of “Wait! Wait!”—created a chaotic sort of din that led into a surprising and tantalizing scene.

Strahm stiffened (in multiple ways) upon seeing Hoffman leaned back fully in his luxuriously-cushioned black leather chair, hand casually set on the crease where his chest (top buttons undone, practically heaving) and stomach met. That part of his shirt was peppered with crumbs. His tie draped loose, unraveled at either side of his shoulders, and sweat-dampened brown-black hairs fell over his eyes messily, the result of some labored activity. But where Peter’s eyes hovered the most was right at the rounded center of it all: Hoffman’s gut, peeking through the gaps created by the pull of the buttons, and rolling forward where his pants were undone. Actually, not undone. Upon further glance, it was a rubber band looped through the eyehole and tied to the button, pretty much indicating that Mark couldn’t close the flaps of his pants to begin with, and had to hold it together as such. Even then, the rubber band looked like it would easily snap with too heavy a breath.

It was a whole overindulgent sight to take in so quick, so suddenly. Peter felt lightheaded despite a pleased expression.

“I told you—“ Mark tried to bark in his husky voice, mustering as much anger as possible, but stopped short. He could sense Peter smirking at the way he was attempting to speak through his full mouth.

Strahm’s eyes darted to the opposite corner of Mark’s desk where one of the same donut boxes from the communal space resided.

“Ah, that makes sense,” Peter chimed, overly chipper. “Just like a pig.” He dropped the boxes carelessly onto the desk, watching them slide and nearly fall off. “Those were for everybody, you know. But you just couldn’t help it…” He stalked behind the desk, behind Mark’s chair, and clutched his fingers into the cushion, craning his head down, lips by Mark’s ear. “You thought they looked so good, but they would look even better in that gut. Tsk.”

Hoffman, all the while, felt his face heating up, past the point of even sweating—just burning up, drying up with embarrassment, wanting to crumble into a pile of dust. But all the same, he felt that pulse, that throb return—the instinctual itch that only gripped him when Peter spoke that way. He muzzled himself, keeping a sprinkled, chocolate piece between his teeth, masking any words or expressions that might seep out.

“Can you even sit up? Like correctly?” Peter tilted the chair back before letting it spring around into place.

Mark just sheepishly shook his head, eyes looking glossy, like he could weep from being cornered, berated.

“Feeling stuck? Trapped? Kinda like what you were gonna do to me, huh? Well… maybe not exactly… You did this to yourself, you big hog.”

Mark winced at that. Whenever he’d seen pornos or read anything where people in risqué situations called each other names, it always seemed cheesy, or demeaning for the sake of it. But Strahm had a way of dropping his tone and curling his inflection that told Mark “We’re both pretty fucked for this, but fucked up is fun. No one has to know.” It was suffocating.

“Go on, let me see you get out,” Strahm instructed, backing up with his arms crossed, intentional pressure in his gaze.

Rolling up on its own was the first challenge, as the curve of his belly had extended up to his ribs, with little give to even bend forward in the slightest. The rich coffee drinks and milk that was mingling with all the dough in his stomach was unforgiving. Secondly, his love handles were just broad enough to be squeezed into place by the arm rests. (The latter had been an ongoing problem that had only reached an irritating point recently.)

“Need help, big guy? I mean, watching you struggle is nice, but I don’t have all night.” Strahm couldn’t help biting his lip.

“Fuck you,” Mark managed, panting it out.

“Don’t talk back like that, I’m being nice. Let me get you up.”

Peter leaned down in front of Mark, hooking his arms under his armpits, and used his whole body to hoist him to standing. The embarrassment of the ordeal left Mark incredibly hard, unable to hide it in the slightest, especially with his pants mostly unbuttoned.

“You’re welcome,” Peter tutted. He brought his fingers to Mark’s cheeks and squeezed. “What do you say?”

“Thank you,” he complied, lips squished together in the hold.

“Good boy. Now, get down. Hands and knees.” It was like he was a dog trainer prompting a mutt. Peter took one of the full boxes and let it plop to the ground by his feet.

“What’re you doing?” Hoffman knew it was stupid to ask, knowing well what was expected. But playing dumb earned him sass. And he liked that.

“It’s your dessert. I mean, you kept that whole other box for yourself, might as well finish the rest.”

Mark was on autopilot, finding himself grumbling at Strahm while carefully sinking to his knees and propping up his backside.

“God, you’re like a dog, aren’t you?” Peter sneered. “Good job behaving so well.”

“Thought I was a pig.”

“You’re whatever I say you are, you pathetic pug. Now, come on, eat up, I brought this for you.” Peter nudged the box under Mark’s face with the tip of his shoe.

“Shut up, or maybe I’ll eat you.”

“Kinky. I’d like to see it, big boy.” Peter positioned himself onto Mark’s lower back like he had the other night, except a little less gentle this time. “You know, I prefer the mask on, but at least this way I get to see your dumb mug while you’re shoving food into it.”

Mark just grunted and grit his teeth, parading as mostly annoyed as best he could. He had to admit that lobbing the donuts into his mouth by his lips and tongue was strangely easy, but his ongoing hunger was probably what kept him at it.

“I could keep you as a fat, pampered house pet. You like that?”

Hoffman paused. “What’s with all the animal stuff? Is that some kinda thing for you? I thought it was only the pig stuff because I’m big. Fuck, you’re a weirdo.”

“What about it? I wouldn’t be talking if I were you. You’re the one with your face to the floor making a disgrace of yourself just because I wanted you to.” He lightly kicked his heel to the side of Mark’s belly. “Go on, give me an oink, pet. A real messy one.”

Mark let out a snort, unable to articulate the word “oink” with two donuts crammed in. He figured it was what Peter would prefer anyway.

“I bet this whole precinct jokes about what a stereotypical fatass cop you are. I’d like to see you wobble around here just to see what people say about it, behind your back, when they think you can’t hear them… On the flip side, just think what I could do with you in private, at home. You’d make a good house-pig.”

Mark cut a cold, blue glare, letting the begrudging, bratty acceptance warm him. What if he did want to be Peter’s little house pet? All kept and plump and wanted… Maybe. It was a bit farfetched to realistically maintain. With his position on the force, being on and accessible almost all hours of the day? No way. But… Maybe? Possibly? His brain was still caught in a riled up haze, too in a frenzy to think correctly. But the little notion would live in the rafters of his brain, far off and private, taken out for those moments alone on the couch or during a long morning shower.

“I can’t eat anymore,” was what he wanted to say, but there was no need. Without realizing it, Mark had finished off what was below him… now having to put up with the resulting low-hanging gut obstructing his movements.

“There’s still another box,” Peter snipped, crisp and curt. “But… I’ll be generous. Today.”

The last word rang out, standing to set checkpoints for more days, more badbadwrongnasty encounters. How many more times would there be?

“Need me to roll you over or have you got it?” Peter mulled on, flatly as if he was asking a tax question to an accountant.

“I got it, you cunt.” Though Hoffman just barely had it, moving slowly with discomfort, not being able to hide a wince here and there.

For the slightest moment, Peter looked genuine, a real and helpful softening in his eyes. “Take a Tums. And a melatonin. I’m done for the night so I guess you are too.” He patted Hoffman’s lower belly as a basic gesture to leave (even though it elicited a different mild jolt in Mark), and did just that, being nice enough to take the trashed boxes with him.

Once more, he didn’t look back.

Mark glanced down at the way the precise pinstripes on his shirt bowed out over his rotund form, and then took in how empty his office suddenly felt.

“Guess I’ll go deal with this at home,” he regarded his erection with snark.

[tujhse-raabta]

is this fic crack

i don't think so considering how many people have died but. percy and kronos are discussing vore. i feel like this is a little cracky.