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nompunhere · 1 year ago

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Knightly Security (H/ollow K/night Vore Fic) (Illustrated)

Voretober promp- y’know what, maybe I shouldn’t even bother trying to link it back to that But it’s finally hereeeeeee! Collab with @scketchorinopop , he made art for this!!

Characters: H/egemol (going off of the maggot!H/egemol headcanon), O/grim (aka the D/ung D/efender or, more accurately to this fic, W/hite D/efender) Word Count: 6,310 Warnings: Anxiety, H/ollow K/night Spoilers, Bugs, Implied/Referenced Bug Racism(?), and Safe Soft Vore (I’d call this quarter-sized, probably). And in the same vein as the bug racism, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism(? sort of?? You’ll know what I mean if you’ve read the H/unter’s J/ournal entry on maggots) Other Notes: Yeah this was originally gonna be for Voretober 2022, either for the Bubble prompt or the Blanket one. College kinda threw that plan out the window. But hey! My cool good friend Scketch wanted to collab, so you get ✨art✨!! and also me starting to love the maggot!H/ege headcanon. it’s got Potential. now blease take this fic I can’t stand to look at it for another minute

Fic under the cut

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Hegemol was usually happy in his workshop. It was his safe space, a room filled with the tools and materials to bring his ideas to reality, a place where the maggot was free to express his ingenuity in a constructive way. The King had truly been generous in granting him this boon along with his knighthood.

At the moment, however, he couldn't find the focus to work on his creations. He was too distracted by the anxiety creeping under his skin. A room couldn't protect him from the fears that plagued his mind.

His armor was missing. No one was sure of the who, how, or why of the matter, but they at least knew when it was taken and where from. He found himself running through the details once more.

The Great Knights were reasonably certain that the set had been stolen while Hegemol was asleep in the City barracks, resting after a day of being stationed in the capital for an assignment. He had gone to bed in the room set aside for the knights or other important visitors. The Five didn't exactly like the separation, feeling like they were being treated as above all the other sentries and guards in more than just rank, but Hegemol did require the privacy that the room afforded. He did not need it getting out to the public that he was a maggot. Many theorized about what he could be, but of those guesses, few ever put forth the idea that the armored knight could possibly be "such a lowly creature," and those that did were scoffed at, regarded as delusional.

Back to the point, he had gone to bed, and though he could sleep in his armor, it was not the most comfortable, so he generally didn't if he had the choice. He'd gotten out of the suit, packed it into its space-saving form, and made sure it was within line of sight as he tucked himself under the blankets. He should've heard if someone tried to move it, or even enter the room, and yet, he didn't. Somehow, someone or something got past the locked door (or windows), took the heavy block of metal that was Hegemol's armor, and left with it, all without making a sound as he slept. It should've been too dense for a single bug to lift without immense effort. Maybe there was more than one perpetrator involved? Or perhaps magic was used? It had to have been stolen. There was no way it just- disappeared.

All these thoughts led to the tinkerer being highly distracted as he worked. He was abruptly dragged back to the present when the bracket he was welding loudly cracked. Quickly, he cut off the flame and set his blowtorch aside, peering closer at the damaged metal. He'd overdone it, the maggot realized with a groan, planting his masked face on the tabletop. That was what he got for letting his mind wander while using dangerous tools, he supposed.

He left his head on the table for a few long moments, until a quiet knock at the door made him flinch. He looked up, hesitating. The retainers knew not to come in without his express permission. If anyone was going to enter his workshop, it'd be someone who already knew his secret.

"What is it?" he called, just loud enough to be heard.

"It's me," came the response, gentle and friendly, a toned-down version of that familiar jovial tone. Hegemol made a sound of acknowledgement, and the door slowly clicked open, revealing the face of his close friend and fellow knight, Ogrim. Currently the only active knight within the walls of the White Palace, as the other three were in the City, guarding the streets and searching for the all-important tool that would allow their fifth to perform his job.

"Hello," the Defender greeted, leaning into the room, "Just checking in. My patrol brought me to this area of the halls, and I figured I should see how you're faring? Wouldn't do to let you feel abandoned when- well, I'm sure you're well aware." He gave an uncertain chuckle, tapping a claw against the doorframe and glancing into the hall. When he looked back at Hegemol, his gaze was colored with curiosity. His eyes lingered on the maggot's small form perched at the workstation, clad in only his welding gear.

The armorless knight cleared his throat and stared at the tools in front of him, prompting Ogrim to do the same. "Heh, yes, I'm- I-I'm alright. Thank you," Hegemol tried. He winced at the stutter. It was so much easier to hide it when making use of the artificial confidence the suit provided. His friend merely nodded, though he looked unconvinced. The tinkerer sighed and pulled off his welding mask to give the other a weary smile, getting one in return.

He set the mask down as Ogrim stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind him with a quiet 'click.' The beetle came closer, gesturing to the bracket and other bits of metal spread over the workspace. "So, what were you working on, if I may be so bold?"

"Oh, just- some.. locking mechanisms. F-for the armor." He leaned forward to pick up the bracket once more, glaring at it with a huff and turning it over in his hands. To his side, Ogrim tilted his head, giving an inquisitive hum to prompt him to continue. Hegemol glanced at him, then back to the table. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. It was okay for him to go on about his work. His friend was offering him the opportunity.

"T-the suit itself should be too heavy for a bug to lift, especially when condensed as it was, but if it were unfolded, it could be moved piece by piece, or even w-worn out of the room. Only the King and I know how to unfold it—though I could teach you if you'd like—but it's theoretically n-not impossible for another bug to have f-figured out the mechanisms." He gestured to the bracket and the other metal pieces before them, the other knight following his movements with interest. "I was thinking of adding these extra locking parts, to make the set more difficult to unpack if you don't know the exact process. They would also offer more surface area for further spellwork to be inscribed, particularly if I can add pale ore to increase the efficacy of the magic. I plan to work with the King to design some that would reject anyone who isn't the proper owner or a trusted ally, w-when he has time," the maggot finished, quieting to a mumble at the end.

Meanwhile, though Ogrim was genuinely interested in what his friend had to say, he still found himself focusing on the smaller bug's state more than the words themselves. Hegemol was a lot harder to hear than normal, despite the lack of metal shell to cover his mouth—or perhaps because of it. The Defender didn't know the specifics of how the helmet worked, but he distantly recalled hearing about how it amplified sound in both directions, making it easier for the wearer to hear and to be heard. It gave Hegemol's voice a resonance that was strange to hear him without after so long.

Aside from that, the technically-smallest knight was always rather soft-spoken, but rarely to this extent. Ogrim nearly had to strain to pick out his words. His voice picked up a little as he talked about his passion, but otherwise faded to something anxious and uncertain. In fact, as the beetle watched, his body language screamed of anxiety: the constant fidgeting, the unfocused gaze, the shifting of weight on the stool. Hegemol was actually quite expressive when not covered in layers of thick metal—Ogrim just wished he could see those expressions in better circumstances.

The tinkerer looked up at his compatriot, waiting with bated breath for any sort of response to his ideas. The larger knight stared back, blinked, and after a moment, offered another bright smile. "That all sounds very impressive!"

Hegemol waited another second or two, then let out a short sigh, half disappointed and half relieved at the generic reply. "Thanks," he intoned.

Ogrim, seeing the half-hearted acceptance of his own lackluster response, tapped a claw to his chin in thought. "I do believe the idea has potential," he elaborated, moving his forelimb to rest gently on the other's shoulder, "I just can't say how much, precisely, as it's not my area of expertise. I have hope it will prove effective, though. You’re very good with this type of thing." Hegemol slowly nodded. It was then that the beetle noticed just how tense his friend was, even as he felt quite squishy under his own hard, chitinous claw. He turned it so that the sharper bits were angled firmly away from delicate skin and used the flat side to slowly rub the maggot's shoulder, keeping the pressure light while still trying to offer some sense of comfort.

His friend bore it for a few moments before shuddering and nudging the claw, signaling him to stop. The Defender quickly removed the offending limb and tilted his head in concern. "Are you sure you're alright, friend? It's not like you to shy away from contact."

"Yes, it's just," the tinkerer hunched in on himself, "when outside of my armor, every t-touch feels overwhelming, you know? I'm not used to feeling so.. exposed."

"Oh! Of course, of course, my apologies, I should've realized-"

"I-it's fine, you meant well, I know." He huffed and gestured loosely with an arm. "It's as if.. everything's so sharp, a-and cold, and defined out here. Like anything could p-pierce through me at any moment. Not that it hasn't happened before," Hegemol muttered, pulling off his welding gloves to stare at his callused hands, and the old, jagged lines that criss-crossed up his arms. The results of years of learning his craft the hard way. Ogrim hummed sympathetically at the sight. The Five all had their scars—his just came from a different source than the others'.

"I k-know I can handle myself without the armor," the maggot continued, squeezing his hands shut, "but after so long being r-reliant on it, when it's not there for me to retreat into, everything suddenly feels like so much. It's not that I've forgotten how to feel—I still c-can, through the metal, thanks to His Majesty's enchantments—but it's usually dulled. Like- like going from a shell with all setae shaved off to one freshly molted, or so I imagine. A-and usually, when I do come out, it's only for short spans, or for rest. It's just- it's all-" He fumbled for a moment before slumping with a sigh.

"No, I understand. You've explained it quite well, I think," Ogrim chuckled softly, suppressing the urge to reach for his friend again. Hegemol offered a brief tired smile in return, then went back to fidgeting with his tools, picking off lingering flecks of dirt. The beetle tilted his head at how worn-out the other seemed, noting the droop of his antennae and darkness beneath his eyes. It made sense; the tinkerer was highly distressed at the loss of his armor, and it had been missing for over a day, not to mention that he had been in his workshop almost the entire time since. The Defender found it hard to believe that he would've gotten any sleep last night. "Is there anything I can do to help, my friend?"

"Hm? Oh, uhm," Hegemol tapped at the table, contemplating, "N-nothing that I can think of, at the moment. I'll.. let you know? Though I w-wouldn't want to keep you from your duties." He paused. "Speaking of which, shouldn't you be getting back to those, soon? Not that I don't appreciate your company, b-but…"

"Ah! My patrol, yes. I should, shouldn't I?" The dung beetle rubbed his horn sheepishly. "It just feels wrong to leave you unsupported when you're struggling like this. I don't suppose the King would mind a few minutes' break too badly, would he?"

No, he'd likely be far too absorbed in his own work to notice. The maggot scrunched his face a little, then snorted at a joke he kept to himself. He wasn't certain the most loyal of the Five would take as much humor in it. "You're probably fine," he mumbled, absently scrubbing at his eyes. "And I'm not completely unsup- supported. The others are doing their best out there to help."

"Still, I feel as though there's something more I could.. do…" Hegemol looked up as Ogrim trailed off. The Defender had a thoughtful look in his eye, a claw tapping against his chin. "...I may have an idea."

"Mm?"

"It would allow me to give you comfort and respite, while still being free to perform my tasks," he continued. There was a cautious air to his voice, quite unusual for the boisterous knight.

"I'm listening." The other's hesitance made Hegemol rather nervous himself, but he was open to ideas. He got a sense that he should know where Ogrim was going with this, but whatever it was, it eluded him. His friend was rarely one to choose his words so carefully.

"What if.." The beetle clicked his forelimbs together, glancing toward the pile of prototypes in the corner of the room, then back at their creator. "I could share my armor with you, in a manner of speaking? Just until your own is found."

Okay, he knew the larger knight didn't mean that in the literal sense, but what did he mean? The answer teased frustratingly at the edge of the tinkerer's mind, just out of reach.

Seeing his smaller friend’s look of confusion and concentration, the Defender gave a quiet laugh. He could practically watch the thoughts churning behind the maggot’s eyes. Might as well make it easier on him. “I’m sure you remember a.. particular rescue tactic, that I sometimes employ? Very effective in emergencies, but unrecognized by the public, due to its, er, taboo nature?” At Hegemol’s dawning comprehension, Ogrim released the breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding. He hadn’t realized it would be so nerve-wracking to tiptoe around the subject like that! He should’ve just ripped the bandage off. It wasn’t as though he’d ever gotten to ask before, not in a casual setting such as this. Of course, he’d been planning out how to bring the idea up to Isma, but- heh, no no, that could come later. A good.. good while later. “I know it’s.. odd… but it should serve our needs quite well, I think.”

“I… ah.” The smaller knight slumped back on his seat, leaning against the table as he processed. “Could- could I have a moment to think about this?” “Of course, my friend, of course! I wouldn’t want to pressure you into anything you don’t truly want, or frighten you away from something that may help.”

Slowly, Hegemol nodded, grabbing a drill bit to fidget with off the workbench while he considered the offer. Ogrim was asking to- to eat him. His immediate instinct was a shot of fear through the chest, based upon childhood lessons specifically intended to help him avoid such a fate. Of the few things he could remember about his parents, those instances were what stuck out most—their desperate attempts to ensure his survival in a world full of predators that would take any chance they could get to sate their hunger with a maggot’s succulent flesh. Even those among Hallownest’s noble class weren’t above such desires, much as they claimed to be.

Focusing on the weight of metal in his hands, he pushed the fear down. It wasn’t a life-or-death situation. This was Ogrim. Loyal, honest Ogrim, dedicated to his friends and kingdom above all else. The knight who’d sooner make himself completely vulnerable to a terrified citizen than let them come to any harm. This was something the beetle did on an almost regular basis, protecting those in need with his own body when the situation called for it. Of course, the average Hallownestian had claws, or horns, or at the very least, a hard shell, of which Hegemol had none. He'd be entirely at the mercy of his friend's gut. Still, the Defender had experience. He knew how to do it safely.

That's not to mention, the maggot had done something similar himself, two or three times before. Only in absolutely dire situations, of course, and only when he could be certain that the citizen in need of protection was unconscious and wouldn't be waking up anytime soon. He wasn't taking the risk of letting a stranger in on his secret. Not a chance. Though, tucking them into the hollow space at the center of his armor's torso was.. not the safest, he'd admit, what with all the exposed mechanisms, the only cover from such being haphazard platforms and sheets of metal installed to make the inner workings more accessible for maintenance. Perhaps he should improve that a little, add some padding to it. It'd make it more comfortable on him for routine cleaning and repairs, at least…

He repressed a jump when Ogrim abruptly shifted, glancing toward the door. Right, he should make his decision. He tapped the table a few times, both as a means to grab attention and to expel restless energy. When the beetle turned back to him, Hegemol voiced his concerns. "So- erm. You say it would be- it would be until my armor is found, yes? But.. w-what if it isn't found? I would need to get back to working on a n-new suit."

His fellow knight gave him an understanding look. "Should that be necessary, I'll let you out to continue your work. I'll let you out whenever you ask, really! The goal is to ease your mind and allow you some rest, not to trap you. Once you feel ready, you can get right back to it. I'll even let you back in later, if the need arises," he finished with a wink.

The tinkerer obliged him with a laugh. Yeah, Ogrim would never want to hurt him. He was far too kind-hearted, not to mention a dear friend. Giving the situation one last thought, Hegemol weighed the pros and cons. There weren't all that many cons, truthfully. He would be putting his life entirely in the Defender's claws—in his stomach, even—but he knew he could trust Ogrim. And there would be little to no privacy between them, but again, he trusted his friend not to abuse that. The courtesy would extend both ways, of course. And it would be strange, and new, and scary, but isn't everything, the first time around? He couldn't have gotten this far in life without taking a few risks.

As for pros, it would be… comfortable, supposedly. Dark, warm, and soft—ideal sleeping conditions. He didn't know if he'd be able to get past the other traits that defined the inside of a digestive organ, but he supposed he'd simply have to find out. But, most importantly, he'd be shielded from the world. He would have to relinquish all control, but in exchange, he would gain full protection. The thought gave him pause. It would only be for a resting period, and then he'd be released, he reminded himself. In sleep, he would have no control either way, so he wasn't sacrificing much of anything in that regard.

In the end, it all came down to trust. Trust, and willingness to try a new experience.

Finally, Hegemol looked up, meeting Ogrim's gaze head-on, and gave a single, firm nod. The dung beetle brightened considerably. "You accept?"

This was his chance to back down. He fought off the urge to take it. Be brave, o Mighty One. "Yes."

"Excellent! And, er.. Just to clarify, you do know what, precisely, I am offering?"

The maggot nodded again, more shallowly, expression revealing little. "Y-you wish to… ingest me. And hold me harmlessly within y-your stomach while I rest. Is my understanding correct?"

The Defender leaned back a bit. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't at least somewhat looking forward to this, but it didn't seem like the time to admit that aloud. "Ah, heh, 'wish' might be a strong word for it, but, er. Essentially, yes. That's my offer. Knowing that, you'd still agree to it?"

"Mhm."

"Good, good, that's good. I just wanted to make certain you knew what you would be getting into. Now!" He grinned and clacked his claws together in a clap. "Let's get to it, shall we?"

Hegemol let out a slight huff of relief. If his friend asked him if he was sure one more time, he was almost certain he would've changed his answer. He scanned the beetle's face, considering. "So, how do we.. go about this? I'm not too familiar with the process."

"Right, right. Well, to start, we need to get you into my mouth, which- hm. That's a good question, actually! We have a couple options for that. Would you be alright with me picking you up? That would be the easiest way, I think. Otherwise, I could hold my forearms out, and you could climb onto them yourself. Oh, or we could use the table! I could rest my chin on the edge, and you could crawl in of your own volition."

Ah, another chance to lose his nerve, how lovely. Still, with how excited his fellow knight looked over having the idea, the tinkerer could hardly find it in himself to turn him down. "T-that last choice sounds, um, acceptable."

Once again reminded of his comrade's hesitance, Ogrim tried to tone down his enthusiasm. Keeping his expression and tone light, he provided directions, wanting to make it easier on the smaller bug. "Alright. Go ahead and hop up, and I'll be ready whenever you are."

The beetle backed up a little to give Hegemol room as the tinkerer moved his tools and materials out of the way, shuffling them aside to be put away properly later. That done, he pulled himself from the stool onto his workbench. Cautiously, he turned back to his friend, who had gotten to one knee and was already lowering his head onto the surface.

Gods, even at eye level, he was.. big. Big, and yet not big enough, or so it appeared. His mouth was larger than the maggot's own, yes, but their eyes were around the same scale. There couldn't have been much difference between the sizes of their heads, even. Ogrim gave him an easy grin, then everything else stopped as his maw opened wide.

Oh.

The anxious knight couldn't help the shudder that ran through him at the yawning cavern. No, Hegemol. Calm. Focus. It's just Ogrim. Just Ogrim… He steeled himself and crept closer. Those jaws could open further than he expected, honestly. He eyed the saliva starting to pool alongside the beetle's tongue with trepidation. He was hoping there'd be less of it. Leaning forward on his forelimbs, he took in the sight of the Defender's waiting mouth, shivering as humid breath washed over him, antennae flicking back. It was so still, so patient, and yet he could see all the little twitches of each muscle, held taut in anticipation. He sat back, just enough to lift his upper hands and tap them together nervously.

This didn't escape the other's notice, of course. Ogrim let his face fall into something more relaxed and reassuring. "I promise you, this is safe. I won't let you come to any harm, and certainly not from my own body."

Hegemol heaved in a breath and straightened up, rubbing his arm, brushing over his scars. "I-I know. I trust you. That's.. that's not it, e-exactly, it's just…"

"Mm?"

He huffed and blurted out his concern. "Just- are we- we sure I-I'll fit? Not that I d-don't trust your judgment, it just- i-it seems- …improbable."

The dung beetle blinked. After a moment, he put a claw to his mandibles, eyes squinted slightly in thought. "Hmm… It shouldn't be a problem! I've never ingested anyone quite your size before, true, but your, er, malleability should more than make up for that." To prove his point, he carefully pressed down on the maggot's head, watching the flesh bounce back into place as he released it. Hegemol shook himself out and nodded, eyes squeezed shut. Ogrim chuffed apologetically. "The process of getting you down might be rough, but I assure you, it should be quite comfortable once you're safely inside."

"I-I'm sure. Could- could we..?"

"Of course, friend, of course."

Once more, the maw was laid open before him. Once more, Hegemol inched forward, until his vision was almost entirely taken up by the shadowed green inside of his fellow knight's mouth. Once more, he steeled himself for what was to come. And with that, he pushed forward to immerse himself in Ogrim's depths.

Or he tried to, anyway. In reality, what happened was that he flinched back as soon as he felt mandibles scrape against the sides of his face. Sharp, sharp, far too sharp. As he crouched there, panting and staring, those perfectly innocuous chunks of chitin seemed all too threatening. He could feel lingering points of contact where they had just barely brushed against him. As the larger bug closed his mouth to tilt his head in concern, Hegemol gasped in a breath and let his eyes fall shut. Scarab mandibles aren't sharp, you blubbering fool. Where's all that courage it took to get here? He barely touched you.

"...You don't have to do this if you're not comfortable, Hege-"

"No, no," he shook his head and sat up, meeting the beetle's eyes with a determined look. "Th-that was just- instinct. I want to do this. I-I just.." Ogrim gave him a questioning look, waiting patiently. "Could," the maggot started. He huffed, frustrated with himself. "Could you.. put me in your- your mouth? I- You have experience with this, and I- I'd rather this part b-be over with."

Somehow, the Defender's voice fell to an even gentler tone. "Of course, I understand. Just relax, close your eyes if you'd like, and I'll take care of it from here."

With one final nod, Hegemol went still, his eyes falling shut as instructed. He couldn't bring himself to go entirely limp, but this would have to do. He couldn't keep himself from tensing slightly as large claws came to rest on either side of his face. Thankfully, Ogrim provided him a moment to breathe and resettle himself before gently tugging him forward. The solid chitinous appendages squeezed ever so carefully to reshape his head into something narrower. He took one more deep breath, and with that, he was finally guided into the maw of his brother in arms.

The beetle tried not to gasp as Hegemol made contact with his tongue. The taste… He wasn’t normally one for meat, but by the gods, his friend tasted divine. He couldn’t help the saliva that rushed in upon detecting such a delicacy entering his mouth, but he could at least make use of it. He promptly began to slather the maggot with fluid as soon as his head was engulfed in his jaws. The sweet, savory flesh was still highly malleable, conforming to the limits of Ogrim’s mouth, giving so easily to the ministrations of his tongue. He stayed mindful, of course. He didn’t want to startle his friend any further, let alone make him feel like a mere morsel, Wyrm forbid. No, no, of course not, he was just.. slicking him to ease the trip down, that’s all. He’d just have to make sure to clarify that once the tinkerer was settled. Along with, perhaps, a brief, tasteful compliment to his flavor. The Defender couldn’t exactly lie to his fellow knight, now could he? Especially when- ah, it seemed he was humming his enjoyment aloud. He let the low sound peter out, gave the other a short pat, and eased him further inside.

The smaller knight would've very much appreciated it if his friend could have gotten this part over with. He didn't need his thoughts spiraling out of control again before he was even fully inside. Nearly holding his breath, he hunkered down and let everything happen around him. It was difficult not to struggle, but he managed, keeping himself limp. Luckily, it seemed that the brunt of the.. tasting was over, though he couldn't help tensing as his head met the back of the throat. His antennae twitched against the damp surface. Even with his eyes squeezed shut, it was easy to feel when the flesh before him parted, opening into a yawning void that he didn’t dare gaze upon. The sparse moments before it pulled him inside seemed to last an eternity, until finally, Ogrim swallowed.

The scarab couldn't help but grin as his comrade began to slide into his gullet. He'd never gotten the chance to really enjoy the process before, especially not with anyone so squishy. Now, he could finally be slow, gentle, rather than rushing to get his charge down and out of danger. He could feel every little detail of his friend's form, taste every little subtle flavor. Every twitch and squirm was clear to him, even as he could tell how much the smaller knight was trying to keep calm, keep still. Without his input, another hum kicked up. His claws met his chest, hardly able to detect the near-formless shape past his own flesh and shell and armor, but distinctly feeling the mass pushing outward against the muscles of his esophagus. His tongue flicked out against his mandibles, seeking more of the exquisite taste. Such a wonderful little warmth, being squeezed down, down, deeper into his body.

Despite the discomfort of being shoved around like a helpless ragdoll, Hegemol was grateful that at least this part of the process was smooth and efficient. The esophageal muscles’ actions were involuntary, simply performing the job they were made for and giving him no special treatment. He was shunted downward at a steady pace. Fast, but not so much as to be disorienting. The mechanicalness of it all was almost a comfort to the tinkerer. More examples of automation and consistency became clear to him as he was pushed deeper. The regular pounding of his friend’s heart, pushing blood through the beetle’s hemocoel. Breaths drawing air through the spiracles to spread into tracheae, carrying oxygen to tissues throughout the body. Soft gurgles of the lower digestive tract processing food eaten long before his arrival. The rhythm of life was overwhelming, when heard all at once, but as he broke it down in his mind to its component parts, it became a sort of reassurance. Things still made sense, even when made up of complex organic matter rather than raw elements or simple minerals.

All this self-soothing focus was enough to occupy his attention until he was dropped unceremoniously into Ogrim’s stomach. He quickly pushed himself upright and shook himself out, scrubbing at his face with his upper set of hands. He had barely a second to orient himself before the wall behind him squeezed inward, making him gasp.

The Defender hugged himself tightly as his fellow knight was deposited safe in his belly. So soft, so warm, just barely weighing down the organ. The perfect size to make him comfortably full, while still having a fair bit of wiggle room. He wasn't sure if the maggot really was as warm as he seemed, or if it was just his own fondness and contentment making it feel that way. And the softness… With how pliant Hegemol's exterior was, it was hard to make out his outline, discern where the smaller bug ended and his own flesh began. He could only determine his friend's exact location by the movements against his inner walls. It made every shift of the limbs and flick of the antennae feel special, ephemeral, giving him a fluttery sensation as though his gut were full of lumaflies rather than a comrade. He gave another small squeeze, then loosened his hold to instead pat lightly at the hidden form. This was lovely, every bit of it. He'd have to see if Hege would ever be willing to do this again sometime.

“Make yourself at home, dear friend,” Ogrim sighed, a blissful smile on his face. “Are you alright? How is it in there? Comfortable, I hope.”

Hegemol shuddered a bit as the wall retracted. Sitting up, he looked around, not that he could see anything, exactly. His antennae waved about in the darkness. It smelled.. odd. He wouldn’t call it gross—as a maggot, he’d be hard-pressed to find much of anything disgusting—but it was certainly new. Not impossible to get used to though, given enough time. He reached out to touch the enclosing flesh. Damp. Slippery. Dragging his hand along it, he felt out the space around him. There wasn’t much. The walls kept closing in on him, rubbing against him, kneading him. He wasn’t food. There was no acid, he- he wasn’t food, it was just- the organ was investigating its new occupant, that’s all. Breathe, Hegemol. He was fine. …He’d be fine.

“..Hegemol?”

Slowly, he turned around to face the front, resting his forehead against where Ogrim’s claw was with a sigh. “I-I’m alright, yes.” He was safe, he knew. No stinging, burning, or tingling, and he was certain he’d notice a lot faster than most other bugs if there was. As for comfort… He moved a hand to rub back at the beetle’s innards. It was.. soft, yes, and warm. That was to be expected. Arthropods’ interiors tended to have far less defense than their exteriors. And there was plenty of padding to hold in heat. The walls were slick, but covered in thick fluid that clung to anything it touched. It… he couldn’t say it was unpleasant, really, not when he knew it couldn’t hurt him. Perhaps if he viewed it as a warm bath..?

“I-it will take some g-getting used to, I think, but it- it should d-do nicely.” After all, it did provide the one thing he wanted. The outside world was entirely blocked out, hidden behind layers of muscle and one of the toughest sets of armor in Hallownest. There was nothing sharp or cold or hard, deep in the dung beetle’s gut. Nothing to possibly hurt him but for the acids that could threaten to escape the walls, kept inert by Ogrim’s sheer force of will and care for his wellbeing. He knew the larger knight was experienced in this, and that his will was strong. He could trust him with his life. He was safe.

The tinkerer did one more loop of the space, trying not to shudder as the surrounding muscles brushed against his side, then settled right in the center, lying down in the pit of the stomach. He shuffled his limbs a bit, adjusting his position to root himself more firmly amongst the ever-moving tissues. At least he could be somewhat stable. The organ still kneaded and pressed at him curiously, not quite knowing what to do with him. The front wall, especially. He shut his eyes tight and tilted his head down as something rubbed at him from the outside. Ogrim’s claw, right. Rightrightright. His friend was merely checking in on him. He leaned into the show of concern, just a bit. Just to confirm that he was doing well. He appreciated knowing that the scarab wouldn’t forget about him so easily.

Ogrim rubbed his stomach, satisfied. The little engineer really hit the spot. He flushed slightly; he shouldn’t be thinking of his comrade that way. He was so delectable though, and so filling-! His breath hitched as Hegemol nuzzled(??) back at him. That’s what it felt like, anyway. He quietly chuckled at the abrupt show of affection. Always full of surprises, that bug. Though perhaps this shouldn’t have been quite so unexpected. Hegemol was plenty tactile with his fellow knights when safely concealed in his armor, after all. Maybe this was a sign that the method was working? Was the maggot feeling more confident, thanks to the experience? Thanks to him? Oh, he hoped so. He so adored being able to successfully assist others with their needs and problems, particularly those he cared for. It always left him with a sense of fulfillment.

“It’s time for me to go back to my patrol now, but you try and get some sleep, alright? I’ll wake you if there’s any news regarding your armor, or if the King requests your presence, but otherwise, you should remain undisturbed. Just let me know when you want out, or if you need anything else, and I’ll be happy to oblige.” Somewhere under the layers of his body, he felt the up-and-down movement of a nod, as well as a small vibration from Hegemol’s hum of acknowledgement a moment later. With one more good pat, he stood and began towards the door of the workshop, trying to keep his steps smooth and steady for the tinkerer’s sake. It felt as though the smaller bug was already nestled right in. The occasional shudder or shiver came through, but those were starting to die down. Hopefully they would dissipate in full within the next few minutes as the maggot adjusted.

The White Defender paused as he reached the exit, one claw on the handle. He gazed fondly downward, towards where his brother in arms currently resided. Inside, Hegemol would hear one last reassurance as his sleepless nights caught up to him. “Rest well, friend,” came the hushed murmur, “I’ll be your armor for as long as you need.”

***********************************

And there we go! Thank you to everyone who stuck around during these. massive gaps between posts;; And again, a big thank you to Scketch!! This has been fun, I'd love to work with you again sometime. Or merhaps another friend who would like to collaborate? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Also also! I have been granted permission to share these other sketches as well, from earlier in the writing/art planning process:

(That last one was a little what-if scenario of Hege getting unwillingly nommed and not really having a way to effectively struggle, eheheh) (it’s not like I have a fic outline where THAT would ever happen. ahaha. ha,,, ha)

Thanks for reading! Feedback (and reblogs) are greatly appreciated, and criticism is welcome, so long as it’s constructive/respectful. Asks are open.

—————

DNI NSFW blogs, blogs that post exclusively hard and/or fatal vore, weight gain blogs, mpreg blogs, proshippers, TERFs, ace exclusionists, etc.

#soft vore #safe vore #extreme cuddling #hk vore #fandom vore #vore fic #my writing #vore art #not my art #collab #size difference vore #hk spoilers

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tefifonconnoisseur · 4 months ago

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The Peanut Butter Toast Incident (Miles Morales Unaware Vore)

I never promised I was posting these stories in order, mostly because the next story in the chronological order has 4 parts and I’m conflicted on sharing in parts as written or all in one piece. This was the first story I got a request for, and to my knowledge the first Miles Morales vore fic. This does contain unaware vore of a teenager, so be aware that’s below the cut. Enjoy! Or don’t, just please don’t burn me at the stake. I’ve got work tomorrow lol.

(We will say this takes place bedore the second one but after the first. Also Y/N for flavor points (which means your name). I know he has a roommate, but oh well. A Marvel plot with this plot was suggested by nickyjel123, and I figured I’d use my own Marvel pred “crush” [idk the term for preferred pred in a non-sexual way if there is one])

A normal morning in a dorm is, as you’d expect, usually plain and consists of mundane tasks one does to prepare themselves for a long, monotonous day of school work. Things like getting dressed, brushing teeth, preparing one’s backpack, making coffee in the communal kitchen or some cereal if you’re a baller. This is done with a level of grog often from bad sleep. For Miles Morales, this was that morning. Upon unceremoniously popping open his eyes due to a loud alarm and slowly stretching and making his way out of the bottom bunk, he began to get dressed in uniform, a typical suit that made him even more tired. Slowly, he lifted his pants onto his waist, weaved his black, slightly cracked leather belt through, and buttoned way too many buttons. Checking himself in the mirror, he had bags under his eyes from a study-filled night previously and his hair was somewhat greasy, although today Miles couldn’t be bothered to rectify his uncleanliness with anything but layers of deodorant and a spritz of gel. This was his appearance as he went through the door and towards the communal kitchen.

For Y/N though, this would be a morning that would live in infamy for its lack of luck and sheer stupidity that could rival certain programs on children’s cartoon programming. Upon awakening, Y/N popped up and slammed their head against the ceiling, causing a red circular mark to appear on their forehead. This awoke the folks in the dorm above them, who of all people were the worst ones to deal with. The particular gentleman involved in the forthcoming drama has chosen to remain anonymous, but shall henceforth be referred to by a fake name: Buford.

Buford was a STEM student pursuing the highest level of education offered at Brooklyn Visions Academy and in several of the same classes as Miles. Buford, however, was a rougher personality from old money who was not fond of Miles, but more importantly hated Y/N due to their pursuing of art and their more effeminate personality. He would often call Y/N names in passing or would steal their things and destroy them. This time though, he was in the mood to make Y/N’s day so much worse. See, his brother had created a device that could reduce matter to a fraction of its size, effectively shrinking it. Due to the nature of atoms, this effect would be temporary and last for a time that hasn’t quite been measured, but was less than 12 hours based on testimony.

This device was Buford’s way of payback: to shrink them so that hopefully they’d end up getting into hjinx. See, he doubted Y/N could be actually killed; the increased density of the atoms made the recipient of the shrinking much more resilient to things like falls or being stepped on. It would just suck and scare Y/N some. So, Buford set his action into plan and shot an orb into the floor vent, as the bouncing would inevitably lead to it reaching Y/N’s bed. The orb made a loud electric banging sound with each bounce, bouncing faster until it eventually sunk down the vent and directly onto Y/N’s sore head, making a splatting sound as it was absorbed into their hair follicles.

At first, Y/N found this to be an annoyance, slightly peeved that Buford had, at least in their mind, shot them with some sort of pellet. As they made his way to the ladder, they thought it might be a couple inches taller, but chalked it up to their grogginess and near-concussion a few moments prior. However, as they descended the ladder, they found that each step was farther away from their foot, until they had to leap off the bottom of the ladder. At this precise moment, they took a deep look around and started realizing what exactly was happening to them: shrinking, and at a pretty good rate. They noticed the details of the carpet become finer and finer, and eventually decently sized until each little follicle was up to their waist. Thankfully, their oversized shirt and pajamas had been afflicted by this orb’s atom reduction as well due to complicated things that we aren’t going to bother explaining because any attempt to do so would be so far off from logic, it would be a disservice to us and you.

As you’d expect when someone who’s usually decent height becomes a few inches tall, fear gripped their heart like a snapping turtle: unceasing and hard. At this moment, Y/N had nothing: no aid, no way to call for help, no method of finding anyone, and not much vocal power to even try. Some other factors included the fact that it was cleaning day, so someone would be in to vacuum them up, as well as it was a school day, so if they didn’t get help soon, they’d have to wait until 4, or later if Miles didn’t come back, as was a trend.

A trend that didn’t offer Y/N too many favors. Miles was pretty good at art, but Y/N couldn’t get pointers on theirs for often several days at a time. Typical schoolwork was not our protagonist’s strongest still, which made things even worse when help vanished from the dorm. They often had to find someone else to help them, which tended to be people who didn’t exactly know what they were teaching either.

However, it was the morning, and they knew that Miles would be eating peanut butter toast in the kitchen for an amount of time as he would often talk with a friend or two. If Y/N could make it over in time, they could get help. As quick as they could (which was honestly not bad pace), they ran off to the dorm commons.

Miles got distracted in the communal kitchen for a minute catching up on last-minute studying for a Physics exam that was inevitably going to nab him a decent grade. Whether this grade was up to scrutiny was another question. This setback didn’t matter too much; Miles tended to eat pretty quickly without his table manners being watched like a hawk by his parents. They had always done everything they could to raise Miles to become a model member of society: making sure he was putting in maximum effort into his work, learning life lessons, and other things that would keep him from a life of poverty and violence. Unfortunately, one lesson was not taught, a lesson that doesn’t matter nearly as much unless you’ve got an enemy around: check your food BEFORE you eat it. It was a lesson often learned by those with allergies and the picky eaters of our society, oftentimes the hard way for the latter who naturally assumed their sandwich wouldn’t have mayonnaise and made their server suffer for their lack of foresight. For those without that though, who cares?

Y/N panted, but as they looked up, an exhausted gasp emitted from them. Miles was gargantuan, his upper details barely visible from their view, but the smaller details of their shoes and legs were heightened. Every speck of sweat, every scratch and imperfection in the leather, every leg hair was visible as if it was under a magnifying glass. Those details were heightened at a level humanity often never gets to see. This daze that Y/N experienced didn’t last, as it was rudely shattered by the bellowing pop of the toaster.

Time was running out. Y/N found a stool and wrapped themselves around the leg of it, inching their way up like a caterpillar. After lots of pain, they managed to reach up onto the seat and pull themselves off. They jumped onto the handle of a drawer, but losing grip in one of their hands. Sweat from their hand transferred to the handle and loosened its grip too. Looking down, the hard tile promised a swift death to anyone who dared fall from such a height onto it. Closing his eyes, his grip let loose and he fell…

As Miles spread his peanut butter onto his toast, he thought about his roommate, Y/N. He heard a bang from their hall, and he wondered if it was Y/N banging their head hard or if it was Buford ding-dong-ditching him for the 2nd time this week. He was fully aware of the beef between the two, and hoped that he wouldn’t have to go to Buford’s again and risk losing their acquaintanceship. Then again, Y/N was a closer friend, so did he need to ditch Buford.

His thoughts lead the peanut butter toast to slip from the plate, landing upright below the handle of the drawer, exactly where Y/N fell. The timing was perfect, and Y/N survived by falling into the peanut butter. The impact still winded them for a moment, but they realized they were in this peanut butter. They didn’t realize yet that the peanut butter was slightly sticky.

Within the 5 seconds it fell, Miles gripped the toast, unaware of his roommate near the edge. A sense of vertigo fell upon Y/N as they rose up to Miles’ level. Their near-death accident not only had been prevented, it might nab them help. As loud as their baby little lungs could provide, they shouted out for Miles for assistance. Despite their effort however, their sound waves were unable to penetrate Miles’ large greasy ears, in part due to a loud fan keeping the air circulating in the room, an in part due to his minute size. At the very least, Miles’ eyes worked perfectly and hopefully would notice them waving their arms. It was with a degree of effort and their frustration that their arms had sunk into the thick, creamy peanut butter. Despite all of his effort into waving, they couldn’t penetrate the creamy butter. Their only hope was for Miles to spot them. To their utter fear, when Miles opened his mouth wide, revealing all of the details in their tongue and gums that they realized in fear that they had not been noticed. They couldn’t help but notice that his teeth were white and shiny, but sharp and somewhat pointy. The taste buds and other spots on his thick pink tongue were quite obvious at this size. Saliva coated it in a thin veneer, revealing Miles’ ravenous hunger. His throat looked healthy, with a lack of tonsils noticeable and his uvula being relatively short, not grabbable, that’s for sure. As their heart beat faster and faster with fear, Miles bit down on the bit of toast Y/N resided in. Quickly, Y/N was covered in moist toast and water-soaked peanut butter and was swished back and forth, somehow missing every single tooth that bit down on the clumps of food in Miles’ mouth. Hot, somewhat minty, somewhat rank breath filled the cavern and made the air stagnant. This was hell. Every single second that ticked by was filled with yelling and fear, filth and heat. Y/N screamed for help, begging Miles not to swallow. A wet sound rang through as their begging fell on deaf ears and they slid towards the awaiting opening to the throat.

Miles switched the fan off, and while continued chewing heard a familiar voice, extremely quiet but close at the same time. In order to hear this voice better, he decided to gulp down the food in his mouth, sending Y/N down the slick, wet tube known as the esophagus. He thought he had heard the voice say not to swallow, but he couldn’t imagine why.

Fear coursed through Y/N’s vains as the rhythmic gulping sent them further and further down the tube, squeezing them and keeping air from their chest, nearly making him pass out, until eventually they fell into the stomach, face first into the liquid below. This place was essentially a smelly sauna cranked. The place was immensely hot and stagnant, with a liquid smelling of acid hiked up to Y/N’s chest. White bubbles covered the walls like vines. Despite what they had just learned about the sulfuric acid present in the stomach, Y/N weirdly felt no pain or any other effect. It was just unbearably hot. They continued to yell, but were drowned out by the churning noises as the stomach processed the toast clumps next to him. Just when they thought this couldn’t be any more miserable, clumps of peanut butter and toast fell onto them and penetrated their already-ruined clothes and just made them feel even worse, as if the humidity couldn’t ruin their mood more.

Miles, finished with the meal, wondered what the voice had wanted him not to swallow for. It has sounded like Y/N, but it couldn’t have been them. Maybe it was his imagination or someone’s phone in the hall behind the wall they were facing. Around this time, Buford entered the room, eyeing Miles as he grabbed a protein shake from the fridge.

“Hey [Buford], have you seen Y/N this morning? I’m worried about them?” Miles inquired.

“No”, Buford said, giggling.

Miles didn’t believe Buford, saying, “Don’t lie to me. I know you two have something against each other. If you did something, I’m going to have to report you, and I don’t think that would be worth your time with how many warnings you’ve received already.”

Buford realized he wasn’t in the mood to go to the office despite the fact that his parents would make this charge go away like the others.

“Let’s just say my new atom reducer works…”, he replied, dashing away like a coward.

Miles, tired as he was, attempted to piece together everything in his mind. He wondered if Y/N had managed to get to him…

About this time is when he realized what had happened: he had somehow, someway, eaten Y/N. His closest friend here, he had just swallowed them, consumed them like they were nothing to him but just a garnish. Miles felt light-headed and a sense of vertigo at this moment and ran to the trash can, vomiting everything in his stomach out.

Around the time Buford came around, Y/N had gone from yelling to crying. They were now alone in this hell of an organ, with nobody knowing about this. He was going to die here, and nobody would even know what had happened. His tears were interrupted when the entire stomach sloshed to the side, knocking Y/N into the juices. The entire stomach squished up, and Y/N was shoved forcefully back up the tube and expelled past the uvula and every single tooth into the waste bin.

Miles quickly spotted Y/N and cupped them into his palm, hyperventilating and panicking.

“I’m so sorry dude, are you okay?! I’m so so sorry! I can’t believe I let this happen to you!”

Y/N replied hoarsely,

“It’s fine, I’m good,” Y/N replied, tears still stuck on their face indicating that they weren’t good at all. Miles grabbed a moist paper towel and washed Y/N off. This was an odd sensation. Here he was, holding his friend in his hand, cradling and protecting him in his most vulnerable position, like a baby is by their mother. Y/N felt like a baby, but felt nurtured and protected, cared about. Staring into Miles’ large spherical eyes, he saw Miles in a different way. More than a friend, but a protector, a caregiver, maybe even more. They almost didn’t want this moment to end.

Miles checked his watch and realized he was running out of time. Apologizing, he left Y/N on the dresser of the dorm with a granola bar and a cotton ball for a chair, and dashed out. Y/N was usually annoyed when Miles left him in times like this, irritated or just generally apathetic. But now, he wished that Miles would be there, not for his help, but for his presence and care. There was also the issue of their classes. They would have to miss them and had no alibi or excuse. Thankfully, Y/N generally had a good reputation and didn’t miss many classes, so punishment wouldn’t be that severe.

By the time Miles returned that afternoon, Y/N had returned to normal size, clearly having showered and changed clothes. They kinda looked cute in their Rolling Stones shirt and lounge pants, with their messy hair nearly covering their eyes. The situation earlier had been a nightmare for them both, and would be henceforth referred to as the “Peanut Butter Toast Incident”, but was more of a bonding experience for the two. Miles moved from peanut butter toast to other kinds of toast and refused to eat it with peanut butter up until the writing of this story at least.

We’d love to tell you that Buford changed or got any consequences for this, but nothing could be proven for sure. Burford improved none, as you’d expect. A few weeks later, due to separate circumstances, they did move a floor up in the dorms, but that’s about it.

As for Miles and Y/N, this was the start of a close relationship, whether platonic or romantic we don’t care to know. It was either way the start of something new between the two that started with Buford and some peanut butter toast.

#soft vore #giant/tiny #safe vore #gt vore #fandom vore #marvel vore #I’m going to be crucified #g/t #nonsexual vore #sfw vore #we don’t tag the main tags here

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spiralinghours · 6 months ago

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“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.

#coffinshipping fic #hoffstrahm fic

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tujhse-raabta · 6 months ago

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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.

#son of sea foam #ro reads and cries

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sailorsenshishitposter · 6 months ago

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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?

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megumislovedoll · 19 days ago

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RULES

[★] my fics are only fem!reader considering im a female myself . i will not take requests for male!reader or gn!reader

[★] I currently only write fluff , crack , angst , and suggestive

[★] I don’t have a dni I block freely

[★] any unnecessary asks will be deleted

[★] I expect my blog to be free of racism , homophobia , sexism , drama , rude vibes , bad intentions .

[★] I will not write: pedophilia , piss , vomit , age play , selfharm , incest , vore , poly relationships , etc (if you aren’t sure if I write something you can always ask)

#🧃GET COOL!!⋆˙ᝰ.ᐟ

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cookiesuga55 · 1 year ago

Note

Challenge: Choose a random* tidbit in the cookie vault and do your best to turn it into a proper prompt!

*Completely random, no peeking… ;)

WOW anonie you really got me~

I have decided to change the cookie vault to the 🍪COOKIE JAR🍪, where I will definitely, maybe, hopefully take all of my million of unfinished works (some good, some very much not. I'm sorry in advance my lovelies uwu), and turn them into bite sized fics, au prompts, and little nibbles for you all <3

I've been struggling to write a completed fic for almost a year now due to graduate school, and I think that making the Cookie Jar could be a great way to get me writing again for fun and post things that I would only keep to myself otherwise.

These are imperfect, and not as well executed as when I write a proper fic, or make a long AU prompt that I am fully invested in. However, I want to be open and free with my work, rather than nervous about only posting what is polished and fully developed. Not everything will be to one's taste, and that's okay 😌 I've been slowly evolving in my kinks, and writing about them is a way for me to experiment and figure out how I feel about new things. I love you all a lot, and I would rather share these ideas, than have them sit and collect dust. This will be a fun way for me to share all of my rambles in a safe space, enjoy writing for pure fun with no pressure, and hopefully make your day a little bit brighter.

As they say: for every finished, successful artwork, there are a thousand unfinished, rejected, and unpopular ideas. I want to start sharing mine with you.

So- to kick this off... LET'S CRACK OPEN THE COOKIE JAR. I shall take a prompt (coined cookie crumbs) and turn it into a lil treat for you.

Weighting for Love

Tags: ABO, wolf hybrids, Namkook, w/g, concepts of vore/ cannibalism, wolf hybrids eat prey hybrids, they're vicious lil babies, slight blood kink, predator/ prey, wild packs + forest setting, softness- physical and metaphorical, saccharine, breeding, is it a sugar cookie fic without Jungkook getting fat? no.

4.8k words

Prompt: Deep in the forest, once Omegas accept courtship with their future mate, they’re plumped up by their Alphas. It’s a declaration of being a good provider, and it is essential if the pair want the pack's blessing in order to exchange mating bites. If an Omega is soft and fat, then the pack accepts that they’re well-taken care of, because it shows that they aren’t going hungry. It shows that they’re loved. If an Alpha isn’t able to fatten up their future mate during courting, then they don’t have the hunting skills required to support even more hungry mouths to feed with a future of pups.

Everyone blessed Namjoon and Jungkook’s courtship right away, mainly because Namjoon has been one of the highest-respected young Alphas for years. He's strong and powerful, but with a quieter, gentle side that reveals itself in their courting. Jungkook would have never guessed that the huge, meaty Alpha would blush and bring the Omega wild flowers in secret.

Namjoon was quiet and deadly on pack hunts. It was what he was best praised for. His hunting skills were unrivaled, and it became apparent incredibly quickly that the fiery Omega Jungkook was his chosen. Jungkook appreciated that in his pack, Omegas weren't expected to be submissive like he witnessed in the neighboring clans. Even if the pretty Omega was built delicately, that didn't mean he would roll over and let an Alpha go unchallenged. And Namjoon apparently liked that fire. A lot.

Jungkook watched jealously year after year as his older friends were courted, softened out, and then mated.

Everything in Jungkook's life changed when the next spring mating season arrived. Namjoon brought Jungkook a plethora of hunting gifts, and the lean Omega quickly chubbed up underneath his care and courtship. In the packs on the east side of the mountains, no Alphas bear mating marks. It is incredibly uncommon, but Jungkook’s bite is branded in Namjoon's skin in the exact same way that the Omega wears Namjoon’s mating mark with pride.

Now after the mating ceremony, the entire pack is delighted that there are pups on the way, because Jungkook is round and well-fed, fat with his Alpha’s love and sporting purple kisses each morning from Namjoon's affections. Jungkook's own paintings on his Alpha are better hidden, usually spattered across Namjoon's hips and stomach, and occasionally up his jaw, where Jungkook likes to claim him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~cookie jar~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Omegas wait with baited breath at choosing ceremonies for Alphas to deposit a gift at their feet. If an Alpha is especially interested, they will press a kiss to the insides of their wrists where tiny scent glands are. Jungkook has received 2 gifts and no wrist kisses, but he passes the time by weaving a circlet of grass and flowers as he watches the joined packs mill around. Not everyone reveals their intentions during the formal choosing ceremony, it's really more of an official start to the mating season, and the beginning of all of the springtime festivities that will last until autumn harvest.

However, over the coming weeks, Omegas that are old enough to mate stare with envy as other Omegas begin getting chubby. As pairs couple off in preparation for mating season, Omegas are doted on and fed to gain the pack's blessing.

Jungkook has happily picked fruits and flowers with the mated Omegas for years, and dreamt of the day when his small waist would round out and grow soft with the love of a sweet Alpha. He watched with quiet adoration as Seokjin first grew with kisses from an Alpha, then Taehyung as he was courted and put on weight until he was mated, and most recently, Jimin. Jimin and Jungkook snuggled for years on end in their mother's nests, so Jungkook was able to tell when his best friend began softening and getting squishy. He was so much better for cuddling without boney limbs. Jungkook latched onto Jimin’s softness and whimpered with terribly concealed jealousy as Jimin’s tummy and thighs filled in. Each day, he came home from being courted by Alpha Min Yoongi, and his stomach was pushed out, full with whatever courting treats Yoongi had fed him in the golden sunshine.

Jimin was sweet and kind about it, as Jimin always was. He hugged Jungkook back and let the younger Omega jealously squeeze his growing form and whine about how he wanted to be chubbed by an Alpha so badly. Jimin let him grope his tummy with envy and squeeze all of the weight that seemed to pudge up more every week as the spring turned into summer. Jimin’s mating ceremony was a whole year before Jungkook’s was. He couldn’t help but feel a little bit discouraged as the following spring came around, and his other Omega friends had promising suitors. Nobody seemed to take a true liking to the quiet Omega with big eyes that was more inclined to sit in the cooling spring, weave baskets, and giggle as the koi fish nibbled at his toes than gossip with the other Omegas.

That was, until one day a shadow fell across him while he was working in the water. Jungkook blinked up from where he was sitting, and Alpha Kim Namjoon was shuffling back and forth like he was uncomfortable in his own skin. Namjoon was one of the packs most promising young Alphas. Strong, and one of the best hunters. Namjoon’s Omega grandmother had raised him, since his parents had passed when he was young. Jungkook liked Namjoon's grandmother. She said nothing but praises about her grandson, and Jungkook trusted the old woman. She was the one that had taught Jungkook how to weave baskets instead of just crowns of flowers.

What was Kim Namjoon doing here? The Alpha had never even spoken to him. Aside from rumors that Namjoon was being trained as one of the next pack leaders, and showing his strength and calculated skills in hunts that brought in bounties for the pack, Jungkook only really knew anything about him by association, because he was apparently close friends with Jimin’s mate, Yoongi. That didn't mean that he had ever spoken to him before.

“Namjoon-ssi?” Jungkook shielded his eyes from the sun that shone around Namjoon’s head like a halo. The Alpha was flushed high in his cheekbones, a color that was very attractive with his caramel tanned skin.

Jungkook blinked. Namjoon had asked him how to… weave? Jungkook was confused. The Alpha's grandmother knew how to weave amazingly. He could just learn from her. But Namjoon sat with him in the spring and watched with careful eyes as Jungkook showed him the knots and patterns over and over, even as the Alpha struggled because of his long fingers and big palms. Jungkook was just as shocked when Namjoon came back the next day, asking to watch and learn again. His own products were.. Well, endearingly horrible. Somehow along the way, they became friendly on a first-name basis. When Namjoon leaned in to watch Jungkook’s nimble fingers underneath the water, the Alpha’s deep, cozy scent settled on his skin and made his Omega all but purr. Jungkook had to keep his wolf in check and make sure that he did not let his eyelids flutter, or his ears flick, or his tail wag.

One day though, Namjoon leaned so close that Jungkook’s wolf took over and mistook the gesture. Namjoon’s warm, delicious scent wrapped around him and his soft, soothing voice soaked into his bones. Jungkook’s head lolled to the side as he exposed his bare, smooth neck and his scent gland to the Alpha in invitation and submission. His cheeks heated up bright red the second that he realized what had happened, but Namjoon was… uncharacteristically sweet about it. Alphas weren't supposed to be sweet about this kind of thing, but he gently realigned Jungkook’s head, gave him a bashful smile, and reassured him that it was okay.

And then Jungkook was all kinds of confused. His friends Jimin and Taehyung teased him for how much time the popular Alpha was spending with him, but. If Namjoon had wanted him, shouldn’t he have just leaned in and pressed his nose against the sensitive patch of skin on his neck that pumped out his scent? Shouldn’t he have breathed deeply and spread his own scent back on Jungkook in return? It was customary to scent when an Omega was attracted enough to bare their neck. And now Jungkook understood why, rejection was way worse. It was mortifying, even if his invitation hadn’t been intentional. It was still embarrassing.

The next day, he was quiet and a bit irritated when Namjoon showed up, uninvited and maybe.. Unwelcome? Jungkook was trying to be alone to brood in peace. He had abandoned his usual spot in the pack’s nearby stream in hopes that Namjoon wouldn’t find him. Jungkook had hidden himself away some twenty minutes in a meadow and was weaving flowers together, muttering to himself in confusion and a bit of self-loathing that he has subconsciously grown attached to Kim Namjoon’s scent, his quiet voice and gentle hands... just to be rejected.

He could almost smell the Alpha now if he concentrated hard enough. A shadow fell over his work and he snarled in irritation that he just wanted to be left alone. When he looked up with sharp eyes and saw… Namjoon, his nimble hands froze.

The Alpha was shifting, just like he had been the first day that Jungkook had spoken to him weeks ago. Like he was feeling too big for his body and unsure what to do with his powerful limbs. Jungkook didn’t know what to say, and was about to bite something snide when a full, ripe strawberry was pulled from behind Namjoon’s back, and the large Alpha held it gently with two large fingers by the green stem. Namjoon's cheeks were the same color as the fruit as Jungkook looked up again in confusion.

“F-for you… Omega,” The Alpha mumbled the last word and Jungkook’s spine tingled at hearing him be addressed… like that. By this Alpha. By an Alpha that he liked. Heat bloomed in his cheeks, and Jungkook smartly replied.

“W-what?”

Namjoon grimaced in pain that Jungkook didn’t somehow just get it, whatever this was. Namjoon made a soft whining sound out his throat and swallowed hard. “This strawberry is from me. To you. As a g-gift. Would you please accept it?”

Jungkook’s tummy fluttered as this gorgeous Alpha- maybe the pack’s best Alpha, was shyly in front of him and offering him a courting strawberry. Jungkook couldn’t help it. His cheeks bunched up into a smile and he beamed at Namjoon, all of the flowers in his lap forgotten. His scent accidentally sweetened with excitement. Jungkook was very intentional about his words.

“Thank you… Alpha.” He leaned in and kept his eyes on Namjoon, peeking up out of his lashes. Jungkook parted his lips and bit the strawberry, accepting it, and his lips brushed against Namjoon’s finger tips. The Alpha wasn’t able to cut off the low whine that bubbled up out of him, or the way that his tail swayed back and forth behind him. His wolf was happy.

Namjoon scurried away afterwards, but Jungkook caught a glimpse of the dark red splotches on his cheeks before the wolf fled away from him. Jungkook’s mouth was still full of the ripe summer fruit, and he giggled as the pack’s most esteemed Alpha scampered away from him: Tiny and unthreatening.

Jungkook couldn't really believe it. He was a little bit suprised, yet entirely delighted when Namjoon showed up the next day again with a basket full of strawberries and a white daisy. It only solidified Jungkook’s thoughts and quenched his worries. Kim Namjoon wanted to court him. During Mating Season. Which meant that he wanted to mate him. Jungkook couldn’t keep from grinning and squealing into his pillow like a pup when he fell into bed that night, his tummy full of sweet, ripe strawberries and his lips flushed pink from the way that the Alpha’s fingers had gently swiped over his lips while they sprawled in the meadow during the sunset.

He had all but knocked down Jimin’s den after dinner time and promptly tugged up his own shirt to show the chubby Omega the way that his tummy was adorably pushed out, full of sweet fruit that had been hand fed to him by the Alpha. Jimin’s eyebrows had shot up when Jungkook giggled with glee, settled his paws on his own tummy and beamed in explanation, “Kim Namjoon.” He could just imagine getting more and more strawberries until he was as round as one himself.

The next day, Jungkook wove Namjoon a laurel wreath with flowers that he thought would suit the Alpha's skintone and fur coloring the best. When Namjoon showed up as Jungkook was patiently waiting for him by the forestline, he bashfully smiled up at him, then pushed himself up on his tip toes and settled the crown of flowers on Namjoon’s silvery hair around his large, pointed wolf ears. He made sure that his fingers combed through the locks and brushed over the base of Namjoon’s ears, just to ever so gently drag his claws down the back of Namjoon’s skull and neck. The Alpha rumbled in an accidental show of the deep pleasure that the touches gave him. Jungkook blushed, but he kept his gaze boldly locked to make sure that he wasn’t incorrect. That Namjoon really did want to court- and maybe mate him.

The Alpha spread the widest grin, and his long fingers came around Jungkook’s wrist. He asked, breath husky and sweet, “Jungkookie. Can I please scent you?”

It was unlike Alphas to ask to scent an Omega, but the respect that it implied made Jungkook's lips fall open in a shocked little pout. He was tempted to retort if you have to ask… but he could see how kind and respectful that Namjoon was being.

Jungkook softened his features, tilted up his face and smiled.

“Yes, you have my permission, Alpha. Thank you for asking.”

Namjoon lifted Jungkook’s wrist and first nuzzled his nose into it, breathing deeply. Jungkook watched his silvery ears fall in bliss, took in how his eyelids fluttered, and admired the way his tail swayed back and forth. The Alpha made a low, soft rumble of pleasure, and Jungkook almost yipped with how badly he wanted to be kissed. Namjoon’s full lips pressed against the inside of Jungkook’s wrist. It made the Omega’s knees shake.

“You smell- so good. Like honeysuckle-” Namjoon exhaled against his skin. His tongue dipped out at pressed against the small scent gland. The lick shot tingles up Jungkook’s arm. He did everthing in his power to not whimper even as his own dark ears grew heavy with relaxed pleasure. His Omega started purring.

Namjoon smiled against his skin and his nose twitched and he mumbled “more… want more-” He nosed up Jungkook’s bare arm, up to the cut off sleeves of his summer tunic, and nuzzled his face right into the side of Jungkook’s neck. This time, Jungkook couldn't keep his Omega back, and he accidentally made a soft yipping sound of want. Jungkook's head lolled to the side in euphoria at being scented by this Alpha, and his knees stopped working entirely. Strong, large hands came to his waist as Jungkook collapsed against Namjoon’s thick chest. He'd intended to stand upright, not accidentally grip the Alpha’s thick biceps and cling on for dear life as his trembling thighs threatened to slick up.

Namjoon’s chest rumble deepened from Jungkook being plastered against him, and the Alpha slowly slid his tongue across Jungkook’s scent gland for a taste. The most embarrassing sound fell out of Jungkook, and his bones turned to liquid. He fully melted into Namjoon, limp against him as pleasure pumped through his veins and clouded his mind.

The Alpha wrapped both thick arms around Jungkook and he thumbed at Jungkook’s small waist. Namjoon purred into his neck as he rubbed his bare skin with his fingertips, “You're so small. So skinny. Alpha will have to change that. We need to feed you up, sweetheart.” Namjoon gently squeezed Jungkook’s waist, and Jungkook made a second, incredibly embarrassing mewl as his scent all but pumped out waves of pleasure, his belly heated, and his thighs trembled.

Namjoon grinned against his flushed skin and gave him a little nip, an affectionate gesture. “In case my intentions weren’t perfectly clear, Jungkookie-” He licked over his scent gland again, and Jungkook feebly clawed at the massive Alpha’s back, wanting to crawl into his skin. “I want to mate you.”

Jungkook panted, feeling dazed and drinking in Namjoon’s scent. The Alpha let him regain his senses by petting up and down his back soothingly as Jungkook whimpered from the touches. Eventually, his mind slowly pieced itself back together.

Namjoon had this much of an affect on him and his Omega… just from scenting? Jungkook swallowed hard. He would be melted honey in his hands if- when Namjoon kissed him. Jungkook could finally stand, and he pulled back to look Namjoon in the eyes. The silvery Alpha was so pretty with the flower crown on. Jungkook claimed him with utter confidence and a smile tugging at his lips. “If you couldn’t tell… I want to mate you too.” Namjoon’s face shone with the brightest beaming dimples, and he kissed each of Jungkook’s cheeks. It wasn't quite what he was expecting. His lips tingled with want. But he’d accept cheek kisses... For now.

The following evening, Namjoon returned from the pack hunt, clothed only in loose trousers as all of the Alphas did during the hunt. Namjoon had caught three deer, which was the biggest haul of any hunter that went on the trip. They were slung over his shoulders in triumph and he deposited them all at the pack’s central hearth. Jungkook giggled and watched as Namjoon received many kisses on his cheeks from the elderly, wholesome Omega grandmothers that fawned over all of the hunters.

After Namjoon let himself be the subject of all of the grandmothers telling him what a good pack member he was, he broke away with a smaller rabbit hybrid slung over his shoulder that had been hidden beneath the deer he carried. Some wolfs' eyes followed him amidst all of the celebration of the hunters' return, Jungkook included.

Namjoon made his way through the crowd and found Jungkook standing with some other mated Omegas. Namjoon smiled at him, flushed and glistening from the hunt. It wasn't doing anything helpful for Jungkook’s health to see him like this. Not that he hadn’t seen Namjoon post-hunt before but… Jungkook hadn’t really been looking. Not in a way that he allowed his mind to think ‘that will be mine to enjoy…’.

There was a lot of Namjoon to enjoy. His golden chest was thick with muscle and his abdomen lean, tapering into narrow hips and powerful thighs. Jungkook whined as the Alpha stood in front of him in all of his glory, but it was loud enough in the celebrating camp that he hoped Namjoon didn’t catch the sound. Jungkook swallowed hard, not sure where to look.

Namjoon dropped down to his knees and placed the bunny at Jungkook’s feet, a clear, blatant, declaration of courting. The surrounding people turned and stared. Namjoon’s warm hands settled on Jungkook’s waist and he looked up at him with sparkling eyes. “Will my Omega accept my gift from the hunt?”

His thumbs gently rubbed back and forth over Jungkook’s hipbones, making his skin tingle. So many people were watching. Jungkook nodded shyly and blushed at all of the attention, but he wanted to make his acceptance clear. He leaned down to press a kiss to Namjoon’s cheek, and spoke clearly. “I would be honored, Alpha.”

Namjoon beamed up at him and squeezed his waist in excitement.

That night after all of the hunters bathed in the stream, Jungkook sat by the fire as everyone ate deer, but he got to have bunny- a delicacy. He was leaning against Namjoon’s legs as the Alpha was required to sit on a large stump until the pack had eaten his own kills. Jungkook was thankful that his Alpha was considerate of the size of prey he had brought him for courting. Jungkook was in no condition to eat an entire deer, and he was thankful that Namjoon had considered his smaller size when hunting for him. Once the three deer that Namjoon had brought were consumed by the pack, and another Alpha was brought to the stump for the few squirrels that he had hunted, Namjoon sunk down to Jungkook’s side. He wrapped his arms around him, pushed his nose into his temple, and rested a paw on Jungkook’s tummy. Jungkook was feeling incredibly full as he tried to finish up the small prey, fitting the very last of it into his belly and panting from the effort. His tummy bulged in Namjoon’s grip, and the Alpha purred and rubbed it. “Your appetite will grow as I feed you up, sweetheart. It will get easier, I promise. Until then, I will keep finding small prey for you- although my instincts tell me to hunt the biggest prey I can find.”

Jungkook nodded, flushed and thankful, and he snuggled into Namjoon’s side. His mouth was stained red, as all of the other wolves’ were, but he turned and crawled into Namjoon’s lap, and pressed a soft kiss right onto the Alpha’s lips. Namjoon instantly smiled against his mouth, and Jungkook had to wait a few minutes for the adorable Alpha to stop grinning before he cupped his cheeks and kissed him again, much more thoroughly. That night, as the fire was tended and the stars slowly crawled across the sky, Namjoon’s paws found their way to Jungkook’s overfilled belly. He gently rubbed deep circles, rumbling happily at how his future mate was currently fat with his hunt, and Jungkook purred at the feeling of being full from his Alpha’s care for him.

Throughout the next few days, as Jungkook's predator tummy slowly digested the prey, it felt like he was constantly receiving a warm hug from Namjoon. On the third morning when he woke up, Jungkook rolled over and mewled as he felt his middle squish underneath him. He sat up and yanked up his tunic to look. He had some softness in his tummy. He poked his belly to make sure that he wasn’t imagining it, and watched the flesh sink underneath his greedy fingers. He grinned down at the soft fat filling in his belly from his Alpha’s gift.

Jungkook scampered to Jimin’s den and showed him the warm layer of pudge that was resting inside of his waist and hips from eating an entire bunny himself. He earned many kisses across his cheeks and ruffles of his ears from both Jimin and his mother. Jungkook couldn't keep himself from preening as the first few pounds of love were settled in his waist, promising to grow.

The gifts of prey became more frequent, and Jungkook started to feel like Jimin had last summer when he was courted. Every night, he was going to bed with something warm, delicious, and fattening sitting inside of his stomach, with his lips swollen from kisses.

Jungkook went hunting a few times with Namjoon to learn how the Alpha did it so well. When Jungkook successfully caught a chipmunk hybrid as his first prey, he instantly deposited it with pride at Namjoon’s feet and told him that his tummy needed the courting gifts too. Namjoon had barked a laugh because it was unheard of for an Omega to hunt and gift prey to an Alpha, but Namjoon gratefully accepted the gift with a deep kiss to Jungkook’s lips and heavy scenting that still made his knees weak.

Jungkook snuggled up against Namjoon for naps in the summer sunshine, and the Alpha’s warm palms pet over his sides as he purred and felt how Jungkook was filling out. He whispered praises that had Jungkook’s belly fizzling and him slicking up embarrassingly. “My baby is getting plump… Alpha is feeding you well.” Namjoon patted Jungkook’s soft belly as it pushed out supple and fat without anything even in it. That night, Namjoon had caught a deer and fed Jungkook as much of it that would fit into his belly before giving the rest of the prey to the pack. Everyone looked fondly as Jungkook sat in Namjoon’s lap. His belly was so full that it was stretching his tunic, and the Alpha’s paws were lovingly rubbing and massaging the stuffing to help his tummy digest it. Jungkook felt so fucking pretty as he chubbed up on his Alpha’s courting gifts. His chin was soft, his belly warm and full, and his waist was round.

Jungkook's soft body fit so well in Namjoon’s adoring hands, and squeaked and giggled as the Alpha gripped his thighs and asscheeks in the dark of the forest while kissing his neck and whining for Jungkook’s kisses and pets in return.

Jungkook fattened much faster than the rest of the Omegas partaking in mating season, and their mating was the first to be blessed by the pack, to both Jungkook and Namjoon’s delight. Jungkook’s once small waist was bulging, and his belly jiggled when he trotted. All of the mated Omegas fawned over him, kissing his chubby cheeks, petting his ears, and cooing to him at how well Alpha Namjoon was taking care of him. That it was obvious by how well Jungkook was fattening up that his Alpha clearly adored him. Jungkook blushed under so much praise, and giggled as small pups wanted to squeeze the thick roll of his lower belly and pouted that someday they hoped to be mated too.

Back in the safety of his den, he adoringly pet over all of his weight too, in love with how soft he was because of Namjoon constantly feeding him. He snuck into the Alpha’s cave a few times, always to Namjoon’s delight and grabby hands as he squeezed the Omega in his thick arms and snuggled with him like a bear. Namjoon’s paws snuck beneath Jungkook’s tunic and wobbled his belly, purring deeply into his ear as Jungkook jiggled in his hands, a sign of love and being cared for. On more than one occasion Namjoon's palm had to be pressed against his mouth to keep him quiet as Namjoon kissed and adored his body, prepping him for the mating ceremony with his tongue and fingers. Jungkook arched into his touches, mewling into his large hand and trying to keep quiet to not wake the rest of the pack.

As the Harvest Moon approached, and along with it the moon goddess's blessing of all of the mated pairs, Namjoon hunted and fed Jungkook every night, intent on keeping him full and satisfied. Jungkook fell asleep with a rounded, firm belly full of prey every evening, and woke up snuggled in Namjoon’s arms, soft and bloated. He was kissed awake with his belly bulging at the bottom and stretched with new chub from being fed so well. The Alpha greedily squeezed the plump roll, feeling the ample padding that Jungkook was growing as he fattened up his future mate. Jungkook’s belly finally rested heavily in his lap, his chin doubled, and his chest and limbs soft and squishy. He sat cute and fat at all of the summertime fires, letting Namjoon feed him treats and fill him in with more squishy weight. The pack members cooed in delight and squeezed Jungkook's full cheeks at how well he was being courted.

When their mating came on the night of the Harvest Moon, Jungkook shyly asked to bite Namjoon too. The Alpha agreed instantly.

They shared a fat squirrel hybrid as a treat after getting knotted, much to Jungkook's delight- Namjoon had discovered that Jungkook had a taste for sweet, plump prey rather than large, lean, powerful prey, and he was keen to oblige him. With both of their bellies full, Jungkook’s soft and sweet in Namjoon's hands as the prey promised to fatten him even more, Namjoon sunk his teeth into Jungkook's shoulder, making him cry out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. With his neck and shoulder bloody and throbbing, Jungkook returned the bite, branding the Alpha with his own signature too.

They licked over the blood until they both healed, and Namjoon kissed every inch of Jungkook, adoring his weight and growling over and over with possession as he sucked dark bruises onto him. Jungkook giggled and moaned at being so adored, squishing underneath Namjoon’s paws and jiggling underneath the smallest touches. He drooled at being so fat to wobble as Namjoon mated him again throughout the night, and the Alpha salivated at it too. Namjoon groped his belly as Jungkook was knotted and bred enough times for his belly to bloat, and he purred in pleasure as he enjoyed the fat jiggles of his mate.

#cookie jar #cookie crumbs #Namkook!ABO #I really hope you like this 🥺💖#bts w/g fic

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