#M/multiple preys

[justanothervoreblog]

Big Brother's Indulgence

Martin had been warned so many times about the noise. Once was an honest mistake, two was recklessness, and three was just a blatant disregard. Kyle had to lay down the law. He pardons himself from the game chat that he was on and makes his way towards Martin's room. Martin had a friend over, Sam, the two of them together were a nightmare. However, both of them together would be delicious.

Kyle opens up the door and interrupts both of the noisemakers. Right before he was about to grab them, he could see cans of Coke all over the floor. So not only had Martin failed to entertain his guests at unreasonable noise levels, but he went right into Kyle's secret stash of sodas. Now this was more than just punishment, this was earned gluttony.

Kyle's belly growled out in anticipation and Martin immediately realized that he had fucked up. He had watched Kyle swallow up a couple of religious solicitors once. Martin was fully aware of what his brother could do and began to plead for his mercy. Sam foolishly believed that this was a punishment was relegated family members to try to make a subtle exit. Kyle grabs him by the shoulders and opens his mouth possibly wide. Sam screams but it is immediately cut off by the muscled walls of Kyle's throat. To make sure that Martin doesn't try a similar stunt, Kyle seizes Martin by the shirt. He gets a front-row ticket to his brother's gluttony.

Kyle shoves Sam into his mouth. The saliva slicks up the shoulders and helps them slide past that pink tongue. Afterward, the lean chest and abs follow quickly. Martin's room is filled with Kyle's gluttony and satisfied moans. His stomach greedily awaited the arrival of Sam. It gets its first bit of food when Sam's head pops past that tight stomach ring. It was an uninviting and hostile place, Kyle's belly. Inside was digesting Pizza and leftovers, and he was pretty sure that there was a Best Buy t-shirt. All that remains of the unhelpful worker that Kyle had snapped up.

Martin watched as Sam's legs uselessly outside of his brother's maw. His thighs are slowly reduced down to the calves. Kyle removes the sneakers from Martin's feet. He leaves the socks though, it was always a bit of a kink of his. Then Martin watches as Sam goes from best friend to brother food with a single gulp. The bulge passes down into Kyle's throat and then expands inside of his belly. Martin can hear Sam's cries from inside. He watches Kyle rub over that belly and Martin trapped within. Martin knows that it was fucked up way to think, but he silently hopes that Sam was enough for Kyle's hunger.

For a moment, Kyle just pushes his brother's face up against his expanding dome. Martin could feel every twitch that Sam made and realized that if he ever wanted to see Sam again, he'd have to ask Kyle to lift his shirt. Kyle didn't usually let his meals go and this wasn't the first time that he had snacked on Martin's friends. Billy, Josh, and Steve had all made their way down Kyle's throat.

Then a rumbling vibrates Kyle's belly and Martin knows exactly what was about to happen. With a loud burp, the nastiest-smelling air is expelled. It was wet too, bits of spittle landing on Martin's face. All of it, unfortunately, smelled like Sam. The dome slightly shrinks to reveal Martin continuing to struggle. The fight inside the belly becomes clear for a moment. Then the belly expands again leaving the prey obscured.

Kyle's eyes then drift down to Martin, his little brother. For a moment there is an exchange, no words. Could Kyle eat his brother? His own flesh and blood? Was that a line that he could cross? Martin hoped that there was some limit to Kyle's gluttony. Maybe eating one of his friends was enough and Kyle would let him go? Perhaps, there was a chance. Kyle lifted him so that Martin was close enough to smell Kyle's Sam-scented breath. The pool of saliva building up at the back of his mouth was intimidating. Still, Kyle wouldn't actually do it right, right?

Martin's hopes get dashed as Kyle licks his lips. Martin doesn't remember what Kyle says after that. Something about how the second course is always sweeter or something along that line. What Martin does remember is Kyle opening up his mouth and his world turning to darkness…

Kyle could feel the weight of his gaming chair creek. Other chairs he had owned would have broken by now, but this one had been properly reinforced. If Kyle was going to eat like a pig, then he should have a chair that fits him like one. Martin and Sam had saved him only one Coke. So who is the real pig here? It was still Kyle, now with Martin and Sam trapped inside of his belly.

The struggle had calmed down a while ago, both boys accepting their fate as food for Kyle. Kyle savors their taste with a refreshing Coke as he texts the game chat that he will be a moment. He was going to order some more food for himself and in a way, Martin and Sam. Of course, if they ate the food that already came down, it was their business. Kyle had already gotten his.

So while Kyle waited for the food delivery, his hands roamed over that mighty gut. His little brother was trapped inside, wondering if he would see the sun again. Kyle wasn't sure if his little brother would be let out. Sam would be a permanent resident, much like his other little friends. Kyle thought about the questions his dad might ask. It was enough to make him reconsider or… Kyle could just show his dad where Martin had gone. The thought of that makes him chuckle as he rubs his fat gut. As he daydreams about the scenario, Martin plays with his belly button.

The doorbell cuts him out of his delusions. He stands with his hefty belly and stretches realizing that the food was here. Right before he was about to head to the door, his belly growled.

The question is this: Did Kyle want thirds?

#male pred #male prey #male vore #m/m vore #multiple prey #vore story #fatal vore #ambiguous vore #incest vore #oral vore

[urfavoritewriter]

Werewolf Appetite

A commission for an anonymous user over on Discord, a long read (~15,000 words) so grab some snacks.

Content: M/M Vore, Oral Vore, Digestion, Multiple Prey, Unwilling Prey, Cruel Pred, Sentient Fat, Permanent Fat, Teen Wolf, Incest, Forced Body Worship

The thick canopy of the forest cast dappled shadows on the forest floor as Tyler, a seasoned hunter with a reputation for ruthlessness, stalked through the undergrowth. His movements were calculated and deliberate, each step cautious yet purposeful. He wore dark camouflage cargo pants that were stained with dirt and grime from countless hours spent in the wilderness. His boots, heavy and sturdy, crunched softly on the fallen leaves beneath him as he moved. A black tactical vest adorned with an array of pockets and pouches hugged his muscular frame, the weight of his arsenal distributed evenly across his torso.

Tyler's face was set in a grim mask of resolution, sweat beading on his brow despite the coolness of the forest. His eyes, sharp and alert, scanned the surrounding foliage for any sign of movement. A thick layer of stubble lined his jaw, evidence of days spent in pursuit of his elusive quarry. Strapped across his back was a sleek crossbow, its polished wood gleaming faintly in the dim light filtering through the trees, a common weapon of choice for werewolf hunters.

Suddenly, a rustle in the underbrush caught Tyler's attention, and he whipped around, his finger tightening on the trigger of his rifle. "I know you're out there, you son of a bitch!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the silent forest. "Show yourself, or I'm fucking shooting you where you stand!"

His heart pounded in his chest as he waited, every muscle in his body tensed and ready for action. The tension in the air was palpable, a silent testament to the deadly game of cat and mouse that was about to unfold. And then, without warning, a figure emerged from the shadows, moving with a speed and grace that belied its size.

It was Peter Hale, his lithe form darting between the trees with the agility of a wild animal. His clothes were simple yet elegant, a fitted henley shirt clinging to his muscular frame and a pair of well-worn jeans hugging his powerful thighs. His hair was tousled and unkempt, the sunlight catching the subtle highlights in its dark strands. And in his eyes burned a fierce intensity, a primal hunger that sent shivers down Tyler's spine.

But before Tyler could react, Peter was upon him, his movements a blur of motion as he deftly dodged the bullets Tyler fired in rapid succession. Each shot rang out like thunder in the stillness of the forest, but Peter moved with a preternatural speed and agility that seemed almost impossible to comprehend. He hoofed between the trees with the grace of a predator on the hunt, his movements fluid and effortless as he closed the distance between them.

Despite his best efforts, Tyler's shots went wide, each bullet finding nothing but empty air as Peter continued to evade his every move. Panic surged through Tyler's veins as he realized that he was no match for the supernatural creature before him. He was just a man, armed with nothing but a gun and his wits, while Peter was something else entirely—a being of raw power and primal instinct, driven by a hunger that Tyler could scarcely comprehend. And as Peter closed in for the kill, Tyler knew that he was truly and utterly fucked.

“We hunt those who hunt us,” Tyler huffed, out of breath as he grabbed his crossbow now that his gun was out of ammo. “We hunt those who hunt us,” He repeated, almost as if he was reassuring himself and reminding himself of all the hunter training he’s successfully gotten through.

As Tyler fumbled with his crossbow, his hands shaking with a mixture of fear and adrenaline, he felt a sudden weight slam into him from behind. With a cry of surprise, he stumbled forward, the crossbow slipping from his grasp and clattering to the forest floor. Before he could react, a pair of strong arms wrapped around his torso, pulling him off balance and sending them both crashing to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

Gasping for breath, Tyler struggled against his unseen assailant, his heart pounding in his chest like a jackhammer. He could feel the hot breath of his attacker on the back of his neck, the scent of earth and pine filling his nostrils as he fought to break free. But whoever—or whatever—it was, they were strong, far stronger than Tyler had ever imagined possible.

"Get off me, you bastard!" Tyler spat, his voice laced with fear and defiance. But Peter only laughed, a low, menacing sound that sent shivers down Tyler's spine.

"You think you can stop me, little hunter?" Peter growled, his grip tightening around Tyler's throat. "Not so tough without your neat little weapons, eh?"

Tyler struggled to speak, his words choked off by Peter's vice-like grip. He clawed at the ground beneath him, desperately searching for something—anything—that he could use to defend himself. But it was no use. Peter was too strong, too fast, too...inhuman.

As Tyler's vision began to swim with black spots, he knew that he was fighting a losing battle. He could feel the strength draining from his limbs, his body growing weak and sluggish as Peter's hold tightened around him.

As Tyler's struggles began to weaken, Peter's grip on him shifted. Instead of tightening further, it loosened slightly, and Tyler felt a strange sensation wash over him. It was like a wave of hunger, raw and primal, crashing over him with such intensity that it stole his breath away.

For a brief, fleeting moment, Peter considered ending Tyler's life then and there, the thought of his blood staining the forest floor sending a thrill of excitement coursing through him. But as he looked down at the helpless hunter beneath him, something else stirred within him; Although his primary goal was to end the lives of anyone involved in the Hale House fire, his predatory werewolf instincts have taken over, irresistibly so.

With a low, guttural growl, Peter leaned down, his lips brushing against the curve of Tyler's neck as he inhaled the heady scent of his fear. The hunger clawed at him from the inside, demanding to be sated, and Peter found himself unable to resist its call. Without another thought, he pressed his lips to Tyler's skin, his tongue flicking out to taste the salty tang of sweat and adrenaline.

Tyler gasped at the sensation, his body tensing beneath Peter's touch as a shiver of adrenaline-filled pleasure through him. He could feel the heat of Peter's mouth against his skin, the rough scrape of his teeth as they grazed his flesh, and a shudder of fear.

As Peter continued to lick and bite at Tyler's neck, his hunger grew more intense, his senses sharpening with each passing moment. His eyes burned with an otherworldly light, their color shifting from deep brown to a piercing shade of blue as his werewolf instincts took hold. His sideburns lengthened, his muscles rippling with newfound strength as he hovered over his prey, his breath hot and heavy against Tyler's skin.

With a low, feral growl, Peter leaned in closer, his lips brushing against Tyler's ear as he whispered words that sent a shiver of dread down Tyler's spine.

"You taste...delicious," Peter murmured, his voice low and dangerous. "I think I'll have you for dinner."

Tyler's eyes widened in horror as he realized what Peter was about to do, but before he could utter a single word of protest, Peter's mouth descended upon him.

As Peter's mouth closed over Tyler's head, he could feel the hunter's hair brushing against his tongue, the salty tang of his sweat mingling with the metallic taste of blood as Peter's teeth grazed against his skin. With a low, guttural growl, Peter swallowed hard, the muscles of his throat contracting as Tyler's head disappeared down his gullet in a single, ravenous gulp.

"What the fuck!" Tyler's muffled voice echoed from deep within Peter's throat, his protests cut off as Peter's esophagus closed around him, sealing him inside the darkness. But despite his frantic struggles, there was no escape for Tyler now, no hope of salvation as he felt himself being pulled inexorably downward into the depths of Peter's belly.

Next came Tyler's shoulders, his clothes tearing and ripping as Peter's jaws stretched impossibly wide to accommodate his prey. With each swallow, Tyler could feel himself being compressed, the pressure mounting as he was forced further and further down into the pit of Peter's stomach. He thrashed and struggled, his fists pounding futilely against the walls of flesh that surrounded him, but it was no use—Peter's grip was too strong, his hunger too overwhelming to be denied.

As Tyler's abdomen disappeared into the darkness, he could feel the acidic burn of Peter's stomach acids beginning to seep into his wounds, the pain shooting through him like a bolt of lightning. He screamed and cursed, his words becoming increasingly muffled as he was swallowed deeper into the abyss, his body contorting and twisting as it was crushed and compressed by the sheer force of Peter's appetite.

As Tyler's thighs disappeared into the darkness of Peter's throat, he let out one final, desperate cry for help, his voice barely a whisper as it was drowned out by the roar of Peter's digestive system. And then, with one final gulp, Tyler's legs vanished from sight, consumed by the darkness within.

For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the sound of Peter's satisfied burp as he settled back on his haunches, his belly swollen and distended from his recent meal. And as he rubbed his hand over his full stomach, feeling the faint movements of Tyler's struggling form within, a satisfied smile curled his lips.

"Delicious," Peter murmured to himself, his voice low and contented. "Absolutely delicious."

Under the cover of darkness, Peter sat beneath the sheltering branches of a tall oak tree, the hunter's crossbow clutched in one hand as he idly played with it. With his other hand, he rubbed his distended belly, feeling the weight of his recent meal pressing against his palm.

As he leaned back against the rough bark of the tree, Peter let out a satisfied burp, the taste of the hunter's flesh still lingering on his tongue. He smirked to himself, realizing just how delicious humans truly were, their succulent flesh providing a tantalizing feast for his insatiable hunger.

Turning his gaze towards the night sky, Peter chuckled softly to himself, his voice carrying on the cool breeze. "Looks like you failed your mission," he taunted, his tone mocking. "Guess that means lots of people are going to end up just like you—swallowed up and digested alive."

As the nights passed in Beacon Hills, California, a sense of unease settled over the small town. Men, one after another, began to disappear without a trace, leaving behind nothing but unanswered questions and fearful whispers among the remaining residents.

Families fretted as their loved ones failed to return home, their absence a glaring absence in the close-knit community. Rumors swirled through the streets, whispered conversations speculating about the mysterious disappearances and the dark shadows lurking in the shadows.

Some claimed it was the work of a deranged serial killer, while others whispered of supernatural forces at play. But no matter the speculation, one thing remained certain: people were vanishing into thin air, leaving no clue as to their whereabouts; Only leaving behind a tangible reminder on Peter’s growing belly as he digested more and more.

"Come on, come on... Shit!" Stiles muttered under his breath as he crouched in front of the door to Peter Hale's penthouse, the thin metal of the hex wrench feeling awkward and unfamiliar in his hand. He glanced around nervously, making sure no one was watching him attempt to pick the lock. It wasn't exactly the most legal activity, but Stiles was desperate for answers.

Lately, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about Peter Hale. It wasn't just the way the man had been putting on a bit of weight around his midsection, though that certainly hadn't gone unnoticed by Stiles. It was also the sudden string of disappearances in Beacon Hills, particularly among young men. Stiles had a knack for piecing together clues, and something about Peter's behavior just didn't sit right with him.

Focusing his attention back on the lock, Stiles cursed softly as the hex wrench slipped again. He knew he was taking a risk by breaking into Peter's penthouse, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was onto something. If he could just find some evidence to connect Peter to the disappearances, maybe he could stop whatever was happening before it was too late.

“Fuck, how difficult is it to get into one old man’s house?” With a determined sigh, Stiles refocused his efforts, his fingers working deftly to maneuver the wrench into the lock. It was slow going, each movement careful and deliberate as he tried to coax the tumblers into place. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he concentrated, the tension in his muscles making his movements slightly shaky.

After what felt like an eternity, Stiles felt a satisfying click beneath his fingers. With a triumphant grin, he twisted the wrench, and to his surprise, the lock gave way with a soft snick. Stiles froze for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest as he listened for any signs that he had been caught.

When no alarms sounded and no footsteps approached, Stiles let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. With a quick glance around to make sure the coast was clear, he pushed open the door and slipped inside Peter's penthouse, his heart racing with excitement and anticipation. He was finally going to get some answers.

As Stiles cautiously made his way into Peter Hale's penthouse, he was immediately struck by the decor. The space was adorned with sleek mid-century furniture, each piece carefully selected to create an atmosphere of sophistication and elegance. It was a stark contrast to the chaos that swirled in Stiles' mind as he took in his surroundings.

Navigating through the living room, Stiles couldn't help but notice the meticulous layout of the space. The clean lines of the furniture and the strategically placed accent pieces gave the impression of a well-organized and thoughtfully curated home. But as he moved further into the penthouse, Stiles began to notice something unsettling.

Scattered throughout the rooms were mementos, seemingly random items that appeared out of place among the carefully curated decor. A baseball cap hung on a coat rack in the foyer, a pair of sunglasses sat abandoned on a side table in the living room, and a leather wallet lay forgotten on the kitchen counter. Each item seemed innocuous enough on its own, but as Stiles pieced together the puzzle, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.

These were the belongings of Peter's victims, the men who had disappeared without a trace from Beacon Hills. Stiles felt a shiver run down his spine as he realized the significance of what he was seeing. These were not just random items left behind by careless guests; they were mementos, trophies collected by a predator.

As he moved from room to room, Stiles couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over him like a heavy cloak. Each item he encountered served as a chilling reminder of the danger that lurked in the shadows of Beacon Hills. And as he paused to take in the scene before him, a sense of dread washed over him like a tidal wave.

"What the hell..." Stiles murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he surveyed the room. The realization of what he was seeing hit him like a ton of bricks, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of disbelief. How could Peter be capable of something so monstrous? It was a question that lingered in the air, unanswered and ominous.

With a heavy heart, Stiles tore his gaze away from the scene before him and pressed on, his mind racing with questions and fears. He knew he had to find answers, no matter the cost. But as he ventured further into Peter's penthouse, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was walking straight into the jaws of the beast.

As Stiles hurriedly made his way toward the exit, his heart pounding in his chest, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gripped him like a vice. Each step felt heavier than the last, his mind racing with questions and fears. How could he have been so blind to the danger that lurked in the shadows of Beacon Hills?

Just as he reached for the doorknob, a voice cut through the silence, freezing him in his tracks. "Leaving so soon, Stiles?" The voice was smooth and taunting, sending a shiver down Stiles' spine.

Stiles turned slowly, his eyes widening in horror as Peter Hale emerged from the shadows, his presence looming like a dark cloud. "Peter," Stiles stammered, his voice trembling with fear. "I-I was just..."

Peter's lips curled into a predatory smirk as he closed the distance between them in a matter of seconds. Before Stiles could react, he found himself pinned against the wall, Peter's bulging belly pressing against him with a force that left him gasping for air.

"Mind your business, Stiles," Peter purred, his voice dripping with malice. "You've done an impressive job of deducing who's behind the disappearances. But curiosity killed the cat, as they say."

Stiles swallowed hard, his anxiety reaching a fever pitch as Peter's words sent a chill down his spine. "Well, I take after my pops," Stiles retorted, his voice laced with sarcasm despite his fear. "He's in law enforcement."

Peter raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Sarcastic, even at a time like this?" he mused, his tone mocking.

Stiles shrugged anxiously, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. "It's all I got, man," he replied, his voice trembling with uncertainty. "Pale skin and a little bit of sarcasm."

As the weight of Peter's gaze bore down on him, Stiles couldn't help but feel a sense of dread settle over him like a heavy cloak. Whatever happened next, he knew one thing for certain: he was in way over his head.

Peter's smirk widened into a sinister grin as he leaned in close, his eyes sufficed with malice. "You know, Stiles," he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement, "I think I'll make an exception for you. I'll take my sweet time digesting you, longer than any of the others. After all, you've been such an entertaining little detective, and it’ll be rude not to give pack members special treatment."

“Y… You what?” Stiles' eyes widened in horror at the realization of what Peter was suggesting. He struggled against the grip of Peter's belly, his heart pounding in his chest. Stiles' mind raced as he frantically searched for a way out of his predicament. How could he have been so foolish to think he could outsmart Peter? The truth was staring him right in the face, and now he was paying the price for his curiosity.

Peter's smirk only widened as he saw the realization dawn in Stiles' eyes. "Ah, I see it now," he taunted, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "You didn't figure out as much as you thought, did you, Stiles? But don't worry, you'll get to experience it firsthand."

"No, no, you can't!" he protested, his voice trembling with fear. "You-you can't just...swallow me whole like that!"

Peter chuckled darkly, the sound sending a chill down Stiles' spine. "Oh, but I can, Stiles," he replied, his tone laced with malice. "And I will. Consider it a...reward for your persistence."

Stiles felt a cold chill run down his spine as the full weight of Peter's words settled over him. He was trapped, at the mercy of a ruthless predator who had no qualms about devouring him whole.

Peter chuckled darkly as he observed Stiles' futile struggles, his enhanced werewolf strength making it effortless to overpower the younger man. With a swift motion, he grabbed Stiles' legs and forced them upward, beginning the process of swallowing him feet-first.

Stiles thrashed and kicked, his fists flailing wildly as he shouted defiantly, "You won't fucking eat me, you hear me? I won't let you!" His voice echoed off the walls of the room, filled with a raw mixture of fear and anger.

But Peter paid little heed to Stiles' protests, his focus solely on the task at hand. With each gulp, he felt Stiles' body slide further down his throat, the sensation both exhilarating and satisfying. He ripped open Stiles' pants, revealing his underwear, and pulled them down to expose his manhood, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

Stiles continued to fight, his struggles growing weaker as he realized the futility of his efforts. "You fucking bastard!" he spat, his voice choked with emotion. "I won't let you do this to me!"

But his words fell on deaf ears as Peter continued to swallow him down, relishing in the feeling of power and control. Stiles' protests grew more muffled with each passing moment, until finally, with one last gulp, he disappeared entirely into Peter's gullet.

Peter smirked triumphantly as he rubbed his distended belly, feeling Stiles' struggles growing weaker with each passing moment. He had claimed another victim, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop him.

Peter paused, relishing in the sensation of Stiles squirming helplessly within his belly. He could feel the young man's struggles growing weaker with each passing moment, his movements becoming more frantic as he realized the inevitability of his fate.

But instead of continuing to swallow him whole, Peter decided to have a bit of fun. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he focused his attention on Stiles' exposed manhood, stroking and teasing it with a wicked grin as his mouth navigated around his balls and hard shaft.

Stiles gasped in surprise, his eyes widening in disbelief as he felt Peter's touch. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, his voice tinged with a mixture of embarrassment and desperation.

Peter merely chuckled darkly in response, his fingers dancing lightly over Stiles' sensitive flesh. "Just enjoying the view, Stiles," he replied casually, his tone dripping with amusement. "After all, it's not every day I get to play with a meal as tasty as you."

Stiles gritted his teeth in frustration, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he struggled against the overwhelming sensation of pleasure coursing through his body. "Stop it," he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please, just let me go."

But Peter paid no heed to Stiles' protests, his touch paired with the licking of his tongue becoming more insistent as he continued to tease and stroke. Stiles' resistance began to crumble under the onslaught of sensation, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he felt himself growing more and more aroused.

And then, with one final, desperate cry, Stiles succumbed to the overwhelming pleasure, his body trembling as he released his load under Peter's skilled touch. He collapsed against the wall, his muscles trembling with exhaustion as he tried to catch his breath.

Peter smirked triumphantly, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he watched Stiles' reaction. "Fucking bitch, enjoyed that didn’t you?" he remarked casually, his tone filled with amusement.

Peter's laughter echoed through the room as he continued to swallow Stiles down, his belly expanding with each gulp until it protruded out like a rounded bulge. With a satisfied smirk, he reached out and cupped Stiles' face in his hand, holding him in place as he leaned in closer, his mouth gaping wide open.

Stiles squirmed and protested, his muffled cries falling on deaf ears as Peter positioned him directly in front of the mirror. With a wicked grin, Peter met Stiles' gaze in the reflection, his eyes glinting with amusement as he slowly lowered his head into his waiting mouth.

Stiles watched in horror as his head disappeared past Peter's lips, the sensation of being swallowed whole overwhelming his senses. He struggled against the tight confines of Peter's throat, his frantic movements only serving to hasten his descent into the depths of the werewolf's belly.

With a final, satisfied gulp, Peter swallowed the last of Stiles down, his throat convulsing around the struggling figure as he disappeared from sight. He leaned back against the wall, his hand resting lightly on his distended belly as he let out a contented burp.

"Fucking delicious," Peter remarked with a smirk, his gaze lingering on his reflection in the mirror. "You're the best I've had yet, Stiles. Shame you won't be around to enjoy it."

Peter chuckled to himself as he stood before the mirror, his hands moving to his distended belly. With a playful smirk, he began to rub and knead the bulging mass, reveling in the sensation of Stiles' struggling form trapped within.

"You really outdid yourself this time, Stiles," Peter mused, his fingers tracing lazy circles over his taut skin. "I'll have to remember to thank you properly for that little release."

As he continued to play with his belly, Peter's gaze drifted to the torn shreds of fabric that had once been Stiles' underwear. With a wicked grin, he plucked them up from the floor and held them up to the light, examining them with amusement.

"These will make a perfect addition to my collection," Peter remarked, his tone filled with dark amusement. "A little memento of our time together, wouldn't you say?"

With a casual shrug, Peter tossed the torn underwear aside, his attention returning to his belly. He ran his fingers along the curve of his navel, teasingly tracing the outline as he thought about the other mementos he had collected over the years.

"Perhaps I'll keep them with the rest," Peter mused, his voice dripping with malice. "A reminder of all the delicious meals I've enjoyed."

Peter stood before the mirror, admiring his reflection with a smirk. The image staring back at him was that of a powerful predator, his chest bouncy and his stomach adorned with the bulging presence of Stiles, a silent testament to his latest subjugation.

"Damn," Peter muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. "I look good."

Peter smirked to himself as he made his way out of his penthouse, not bothering to put on a shirt despite the way his distended belly bulged out in the shape of Stiles' trapped form. He relished in the feeling of the cool air against his skin as he stepped out onto the bustling streets of Beacon Hills.

As he strolled down the sidewalk, Peter couldn't help but notice the way people's eyes lingered on his bare torso, some with curiosity, others with outright shock. But Peter paid them no mind, instead reveling in the attention as he made his way toward the local grocery store.

With each step, Peter's mind wandered to the errands he needed to run, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he thought about the groceries he planned to purchase. He imagined Stiles squirming helplessly in his belly as he loaded up his cart with food, teasing the boy about how each item would soon join him in his digestive tract.

Entering the grocery store, Peter was greeted by the familiar sights and sounds of the bustling aisles, the smell of fresh produce and baked goods wafting through the air. He wasted no time in making his way through the store, his bare chest drawing stares from other shoppers as he moved with purpose.

A group of teenagers whispered amongst themselves as Peter passed by, their eyes darting nervously between him and his distended abdomen. One of them, a bold young man with a cocky smirk, couldn't resist blurting out, "Dude, what's with the gut?"

Peter paused in his tracks, fixing the teenager with a cool, calculating gaze. "What are you looking at?" he replied, his voice laced with thinly veiled amusement. "Never seen a man with a healthy appetite before?"

The teenager blanched, taken aback by Peter's confident demeanor. "Uh, no, I mean... sorry, man," he stammered, quickly averting his gaze and shuffling away with his friends in tow.

Peter chuckled softly to himself, shaking his head in amusement. It wasn't the first time he'd been met with such reactions, and he doubted it would be the last. But he didn't mind the attention; if anything, it only served to bolster his sense of power and superiority.

As he browsed the aisles, Peter couldn't resist the urge to tease Stiles, imagining the boy's muffled protests as he tossed various items into his cart.  "Looks like you'll have some company soon, Stiles," he chuckled, running a hand over his distended abdomen. "I hope you don't mind sharing your new home with a few groceries." He grabbed a bag of apples, imagining how their crisp sweetness would lessen as he chewed it up, mixed it with his saliva, and swallowed it down, and chuckled to himself as he added them to his pile of groceries.

Moving on, Peter grabbed a carton of eggs and a loaf of bread, imagining the satisfying crunch they would make as they were crushed beneath his teeth. He tossed a few cans of soup and a box of cereal into his cart, relishing in the thought of the hearty meals they would provide as he digested his latest victim.

As he made his way to the checkout, Peter couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at the thought of the delicious meal that awaited him at home. With a smirk, he paid for his groceries and made his way out of the store, his belly still bulging out proudly as he headed back to his penthouse.

As the days passed, Stiles found himself immersed in a surreal and nightmarish ordeal within the confines of Peter's digestive tract. Each day brought with it a new wave of sensations and experiences as his body slowly succumbed to the relentless onslaught of Peter's stomach acids.

On the first day, Stiles was greeted by a warm, tingling sensation as the acids began to break down his flesh. It started as a gentle caress, almost soothing in its intensity, but soon escalated into a burning sensation that spread throughout his entire body. He cried out in pain and frustration, his pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears as Peter's mocking laughter echoed in his ears.

"You're really putting up a fight, aren't you, Stiles?" Peter taunted, his voice reverberating through the cavernous expanse of his stomach. "You do know  you will never beat a werewolf’s physique, do you? You belong to me now, body and soul."

Stiles gritted his teeth in defiance, his anger boiling over at Peter's smug demeanor. "Screw you, Peter!" he spat, his voice laced with venom. "You can't keep me trapped in here forever. The others will find out what you've done, and they'll make you pay for it!"

Peter chuckled darkly, the sound sending shivers down Stiles' spine. "Oh, I highly doubt that, Stiles," he replied, his tone dripping with malice. "By the time anyone realizes you're missing, you'll be nothing more than a distant memory. Just another victim of the big bad wolf."

Despite his bravado, Stiles couldn't shake the gnawing sense of fear that threatened to consume him from within. With each passing day, he felt his strength waning, his body growing weaker as the acids continued their relentless assault. But even in the face of impending doom, he refused to go down without a fight.

As the second day dawned, Stiles found himself sinking deeper into the abyss of Peter's belly, his screams of agony muffled by the suffocating darkness that surrounded him. The pain was unbearable, a constant reminder of his dire predicament, but still he clung to the faint hope of survival.

"Please, Peter," he begged, his voice hoarse with desperation. "Let me go. I won't tell anyone what happened. Just please, let me out of here!"

Peter's response was a cruel laugh that sent chills down Stiles' spine. "Sorry, Stiles," he said, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "You’re too smart for your good."

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Stiles realized that his fate was sealed. Trapped within the confines of Peter's stomach, he could do nothing but await his inevitable demise.

Day by day, Stiles felt himself being slowly consumed by the relentless tide of Peter's stomach acids. Each passing moment brought with it a new wave of pain and torment, his body wracked with agony as his flesh melted away beneath the relentless onslaught.

But even in the face of unimaginable suffering, Stiles refused to surrender to despair. With every ounce of strength he possessed, he fought against the inevitable, clinging to the faint hope of survival even as it slipped further and further from his grasp.

"Damn you, Peter!" he screamed, his voice coarse with pain. "I won't let you win! I'll find a way out of here, no matter what it takes!"

But Peter's only response was a mocking laugh, the sound reverberating through the cavernous expanse of his stomach. "Keep telling yourself that, Stiles," he taunted.

Peter chuckled to himself as he stood before the mirror, his hands moving to his distended belly. With a playful smirk, he began to rub and knead the bulging mass, reveling in the sensation of Stiles' struggling form trapped within.

"You really outdid yourself this time, Stiles," Peter mused, his fingers tracing lazy circles over his taut skin. "I'll have to remember to thank you properly for that little release."

As he continued to play with his belly, Peter's gaze drifted to the torn shreds of fabric that had once been Stiles' underwear. With a wicked grin, he plucked them up from the floor and held them up to the light, examining them with amusement.

"These will make a perfect addition to my collection," Peter remarked, his tone filled with dark amusement. "A little memento of our time together, wouldn't you say?"

With a casual shrug, Peter tossed the torn underwear aside, his attention returning to his belly. He ran his fingers along the curve of his navel, teasingly tracing the outline as he thought about the other mementos he had collected over the years.

"Perhaps I'll keep them with the rest," Peter mused, his voice dripping with malice. "A reminder of all the delicious meals I've enjoyed."

Peter stood before the mirror, admiring his reflection with a smirk. The image staring back at him was that of a powerful predator, his chest bouncy and his stomach adorned with the bulging presence of Stiles, a silent testament to his latest subjugation.

"Damn," Peter muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. "I look good."

Peter smirked to himself as he made his way out of his penthouse, not bothering to put on a shirt despite the way his distended belly bulged out in the shape of Stiles' trapped form. He relished in the feeling of the cool air against his skin as he stepped out onto the bustling streets of Beacon Hills.

As he strolled down the sidewalk, Peter couldn't help but notice the way people's eyes lingered on his bare torso, some with curiosity, others with outright shock. But Peter paid them no mind, instead reveling in the attention as he made his way toward the local grocery store.

With each step, Peter's mind wandered to the errands he needed to run, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he thought about the groceries he planned to purchase. He imagined Stiles squirming helplessly in his belly as he loaded up his cart with food, teasing the boy about how each item would soon join him in his digestive tract.

Entering the grocery store, Peter was greeted by the familiar sights and sounds of the bustling aisles, the smell of fresh produce and baked goods wafting through the air. He wasted no time in making his way through the store, his bare chest drawing stares from other shoppers as he moved with purpose.

A group of teenagers whispered amongst themselves as Peter passed by, their eyes darting nervously between him and his distended abdomen. One of them, a bold young man with a cocky smirk, couldn't resist blurting out, "Dude, what's with the gut?"

Peter paused in his tracks, fixing the teenager with a cool, calculating gaze. "What are you looking at?" he replied, his voice laced with thinly veiled amusement. "Never seen a man with a healthy appetite before?"

The teenager blanched, taken aback by Peter's confident demeanor. "Uh, no, I mean... sorry, man," he stammered, quickly averting his gaze and shuffling away with his friends in tow.

Peter chuckled softly to himself, shaking his head in amusement. It wasn't the first time he'd been met with such reactions, and he doubted it would be the last. But he didn't mind the attention; if anything, it only served to bolster his sense of power and superiority.

As he browsed the aisles, Peter couldn't resist the urge to tease Stiles, imagining the boy's muffled protests as he tossed various items into his cart.  "Looks like you'll have some company soon, Stiles," he chuckled, running a hand over his distended abdomen. "I hope you don't mind sharing your new home with a few groceries." He grabbed a bag of apples, imagining how their crisp sweetness would lessen as he chewed it up, mixed it with his saliva, and swallowed it down, and chuckled to himself as he added them to his pile of groceries.

Moving on, Peter grabbed a carton of eggs and a loaf of bread, imagining the satisfying crunch they would make as they were crushed beneath his teeth. He tossed a few cans of soup and a box of cereal into his cart, relishing in the thought of the hearty meals they would provide as he digested his latest victim.

As he made his way to the checkout, Peter couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at the thought of the delicious meal that awaited him at home. With a smirk, he paid for his groceries and made his way out of the store, his belly still bulging out proudly as he headed back to his penthouse.

As the days passed, Stiles found himself immersed in a surreal and nightmarish ordeal within the confines of Peter's digestive tract. Each day brought with it a new wave of sensations and experiences as his body slowly succumbed to the relentless onslaught of Peter's stomach acids.

On the first day, Stiles was greeted by a warm, tingling sensation as the acids began to break down his flesh. It started as a gentle caress, almost soothing in its intensity, but soon escalated into a burning sensation that spread throughout his entire body. He cried out in pain and frustration, his pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears as Peter's mocking laughter echoed in his ears.

"You're really putting up a fight, aren't you, Stiles?" Peter taunted, his voice reverberating through the cavernous expanse of his stomach. "You do know  you will never beat a werewolf’s physique, do you? You belong to me now, body and soul."

Stiles gritted his teeth in defiance, his anger boiling over at Peter's smug demeanor. "Screw you, Peter!" he spat, his voice laced with venom. "You can't keep me trapped in here forever. The others will find out what you've done, and they'll make you pay for it!"

Peter chuckled darkly, the sound sending shivers down Stiles' spine. "Oh, I highly doubt that, Stiles," he replied, his tone dripping with malice. "By the time anyone realizes you're missing, you'll be nothing more than a distant memory. Just another victim of the big bad wolf."

Despite his bravado, Stiles couldn't shake the gnawing sense of fear that threatened to consume him from within. With each passing day, he felt his strength waning, his body growing weaker as the acids continued their relentless assault. But even in the face of impending doom, he refused to go down without a fight.

As the second day dawned, Stiles found himself sinking deeper into the abyss of Peter's belly, his screams of agony muffled by the suffocating darkness that surrounded him. The pain was unbearable, a constant reminder of his dire predicament, but still he clung to the faint hope of survival.

"Please, Peter," he begged, his voice hoarse with desperation. "Let me go. I won't tell anyone what happened. Just please, let me out of here!"

Peter's response was a cruel laugh that sent chills down Stiles' spine. "Sorry, Stiles," he said, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "You’re too smart for your good."

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Stiles realized that his fate was sealed. Trapped within the confines of Peter's stomach, he could do nothing but await his inevitable demise.

Day by day, Stiles felt himself being slowly consumed by the relentless tide of Peter's stomach acids. Each passing moment brought with it a new wave of pain and torment, his body wracked with agony as his flesh melted away beneath the relentless onslaught.

But even in the face of unimaginable suffering, Stiles refused to surrender to despair. With every ounce of strength he possessed, he fought against the inevitable, clinging to the faint hope of survival even as it slipped further and further from his grasp.

"Damn you, Peter!" he screamed, his voice coarse with pain. "I won't let you win! I'll find a way out of here, no matter what it takes!"

But Peter's only response was a mocking laugh, the sound reverberating through the cavernous expanse of his stomach. "Keep telling yourself that, Stiles," he taunted. He stood in front of the mirror in his penthouse, adjusting the collar of his shirt with a satisfied smirk. He glanced over at the corner of the room where Stiles’ underwear memento lay, torn and cum-soaked from his prior release.

"Looks like they've called a meeting to find you," Peter taunted, his voice dripping with amusement. "Funny how you'll most likely be dead by the end of it."

Stiles groaned weakly, his eyes fluttering open as he struggled against his restraints. "You're sick, Peter," he muttered hoarsely, his words barely audible.

Peter chuckled darkly, turning back to the mirror to straighten his tie. "Perhaps. But at least I'll be entertained while I wait for your demise."

With a final smirk at Stiles, Peter left the penthouse, and headed towards the designated meeting spot– Derek Hale & Noah Stillinski had called for an emergency meeting, as one of their members had suddenly disappeared without a trace.

As Peter sat in on the pack meeting with Derek and Noah, the tension in the room was palpable. Noah's usually calm demeanor was replaced by an air of frantic worry, his brow furrowed and hands clenched into tight fists. Derek, ever protective of his pack members, especially Stiles, was visibly agitated, his posture rigid as he leaned forward in his seat.

"So, any leads on where Stiles could be?" Noah's voice was strained, betraying his desperation as he addressed the group.

Derek shook his head, his jaw clenched tight. "Nothing yet. I've been trying to pick up his scent, but it's like he's vanished without a trace."

Noah let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. "This doesn't make any sense. Stiles wouldn't just disappear like this. He's not the type to run away."

Peter, leaning back in his seat with a smug grin, interjected, "Perhaps he's just off on one of his little adventures. You know how Stiles can be, always getting himself into trouble."

Derek shot Peter a glare, his eyes flashing with irritation. "This is serious, Peter. Stiles wouldn't just up and leave without telling anyone. Something's not right."

Noah nodded in agreement, his gaze hardening. "Exactly. Which is why we need to figure out what happened to him, and fast."

“What if he fell victim to the same disappearances that have been happening around Beacon Hills?” Peter said, “Maybe what got them, got him.” He added, feigning concern and intending it to be an indirect tease to the almost-fully-digested Stiles in his gut, having to hear them mutter about his fate when he’s only a few feet away from them.

“Don’t say that.” Noah said, not wanting to comprehend the possibility that he will never find his son again.

The group fell into a tense silence as they pondered their next move. Noah's mind was racing with worry for his son, while Derek's thoughts were consumed with concern and determination to find Stiles and bring him home safely.

Finally, Noah stood up from his seat, his expression grim. "I need to attend to my duties as Sheriff. Derek, I'm trusting you to lead the search for Stiles. Find my son, Derek. Bring him back to me. Please."

Derek nodded solemnly, his resolve hardening. "I will, Sheriff. I promise."

With that, Noah left the meeting, leaving Derek and Peter to plan their next steps in the search for Stiles. But as they began to discuss their strategy, Derek couldn't shake the feeling of dread that gnawed at him, a sinking suspicion that whatever had happened to Stiles was far more sinister than any of them could have imagined.

“You might be right, Peter.”

Peter watched as Derek's expression hardened, a flicker of vulnerability slipping through his stoic facade. He leaned forward, his curiosity piqued by Derek's sudden intensity.

"You think my suggestion is true, don't you?" Peter asked, his voice carefully neutral, though a glint of amusement danced in his eyes.

Derek hesitated, his gaze fixed on the table before him. "I didn't want to say anything in front of Noah, but... yes, I think you might be right," he admitted, his voice low and serious.

Peter raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "And why is that?"

Derek sighed heavily, his frustration evident. "Stiles... he told me he had a hunch about who was behind all this. He wanted to investigate further, but before he could..."

His voice trailed off, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. Peter leaned back in his chair, his mind racing with possibilities.

"And he disappeared," Peter finished for him, a note of understanding in his voice. "Without ever knowing if his hunch was right."

Derek nodded grimly, his jaw clenched with determination. "I'm almost certain his hunch was right," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "And now... now he's gone."

Peter studied Derek's expression carefully, sensing the guilt and remorse that lingered beneath his steely exterior. He knew Derek blamed himself for Stiles' disappearance, even if he wouldn't admit it out loud.

"Well, we'll just have to find him, won't we?" Peter said, injecting a note of false optimism into his voice. "And when we do, we'll make sure whoever's responsible pays for what they've done."

Peter's confident facade faltered as a sudden wave of nausea swept over him, his stomach churning violently. He clutched at his abdomen, grimacing as a series of guttural gags and deep burps erupted from his throat, each one more forceful than the last. Saliva dribbled down his chin, mingling with the bile rising in his throat.

Derek watched in concern as Peter doubled over, his face contorted in discomfort. "Peter, are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

Peter waved him off, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fought to regain control of his rebellious stomach. "Fine," he managed to choke out between gags. "Just... a momentary... hiccup."

But the spasms only intensified, each one wracking his body with increasing ferocity. His vision blurred with tears as he struggled to contain the rising tide of sickness threatening to overwhelm him.

And then, with one final heave, Peter expelled a thick wad of saliva and bile, followed by a sudden burst of pressure from his throat. His eyes widened in shock as he felt something solid lodged in his esophagus, blocking his airway.

With a desperate groan, Peter reached up to his mouth, his fingers probing frantically at the obstruction. And then, with a sickening squelch, he felt it give way beneath his touch, sliding up his throat and into the open air.

Derek's eyes widened in horror as Peter withdrew a half-digested jacket from his mouth, its fabric stained and sodden with digestive juices. The sight of it made his stomach churn, bile rising in his own throat at the realization of what had just transpired.

Peter's face paled as he stared down at the jacket in his hands, a cold shiver coursing through his veins. He had never experienced anything like this before, never lost control of his own body in such a humiliating manner. But Derek didn't need an explanation. The truth was plain to see, written in the horrified expression on Peter's face and the undeniable evidence clutched in his trembling hands.

Stiles was gone, and he wasn't coming back.

"I..." he began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the words to explain what had just happened. But he didn’t need to; 

Before Peter could utter a word, Derek was upon him, his fist connecting with brutal force against Peter's abdomen. The impact sent shockwaves rippling through Peter's body, knocking him off balance and sending him stumbling backward with a pained grunt. The force of the punch was enough to warrant another, abrupt burp that erupted from Peter’s mouth–

BuuUuurRrP!

–surprisingly just as loud as his previous one. Peter hadn’t anticipated how fast it happened: Derek's transformation was swift and violent, his fangs elongating into razor-sharp points and his eyes blazing a furious shade of crimson. The air crackled with the raw power of his Alpha aura as he surged forward, his movements fluid and predatory.

The force of Derek's blow was enough to drive the breath from Peter's lungs, leaving him gasping for air as he struggled to regain his footing. He looked up at Derek with wide eyes.

"Derek, I—" he began, but Derek cut him off with a fierce growl, his lips drawn back in a snarl of rage.

"Don't you dare try to deny it," Derek spat, his voice low and menacing. "You fucking ate him, didn't you? You swallowed him whole like some goddamn monster!"

Peter's heart pounded in his chest as he watched Derek advance, his gaze filled with a primal intensity that sent a chill down his spine– But it wasn’t out of fear, it was pounding out of the intense excitement that he gets to swallow Derek, too. He could feel the weight of Derek's accusation bearing down on him, the truth of it echoing in his mind like a relentless drumbeat.

But even as Derek loomed over him, his fists clenched in fury, Peter had to tease. “Didn’t think Stiles had it in him to be so loud,” He said, “Guess he wanted his final words to be heard.” He had consumed Stiles, yes, and he had burped up Stiles’ last effort at wanting to be seen.

"Save it," Derek snapped, his voice dripping with scorn. "I trusted you, Peter. We all did. And this is how you repay us? By eating one of our own?"

“You should be thankful” Peter replied, lifting up his top to show Derek his churning gut. Loud, fattier, squishable, and the most prominent change: A tattoo of Stiles's face around his naval, a permanent reminder of what he had done and a power symbol to brag about. “I’m one-for-two now, Stiles is still here. Just, different.”

“You fucking…” Derek growled, “…You fucking got his face tattooed?!”

“On the contrary,” He spoke, giving the place where Stiles’ face was imprinted a squish. “He got it tattooed, must’ve liked what happened enough in there to want to stay on it.” Subtly implying that this was simply a byproduct of the digestion.

“W-Wha–?!” Derek stuttered before being cut off by the predator.

“That punch you gave me earlier? Stiles felt it as much as I did. Can still faintly hear him in there.” He taunted, rubbing in the fact that beating Peter is indirectly beating his friend-turned-fat.

With a guttural roar, Derek lashed out again, his fist striking Peter's face with bone-crushing force. Peter was in agony, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fought to keep from keeling over.

“Stop fucking with me!” The alpha shouted, jumping in for another punch– He wasn’t buying Peter’s shit, thinking what he said was either intended to rub it in or discourage him from beating the shit out of him.

Derek's fist sailed through the air with deadly intent, but Peter was already moving, his reflexes honed by years of survival instinct. He dodged Derek's punch with a swift sidestep, then retaliated with a powerful kick to Derek's abdomen.

The force of Peter's blow sent Derek staggering backward, his knees buckling beneath him as he struggled to remain upright. With a growl of frustration, Derek dropped to his knees, his hands clenching into fists as he glared up at Peter.

"Now now, you really want to hurt your boy this much?" Peter taunted, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

Derek's anger flared, his instincts urging him to launch himself at Peter in a blind fury. But just as he was about to strike, a sudden wave of hesitation washed over him. Even if he didn’t believe Peter, what if he hurt Stiles in the process? What if it was real? The thought paralyzed him for a split second, just long enough for Peter to seize the opportunity.

With lightning speed, Peter swung his fist forward, his knuckles connecting with Derek's jaw with a sickening thud. Derek's head snapped back, pain exploding behind his eyes as he crumpled to the ground.

Before Derek could react, Peter was upon him, his weight bearing down on Derek's chest as he pinned him to the ground. Derek struggled beneath him, his muscles straining against the crushing pressure of Peter's bulk, his belly.

"You think you can stop me?" Peter taunted, his voice low and menacing. "You're nothing, Derek. Just a weak little Alpha who couldn't protect his own pack."

Derek's chest heaved with exertion as he strained against Peter's hold, but the weight pressing down on him was relentless. He could feel his strength waning, his limbs growing heavy with fatigue.

But just as he was about to succumb to the suffocating pressure, a surge of determination flooded through him. With a fierce roar, Derek summoned every ounce of his remaining strength and pushed against Peter with all his might.

For a moment, it seemed as though Peter might be overpowered, his grip faltering ever so slightly. But then, with a final burst of effort, he tightened his hold, his belly pressing down even harder on Derek's chest.

"You're going to– Uunngh… Pay for what you've done, Peter," Derek growled, his voice a low, menacing rumble. "I swear it."

Peter's taunts cut through the air like a knife, each word dripping with malice as he leaned in closer to Derek, his smirk widening into a cruel grin.

"You know, Stiles was still alive when you came in for that meeting," Peter sneered, relishing the anguish that flickered across Derek's face. "Who knows if he died from digestion mid-meeting as we obliviously discussed where he went during his final moments, unable to help as he died... Or if your punch was the one to finish him off?"

Derek's fists clenched at his sides, his jaw set in a tight line as he fought to hold back the wave of despair threatening to consume him. "Fuck you, Peter," he spat, his voice thick with emotion.

But Peter merely chuckled, the sound grating on Derek's nerves like sandpaper. "Oh, don't worry, Derek. You'll be joining your pack member soon enough," he taunted, his tone dripping with sinister promise. "The pack’ll reunite, as fat on my fucking belly."

The words hung in the air like a death sentence, sending a shiver down Derek's spine. He knew he had to find a way out, to break free from Peter's suffocating hold before it was too late. But as he struggled against the crushing weight pinning him down, he couldn't shake the sinking feeling that he might never escape from this nightmare.

With a cruel smirk, Peter leaned in closer to Derek, his eyes glinting with malicious intent as he spat on Derek's face, the spittle landing in a disgusting splatter. "You're going to make such a nice, fat addition to my belly," he taunted, his voice dripping with sadistic glee.

He continued to rub his distended belly against Derek's chest, the pressure making it difficult for Derek to breathe as he forced him to hear the sickening gurgles emanating from within. "Just imagine how much fatter you'll make me once I've digested you and Stiles together," Peter teased, his tone mocking.

Derek gritted his teeth, his fists clenched in impotent rage as he struggled against Peter's overwhelming strength. He knew he was no match for the werewolf in his current state, but he refused to give up without a fight.

Peter pushed his belly further against Derek’s chest and up on his face, forcing him to listen to the gurgles of digestion and feel the remaining weight of Stiles in his beer belly.

But before he could muster a response, Peter's tone shifted, his smirk widening into a predatory grin. "But not now," he mused, almost casually. "I think I'll save the best for last. Noah Stilinski seems like he'd be a delicious appetizer, don't you think?“ He said, ”Family first, right? Poor dad must be missing his son.“

And with that, Peter delivered a swift, powerful punch to Derek's jaw, the force of it knocking him unconscious in an instant. As darkness closed in around him, Derek couldn't help but wonder if he would ever see the light of day again.

Peter's muscles rippled beneath his taut skin as he effortlessly lifted Derek's unconscious form from the ground, his strength belying his lean frame. With a grunt of exertion, he hoisted Derek's limp body over his broad shoulder, his arms securely wrapped around his waist to prevent him from slipping.

With Derek's weight settled against him, Peter began the journey back to his penthouse, his steps purposeful and steady as he navigated the dimly lit streets of Beacon Hills. The cool night air brushed against his skin, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and earth, a stark contrast to the turmoil raging within him.

As he approached the entrance to his building, Peter's pace quickened, a surge of anticipation coursing through him at the thought of what awaited them inside. With a flick of his wrist, he unlocked the door and stepped into the opulent foyer, the soft glow of the chandeliers casting eerie shadows across the marble floors.

Carefully, Peter carried Derek through the spacious penthouse, his footsteps echoing in the silence as he made his way to the makeshift holding area he had prepared in the basement. With a grunt of effort, he lowered Derek onto the sturdy metal cot, his muscles straining with the effort as he secured the restraints around Derek's wrists and ankles, ensuring that he wouldn't be able to escape.

Once Derek was securely bound, Peter stepped back, a satisfied smile curling his lips as he surveyed his handiwork. With Derek safely restrained, he could finally focus on his next target: Noah Stilinski.

"Now, off to Noah's workplace..." Peter murmured to himself, his voice low and menacing as he turned on his heel and made his way back upstairs.

The Beacon County Sheriff Station stood as a sturdy fortress against the encroaching darkness of the night. Its exterior was composed of weathered bricks, their surfaces marred by the passage of time and the elements. At the lower few meters of the building, the bricks transitioned into a different type of tile, arranged in a neat pattern that offered a subtle contrast to the rough texture of the bricks above.

A dusty, old sign adorned the top of the double-sided glass doors, its letters slightly faded from years of exposure to the elements. The white frames of the doors gleamed faintly under the dim glow of the street lamps that flanked the entrance. Two additional lamps, one on each side of the doorway, cast pools of light onto the cracked pavement below, their buzzing hum adding to the eerie ambiance of the night.

Peter approached the entrance with purposeful strides, his gaze fixed on the illuminated interior beyond the glass doors. Despite the late hour, the station was still abuzz with activity, the sound of ringing phones and hurried footsteps echoing through the empty streets. Most of the deputies had already ended their shifts and gone home for the night, leaving only a skeleton crew behind to maintain order in the quiet hours of the evening.

As Peter pushed open the heavy glass doors and stepped into the station, he noted the tired expressions of the few deputies who remained already packing their things to leave, their shoulders slumped with exhaustion as they went about their duties, while most had already gone home far earlier, after their shift ended. The fluorescent lights overhead cast harsh shadows on the linoleum floor, illuminating the worn desks and filing cabinets that lined the walls.

At the far end of the room, Peter spotted Sheriff Noah Stilinski, in his office, hunched over a stack of paperwork, his brow furrowed in concentration. Despite the late hour, Noah seemed to be working overtime, his dedication to his duties evident in the way he tirelessly poured over the files spread out before him.

Peter's lips curled into a smirk as he made his way toward Noah's desk, his footsteps echoing loudly in the empty station. Tonight, he would pay a visit to the sheriff, and nothing would stand in his way.

As Peter approached Noah's desk, the sheriff looked up from his paperwork, a flicker of surprise crossing his features at the sight of the unexpected visitor. "Peter," Noah greeted, a note of relief in his voice. "What brings you here at this hour?"

Peter offered a sheepish smile as he leaned against the edge of Noah's desk. "Sorry to disappoint, but I'm not here with any groundbreaking leads," he admitted, his tone apologetic. "Just happened to be in the neighborhood, thought I'd drop by and see how things were going."

Noah nodded, understanding. "Well, it's always good to see a friendly face," he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of exhaustion. "Especially on a night like tonight."

Peter raised an eyebrow, his gaze flickering over Noah's fatigued expression. "You look tired, Sheriff," he observed, his tone laced with genuine concern.

Noah chuckled softly, a weary smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You could say that," he admitted, rubbing a hand over his face. "It's been a long day. But sometimes, being here helps take my mind off things, if only for a little while."

Peter nodded in understanding, his expression sympathetic. "I get that," he replied, his voice soft. "Sometimes, it's nice to have a distraction, even if it's just for a moment."

Noah offered a grateful smile in return, appreciating the sentiment. "Exactly," he agreed, his eyes meeting Peter's with a hint of camaraderie. "Besides, it's all part of the job, right? Gotta keep pushing forward, even when things get tough."

Peter nodded in agreement, his gaze lingering on Noah's weary form. Despite the sheriff's outward strength, Peter couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy for the man who carried the weight of the town's safety on his shoulders.

The sheriff chuckled, “…It’s funny, because as much as I used to bicker with him, I miss him like crazy.” He looked thoughtful, “I say I try to get my mind off things, but truth be told, I couldn’t focus on shit today.” Performance suffered, and working overtime was not just a way to distract but a way to make up.

Peter glanced around the now-deserted sheriff's station, ensuring that they were alone before turning back to Noah with a solemn expression. "You know, I think I might have a lead that could help ease your mind for a bit," he began, his voice low and serious.

Noah's eyes widened with hope, a surge of adrenaline coursing through him at the prospect of finally getting some answers about his missing son. "You do?" he asked eagerly, leaning forward in his chair. "Where did he go? Did you find him?"

Peter hesitated for a moment before responding, his gaze flickering with a mixture of guilt and determination. "He's right here," he said quietly, reaching down and lifting the hem of his shirt to reveal the tattoo of Stiles' face etched into his skin.

Noah's brow furrowed in confusion, his initial excitement fading into frustration. "Peter, I appreciate the sentiment, but now is not the time for jokes," he replied sternly, his voice tinged with annoyance, thinking that getting a tattoo of stiles’ face now was bad timing.

But Peter's expression remained deadly serious as he lowered his shirt, his eyes locking onto Noah's with an intensity that sent a shiver down the sheriff's spine. "I'm not joking, Noah," he said quietly, his tone devoid of humor. "I swallowed him whole."

Noah's heart skipped a beat as the full weight of Peter's words sank in, his mind struggling to process the horrifying truth of what he was hearing. "What do you mean, you swallowed him whole?" he demanded, his voice trembling with a mixture of disbelief and horror.

Peter's lips curled into a cruel smirk as he recounted the gruesome details of Stiles' fate, his words dripping with malice as he described the agony of his son's final moments. Noah's stomach churned with revulsion as he listened, unable to comprehend the sheer brutality of Peter's actions.

"You monster," Noah spat, his voice trembling with rage as he glared at Peter with loathing. "How could you do something like that? How could you take my son away from me?"

But Peter remained unfazed by Noah's outburst, his expression cold and impassive as he shrugged indifferently. "It's nothing personal, Sheriff," he replied casually, his tone devoid of remorse. "Your son just tasted fucking delicious." He said, licking his lips and clutching his fat belly.

Noah's hands clenched into fists at his sides as he fought to contain his anger, his chest heaving with the effort to keep himself from lashing out at Peter. But deep down, he knew that there was nothing he could do to bring his son back, nothing he could do to make things right, and with his most effective werewolf weaponry far away, nothing he could to avenge.

Peter forcibly rushed, rapidly transforming to his werewolf form as his predatory instincts took over, pinning Noah against his desk with a strength that was impossible for the sheriff to resist. Noah's heart pounded in his chest as he felt the weight of Peter's massive body pressing down on him, his muscles straining against the powerful hold, and his belly pushing against his body– The same belly that relentlessly digested his son.

Despite Noah's tough exterior and years of training as a police officer, he felt utterly powerless in the face of Peter's relentless assault. His mind reeled with shock and disbelief as he realized the true extent of the danger he was in, and he was weak; Mourning his son’s death, his squirms and struggles were instinctual, but he had long given up.

With a savage growl, Peter tore away Noah's clothes, leaving him exposed and vulnerable beneath his predatory gaze. Noah's skin burned with shame as he lay helpless beneath the werewolf's relentless onslaught, his muscles tensing with every agonizing second that passed.

But as Peter's tongue traced a path of fiery heat across his exposed flesh, Noah's resistance began to crumble, his senses overwhelmed by the raw intensity of the sensations coursing through his body. Despite his best efforts to fight it, he found himself succumbing to the overpowering force of Peter's touch, his defenses crumbling beneath the weight of his own despair.

Peter licked down to Noah’s exposed member, licking it all the way down to his balls. Tears streamed down Noah's cheeks as he felt Peter's lips close around his dick, his body wracked with a mixture of pleasure and pain as the werewolf forced him to submit to his desires. He continued to suck on it, Noah’s dick growing hard in the werewolf’s mouth, his veins rubbing against the fangs.

Before Noah could find any reprieve from the unwanted pleasure, Peter abruptly withdrew his attention from his groin, leaving Noah gasping for air and shuddering with a mix of relief and lingering arousal. But his moment of respite was short-lived, as Peter's tongue trailed up Noah's body with a ferocity that sent shivers down his spine, leaving a slick trail of saliva in its wake.

With a low growl, Peter leaned in close, his hot breath washing over Noah's face as he licked and nipped at his skin with reckless abandon. Noah could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he gazed up at the werewolf towering over him, his mind reeling with a dizzying mix of fear and desire.

As Peter's lips brushed against his own, Noah could feel the weight of his words hanging in the air like a heavy shroud. "Reuniting son and father," Peter teased, his voice dripping with malicious intent. "Isn't that what you wanted, Sheriff?"

Noah's breath caught in his throat as he struggled to find the words to respond, his mind spinning with a maelstrom of conflicting emotions. Part of him wanted to lash out in anger and defiance, to fight tooth and nail against the fate that awaited him, but he had no leverage; Peter caught him at a most unfortunate time.

"Please," Noah begged, his voice barely more than a desperate whisper. "Don't–"

But before he could finish his plea, Peter's hand clamped down over his mouth, silencing him with a forceful gesture. With a savage grin, Peter shoved Noah's face into his gaping maw, his lips stretching wide to accommodate the sheriff's head as he forced him down into the darkness of his throat.

Noah's world erupted into chaos as he felt himself being swallowed whole, his body writhing and convulsing with a mix of terror and revulsion. He could feel the walls of Peter's esophagus closing in around him, squeezing him tight as he was dragged down into the depths of the werewolf's belly.

As Peter's jaws clamped shut around him, Noah felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness wash over him. He could feel himself being drawn inexorably downward, his body slipping and sliding against the slick, saliva-coated walls of Peter's throat as he was swallowed whole.

First, it was his head, squeezed tightly between the muscular walls of Peter's esophagus, the darkness closing in around him like a suffocating blanket. Then came his shoulders, his arms pinned tightly to his sides as he was pulled further and further into the depths of the werewolf's belly.

Noah's chest was next, compressed and constricted as he was forced deeper into Peter's gullet, the pressure mounting with each passing moment. He could feel the heat of Peter's stomach looming ever closer, the acidic tang of digestive juices burning at the back of his throat.

Finally, it was his legs, his feet kicking and flailing uselessly as they disappeared into the gaping maw of the beast that had consumed him. With one final, desperate gasp, Noah felt himself vanish entirely into the darkness, his entire body enveloped by the relentless grip of Peter's insatiable hunger.

A deep, rumbling burp echoed through the chamber as Peter swallowed Noah down, the sound reverberating off the walls with a sickening finality. With a satisfied grin, Peter patted his distended belly, the outline of Noah's form visible beneath his stretched skin.

"Ah, that hits the spot," Peter chuckled, his voice muffled by the layers of flesh that separated him from the outside world. "Looks like it's just you and me now, Sheriff. Hope you enjoy your stay." He said, before correcting himself teasingly. “–Er, and what little consciousness left of your son.”

Peter positioned himself on the sheriff's desk, his massive belly protruding obscenely as he straddled the wooden surface. His legs dangled over the edge, his feet grazing the floor below as he leaned forward, his hands planted firmly on either side of Noah's abandoned chair.

With a low, guttural growl, Peter began to grind his hips against his swollen belly, the pressure sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body. His movements were slow and deliberate, each thrust punctuated by a low moan of satisfaction as he reveled in the sensation of his distended stomach pressing against his groin.

"Mmm, you like that, Sheriff?" Peter purred, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. "Feels good, doesn't it? Knowing that you're just another meal for my appetite."

He continued to hump his belly with increasing fervor, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through his veins. His moans grew louder, more urgent, as he lost himself in the ecstasy of the moment.

"God, I love the feeling of a full belly," he groaned, his voice thick with desire. "And you, Sheriff, you're going to make the perfect addition to my collection. Your son and now you, all snug and cozy in my gut."

With each thrust, Peter could feel himself drawing closer and closer to the edge, his arousal building to a fever pitch. He could practically taste the sweet release that awaited him, the culmination of his twisted desires.

And then, with a final, shuddering gasp, he came, his orgasm washing over him in a tidal wave of pleasure. He collapsed onto the desk, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he basked in the afterglow of his release.

"That was... fucking hot," he panted, his chest heaving with exertion. "Seems like you’re good at three jobs, Sheriff."

Peter sprawled out on the sheriff's desk, his massive belly rising and falling with each labored breath. His skin glistened with sweat and his clothes were rumpled and disheveled, evidence of the intense pleasure he had just experienced.

With a contented sigh, Peter shifted slightly, making himself more comfortable on the hard surface beneath him. He stretched out his limbs, his muscles relaxing as he allowed himself to sink into the desk's worn surface.

"Don't mind if I nap here a little, do you?" he murmured, his voice slurred with exhaustion. He closed his eyes, the darkness behind his eyelids offering a welcome respite from the harsh fluorescent lights of the station.

As he drifted off to sleep, Peter could feel the gentle rocking of his belly as it churned and gurgled around him. It was a soothing sensation, like the ebb and flow of the tide, lulling him into a state of blissful relaxation.

Peter's eyes fluttered open as the early morning light streamed through the windows of the sheriff's station. He sat up slowly, stretching his arms above his head and yawning as he glanced around the dimly lit room.

Checking the clock on the sheriff's desk, Peter muttered to himself, "Shit, almost got caught by your underdogs. I'm one lucky wolf." He chuckled softly, a smug grin spreading across his face as he thought about how close he had come to being discovered.

With a satisfied sigh, Peter climbed to his feet and adjusted his clothing, smoothing out the wrinkles and straightening his collar. He took a moment to admire the sight of Noah's empty office, the memories of their encounter still fresh in his mind.

As he made his way out of the station, Peter's belly churned and gurgled loudly, a constant reminder of the meal he had consumed the night before. He could hear Noah's faint groans of pain echoing from within his gut, the sound sending a thrill of pleasure coursing through his veins.

"Looks like your old age is catching up with you, Sheriff," Peter taunted, his voice dripping with amusement. "Barely lasting in there, aren't you?" He chuckled to himself, relishing in the thought of Noah's suffering as he continued on his way, eager to start his day, as his belly’s occupant barely had any air to breathe in.

Peter lazily strolled down the quiet streets of Beacon Hills, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he whistled a tuneless melody. The early morning sunlight cast long shadows across the pavement, warming his skin as he ambled along.

With a leisurely pace, Peter made his way to a nearby café, where he ordered himself a large coffee and a pastry, not bothering to hide the bulge of his distended belly as he leaned against the counter. The barista shot him a curious glance, but Peter paid it no mind, too preoccupied with the delicious aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

Sipping his coffee slowly, Peter found a comfortable spot by the window and settled in, idly watching the world go by as he enjoyed his breakfast. He could feel Stiles' face tattoo stretching further across his bloated belly, the ink distorting slightly as his gut churned and gurgled in protest.

After finishing his meal, Peter decided to take a leisurely stroll through the park, enjoying the peaceful solitude as he wandered beneath the canopy of trees. He paused to admire the vibrant colors of the flowers in bloom, the sweet scent of spring filling the air.

As the morning wore on, Peter eventually made his way back to his penthouse, feeling pleasantly relaxed and content. He let out a satisfied sigh as he sank into his favorite armchair, his belly now even more swollen and round than before.

Meanwhile, deep within Peter's gut, Noah continued to be slowly digested, his body breaking down bit by bit until only a few hours later, he was nothing more than a distant memory. Peter's waistline expanded, getting much fatter, and another tattoo of Noah’s face appeared on his gut, next to Stiles. Peter gave it a big, nice squeeze.

“Did say I was going to reunite you, didn’t I?” He said, squeezing even tighter. He knew that both Stiles and Noah could feel what he felt, and he could barely hear their incomprehensible thoughts in the back of his mind, the fat on his belly sentient and permanent. “One more, and the pack’s complete.”

Peter descended the stairs to his basement, the cool air enveloping him as he reached the dimly lit chamber. There, tied-up and bruised, was Derek, his gaze fixed on Peter with a mixture of defiance and resignation.

"Ah, Derek, my dear nephew," Peter said with a smirk, stepping closer to where Derek was restrained. "It seems you've been busy trying to escape. But you know what they say – it takes a werewolf to know how to tie one."

Derek's jaw clenched, his muscles tensing as he struggled against his bonds. But Peter merely chuckled, circling around him like a predator sizing up its prey.

"You're not going anywhere, Derek," Peter continued, his voice dripping with malice. "Not until we've had a little chat. Not until I decide that it’s time for you to join the others."

Derek's eyes narrowed, his gaze flickering down to Peter's distended belly. And then he saw it – the tattoo of Noah's face stretched across Peter's skin, a grim reminder of the fate that had befallen his father.

"Why, Peter?" Derek demanded, his voice thick with emotion. "Why are you doing this?"

Peter chuckled darkly as he pressed his distended belly against Derek's face, feeling the werewolf's struggling breath against his skin.

"You know, Derek," Peter said casually, "I've discovered that eating others whole has some... benefits. It's made me stronger, more powerful than ever before."

Derek groaned, his muscles straining against his bonds as he struggled to break free. But Peter merely tightened his grip, relishing in the sensation of Derek's helplessness.

"Now, here's the deal," Peter continued, his voice low and menacing. "You can either give up your alpha status and be a beta in my pack, or..."

He paused, letting the implication hang in the air as he leaned in closer to Derek's ear.

"...you can become my next meal."

Derek's eyes widened in horror as he realized the full extent of Peter's intentions. He growled, his werewolf fangs showing as he sweared, “Fuck you, I’m doing neither.”

With a sinister grin, Peter leaned down to Derek's face, his tongue snaking out to lick a slow trail across Derek's cheek. The werewolf recoiled at the sensation, disgust etched across his features, but Peter paid no mind.

As Derek's nostrils filled with the scent of blood and decay, his stomach churned with dread. He knew that smell all too well—it was the unmistakable scent of death.

Before he could react, Peter let out a loud, guttural belch directly in Derek's face, the noxious odor overwhelming his senses. Derek gagged, his eyes watering as he struggled to keep from retching.

As the smell of decay lingered in the air, Peter began to remove the shackles that bound Derek's wrists and ankles, the metal clinking loudly in the silence of the basement. Derek tensed, his muscles straining against the bonds that held him in place, but it was no use—Peter's strength was far greater than his own.

With a predatory gleam in his eye, Peter leaned in close to Derek, his breath hot against the werewolf's ear. "Don't worry, Derek," he whispered, his voice dripping with malice. "You'll be reunited with Stiles soon enough. And all the others I've consumed."

Derek's eyes widened in horror at Peter's words, his mind reeling at the realization of just how many lives Peter had claimed. "How many, you sick fuck?" he demanded, his voice trembling with rage and fear.

Peter merely shrugged nonchalantly, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "I lost count after twenty," he admitted casually, as if discussing the weather. "But who's counting, anyway?"

Peter's belly rumbled loudly, the sound echoing through the dimly lit basement. "Looks like it's dinner time," Peter chuckled, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. With a predatory grin, he advanced toward Derek, who struggled against his bonds with renewed desperation.

As Peter loomed over him, Derek's eyes burned with fury. "You won't get away with this, Peter," he snarled, his voice laced with venom. "I'll find a way to stop you, no matter what it takes."

Peter merely chuckled in response, his amusement evident. "Oh, Derek, always so defiant," he taunted, his tone mocking. "But resistance is futile. You're mine now."

With that, Peter lunged forward, his jaws snapping shut around Derek's neck. The werewolf let out a muffled shout as he was dragged into Peter's gaping maw, his struggles growing more frantic with each passing moment.

Peter relished in the sensation of dominance as he swallowed Derek down, inch by inch. He could feel the werewolf squirming and writhing inside him, but he paid it no mind. All that mattered was establishing his superiority, both as the stronger werewolf and as the one who held Derek's fate in his hands.

As Derek's protests grew louder, Peter's grin widened. "That's it, Derek," he purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Just relax and accept your fate. You're going to make a delicious addition to my collection."

With a final gulp, Peter swallowed Derek down to the halfway point, his belly bulging obscenely with his captive's form. He let out a contented sigh, reveling in the feeling of power coursing through him.

With a final gulp, Peter swallowed Derek's legs and feet, the last parts of his struggling form disappearing into the depths of his churning belly. As Derek's muffled protests faded into silence, Peter let out a satisfied belch, the sound reverberating through the basement.

"Ah, that hits the spot," Peter remarked, rubbing his distended belly with contentment. "Another one down, another step closer to domination."

Leaving the basement behind, Peter ascended the stairs, his heavy footsteps echoing in the quiet house. He decided to stay awake for Derek's digestion, eager to witness the full extent of his power as the werewolf's struggles slowly subsided.

Grabbing a bag of popcorn from the kitchen, Peter settled onto the couch and flicked on the TV. He scrolled through the movie options, selecting a thriller that seemed fitting for the occasion.

As the opening credits rolled, Peter leaned back and munched on his popcorn, his gaze fixed on the screen but his mind elsewhere. He couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation at the thought of Derek's inevitable demise, another victory in his quest for dominance.

With a satisfied smirk, Peter settled in for the show, eager to savor every moment of Derek's agonizing digestion.

As the movie played on, Peter reclined comfortably on the couch, munching on popcorn and occasionally letting out a satisfied belch. Bits of chewed-up popcorn and saliva mixed together as they fell into his churning stomach, joining Derek in his acidic prison.

With each passing minute, the acids in Peter's stomach began to build up, creating an increasingly hostile environment for Derek. He could feel the burning sensation as the stomach acids lapped at his skin, searing his flesh with each movement.

Derek's struggles grew more frantic as the stomach filled with acidic fluid, his attempts to escape becoming more desperate by the second. But Peter merely chuckled at his predicament, taunting him as he watched the movie.

"Quiet down, I can't hear the movie over your ass," Peter remarked, his tone mocking as he shifted on the couch to get a better view of the screen. He took another handful of popcorn and tossed it into his mouth, relishing the taste as he savored Derek's futile attempts to break free.

Derek, contrary to Peter’s remark, squirmed more in protest; Partially because of the pain he was in, but mostly because he refused to lose to him as the alpha. He felt a weight rising up to his chest, and after thumping it, let out a tremendous burp that squeezed his stomach tightly with how much air it purged.

BuUuuuUuuurRrrrrrRrprppppPp!

After letting out a massive belch, Peter noticed that Derek had stopped moving altogether, his struggles coming to an abrupt halt as he became dead weight. With a satisfied grin, Peter began to massage and rub his distended belly, helping it along in the digestion process.

As he kneaded his bloated stomach, Peter could feel the remnants of his latest meal churning and squirming within him, slowly breaking down under the relentless assault of his stomach acids. With each passing moment, Derek's form grew softer and more pliable, his body gradually dissolving into the sludgy mess that would eventually become nothing more than nutrients for Peter, joining the other pack members as permanent fat.

Content with his meal, Peter settled back onto the couch, the weight of his distended belly pressing heavily against him. The warmth and comfort of his food-induced stupor washed over him, lulling him into a state of blissful relaxation.

Before long, Peter succumbed to the inevitable pull of sleep, his eyelids growing heavy as he drifted off into a deep slumber. The movie continued to play on in the background, the sound of gunfire and explosions fading into the background as Peter's consciousness slipped away.

Wrapped in the warmth of his food coma, Peter slept soundly, his belly still churning and digesting its latest meal as he dreamed of the countless feasts that lay ahead.

As Peter awoke from his food-induced slumber, he felt a surge of energy coursing through his veins, a newfound strength that pulsed within him like a beacon of power. Rising from the couch, he made his way to the nearest mirror, eager to see the physical manifestations of his newfound status as alpha.

As he gazed into his reflection, Peter's eyes widened in surprise at the sight of his irises glowing a fiery shade of red, a telltale sign of his ascension to alpha status. A grin spread across his face as he took in the changes that had occurred to his body overnight.

His once lean physique had been transformed into something more robust and muscular, his frame filled out with the remnants of his recent feasts. His belly, in particular, had grown rounder and more prominent, the tattoo of Stiles' & Noah’s faces stretched even further as it adorned the bulging expanse of his abdomen. Moreover, a third tattoo had appeared as he slept; The face of his nephew, Derek.

Feeling a surge of arousal at the sight of his altered appearance, Peter couldn't help but indulge in the newfound power that coursed through him. Stepping closer to the mirror, he positioned himself in front of it, his hands roaming over his bloated belly as he savored the sensation of his own touch.

With a low groan of pleasure, Peter leaned back against the wall, arching his back slightly as he allowed his hands to roam lower, tracing the curve of his distended abdomen with a mix of fascination and desire. His fingers danced lightly over the stretched skin, relishing in the softness and warmth that radiated from his newfound source of power.

As he continued to explore his own body, Peter's mind wandered to the possibilities that lay ahead as the new alpha of Beacon Hills. With Derek's power now coursing through his veins, he knew that he was destined for greatness, destined to rule over the town and its inhabitants with an iron fist.

His hands traced down to his erect member, fingers curling around the shaft as he began to stroke himself with increasing fervor. The sensation sent waves of pleasure coursing through his body, each stroke bringing him closer to the edge of ecstasy.

As he pleasured himself, Peter couldn't help but feel the presence of the individuals he had consumed swirling within his belly. The fat that enveloped his abdomen seemed to pulse with a life of its own, and he could sense the consciousness of Derek, Noah, and Stiles stirring within him.

“Little fuckers, how does it feel to be part of my body?” He said, speaking them to directly as he continued to pleasure himself, pushing his dick up against the sentient fat on his belly. “You like that I’m getting off to you, don’t you?”

Their thoughts whispered through his mind, mingling with his own desires and fantasies as he surrendered himself to the euphoria of the moment. He could hear their voices, faint but distinct, as they cried out in protest, their fear and confusion adding to the heady mix of sensations that flooded his senses.

But instead of recoiling from their presence, Peter found himself drawn to it, his arousal spiking as he reveled in the power he now held over them. With each stroke of his hand, he felt their fear and desperation fueling his own pleasure, driving him ever closer to the brink of release.

His hands continued their relentless motion, fingers sliding up and down his throbbing member with practiced skill. With each stroke, he couldn't help but revel in the sensation of his own touch, the pleasure building with every pass. As he pleasured himself, his thoughts turned to the recent events—the meals he had consumed, the power he had gained, and the control he now wielded.

As he pleasured himself, Peter moaned softly, the sound mixing with his thoughts as he teased them about their fate. "You're all mine now," he whispered, his voice laced with dark amusement. "You'll be with me forever, trapped in this fat," he continued, his tone dripping with satisfaction. "No matter how hard I work out, I'll never lose you."

The thought sent shivers of pleasure down his spine, intensifying the sensation as he continued to stroke himself with increasing fervor. His mind was consumed with images of their struggles, their cries of pain and desperation echoing in his ears as he relished in his newfound power over them.

And then, with a guttural groan, Peter reached the pinnacle of ecstasy, his body convulsing with the force of his release. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over him as he ejaculated load after load, his seed spilling forth in a torrent.

As he lay there, spent and sated, Peter couldn't help but smile to himself, his mind still buzzing with the euphoria of his conquest. “Fuck…” He moaned, his gut coated with his cum, particularly around the faces’ tattoos. “That felt fucking good.”

Peter grabbed his belly and squeezed it tight, “Can’t wait to eat more people, and have all of you feel every bit of it as you help digest them.”

#male pred #male vore #digestion #male prey #m/m #gay vore #sentient fat #multiple prey #unwilling prey #cruel pred #werewolf pred #body worship #teen wolf

[cowardlysimon]

most insane combination of people inside bros stomach rn 💀💀

also. I made this cuz I've been playing the RE4, remake, and it's so fun. I get so into it.

I be screaming n shit.

I'm sorry gang 🙏

based off true events by the way multiple times I've been surrounded and I just start screaming.

but anyway I'm gonna go experience this again.

see ya when I come back to scream over the RE4, remake, again

I'll cover Ramon's,, eyes when I kill him don't worry ‼️

#v.ore #v/ore #v0r3 #soft vore #safe vore #male pred #willing prey #willing vore #m/m vore #male prey #male predator #male vore #multiple prey #vore internal #monster vore #technically my persona is a monster lol #vore art #vore meme #sfw vore #half size vore #v0re #cowardly vore #D/C vore

[predpreydatabase]

As requested by @hunger-of-a-thousand-worlds-blog

For Tom his stats haven't changed since our entry the other day

Entry can be found here

For Justin (hows prime universe entey can be found here) we have found his vaiants are 50/50 when it comes to being a prey

however when he is a prey 20% of the time he's analy devoured, 20% oraly devoured and 60% of the time he's devoured but a cock.

For logan we haven done an entry for him in our prime universe yet, but as it stands he's a 7M anal pred. And this iscthe case 85% of the time around the voreverse and 15% of the time he's prey, getting devoured an even split between fans and co stars

#same size vore #male vore #voredatabase #male/male vore #mlm vore #male pred #male prey #male/male #cock vore #multiverse file #multiverse #multiple entries #m/m

[benjaminthewolfnsfw]

The Bully Rumbling Cave

Another trade story I wrote for @luci-voracious-blog, a crossover between Pikmin, and Ripper from total drama. Odd combination, I know, but it works.

****

The sun bore its rays down upon the open, grassy dirt grounds of the Sun-Speckled Terrace. The few, spread-out trees in the region swayed gently within the silent breeze, as the native birds chirped and warbled over the skies. The population of Pikmin in this region had been increasing significantly ever since the Rescue Corps had introduced new sub-species (such as Red Pikmin and Glow Pikmin) to the area. This meant that the recently imported Pikmin living in the terrace would have to learn how to adapt to their new environment, a process which had mostly been guided by the native sub-species themselves.

Thus, as one, singular, lone Red Pikmin apprehensively parted a clump of taller grass to peer through, a solemn “Wa-squee?” noise rang out a couple of centimeters from his miniscule form. Destined only to die out and sink down towards the sparsely-short-grass-covered dirt of the area now before him. The area in question was the one which featured many strange inorganic objects, such as the cube-shaped, brightly colored wood that wasn’t a part of any tree, nor bore any leaves, which no Pikmin had ever been able to fully comprehend.

The Red Pikmin eventually stepped through the aforementioned clump of grass, and took a moment to gaze around for his friends. It had only been a couple of minutes since he had last seen them. He knew they had gone somewhere behind the tree located closest to the strange tall, gray object standing firmly upon the forest floor, but where they could’ve gone after that was a complete and total mystery to the poor Red Pikmin. Since he had no other leads, however, it would only come as a natural decision that the tree would be the best place to go and search around for the moment. So, the tiny plant-like individual heaved out a high-pitched “Haaah~” before at last, he embarked upon the awfully long journey towards the tree, plodding along with his two thin, stumpy legs, and attentively scanning his surroundings for helpful details.

In the end, however, the unfortunate, miniscule, sole Red Pikmin would not even need to make it halfway, before all of the gigantic, horrific details that the teensy creature would possibly need to know decided to do the revealing all by himself.

*THUMP!*

“Eep? WAAAA!”

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! OH, WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE, LITTLE GUY? YA LOOKIN’ FOR ALL YOUR EQUALLY INSIGNIFICANT FRIENDS? OH WAIT! THAT’S RIGHT! I ATE ALL YOUR FRIENDS! *PFFFFFFFT*!”

Instantly petrifying the feeble Pikmin into stiffened paralysis as a considerable amount of rouge spit from the mocking fart noise succumb to gravity and landed down onto his stagnant form, it was thus only a matter of bending down and hauling the terrified Pikmin up by the leaf for the decidedly out-of-place Total Drama contestant known as Ripper. Forming a crooked and devious grin as he brought the tiny creature up to his face, Ripper wasted absolutely zero time in further traumatizing his prey by resuming his bout of vulgar yelling the very next moment.

“ALSO, YOU CAN’T UNDERSTAND ME ANYWAY, SO I’M SURE YOU WON’T MIND IF I GO AHEAD AND MAKE YOU USEFUL FOR SOMETHING!”

Now inescapably captured within the merciless grasp of the relative giant, the utterly shocked and wholly stunned Red Pikmin (who, indeed, couldn’t comprehend English), could only dangle there in horrific agony as his fate remained locked in the clutch of the humongous Ripper.

Steadily narrowing his eyes as he began to lift the Pikmin above his head, Ripper thus prepared himself for one last bout of self-serving screeching, before he revealed to his prey his fate.

“WELP, ENOUGH MESSING AROUND!”

he thus hollered out with a scoff,

“TIME TO JOIN THEM!”

The Red Pikmin, of course, had absolutely no way of understanding what Ripper was actually planning to do with him. All he had been able to determine thus far was that whoever this strange giant was, he was most definitely not a friend. It was for this exact reason then, that the miniature plant-like critter only began to freak out once the characteristically unlikable man finally parted his two jaws. Revealing at long last, his warm, slimy, pinkish, gaping maw.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

Ripper teasingly let out with a still very prominent smirk on his face, rubbing his fingers between the Red Pikmin’s leaf, as said Pikmin, now knowing what Ripper wanted to do, naturally began to desperately flair around and squeal in nothing but pure terror for his very life.

“Awwwww, now isn’t that cute?” Ripper sarcastically, though slightly laboriously mumbled out from his still-open maw. “What, do you think you’re gonna make me feel sorry with that kind of begging?”

The Red Pikmin only continued to squeak and thrash around in utter hysteria.

“WELL TOO BAD FOR YOU! HAH!”

And with that, Ripper released his two fingers from the leaf, and observed the following seconds in pure bliss. His prey was now left with zero choice but to tumble downwards through the air, plunging past his widened jaws in due time, until eventually, landing on the tongue.

The instant that Ripper felt the impact on the middle of the squishy, wet muscle was the instant he snapped his jaws shut, and brought his head back down to its natural position. Not only was this to prevent any possibility of escape, but also to further distill unfiltered dread into the Red Pikmin, as he steadily raised his tongue up towards the maw’s very top.

The jittering Red Pikmin within could only give an instantaneous “EEE-WEEH!” noise upon sensing his leaf scraping against the rough ridges at the roof of Ripper’s maw. Due to this jolt, his being was no longer in a position where he could consciously process the area around him. Subconsciously, however, the poor, teeny creature’s chest, and the lower sides of all four limbs, were soaking up far more heat than the rest of his body, as they were right up against Ripper’s tongue. This was mostly the same with the sensation of wetness, but since several drops of thick saliva had been constantly dripping down onto his form from the hard palate above, the sense was not elusive to that region.

In terms of sound, Ripper had naturally been taking breaths in and out through his nose, which connected with the maw through the nasopharynx and trachea in the back. In true Ripper fashion, though, he had been deliberately increasing the intensity with which he took in and released said breaths, causing non-stop heavings of air to echo about the sealed chamber, only compounding the terror the Red Pikmin was experiencing, and ensuring it would only get worse once the plant-like-critter slid closer to up to Ripper’s pharynx.

In order to accomplish this further insulation of trauma, however, Ripper would first need to tilt his head back once again, causing the Red Pikmin within to slip just a little ways deeper upon the downwards sloping muscle of the tongue. Luckily for him, however, due to the fact that hard palate didn’t follow this curve, he wasn’t at risk of getting his leaf scraped up anymore. On the subject of the hard palate, though, Ripper on the outside was very well aware that if it was lowered down this far, as it currently was, his prey would not be able to get a preview of the pharynx, much less the laryngopharynx, until he was fully gulped down. As a result, Ripper raised up the natural roof of the maw to just as far as it could stretch, without parting the lips and allowing escape. Now, he was ready at last to swallow the Pikmin.

Back on the inside of the maw, it was only after this was completed that the unfortunate, doomed, poor Red Pikmin was able to view the swaying, plump, bulbous uvula, as it dangled down from the soft palate, in all its glory. Suddenly snapping his gaze directly upwards in a newfound, unexplainable fascination with the organ, the tiny, wide-eyed, minute being went on to give a transfixed “Aaaaaaaah!”, at the swaying sack of flesh which would naturally distract him temporarily from the fact that he was still sliding down the length of the tongue, whilst surrounded by the reverberating huffs of Ripper’s breathing.

The positively mesmerized Red Pikmin was only snapped back to reality, in fact, once the upwards shooting, high-pressure geyser of air expelling outwards from Ripper’s windpipe finally struck his miniature form.

“WHEEP!” the poor creature squealed out as he now stared down into the larynx, the multiple folds of the vocal cords wavering greatly, as Ripper let out a final villainous gaggle out towards his shuddering prey. A second later, at long last, the maniacal man’s epiglottis covered up the larynx’s entryway, so that the Pikmin would be squeezed into the upper esophageal sphincter instead, where the esophagus would guide him towards his stomach.

The Red Pikmin squeaked out a flurry of cries in visceral terror as the sphincter squelched him past the region of the pharynx, forcing him past the slim threads of prior hope, and leaving him quivering and trilling in despair, as the involuntary motions of peristalsis ensured his eventual arrival into the churning, deadly chamber below.

Due to the fact that his width was far lesser than the resting width of the esophagus, the experience of peristalsis for the Red Pikmin was not as claustrophobic as it would be for most hypothetical prey moving down. Each time the longitudinal muscles contracted at his feet and his head to push him further along, the region in the middle, (the muscles currently relaxed in their resting position), gave him just enough room to move his arms. Fruitlessly attempting to utilize this fact in order to stick himself in place by pushing against the esophageal walls, in irrational hopes of possibly halting his dreadful journey altogether, the slowly draining reserves of not just said hope but also sanity only continued to lower with each shove deeper into Ripper’s body. The Red Pikmin knew for a tentative fact that this action would not save him in the slightest. Yet as long as said fact remained tentative, and not absolute, he refused to give up his desperate trying.

Ripper on the outside was actually somewhat able to feel all this going on. And so, simply due to the fact that Ripper was Ripper, a heaving guffaw and an aggressive knee-slap was the singular possible instantaneous response that could have ever come out of the man. Heavy chortles from this display of attempted survival strained his lungs into panting and gagging. A couple of tears of unfathomable hilarity dripped outwards from his tear ducts to the ground, as he incessantly wheezed, now hunched over, both hands on his knees in wobbly elation. The Red Pikmin was, in turn, somewhat able to hear this within. It was, however, significantly muffled, and something which the tiny critter had absolutely no clue the meaning of, anyway. Utterly incomprehensible in almost exactly the same manner as the sudden deep pounding crescendoing by the second down ahead made no sense to the Pikmin either.

This pounding, of course, regardless of its unrecognizability to the Pikmin, was the thumping of Ripper’s human heart, the speed of which had significantly increased since the non-stop bout of cruel laughter had begun just a minute ago. The Red Pikmin squeaked forth a soft “Eep?” in confusion to this new sound, but still, was focused mainly on staying alive. Ultimately, however, the two centimeter tall, single, feeble, fragile Red Pikmin had absolutely no way to escape the inevitable. Due to the fact that Ripper’s heart was pounding harder than it normally would be, the Red Pikmin had been unable to detect the signature growling emulating from the stomach as the esophagus ensured he approached it. This, quite unfortunately, meant that the Pikmin had absolutely no clue when he was going to exit the esophagus until the lower esophageal sphincter finally entered into his view.

“EEP! WEE-EHE! EEEEEEE!” the ill-fated creature cried out, as the sphincter squelched him out, and into the cavernous, deadly chamber of Ripper’s gurgling stomach at last.

“WEEH-WEEH!” the Red Pikmin screeched out as he fell. Unable to see, well, anything, due to the lack of any light inside the stomach, there was absolutely nothing that he could do in order to preemptively prepare himself for the impact.

“EEK!” he yelped out upon the inescapable collision, causing, as a result, the poor Pikmin’s full being to wholly stall. Whatever he had ended up landing on, ( again, there was no way he could tell without light), it was somewhat squishy and damp, which meant that he was not immediately splattered into gunk upon the initial landing. Yet, the shock still thoroughly remained. Thus, the Red Pikmin remained unmoving, incapable of any complex thought for the moment. He had absolutely no idea how long he would remain this way. Nor did he have any idea that he lacked a way of knowing this in the first place.

****

“Eep?”

“Ee-woop?”

“Wah?”

“WAH! EEP-BA!”

“Woh~”

“Bee-wap! Ah-eee!”

It could have been anywhere from a few minutes to a few hours when the Red Pikmin could begin to comprehend these sounds once more. With his being still jolted and frazzled, the little critter was still unable to process every single one of the implications behind what, exactly, he was hearing. Yet, he still understood, but implicitly, what they were. And that, for him, was the realization that snapped him aware.

“WEEP!” he let out in startled excitement. In this oncoming bout of newfound energy, the Red Pikmin found himself nearly bouncing his way to his feet, giving a spontaneous “O?” in the midst, from the sudden observation that somehow there was now light around him. And then, when he landed, everything finally snapped into place.

“WEEEE!”

“AHH!”

“WEEP-WOOP!”

“BEEBEE!”

“WAAAH!”

The Red Pikmin was positively flooded with an onset, rushing feeling of glee. Blissfully bouncing up and down at the sight of his three Pikmin friends right before him, with his friends soon after following suit, the Red Pikmin only continued beeping rapidly in surgeing euphoria, whilst his Yellow Pikmin, Blue Pikmin, and Glow Pikmin friends squeaked back far more calmly at him; in order to swiftly fill in their friend on what, precisely, had happened after they had been initially separated.

Just as Ripper had screeched himself a while ago, the group of three had been previously captured and swallowed by the man, a little after they had gone behind the tree. Then, with the help of the Glow Pikmin’s bioluminescence, they had been wandering around the edge of the acid pool in the stomach (the Blue Pikmin figured out the liquid was acid the hard way, after initially dipping in his foot), yet were unable to find a way out.

Once he had been told all of this, the Red Pikmin gave an understanding: “Ah!” in response. That did explain quite a lot. Including the fact that he hadn’t been initially sizzled away in the acids upon his paralyzing entry.

A little while after the Red Pikmin had finished contemplating everything, then, due to the fact that they didn't really have any other options, the newfound group of four ultimately decided together that they needed to continue exploring, in hopes of finally discovering a way out.

Giving a firm nod to himself, then, and preparing his being for the journey ahead, the Red Pikmin thus gave a friendly motion towards the Glow Pikmin, who, due to his bioluminescence, had essentially become the leader by default.

Responding with a small nod of his own, and as a result, confirming that the group should get going again, the Glow Pikmin proceeded to float ahead of his three Piknin friends. His ghost-like tail went on to gently sway behind all of them, as they casually plodded behind in readied resolve.

****

“Haaaaaahhhhhhh~” The Red Pikmin sighed out rather lightly, his fall-exhausted, terror-recovering being hunched over just slightly as he continued.

The Blue Pikmin and Yellow Pikmin at his sides gave a slightly concerned “Wee?”at this sight, but the Red Pikmin only gently shook his head in response, knowing that finding an exit was far more important than stopping for a rest at the moment.

With his eyes now diverted down towards the rather squishy stomach floor, the Red Pikmin consequently examined its movements. On the floor, the muscles made occasional small, wave-like rippling movements. That was something which wasn’t exactly a large hindrance for any in the group, but nonetheless, it still ensured that everyone needed to pay attention, so they wouldn’t accidentally trip over one of the waves and splat downwards right onto their face. The Red Pikmin then glanced upwards towards his floating Glow Pikmin friend. Internally, he groaned just a bit, wishing tremendously that he could float just like him.

The path along the edge of the acid pool was wide enough that all three Pikmin in the back could move along on the same row without getting uncomfortably close to each other, but narrow enough to where the Glow Pikmin’s glow still illuminated the stomach wall to their left, as well as bit of the pool to their right. Shifting his eyes to the left first, the Red Pikmin was able to study the movements of said wall far more closely. The very first thing he noticed in doing this was that the walls’ motions were far more pronounced and frequent than that of the floor’s. Outwards, then inwards they churned, sometimes shoving against their own protruding, slickened parts as they did. When this happened, the air would be swiftly squeezed out of the region, causing a gurgle or glorping sound to be released.

Finally, the Red Pikmin gazed over to the right of the path, and onto the acid pool as a result. A horrific, visceral shudder jostled through his minute being as he did. The liquids really did appear water-like at first.

Tightening up his jittering body as he glanced down at the slight acid burn upon his Blue Pikmin buddy’s left foot, The Red Pikmin suppressed a squeak of fright, as his eyes glanced back over at the pool. Sloshing and churning around against the edges of the path the group was taking, the acids, upon a closer inspection of their motions, actually appeared to be the thing that was producing the most ambiance in the stomach. Not only with the swishing around of their contents, and the rapid sizzling away of any kind of solid object inside, but also with the growling which resulted whenever any air was sucked down into their waves. Spontaneously releasing upwards with a pop, the acids would only drag them back down again towards their depths. And thus, this dastardly cycle would repeat ad infinitum. Or, for just as long as the organ could operate. The Red Pikmin could not hold it back any longer.

Releasing a high-pitched, quivering “EEEEEEEEEEE!” after so long in the cruel water’s sight, The Red Pikmin shuddered visibly onto the rest of the Pikmin group. Eventually, he was met with a sympathetic “Aaaaah-” from his friends, with the Blue Pikmin even patting him on the back. This seemed to indicate for the Red Pikmin that his friends understood how he felt. They knew it was horrible, as well, and that now, they knew with absolute certainty that they did NOT want to go down there.

“Hu?” the Red Pikmin perked up in confusion. His three friends immediately, though silently, pointed over towards something that was out of his current line of sight, (since he was still hunching over significantly). Then, the Red Pikmin’s two pupils instantly dilated.

Though none of the Pikmin had any knowledge of its name, that was indeed the pylorus. The Glow Pikmin’s light illuminated its opening into the duodenum, allowing a lot of thoroughly digested chime to flow through. Eventually, the sphincter closed again, and the four Pikmin were left utterly speechless.

“Oooh-pea-waah?” the Yellow Pikmin eventually spoke, so the group could try to figure out what to do next. Between the traveling they had done before the Red Pikmin joined them, and all of the subsequent traveling thereafter, the group had essentially traversed the entire arc length of the path that lay just beyond the acid pool. The only potential exits they had discovered in all that time were the one that they had entered in from, and this newfound pylorus, which quite obviously did not lead outside.

So, then what were the four to do?

“Hmmm-ee-pah?” The Blue Pikmin suggested moments later.

“Aa-nee-haaah.” The Glow Pikmin responded to his friend. He was a little skeptical at first that the Blue Pikmin’s idea was any good, but still, it was a potential possibility.

“Wap-hee!” The Yellow Pikmin added in, reminding everyone that as long as they were stuck down here, causing their capturer pain was the very least they could do to get some recompense.

This comment immediately caused the Glow Pikmin to perk up. That was very true after all.

“EET! YEEWAH!” the Red Pikmin called out in realization. The other three immediately turned their attention towards him. The Red Pikmin proceeded to gently stroke his head stem and his leaf. And just like that, the other three Pikmin knew exactly what they needed to do.

****

“Ahhhhhhh……well. That was…expectedly easy.” Ripper boasted to himself with a scoff, as he placed both his hands over his abdomen.

At this point in time, Ripper had sat himself down up against the very tree that he’d ambushed the first three Pikmin behind. He’d placed his left leg over his right, and was now just purely enjoying himself. He was all but expecting the four tiny creatures he’d eaten to be fully digested and dead by now, and hardly expected any problems at all to pop up because of his consumption of all of said critters.

And that was when Ripper lurched upwards, whilst instinctively gasping in air.

“W-AH-WHA-” he attempted to formulate into a sentence through sudden abdominal pain.

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS GOING ON DOWN THERE?”

He finally managed to get the words out whilst viciously clutching his stomach, and rapidly breathing in and out in sheer agony.

“H OW-I-HUH? THIS DOESN’T MAKE SENSE AT ALL!”

Yet, to the four resilient Pikmin inside, it not only made total sense, but caused them to giggle out in glee as they continued to hop and slap about their stems, whipping them against Ripper’s stomach wall, as well as the floor which they had fallen on, in non-stop ecstasy and joy.

“WEE-HEE!”

“WA-HOO!”

“WEE-BEEEE!”

They continuously cried out to each other.

None of them knew whether this little affair would help them escape, or if they would still be stuck down here after its eventual closure. And yet, in the moment, none of that even mattered in the slightest. All that the four Pikmin cared about was the fact that their capturer, the one who had swallowed them whole, the one who was now collapsed face-first on the floor in writhing anguish, and the one who had never stopped for even a millisecond to truly think about his actions at all, was now facing consequences at last.

#soft vore #safe vore #v.ore #v/ore #v0r3 #v0re #vor3 #vore stories #vore story #vore writing #male pred #male prey #m/m vore #male vore #multiple prey #g/t vore #gt vore #human pred #unwilling vore #unwilling prey #fearplay

[naszircrock4]

Angel Food By Alis10101

#male pred #same size vore #belly bulge #unknown prey #kid icarus #M/multiple prey #multiple preds

[benjaminthewolf]

Hippie Healing (Vore Story)

See...this is why I love this blog. Where else? Where freakin’ else, are you going to see somebody posting a self-indulgent healing vore fanfiction of David Van Driessen from Beavis and Butt-Head? No where. That’s where.

****

     As had become routine for Highland High School’s resident hippie teacher at this point, the moment the lunch bell had rang, the habitually calm, collected David Van Driessen brewed himself yet another cup of coffee, made his way into his classroom through the oncoming hordes of students flooding over to lunch, brought out all the papers he would need to get done, locked his door, and got to work.

     When all the other students were away in the cafeteria, (especially those two troublemakers Beavis and Butt-Head), no time was more ideal for someone looking to get all work done and over with for the day, to accomplish just that, than now. Van Driessen took in a small sip of coffee whilst closing his eyes, allowing the quiet, peaceful moment to wash its soothing presence over his body. Only for said coffee and said eyes to almost instantly hurl forth from his mouth and jerk themselves open all the way respectively, as some sort of door slamming sound had suddenly and completely, utterly unexpectedly banged in both his ears, the resonating echoes effortlessly vibrating their way down the tiled floor of the hall and straight into the currently rather  terrified Hippie teacher’s room.

     All Van Driessen was able to hear in the next few seconds were the positively pounding, fuming footsteps of his own darned boss Principal McVicker as the bald, overweight principal sprinted wildly down the hall, (as quickly as one with his body type can, of course), before the formerly much more distant cries of what were unmistakably the two iconic giggling sounds of Beavis and Butt-Head themselves, became much more distinct to Van Driessen’s being. 

     “OOOOOOH-BEAVIS AND BUTT-HEAD YOU LITTLE BASTARDS! IF I EVER CATCH YOU TWO MESSIN’ UP MY OFFICE AGAIN, Y-YOU’RE BOTH EXPELLED!”

     “Really?” a considerably winded, yet still rather curious Butt-Head perked up. “Is that a promise?”

     “I DIDN’T MEAN IT LIKE THAT YOU SICK LITTLE RATS! OOOOOOOH!”

     Van Driessen had all but finished recovering from the initial shock at this point, and at the current moment, was merely standing still at his door, staying perfectly quiet and motionless, doing his very best to pick up as much information about the current situation as he possibly could.

     Internally, he was actually rather fervently debating whether or not he wanted to get involved. On one hand, Beavis and Butt-Head could be in legitimate danger if they had finally managed to make poor ol’ McVicker snap. On the other hand, McVicker was his boss, so helping the two students he hated the most, especially while he was in an extremely emotionally high state such as this, may just lead McVicker to fire the teacher outright. And just what in God’s name would happen to his income flow then?

     Unfortunately for Van Driessen, however, both Beavis and Butt-Head would indeed end up making that decision for him, as, though he obviously wasn't able to tell, the two troublesome teens had shrunk down to their borrower forms at this point, that which were just small enough to squeeze underneath the crack between Van Driessen’t door and the floor, thus allowing them to sneak in unnoticed by the rather non-presumptive hippie teacher.

     “Whew! Man! Goddam that was close!” Beavis somehow managed to wheeze out through his strained, heavy breathing when at last the two borrowers were at last able to sense that, for now, they were safe.

     “Huhuhuhuh. Yeah, Van Driessen’s cool. He won’t hurt us.”

     “Yeah, yeah, any more than that damned principal already has! Hehehehe!”

     David Van Driessen’s brain was but mere seconds away from being able to put two and two together, but before he could manage to do so on his own, the conclusion was practically slammed directly into his skull by the enraged, overweight principal, as he began erratically pounding on the door.

     “OOOOOOOOH I DON’T KNOW HOW YOU TWO MANAGED TO LOCK THE DOOR, BUT THE SECOND I GET IN THERE, YOU’RE EXPELLED!”

     All this sudden force and energy being pummeled directly into his being at once forced Van Driessen’s body to topple over, the once more stunned and shocked hippie teacher just barely managing to stop himself from hitting the back of his head on the hard tile floor by catching himself with his arms at almost the last second.

     “Hehehe. I thought you were going to do that after we messed up your office again.” Beavis responded to McVicker’s prior comment with but a slight hint of genuine confusion in his voice.

     Now that his eyes were almost level with the ground, and due to the fact that said organs were now able to look behind him, David Van Driessen now had a rather nice view of the two troublesome borrowers, (minus the fact that his vision was upside down), and the results were…welllllllllllll…despite the fact the two of them were rather wide and awake at the current moment, whatever they had been doing back in McVicker’s office, (unless it had something to do with ketchup), whatever they had been doing back there, had rendered both of them absolutely, positively, one hundred percent, precisely zero doubt about it, bloody messes. Literally.

     “OH MY GOD WHAT IN THE WORLD HAPPENED TO YOU GUYS!” Van Driessen couldn’t help but almost instinctively cry out the second he realized just what Beavis and Butt-Head’s curent states would mean for them if they weren’t able to receive medical attention soon.

     Unfortunately for the both of them, aside from continuing on with their ever-present, iconic laughter, neither borrower was able to say anything in response, as now that McVicker knew Van Driessen was in the room, there was absolutely no way he was going to let the hippie off the hook without some form of pushback.

     “DAVID VAN DRIESSEN! OPEN THAT DOOR RIGHT NOW! O-OR ELSE YOU’RE FIRED!”

     Suddenly having been zapped right back to his prior internal debacle on what the right thing to do was exactly, in this situation, David Van Driessen, eventually just allowing for his instincts to make the final call, almost instantly scooped up the two still-bleeding and still-laughing borrowers, in one of his hands, opened up a desk drawer that he knew didn’t have any papers in it with another one, shoved the two ever-giggling troublemakers inside, and frantically rushed to the door, doing his very best to wipe off any blood he may have caught from the two bleeding borrowers whilst doing so.

     “Umm…umm yes, hello Principal McVicker! Can I help you with something?” Van Driessen did his very best to strew together some sort of a casual greeting as the reddened, panting principal stood shaking and sweating in his doorway.

     “OOOOOOH YES YOU CAN HELP ME ALL RIGHT! I KNOW BEAVIS AND BUTT-HEAD CAME INTO THIS ROOM AND I KNOW THAT YOU KNOW THAT THEY DID, SO JUST SPILL IT ALREADY! OR ELSE YOU’RE FIRED! WHERE DID YOU PUT THEM?” Principal Mc Vicker rabidly fumed out in response. 

     “*Sigh* Principal McVicker, whatever happened to the two of them in that room, they are in a dire medical emergency right now. Shouldn’t we try to focus on delivering just punishments after we-”

     “NO! NO! THEY NEED TO FACE THE CONSEQUENCES OF THEIR ACTIONS NOW! RIGHT NOW! N-NOW I TELL YOU!”

     David Van Driessen, upon realizing just how over the edge Principal McVicker was at the moment, had no choice but to resort to bringing out the big guns on the borderline deranged man.

      “Look…you do realize that behavior like that might just get you fired by the superintendent, right?” he did his very, very best to firmly remind the raving principal in the most calm, collected tone he could manage.

     “WH-WH-WHAT? HOW DARE YOU TURN THAT TRICK BACK AROUND ON ME!”

     “And not only that, but possible legal action, too.”

     “N-N NO THAT CAN’T BE CORRECT!”

     “Principal McVicker, it is both my job as a teacher and your job as a principal to put our students’ safety first, and breaking that oath can indeed lead to legal punishment if reported.”

     “OOOOOOOH OOOOOOH-FINE! I’LL LET YOU KEEP THE LITTLE BASTARDS, AS LONG AS YOU PROMISE NOT TO REPORT ME FOR THIS!”

     “Oh, no, of course, Principal McVicker! I wouldn’t dream of throwing you under the bus like that! But then again, if this becomes more than just a one-time incident, then the circumstances will indeed have my hand, and at that point, I’ll have no choice but to report. Okay?”

     Continuing on with his iconic anxious murmuring as he turned away from Van Driessen back towards his office (presumably so he may start cleaning the darn thing up), David Van Driessen let out a small sigh whilst slowly closing his door. Before almost immediately sprinting back over to Beavis and Butt-Head in his drawer, reaching out for the handle, and beginning to open it as such.

     “Alright guys, he’s gone! Now if I can just-” Van Driessen’s sentence was almost instantly cut off as a sudden, compounding, positively magnified sense of horror froze his very being in its tracks, forcing him to cease his breathing for a good few seconds, as the poor hippie teacher could do nothing, absolutely nothing, but stand there in heart-spearing agony, and stare. 

     “GUYS?”

     Now that the initial phase of shock had managed to flow its course through his veins, David Van Driessen was only able to do absolutely nothing, zip, nada, to stop the oncoming stage of panic from commencing, leading him to begin heating up and turning red at an exceedingly rapid pace as he scooped up the two unconscious bodies lying motionless within his drawer, hyperventilating rapidly and profusely starting to sweat.

     “OH NO NO NO NO NO NO NO THIS IS BAD THIS IS BAD THIS IS REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY BAD!”

     Van Driessen was in absolutely no state to logically consider that he should probably check their pulses at the current moment, as all that was bounding around within the hippie teacher’s overdriven,  positively staggering brain, was the two little borrowers’ current lack of time.

     “THERE’S NO TIME TO CALL AN AMBULANCE, THERE-THERE’S NO WAY THEY’LL MAKE IT TO THE HOSPITAL IN TIME!”

     Setting down both unconscious borrowers’ bodies on top of his desk before he practically swung his upper half downwards in order to bend over and retrieve something from a lower drawer, David Van Driessen wasted absolutely zero time at all and almost immediately popped the lid off the strange little container, before chugging down all  the clear, liquid contents in one swit gulp, tossing the empty canister aside, and scooping both Beavis and Butt-Head back into his hands, for he knew what he needed to do, he knew it was the only way they would survive, and despite the sudden, panic-inducing, logic-eroding gravity of the situation, he just knew, he just knew on a deep-held, visceral level, that if he was not able to do this, he would have failed his own oath as a teacher, and to this, Van Driessen forced down any rising hesitations he might have about going through with the process, before letting out one gigantic shaky deep breath, and finally opening up his maw.

     At first, Van Driessen attempted to place both borrowers into his maw at the same time. Upon realizing, however, that there just wasn’t enough room in there for the both of them, and that trying to swallow one while the other was in his maw would leave the unswallowed one at risk of falling out, the much larger man was given no choice but to simply bring them down one at a time. As such, he took the one that was closest to the edge of his maw out and placed him back on the table. That one just happened to be Butt-Head.

     Thus, doing his very best to stifle his jittering nerves, Van Driessen focused in on Beavis. The shuttering hippie teacher wasn’t sure if the concoction he drank affected both his saliva and his stomach juices, but just to be safe, he took a few seconds to stroke his tongue across the still-bloody borrower, and also get him slimy enough so that it would be easier to swallow him.

     Being forced to just simply accept the metalic, wretched taste that blood possessed, Van Driessen slathered his saliva all over Beavis’ body, but in particular, his chest and face, as those were the areas that had received the most damage.

     Finally, allowing the unconscious borrower to slide down the slick, smooth surface of his now slightly raised tongue, Van Driessen’s still rather shaky breath brushed front after front of warm air onto Beavis’ being as he  once again suppressed his body’s natural urge to gag as the top of the teen’s hair brushed up against his uvula, causing a tickle sensation as a result.

     Fighting through his bodily instincts which told him that what he was doing was downright insane, Van Driessen practically demanded his brain to only work with its logical side of itself, and as such, the poor hippie teacher barely managed to swallow, though he did have to swallow again due to part of the borrower’s tail still being stuck at the very top of his throat.

     Now able to feel the bulge traveling down his throat, Van Driessen didn’t waste any more precious seconds before reaching over to grab Butt-Head and stuffing him inside his maw as well. It was at this point that Van Driessen’s taste buds had started to get mostly desensitized to the iron tang of blood. Not as if the alternative taste was any better, though. 

     Neither Beavis nor Butt-Head were known for having anywhere near good hygiene, and the borrower’s taste showed it. The both of them refused to use deodorant, nor did they shower regularly, plus, all these little “adventures” that got the boys in situations like these in the first place often left them smothered in dirt and filth. For Van Driessen, Butt-Head’s form tasted like if you went for a five mile marathon on a particularly sweltering summer day, and then at the very end of the run, you licked your armpit clean. In all honesty, Van Driessen probably preferred the blood.

     Nonetheless, regardless of how poor their personal hygiene was, Van Driessen knew that both Beavis and Butt-Head needed to be healed, and as such, after he was finished shuddering at the thoughts of what microbial horrors he was allowing to come in contact with his tongue, Van Driessen tilted back his head, stretched his jaws as wide as he could in order to further open his throat, and gulped down the little borrower mostly all in one go, just as he had done his friend. Van Driessen wasn’t exactly sure if Butt-Head’s borrower tail was still in his gullet like was the case with Beavis, but just to be safe, he swallowed one more time in order to help his body get the blood-caked teen down.

     Speaking of Beavis, though, just a few seconds after Butt-Head had been swallowed, Van Driessen was able to feel something rather large and heavy splashing down into his guts, causing them to give an audible gurgle as the area got more sloshy and active. Van Driessen obviously couldn’t see what was going on inside his stomach, but what he did know, was that, in complete opposition to how it normally tended to operate, the once-acidic juices inside of his tummy were now not only balanced out in ph levels by the concoction he had drunk, but were also given borderline magical healing effects on anyone who came in contact with them. And although Beavis and Butt-Head weren’t really able to tell what was happening to them either, Van Driessen could only hope and pray that soon enough, they would.

     In the meantime, though, the liquids would proceed to do their job. As the lower esophageal sphincter gently squeezed Butt-Head into the warm, goopy confines of his teacher’s stomach chamber, the great shifting walls began to churn faster and tighten in further, in order to ensure the two unconscious occupants would have maximal contact with the sloshing and swirling juices within.

     As both Beavis and Butt-Head continued to lay silently inside Van Driessen’s stomach, the many deep wounds, some of which had already began to scab over and some of which were still bleeding a little, began to have their natural healing processes which their bodies had already begun sped up rapidly, as healing juices flowed up to the damaged skin layers and seeped into the crevices within. New, healthy skin and muscle layers proceeded to be rebuilt rapidly as both of the troublemaking borrowers continued to lay still.

     The liquids began to erode off the dried, encrusted blood that had already built up around some of the wounds, while the constant shifting and churning of the great gurgling organ ensured that, periodically, some of the liquids would be splashed onto their faces, not in a great enough quantity to be dangerous to them, but just enough so that the liquids could soak into and start healing their facial wounds as well, though at a much slower pace than they would be able to if their heads were fully soaked in water. Of course, neither Beavis nor Butt-Head could breathe underwater anyway, so it was a necessary trade off, but one that wouldn’t hinder the healing process too much.

     Van Driessen on the outside had just about managed to get his body to stop shaking and freaking out, now that he knew that both of his students were safe and in the process of healing. He was obviously still rather anxious over the fact he still didn’t know whether or not they were alive, but freaking out over the lack of certainty wasn’t going to do anyone in this situation any good whatsoever, so the positively exhausted hippie teacher just did his best to ignore it.

     Slowly sitting back down upon his teacher desk chair, Van Driessen let out one of the greatest, most prolonged sighs he had ever let out in the entire course of his life. He had done all he could in order to ensure Beavis and Butt-Head would survive, but until his body’s waking hormone’s caused his eyes to open once more, all he could do was hope. And hope the poor hippie teacher did as his positively overwhelmed being drifted further and further into its own state of fatigue, before at last, Van Driessen’s muscles naturally loosened up, and he finally drifted asleep.

****

     The very first thing that Beavis was able to sense, before he had even fully gained back his consciousness mind you, was a rather loud rumble echoing around the walls of his current confines, something that, though he wasn’t able to consciously process it, sounded a little too similar to a fart noise for the shrunken teen’s subconscious brain to pass up activating  a bout of laughter.

     “Heh. Hehehehe. Hehehehehehehehehe!” Beavis subconsciously chortled as his left arm began twitching a little.

     It was at this point that, due to the twitching, Beavis was able to actually start processing his surroundings on a more intuitive level. At first, nothing seemed too odd. His hand seemed to be wet, but that wasn’t really any cause for alarm. It was laying against something shifting but slightly, something that was rather smooth and sleek, but again, that wasn’t really anything that Beavis’ fight or flight instincts had reason to be worried about. As such, as Beavis’ body continued to ease out of its formerly deep state of sleep, the blonde haired teen would eventually regain enough control over his conscious being to let out a rather satisfied: “Ahhhhhhhh….” while stretching himself out slightly and keeping his eyes closed.

     Now that he was slightly more consciously perceptive, Beavis was able to tell that just about his entire body up to his shoulders was submerged in some sort of liquid. He was also able to tell that his head was leaning slightly into a cushiony, flexible wall that churned around him just slightly, though, again, none of these factors gave Beavis any reason for alarm. In fact, if anything, they made him rather comfortable. The only thing that did seem a little odd was the constant gurgling ambiance and baseline thumping that reverberated within the chamber he was currently in. Beavis had no intuitions about where he could have been, (though to be fair, the habitually idiotic teen barely had any intuitions about anything), and as such, once his body told him he was ready, Beavis let out a great morning yawn and began to open his eyes.

     The first thing he noticed was Butt-Head. Beavis was just about to call out to his beloved lifetime best friend in reunification, before he realized (as was actually kind of rare for him, all things considered), that his borrower accomplice was still in a state of deep sleep. His chest was rising and falling, and Beavis could sort of hear him breathing, but he knew just how much Butt-Head hated being woken up when he was still sleeping, so he decided to hold off on that for now.

     Next, Beavis decided to try and figure out where he and his still slumbering friend were. He was swiftly able to corroborate his prior tactile experiences with all the new visual information he was getting, namely, that of the pool of liquids gently splashing onto his being, and the gently churning walls causing said splashing in the first place, that which were at last able to be seen by Beavis as being pink in color.

     Now equipped with all this information, Beavis proceeded to re-adjust his position so he was sitting upright and leaning back against the walls, before at least attempting to conjure up what little brain power was left within his two remaining brain cells slowly and painfully rotting away inside his skull.

     “Hmm. Okay now let’s see. This place is warm, it's wet, it's stretchy and it's pink…hehehe kinda like a bunghole! Or…or…or like the other hole, ya know. Hehehe.”

     As funny as it was to Beavis that the area resembled those things, he did indeed know very well that he wasn’t inside either of them, and as such, continued to do the best he could with the limited brain power he had to continue to think.

     “Alright, so we were running away from McVicker, we squeezed…hehehe…we squeezed…under Van Driessen’s door, and then-”

     It was right then and there, upon the mention of Van Driesen, that something, somewhere deep within the tiny teen’s cavernous, rattling skull, that something clicked, and Beavis’ once relaxed, slightly amused expression instantly devolved into one of absolutely nothing, but pure, undistilled, horror.

     “BUTT-HEAD! BUTT-HEAD! WAKE UP! BUTT-HEAD YOU GOTTA-”

     “Ugh……dammit, Beavis, I was about to score!”

     “B-BUT NO, BUTT-HEAD! NO! YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND-”

     “Where are we right now?”

     “THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN TRYING TO TELL YOU, DILL-HOLE-OW!”

     “Shut up, Beavis! How can I possibly figure out where the hell we are with your butt-munch ass in the way?”

     It was right then and there that any logical rationale that had previously existed within Beavis’ brain immediately dissolved, as he let out a casual: “Oh, yeah that’s right.” before getting out of Butt-Head’s space and merely allowing him to try and figure out where the two of them were on his own.

     For a time period comprising of about thirty seconds, Butt-Head’s eyes moved left, right, up, and down, with a few semi-continuous grunts of: “Uhhhhh….”, as all three of his own remaining brain cells desperately attempted to coordinate each other in order to solve the mystery. That was, of course, until Butt-Head’s eyes suddenly widened as his mouth gaped open in an equal parts combination of realization, and shock.

     “Beavis…” he eventually managed to state to his slightly less intelligent friend. “I think Van Driessen ate us.”

     Now that he had been given a reason to start freaking out again, Beavis’ body proceeded to do just that as he positively spasmed with terror.

     “OH……WE-WE’RE GONNA DIE, BUTT-HEAD! WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE! WE’RE GONNA-WE’RE GONNA GET DIGESTED AND TURNED INTO POOP- I mean, well I mean if that is how I’m gonna go, I mean…hehehehehehehe…….BUT STILL!”

     “CALM DOWN, BEAVIS!” Butt-Head desperatly attempted to get his friend to compose himself while getting up off the wettened, squishy floor. Surprisingly enough, this did seem to work as intended, if but for a few seconds.

     “Beavis, we won’t be killed and turned into pieces of shit, if we kill the piece of shit who ate us first.”

     Beavis’ eyes widened quite considerably upon having been relayed this information. 

     “W-well then that means we gotta-” he began to anxiously stutter out.

     “That’s right, Beavis. Uhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuh….it’s time to start kicking.”

****

     At first, to David Van Driessen, the sensation was little more than a light tingling sensation inside of his guts. At this stage in his nap, he was beginning to wake up and slowly ease out of his doze, but he was not yet conscious enough to be able to make any logical sense on what the cause of that sensation may be, and as such, he just simply brushed it off.

     As the time continued to pass by, however, Van Driessen’s continually waking brain was better able to pick up on the sensations, and as such, they began to get a little more frequent to him. Still, he continued to lay still, as he was still not conscious enough to be able to wonder if this sensation was a direct result of his two little guests, or if it was something else entirely. Eventually, however, it would get to the point he wouldn’t be able to ignore what was happening any longer, and as such, began to groggily open up his eyes.

     The second he was able to stare back down at his midsection, yet another one of the sensations were unleashed, causing the still considerably sleepy hippie to let out a genuinely confused jolt of: “Huh?”

     Unfortunately for Van Driessen, however, this state of mild pressure pushing against his stomach walls and slight internal confusion would all indeed slam to a halt, just one singular second late, as the poor, larger hippie himself was also slammed to a halt. Down at the floor.

     Van Driessen wasn’t even able to let out an: “OW!”, he was in that much shock. Now that he had been toppled out of his chair, however, he was considerably more alert, and as such, was now able to faintly pick up on some sort of conversation happening within him, his brain having gained back the ability to decipher at last some of the distant murmurs emulating from his middle. And the very first exchange of those murmurs he was able to comprehend, was just simply: “I think it's working!” to which the response of “Then do it harder! Harder! Uhuhuhuhuhuh. Harder.” was given.

     All of a sudden, everything that had previously been bouncing around as mild confusion and vague understanding had come back to Van Driessen in one, singular overwhelming bout, resulting in his now positively racing brain desperately scrambling to conjure up some sort of sentence to be able to explain himself to the two little borrowers within.

     “I think I hear him breathing, we might have woken him up.”

     “WELL THEN TELL HIM TO GO EAT SHIT, WOULD YA?”

     “Tell him yourself, you ass-goblin.”

     “Oh…yeah that’s right. EAT SHIT, ASSHOLE! FALL OFF YOUR CHAIR! Oh wait he already did. Hehe.”

     “B-Boys!” Van Driessen at last managed to somehow cry out amidst all the chaos.

     “Hey, look! He responded! Ya think we can like, uh, I dunno, kick him all the way to the bathroom then?”

     “BOYS!” Van Driessen almost immediately yowled out in absolutely nothing but in the moment pure desperation, upon having heard what the two troublesome teens were planning to do with him next.

     “Uhuhuhuhuhuh…alright fine, you ass-wipe. But you like, better explain yourself n’ stuff. Uhuhuhuhuh.” Butt-Head from within at last decided to conceed.

     “Boys, boys, boys, boys, boys…” Van Driessen rapidly stammered out while picking himself up off the floor as an attempt to reset his brain so he may at last be able to speak. “If I was going to digest you, you would already have been killed by now.”

     There was a bit of an awkward silence between the two groups as the one on the inside desperately attempted to comprehend what their wincing hippie teacher had just said to them. It wouldn’t take too long, however (well, specifically relative to these two, of course) to be able to figure it out.

     “Uh…oh yeah.” the one which Van Driessen’s brain was now able to properly process as Butt-Head eventually responded. “Whoops.”

     “...no I was never…I was never going to digest you…in fact it's quite the opposite! I mean, you two do remember just how wounded you both were when you first came into my classroom, right?”

     “Uhuhuhuhuh…you said came.”

     Van Driessen could do absolutely nothing else in the moment but sigh and roll his eyes as he shakily sat himself back on his chair. “Right?”

     “Uhhh….oh yeah!” Beavis suddenly piped up. “Yeah, that’s right, we were pretty injured! Heh! Yeah!”

     “Well…you see…” Van Driessen nervously attempted to continue on. “I had a special herbal concoction that would allow the juices in my stomach to heal you two, and…so that’s why I ate you.”

     Both Beavis and Butt-Head on the inside simply took a few seconds to look over their bodies, in order to confirm that they had, indeed, been healed of all their wounds while inside of Van Driessen’s stomach, a realization which only could have possibly been verbally expressed by Beavis with the singular phrase: “Damm. I’ll be damned.”

     Van Driessen let out yet another prolonged sigh before speaking up once more. “So you see boys, I was only trying to help you.”

     “Well uh…yeah we know that now.” Butt-Head replied, in the somewhat absent-minded tone that was the usual for him.

     “Well, well Butt-Head, since we’re not going to get turned into poop after all, we can just relax in here for a while! I mean think about it! We don’t have to go to the rest of our classes for the day!” Beavis suddenly chimed in, positively brimming with a sudden, well, positive response of the reality they were now in.

     Taking a few seconds to process what Beavis had just told him, a time period which was held over with a rather breathy “Uhhhhhh…”, Butt-Head eventually managed to formulate a decision, and said decision was, “Yeah. Sure.”

     Van Driessen, now letting it settle within him that all three of them were now safe, was starting to become relaxed once more.

     “So…I’ll just keep you guys in there for a while then?” he calmly attempted to clarify.

     “Hehehe…yeah, yeah yeah! I mean, it is all nice and warm in here after all!” Beavis responded in his iconic, upbeat tone of voice a few seconds later.

     Nodding his head from his position on the outside, Van Driessen proceeded to allow his body to loosen and as a result release all the tension that had previously been pent up in his muscles as both borrowers on the inside began to settle down against the squishy, churning walls, to enjoy their extended stay.

     Van Driessen, despite having just been positively punted to the floor by the two teens within him not too long ago, just couldn’t help but feel a little sympathetic towards the troublemaking little pair as he gently placed a hand over his gut.

     “Alright, get comfortable then, boys.”

     As both Beavis and Butt-Head, now having calmed down themselves, began letting their iconic bouts of laughter flow from their voice boxes as they always tended to do, Butt-Head specifically paused for but one second if only to respond to his much larger hippie teacher on the outside one more time.

     “Uh…yeah we will. Uhuhuhuhuhuh.” he eventually ended up saying.

     Allowing a slight smile to form itself upon his face, David Van Driessen gave but a single nod of acknowledgement, though he knew that Butt-Head couldn’t see it, before letting out one last sentence of his own to the borrower, who had just simply gone back to laughing along with his friend at this point, just as he always did. And that sentence, quite simply, was: “Great to hear it, Butt-Head. Great to hear.”

#soft vore #safe vore #wholesome vore #extreme cuddling #endosoma #healing vore #willing pred #willing vore #unwilling to willing #multiple prey #male pred #male prey #male predador #male vore #m/m vore #well kinda since there's multiple prey #but eh I don't care #human pred #human prey #gt vore #g/t vore #vore story #vore stories #vore writing #v.ore #v/ore #v0r3 #vor3

[justanothervoreblog]

Hot Tub Party

Brody and Kyle had no idea what to expect when they arrived at the hot tub. Gino and Dylan have been in there for a while, drinks in hand, and laughing amongst themselves. When Kyle asked what was so funny, Gino had replied that it was an inside joke. Unfortunately for Brody and Kyle, the joke was going to be on them.

The night went on, Brody and Kyle didn't expect anything. There were a couple of sly comments about how delicious Cody and Kyle looked. Cody just assumed that it was just bro talk. They didn't notice how Gino was practically drooling. The way that Dylan licked his lips went unnoticed either. Eventually, by the time they did it was too late.

Gino had mentioned how hungry he was wrapping his arm around Kyle. Kyle recommended that they get pizza and Dylan made a sly joke on how they would never get to see it. Before Cody gets the chance to clarify what Dylan meant by that, he watches Gino devour Kyle. His best friend bulges out Gino's throat as he wiggles all the way down. It was surreal and unfortunately it was an experience that Cody got at the hands of Dylan.

Dylan and Gino swallow their perspective prey, enjoying the sensations of them fighting the entire way down. It wasn't a difficult task considering how practiced they both were. With every gulp, there was less of Kyle and Cody and more Dylan and Gino. Their bellies expand eventually pushing against one another. The thrashing coming from within was a soothing feeling for both of them. Live prey, caught and belly bound, nothing they could do, but squirm. It was the best feeling in the world.

They toss their head back collecting the feet and swallow down what remains. There is a soft thump as Kyle and Cody settle into their forever homes. Gino and Dylan settle back into the hot tub, one hand on top of that huge guts. Gino plays with his belly button while Dylan picks at his teeth. Eventually all of the squirming inside of their collective bellies works up a belch. It silences the squirming once and for all.

Gino and Dylan press their bellies together feeling the quiet contents in there finally rest. They chuckle at one another as they burp again. The leftover trunks of their food splat onto the hot tub.

#male vore #vore story #m/m vore #belly #male pred #male prey #multiple preds #multiple prey

[elodieunderglass]

changes and trends in horror-genre films are linked to the anxieties of the culture in its time and place. Vampires are the manifestation of grappling with sexuality; aliens, of foreign influence. Horror from the Cold War is about apathy and annihilation; classic Japanese horror is characterised by “nature’s revenge”; psychological horror plays with anxieties that absorbed its audience, like pregnancy/abortion, mental illness, femininity. Some horror presses on the bruise of being trapped in a situation with upsetting tasks to complete, especially ones that compromise you as a person - reflecting the horrors and anxieties of capitalism etc etc etc. Cosmic horror is slightly out of fashion because our culture is more comfortable with, even wistful for, “the unknown.” Monster horror now has to be aware of itself, as a contingent of people now live in the freedom and comfort of saying “I would willingly, gladly, even preferentially fuck that monster.” But I don’t know much about films or genres: that ground has been covered by cleverer people.

I don’t actually like horror or movies. What interests me at the moment is how horror of the 2020s has an element of perception and paying attention.

Multiple movies in one year discussed monsters that killed you if you perceived them. There are monsters you can’t look at; monsters that kill you instantly if you get their attention. Monsters where you have to be silent, look down, hold still: pray that they pass over you. M Zombies have changed from a hand-waved virus that covers extras in splashy gore, to insidious spores. A disaster film is called Don’t Look Up, a horror film is called Nope. Even trashy nun horror sets up strange premises of keeping your eyes fixed on something as the devil GETS you.

No idea if this is anything. (I haven’t seen any of these things because, unfortunately, I hate them.) Someone who understands better than me could say something clever here, and I hope they do.

But the thing I’m thinking about is what this will look like to the future, as the Victorian sex vampires and Cold War anxieties look to us. I think they’ll have a little sympathy, but they probably won’t. You poor little prey animals, the kids will say, you were awfully afraid of facing up to things, weren’t you?

#this is the sort of observation I make here that people #go off and write their thesis about #so while I’m not expecting to be the first or cleverest person to say this #if you do use it as a springboard #tell me if you get a good grade ok? #I’ll be tremendously proud of you #like if you take a shitpost and use it to craft deep attentive thought on something important #I just think that’s probably the most noble use of a human brain #it makes me want to take off my hat and slam it to the ground in inexpressible emotion #it’s a cowboy hat btw #and I say something like GOLDURN IT THAT KID SURE HAS DELIVERED. #ok so don’t deny me this #especially if you correct me after a long research journey #GOLDURN IT THE KID IS RIGHT!

[cowardlysimon]

Well damn

We got 100 (and one) followers

I swear I had 69 a week ago

Thank you all

Have some vore since that's why your here

Well that's all the ideas I got rn

See you later

I'm gonna watch episodes of Batman, cartoons on illegal websites because this mf STILL HASN'T GIVEN ME THE HBO, MAX, LOGIN 😭

#soft vore #v.ore #v/ore #v0r3 #safe vore #willing prey #willing vore #m/m vore #male pred #male prey #monster vore #multiple prey

[minisugakoobies]

Yours for the Night | HHJ

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader Genre: smut, porn with the barest of plot, frenemies to lovers, Model!AU Rating: M (18+) Warnings: so. much. cockiness from Hyunjin, arguing as a form of foreplay, a bit of dumbification, what's a little fucking between frenemies?, dick pics, exhibitionism, nipple play, mentions of slut shaming, grinding, fingerfucking, pinching, just a tiny bit of spit, unexpected use of pet names, oral sex (f receiving), wet and messy, biting, dirty talk, maybe a little degradation (talking about reader being cock stupid), unprotected sex (bc used), riding/cowgirl style, praise/use of "good girl," soft dom!hyunjin vibes, rough/hard sex, multiple positions, creampie, multiple orgasms Word Count: 8.8k Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own SKZ - they just inspire me Summary: “Let me lay it out for you, so there’s no misunderstanding. If you can stop pretending for five seconds that you don’t want me the way I want you, you can have me tonight.” Or, Hyunjin makes you an offer you simply can't refuse.

A/N: I finished this earlier than expected, thanks to the inspiration that is Hyunjin at Milan Fashion Week. Have you seen him?? 🥵 Anyway, it's all because of his stunning beauty that this filthy lil pwp exists. Enjoy! 😘

Unbeta'd as usual. I would *love* to hear your thoughts - my inbox is always open (anon is on, but hateful comments will be blocked. Be kind, writers do this for free and with love!) 💕

SKZ Masterlist

 It’s Friday night, you’re out for drinks with your friends, and you are frustrated.

It’s not the club that’s bothering you. You’re here tonight at Felix’s request. He’d told you all it had been too long since you’d gone out as a group, so all nine of you and your friends crammed yourselves into a couple of rides and headed for downtown. 

Nor is it the incredibly tight, short, and backless dress you’ve poured yourself into that’s annoying you, though it’s certainly not helping. Your fingers anxiously grasp at the hem, tugging it down your thighs as you take a seat at the table where Felix and Seungmin are currently talking.

No, it’s something personal that has you wound tighter than a corset tonight. Work has been kicking your ass lately, and it’s put a huge damper on your sex life. You haven’t been out with anyone new in the last few months. Haven’t had any time to reach out to any of your small group of casual hookups who would typically lend a hand. Most nights you’ve even been too tired to masturbate. 

Put simply, you’re ready to fucking pop. 

Which is why you’re wearing this bodybinding dress and staring at the dance floor like a wildcat stalking its prey, searching to find someone to help you with your problem. Unfortunately, you’ve been here for hours, and no one’s caught your eye so far. 

Your clutch rattles on the table, drawing your attention. Everyone who would usually text you is here, so out of curiosity, you take out your phone. The notification tells you that Hyunjin sent you a photo. 

You glance across the room at where Hyunjin is sitting in a booth with Changbin, deep in conversation. Why would he send you a photo right now?

Your confusion only grows when you look at the photo. It’s a selfie, Hyunjin raising his champagne glass in a toast to the camera, perfectly tousled dark hair spilling over his brow as he fixes you with his signature smirk. It’s a gorgeous shot, of course, because he’s a gorgeous man, but again, why is he sending you selfies in the middle of tonight’s celebration? Or at all? Hyunjin’s never been the type to send you photos before, of himself or the group or anything. 

He’s never really been the type to text you, period, outside of the group chat. Probably because the two of you aren’t really friends. Frenemies would be more accurate. You share the same group of friends, but have nothing else in common. Which is fine, you don’t have to be close to hang out, but he’s… well… he’s an acquired taste, and you’ve never developed an appreciation. Hyunjin’s snooty and cocky - overly so, in your opinion, even if he is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. Most of your conversations consist of nothing but arguing. He’s very stubborn and loves to get the last word in on everything. Which drives you crazy because you prefer to have the final say. 

So to say this sudden selfie has you perplexed is an understatement.

Ignoring whatever Felix and Seungmin are talking about, you fire off a question. 

You: What is this? Hyunjin: Are you that drunk? It’s me

Reflexively, you scowl at your screen.

You: I know it’s you You: But WHY are you sending me a photo of yourself? Hyunjin: You’ve been staring at me all night Hyunjin: I thought maybe you’d like something to take home, to keep

Again, you look over, only to find him looking at you, lips curled to match his photo. Heat flames through you. Could he be more conceited? 

Maybe the vanity isn’t totally unearned, considering that he’s an actual model, making a living using his ethereal beauty to sell products. His own lifestyle is just as luxurious as the images he appears in. Like right now, he’s wearing the finest black suit, obviously couture, with a few silver necklaces draped over his tie that you’ve no doubt cost more than your entire outfit alone. 

And sure, he has a jawline carved by the gods, thick eyebrows that frame expressive, cat-like eyes, and ridiculously pouty lips that you’ve found yourself staring at once… an hour on average. Maybe in your weakest moments you’ve even dreamt about what it would be like to kiss those lips. 

But does that mean he has to be a dick all the time?

You: You’re such an ass Hyunjin: Deny it all you want, but we both know you can’t keep your eyes off me Hyunjin: Not that I blame you You: It’s amazing your head still fits through doors Hyunjin: You’d be the first to notice if it didn’t

Your nostrils flare. No matter what you say, he always flips it back on you. Admittedly, you are a little tipsy, so you’re not fully on your game, but it’s still annoying as fuck. And right now, you really don’t need another reason to be frustrated.

You: Whatever, Hyunjinnie

You cast another glance at Hyunjin, delighting in the way he frowns at your response. He hates it when you call him that.

You take a moment to locate the rest of your friends. Changbin’s still sitting with Hyunjin. Jeongin and Chan are doing shots at the bar. Minho and Jisung are in their own little world on the dance floor, arms draped around one another. Neither Felix nor Seungmin seemed to have noticed that you have dropped out of their discussion. Part of you feels guilty for ignoring them, but, well, you’re a little fired up now, and the only thing that would make you feel better would be getting the last word in with Hyunjin for once.

You take a sip of your cocktail, floating the cold liquid on your tongue as you devise your next line of attack, when your phone buzzes again. 

Hyunjin: I have another photo for you You: Why? Hyunjin: Because I think you’d like it You: Oh really? Like you know what I like Hyunjin: Always so argumentative Hyunjin: You’re pretty easy to figure out Hyunjin: The staring makes it incredibly obvious

Such an ass.

You: Fuck off Hyunjin: I will not You: What’s your game, man? Hyunjin: No game Hyunjin: Can’t I just do something nice for you?

The man is a riddle. An enigma draped in Versace. 

You type out “I guess there’s a first time for everything” and press send, putting your phone down long enough to watch him get the text. Hyunjin laughs to himself, smiling down at his screen, and there’s this weird feeling of satisfaction in your stomach at the sight. Whatever, you like making people laugh, even assholes like him. So what.

You tell yourself that you’re not going to wait at his beck and call, jumping to read his texts as they come in, if in fact he keeps sending them, but then your phone vibrates again and you snap it up immediately, because you’re a liar.

Hyunjin: Just trust me Hyunjin: You want this Hyunjin: But I want something first You: Oh here we go You: There’s the catch A hand waves over your phone. “Hi, hello, are we boring you?” 

Quickly, you turn it over before Seungmin can see your text thread. “No, sorry, I was just, uh - “

“Hey, leave her be,” your savior Felix says, pushing Seungmin lightly. “She’s had a rough couple of weeks. She shouldn’t have to suffer through your boring work stories, too.”

“Hey!” 

Seungmin and Felix dissolve into arguing as you covertly flip your phone back over. 

Hyunjin: I’m not asking much Hyunjin: Just a photo of you. A photo for a photo

He can’t be serious.

You: I’m not sending you a nude Hyunjin: Did I say nude? No, I did not Hyunjin: A normal selfie, that’s all

Again your suspicion rises. What is he playing at? Where is this going? 

You: But WHY? Hyunjin: Maybe I can’t stop staring, either

Your breath catches in your throat. When you look up, he’s gazing at you again, but his expression is less smug than usual and more… ravenous. 

You turn away so fast, your neck cracks. 

Hyunjin: So? Send me a pic.

There’s no reason for you to agree to this. Absolutely no reason at all. Beyond, of course, your burning curiosity. 

It’s really going to get you in trouble one day.

Grabbing your clutch, you slip off your chair. “Ladies room,” you announce, glancing at Felix and Seungmin, who aren’t listening anyway, still squabbling. You wander just far enough out of sight of your friends, find a spot with good lighting back near the bar (because even if it’s just for Hyunjin, your vanity will not let you take an unflattering photo), and snap a quick picture, firing it off right away. 

As you’re sliding back into your seat, your phone vibrates. Hyunjin sent another photo. 

You swallow reflexively. Holy shit. It’s a shot of his crotch, dress pants straining to contain what is clearly a massive cock, gripped through the fabric by long fingers.

Hwang Hyunjin sent you a dick pic. 

So it’s not big dick energy, it’s just big dick, is the first coherent thought you have once the screeching inside your head stops. It occurs to you that you’ve been gawking unblinkingly at your phone for at least several minutes, so you raise your head to make sure your friends aren’t watching you, and thankfully they’re not. Really, you should know better than to underestimate just how much Felix and Seungmin love to bicker.

But what are you supposed to say to Hyunjin now? Your thumbs hover, waiting for inspiration, but you’re stuck. 

Hyunjin: Wow, are you speechless? Hyunjin: Guess there really is a first time for everything

Even without looking, you know he’s smirking at you from across the room. Suddenly, you need another drink, so you mumble “bar” in Felix’s direction and stumble away. As the bartender mixes you another cocktail, you grip your phone tightly, waging an inner war with yourself. 

You should look at the photo again. You shouldn’t look at the photo again. You should delete it, and Hyunjin’s number, and maybe throw the phone in the nearest trash bin too, just for extra comfort. But holy fuck, do you want to look at the photo again!

What you really don’t want is to think about the effect that photo has had on your pussy, because it’s humiliating how much she’s throbbing right now. 

“I’ll take one of those as well, thanks.” A hand waves towards the bartender, and your treacherous brain immediately recognizes those fingers as the fingers from Hyunjin’s photo, and starts picturing what those lithe digits would look like wrapped around your throat. Great. Now your brain has joined your pussy. Traitors. 

You say nothing as Hyunjin takes the seat next to you. Partly because you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s gotten under your skin again, albeit in a very different way, but also partly because you’re still not sure what to say. 

“You know,” Hyunjin bends towards you, close enough for his warm breath to tickle your ear, “if I’d known that all it would take to get you to stop arguing with me was showing you my cock, I would’ve introduced you much sooner.” 

“God, you are just - just the worst,” you snarl, teeth clenched hard enough to give you a headache. 

“Now really, is that any way to speak to someone who just gave you a gift?” Hyunjin sips his drink calmly. 

Well, there’s the Hyunjin you recognize. What you don’t understand is how he’s still making your cunt drip with need. All you can think about right now is what he’s hiding under those suit pants. Are you really this dumbstruck by cock? 

(Yes. Yes, you are.)

“Me and every other woman in this club, I bet. You probably air dropped it to the whole room.” You wouldn’t put it past him. Maybe that was his plan the whole time - work you up then leave you begging while he hooked up with someone else. As if you’d beg. 

“Oh no, that was just for you.” 

“Uh-huh, sure.” 

With a roll of his eyes, Hyunjin clicks his tongue. “Come on. You know how selective I am when it comes to my clothes or my liquor. Why would I be any less selective about who I fuck?” 

“Who you fuck?” Whoa, who said anything about fucking? Besides your duplicitous brain and pussy. “Who - who said - that’s not - I mean -” You’ve suddenly become the Big Bad Wolf, huffing and puffing, unable to form a complete sentence. 

Hyunjin rises, leaning over you as you gaze up at him from your barstool. He places his hands on the bar, one arm on either side of you, bracketing you in, wild eyes trailing down your figure slowly before he smiles, hungry and sharp, and you realize, no, here’s the wolf. 

“Listen, there’s no reason we can’t fuck. Friends fuck all the time.” His hand glides over your shoulder, light as a feather, and you watch dazedly as goosebumps ripple along your skin. His touch is electric. 

“Is that what we are? Friends?” 

Hyunjin shrugs, lips twisted in a droll smile. “Close enough. This doesn’t have to be complicated. You said it yourself - you’re in need.”

“What? When did - I never said that!” Again you struggle to speak coherently, sputtering in your confusion.

Hyunjin frowns. “Ah, you’re right, I misspoke. That was Felix who said that, wasn’t it? On the ride here?” 

You curse inwardly, remembering the private discussion you and Felix had had on the way to the club, when you were discussing your dry spell. Or at least, it was supposed to be private, but obviously someone had been listening in. Felix had offered to play wingman for you, saying he wouldn’t let anything keep him from helping you “in your time of need” - a bit dramatic, but that was Felix for you. 

You’d waved him off, insisting that you could snag someone without any help. But here you are, drowning your sorrows at the bar with no possibilities in sight. Maybe you should’ve accepted Felix’s help after all. 

“That’s not…” Sighing, you shrug. There was no point in trying to deny what he’d heard. “Fine, yeah, I came here tonight hoping to leave with someone, but I didn’t mean you!” 

“That’s because you didn’t know I was an option.” Again his gaze travels down your body, lingering like a slow caress. “But after seeing the way you look tonight, I had to offer myself up.” 

Always. So. Cocky. You want to deny that his words have an effect on you. Want to. But can’t.

And like that, your resolve starts to slip. 

“You really want to help me out?” you ask. He nods, irises blown as his eyes flicker to yours, and it puts fire in your belly, has you biting your lip in contemplation. “What makes you think you have what I need?”  

Hyunjin doesn’t bother to check if any of your friends are watching as he steps closer, like he doesn’t care if anyone sees the way he cups your cheek. Or how he slides his thumb over your lips, dragging the bottom one down before lowering his mouth towards yours. He hangs there, just for a second - just long enough for you to tip your face up in a wordless answer.

His touch has nothing on his kiss. Your whole body thrums from head to toe, fizzing like the champagne on your tongue earlier, sweet and effervescent. His hand falls to your hip, squeezes there suddenly, and you feel a rush of heat between your thighs. 

Hyunjin’s plush lips part, letting the tip of his tongue briefly nudge against yours before he pulls away, leaving you blinking dumbly. He lets out a low chuckle, gently wiping a drop of spit from your chin. 

“I just know.”

You’re too busy licking the inside of your lips, hunting for any lingering trace of him, to respond.  

“Let me lay it out for you, so there’s no misunderstanding. If you can stop pretending for five seconds that you don’t want me the way I want you, you can have me tonight.” His eyes dip to your mouth and back, and you find yourself holding your breath, waiting for him to make a move again. Needing him to. “Just think about it.” 

And then he walks away, leaving you nearly toppling off your seat, floundering in his wake. 

The ice cubes in your cocktail have all but melted by the time you remember you ordered another drink. Sipping it slowly, you replay the last several minutes in your head. Did all of that just happen? Did Hyunjin really just offer himself to you? And then kiss you like that?

You feel like you’re going out of your mind. 

“Just think about it.” 

Hyunjin’s last words echo in your head as you wander on wobbly legs back towards the table where Felix and Seungmin are still standing. 

And oh, god, do you think about it. 

For the rest of the night, no matter how many conversations you have with your other friends, no matter how hard you dance, no matter what you do - the sole thought occupying your brain is what it would be like to fuck Hyunjin. Again and again, you picture him above you, beneath you, behind you, big cock stretching you out, making you scream his name. 

But it’s not worth it to give in to him. It can’t be. Good dick - if it’s good - can’t be enough to undo all the annoying shit he does, can it?

You cut yourself off early in the night, explaining that someone needs to stay sober enough to call for rides, but really you’re afraid that if you get completely blitzed, you’ll end up admitting something you don’t want to admit and going home with Hyunjin. Your friends honor your noble sacrifice by achieving impressive levels of drunk, ranging from delightful (Felix repeatedly booping you on the nose, calling you his “widdle buddy”) to disastrous (Chan, who gets upset when the guy he hits on in the bathroom doesn’t respond - turns out he was hitting on his own reflection - before falling asleep in a stall). 

Since the club is in the middle of downtown, you arrange for two cars to pick you and your friends up - one heading east, one heading west. Changbin, Chan, Hyunjin, and you pile into the ride heading west. Changbin hops into the passenger’s seat before you can slip in, leaving you smushed in the back between Hyunjin and Chan’s gigantic thighs. 

Said thighs are splayed a bit as Chan’s head lolls back, a loud snore erupting out of him as the car makes its first stop outside Changbin’s apartment. 

“Can’t take him anywhere,” Changbin grunts, snapping a rather unflattering photo of Chan sleeping with his mouth wide open, obviously saving it to drop in the group chat at the most opportune time. “Can you two make sure he gets home okay? I know it’s a bit out of the way, but, well, look at him.” 

Chan continues to rumble like a fighter jet, unaware of everything going on around him. 

“Yeah, don’t worry, we got him,” Hyunjin replies, and you just nod. “Night, ‘Bin.” 

Changbin gives the driver Chan’s address and then he ducks out of the cab. Your place is technically the next closest, but getting Chan back to his place safe and sound is the priority. 

With Chan sleeping next to you, it’s basically just you and Hyunjin alone now. A fact that has also occurred to Hyunjin, whose hand has been drifting further and further around your waist the entire ride. Now it slides around openly, tucking you against his side. You could fight it if you so desired - he’s not holding you tightly. He’s giving you the chance to escape. 

You’re not sure you want to.

“Have you thought about it?” he murmurs, nose against your ear. 

Your body reacts to the tone of his voice, thighs rubbing together, as you nod. 

“And what did you decide?” 

“I - I don’t know.” 

A puff of air tickles your skin as he laughs derisively. “Do you really need some convincing?” 

Chan snuffles loudly, reminding you that there’s another person right next to you, since your entire focus is on Hyunjin, and the way his hand is now creeping beneath the open back of your dress, and slowly moving up your rib cage. 

When he cups your left breast, you stifle a gasp. But you can’t stop the tiny “ah!” that escapes when he gently pinches your nipple. You attempt to cover it with a cough, hoping the driver’s lack of visible response means he didn’t hear you. Meanwhile, next to you, Chan doesn’t stir. 

“Feel good?” Hyunjin coos quietly. “Must’ve felt good, given the way you’re squirming right now.” 

Your hips have started to rock of their own volition. Brain, hips, pussy, all on your shit list. 

“But just think how much better it’ll feel when it’s my mouth.” His tongue flicks the shell of your ear before he sucks your earlobe into his warm mouth. A preview of what’s to come. It makes you squirm even harder, dying for any sort of relief for the aching between your legs. 

Remarkably, you manage to speak, hissing, “You’re a demon.” 

Hyunjin laughs. “You’ve no idea.” 

His hand stays where it is until the car pulls up at the curb outside Chan’s house. It takes a minute for the two of you to wake Chan, then another minute for him to realize where he is, then yet another minute for him to slide out of the car. Hyunjin sighs and also climbs out of the cab to make sure Chan gets into his house safely. 

When Hyunjin returns, the driver glances in the rearview mirror. “So, one more stop, or two?” 

You blink at the question. The air in the cab feels heavy with implication. Hyunjin says nothing, but looks at you expectantly, and you understand - the choice is yours.

You glance at your hands, as if they’ll help you choose. Your watch informs you that it’s 2:12 in the morning. Don’t they always say not to trust any decisions you make after two am?

When the driver clears his throat a little too loudly, Hyunjin’s fingers grip your chin. 

“Well? You heard him - one stop or two?” 

You meet his gaze, surprised to find a fire burning in his eyes. 

Maybe you’d be a fool to run towards it, seeking warmth where there might only be danger. 

Fine, then. You’re a fool. 

“One.” 

With a satisfied grin, Hyunjin gives the driver his address.

You’re a little tense during the elevator ride up to Hyunjin’s apartment. Hyunjin, on the other hand, looks completely relaxed, quietly leaning against the wall with his normal blasé expression on his face. Like you’re not about to cross a boundary here that you never expected to cross. Like this was inevitable. 

As soon as you’re both inside and his door is locked, he turns to face you, and you suck in a deep breath, waiting impatiently for him to touch you again. 

Instead, he asks, “Do you want some water?” 

“Um, yeah, sure.” 

He must read confusion on your face - at least, you hope it looks like confusion and not disappointment - because the corner of his mouth lifts in a small smile. 

“A few questions first,” he says, walking into his kitchen, sliding his suit jacket off as he goes. “Are you in good health?”

“Am I - am I in good health?”

Hyunjin tuts. “I’d ask if you need me to repeat myself but clearly you heard the question.” 

You stare at his back, brows furrowing as you decipher his meaning. “Are you asking if I’ve been tested recently? Yes, I have been. Nothing to report.” 

“Good, me too,” he replies, yanking his tie off and tossing it onto the counter before opening the fridge and grabbing you both a bottle of water. He eyes you as he opens his. “Are you on birth control?”

“Is this what you’re like on a date? Does your foreplay always involve interrogating your partner with clinical questions?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He tilts his head back as he drinks, so he doesn’t catch the glare you shoot his way. “Answer the question.” 

“Yes, dick, I’m on birth control.” You take a swig of your water. The memory of his touch in the taxi is fading more and more with every second that passes. With a clearer head, you’re starting to question if you’ve made the right choice. 

“Good,” he repeats, wiping his mouth. “I prefer to fuck raw.” 

You clench around nothing at the thought, but scowl anyway. “What about what I prefer?” 

Hyunjin just hums, fingers brushing your cheek before they tap under your chin. “Do you want me to use a condom?” There’s no drollness or sarcasm to his tone. He’s genuinely asking. 

“No.” Your pride takes a tiny hit at the way you answer him immediately, without hesitation.

Just as quickly as his gentle tone came, it disappears again, vanishing as Hyunjin flashes a smug smile. “That’s what I thought.”

“That’s what - oh fuck off.” There he is again, that cocky asshole. Reflexively, you curse at him, ready to fight. “Fuck you, you don’t know anything about me.”

“How many times do I need to tell you that I do? You’re so easy to read.” 

“Really?” Okay then. You’ll call his bluff. “Go ahead, Hyunjinnie. Tell me what I like.” 

He rolls his eyes. His fingers make quick work of his cufflinks, setting them on the granite top beside him, and he slides his sleeves up, revealing toned forearms beneath. 

“Well, for starters, you love getting under my skin with that infantile nickname.” 

“No shit. Everyone knows that.” 

“You live for arguing, especially with me. Can’t let a single sentence go by without snapping back.” 

“Maybe that’s because you’re always wrong.”

Hyunjin doesn’t take the bait, merely leans back against the counter, examining you so openly that you feel exposed, so you cross your arms, as if that will help you block his penetrating gaze. He takes a few seconds before speaking again. 

“No, it’s not that. Though I’m sure that’s what you tell yourself. If it were, you wouldn’t be here right now.” 

He speaks so calmly, so self-assuredly. It’s maddening, even though you’re burning with curiosity. Makes you want to know more, so you press him again. “Okay, then - what is it? Why am I here?” 

“Because you wanted someone to take control.” He spreads his arms wide. “And here I am.” 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“You know. You want someone else to be in charge. Make the decisions. Do the work for you. Then fuck you so hard that all those thoughts just fly right out of that pretty little head of yours.” He says it all so matter-of-factly, like it’s completely evident, your deepest desires laid bare for all to witness.

You want to dismiss his words, act like he’s so far off the mark that he’s on another planet, but you’re too surprised by his answer to respond with anything other than stunned silence. His arrogant smile returns. Clearly he was expecting you to fight, so your lack of a snappy comeback only confirms to him that he’s right. 

“Just look at what you’re wearing,” he continues. “That tight dress screams ‘please fuck me stupid!’ Lucky for you, that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

You find your voice. “Oh, now you’re judging my clothing? And - and slut shaming me?” 

“Please. I’m always judging your clothing. But it’s a taste thing, not some sort of moral judgment.” He smirks. “And I’m very supportive of sluts, thank you.” 

As he sips his water, you replay the entire evening in your mind. Sending you the photos. Kissing you. Making the offer. Fuck. He really did do the work for you tonight. Was there ever a chance you were going to say no? Judging by Hyunjin’s attitude, this moment was never in doubt. He knew you’d end up here with him.  

The other realization that dawns on you is - you’re not mad about any of that. The only thing you’re mad about is that, once again, he’s right about something. And he knows it. 

Okay. Fine. You want to be fucked stupid. But does he have to be so fucking rude about it??

“Maybe this was a bad idea.”

He suddenly steps towards you. His expression is so intense that you move without thinking, backing all the way into the fridge. Your heart feels like it might burst through your ribcage at the slightest provocation, breath leaving your lungs in tiny exhalations as his thumb ghosts your cheek. 

Not because you’re scared. Because you’re excited.

“Tell me you don’t want to kiss me.”

Hyunjin says the words softly, but there’s a firmness to his gaze that makes you swallow hard.

Your lips don’t move. 

He kisses you. Wraps his hands around your waist, pulls you to his demanding mouth, head turning this way and that as his lips crash onto yours.

You kiss him back. Just as greedily, just as deeply. 

His hand strokes your thigh. “Tell me you don’t want me to touch you.”

You make no noise.

His fingers crawl beneath your skirt, dancing over the silk of your underwear. Your gasp warms his tongue. A throaty growl chokes him.

“So wet for me.” He brings his hand up to show you the evidence, skin glistening. As if you didn’t already know.

He surges forward, pinning you to the fridge, mouth blazing a trail from your ear to your neck as his fingers press into your soaking slit.

“Ah, Hyunjin!” you whimper, clutching wildly at his bicep. The swell of his arm bulges as his fingers slowly search your inner walls, like they’re mapping every inch of you. When they trace over your g-spot, they linger, brushing again and again. “Oh my god!”

“Tell me,” he implores, husky voice breaking, like he’s barely in control, “tell me to stop and I will. Tell me you don’t want this - don’t want me - and I’ll call you a ride and we’ll never talk about this again.” 

His forehead bumps yours, eyes smoldering with bright intensity, hand still plunging.

This time, you speak, chest heaving as you gasp for air.

“Don’t - don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

A smile spreads across Hyunjin’s face. He pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist, the other hand still working between your thighs. You moan, feeling his erection digging into your hip as he presses himself against you, holding you firmly in place while he adds a third finger to the two already fucking you open. 

“Say it,” he commands, mouth wet and hot on your cheek. “Tell me what you want.” 

“I want, oh, fuck, I, I want you to fuck me, Hyunjin.”

In an instant, he’s disentangled himself from you, and you can’t help but whine very loudly at the sudden loss of his fingers. Hyunjin just smirks at your naked desperation, spinning you around so you’re in front of him. 

“Come on,” he says, lightly pinching your ass to make you move. You yelp, smacking him on the arm, but he just laughs. “I’m not fucking you in here. Let’s go.” 

“Asshole,” you curse, but you go anyway, because all you want is for him to touch you again, and if he’s refusing to do it in here, then why would you want to stay? You’re going wherever his hands go. 

Maybe you should feel ashamed, for giving in so easily. But you don’t. All you feel is desire. This is what you want. What you need. 

Hyunjin’s fingers press lightly on the small of your back as he guides you down the hallway to his bedroom. It’s just as ostentatious as the rest of his place - expensive-looking light fixtures hanging from the ceiling, dark leather headboard and frame for his gigantic bed, which is covered in piles of plush-looking blankets and pillows. There’s a gorgeous painting taking up most of the wall above his bed. 

He doesn’t give you much time to admire the room, because as soon as you’re in front of the bed, he spins you again, hands reaching for the zipper of your dress, sliding it to the ground, leaving you standing there in nothing but your panties. Before you can tell him to stop pushing you around, he’s kissing you fervently, like he’s been dying the entire time his mouth has been away from yours these last few minutes, and suddenly you forget that you’re irritated. 

Hyunjin backs you onto the bed, breaking away from your lips long enough to urge you to move towards the headboard, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it to the side as he follows. When his fingers grab for his belt, they find yours already there, making short work of the buckle. He groans in delight, deciding to use his hands to grope your bare breasts while you unzip his pants. 

“Can’t wait to see it in real life, huh?” he asks, dragging his thumbs over your nipples. He chuckles when you just whimper, back arching slightly to encourage him to keep touching you.

The truth is, yes, you can’t wait to see Hyunjin’s massive dick, but more importantly, you can’t wait to feel it inside you, so you continue with your task, pushing his pants and boxers down together. And god, what a cock it is, long and thick and positively darkened with need. Smeared drops of excitement coat the head, and the sight makes your mouth water. 

He rises up to kneel between your legs, grabbing his cock with one hand and giving it a few lazy pumps. “Well? Don’t tell me you’re speechless again.” 

“Goddamn it,” you huff in exasperation, “you’re the fucking worst.” But you can’t stop staring as he gently squeezes the head, making a pleased noise, relieving himself a little while he watches you writhe in impatience. 

“You’ll be singing a different tune in a moment, sweetheart.” 

Your nose wrinkles at how easily ‘sweetheart’ drips off his tongue. “Just put it in me already,” you demand, leaning back on your elbows, licking your lips as you peer up at him, trying to send a blatant “fuck me!” signal with every inch of your body. 

Hyunjin tuts, lifting one of his gorgeously thick eyebrows. “Right to it? Is that what you really want?” In one swift motion, he hooks a finger under your panties and drags them down and off. It’d be a more impressive move if anyone but him were doing it. 

“I just… I thought we were gonna fuck?” Isn’t that what you’re here for?

“Of course we are. But is that how you typically do it? No foreplay, no build up?” His fingers rake down your stomach, trail over your thighs, causing your body to twitch with shivers. “That doesn’t sound like any fun at all.”

It’s not how you’d prefer to do this, no. You’re just surprised that he agrees. So you say nothing in reply, visibly closing your mouth while he maneuvers you into position, pushing your legs up so your knees bend, your thighs meeting your stomach, completely exposing your cunt to him. 

“That’s better. Just let me play with you a little first, sweetheart. I promise you’ll like it.” 

Your instinct is to argue with him, tell him he has no idea what you’d like, but you’ve already done that tonight. And you were wrong. So again, you bite your tongue. 

Until he extends his own, letting a string of spit fall onto your pussy.

“Ew, Hyunjin!” You’re disgusted, but not with him. Why do you find that so hot?

“Too much?” he inquires, letting go of your legs as he glances at you. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen a real expression of concern on his face before. It rattles you slightly. 

Biting your lip, you shake your head. “No - keep going.” 

He nods, hands reaching for your thighs again. “If I hit any hard no’s for you, say something, and I promise I’ll stop, okay?” 

“I will.” 

He bows over you again, licking a straight line up your slit. With a moan, you let your head drop back against the pillows. His mouth feels absolutely divine.

Where others in the past just dove in, Hyunjin takes his time. He drags his tongue around slowly, licking through your soaking folds, tasting you. It reminds you of the way you’d seen him drink a really fine whisky, holding it in his mouth, quietly identifying every note, every flavor. Relishing, instead of rushing. 

When his lips brush over your clit, leaving teasing kisses, you moan. Hyunjin hums, a self-satisfied little rumble, and lifts his head. “See? Told you you’d like this.” 

“Please, shut up and suck my clit.” It’s meant to be an order but definitely sounds like a pathetic whine. Whatever, as long as he listens. 

He listens. Those plush lips that you can’t stop yourself from staring at roll over your already throbbing little nub and warm pleasure runs down your spine before pooling in your belly. His dark hair keeps falling in his face, obscuring him from your view, and for some reason you can’t have that. Tentatively, you reach out, hand shaking a little. 

Hyunjin hums when your fingers slide through his soft locks, pushing the strands back, holding them in place so you can see his eyes, the way they squeeze shut when he sucks noisily on your clit. The sounds he makes are so loud, completely uninhibited, moaning and grunting as his lips smack and his tongue laps. 

He uses said tongue to fuck you expertly, his movements so confident, so sure. He reads every quiver, listens to every moan, figures out how to work you up with quick, teasing shallow plunges, before slowing it down, going deeper, tongue brushing your walls like he’s speaking a language only your body understands. 

“Hyunjin,” you sigh, unable to tear your eyes away from him. 

His mouth parts from you long enough for him to speak. “There it is. There’s the tone I was looking for. Enjoy this, sweetheart. I know I am.” 

You’re enjoying it so much that you unexpectedly whimper when he stops again a moment later, feeling a little embarrassed as he exhales a quiet laugh into your warmth. “Just hold on,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue up your slit to pass over your clit again and again, before sliding a finger into your clenching hole.

“Ohhhh.” 

The combination is so good, his finger filling you while his mouth suctions to you, that your eyes flutter shut. He pulls out and glides back in, all the way to his knuckles in one smooth motion, your wet folds parting so easily for him. He’s done an amazing job of spreading your slickness around, coating your inner thighs, messing his bed beneath you. 

“Gonna make you come,” Hyunjin says, spreading you open with two fingers now. “Need you to come before I can fuck you just like you want. Can you do that for me?”

The tension in your gut tells you that that shouldn’t be a problem. Both fingers have curled inside you, stroking over your soft spot, making you pant, clutching Hyunjin’s satin sheets for dear life. 

“Hy-Hyun-”

Before you can even finish saying his name, the tension snaps, nerves firing from your cunt to your toes, causing your legs to lock up. Hyunjin groans, moving his hands to grasp at your thighs, trying to loosen their squeeze. 

“Easy, sweetheart, don’t take me out just yet.” When your body finally starts to relax, he grins. “There we go. Good girl.”

If this were any other time, you’d snap at him for dropping that pet phrase on you. But you’re too blissed out at the moment, practically purring as he starts to kiss his way up your torso. 

When he reaches your breasts, he joins you, a low rumble sounding from the back of his throat. His nose nuzzles between them, as he leaves loud kisses on their swelling curves. 

Another thing Hyunjin isn’t wrong about - his mouth feels much better than his fingers do on your nipples, tongue gliding like warm velvet against the pert nubs. You continuously moan, until you’re nearly panting, fingers once again finding his dark locks and threading themselves between. 

“How am I doing, sweetheart?” he murmurs.

“Good.” It doesn’t even occur to you to tell him anything but the truth. “So good, Hyunjinnie. Ah!” You flinch as he suddenly nips the other nipple, teeth clamping gently. “Why?!” 

“You and that damn nickname. I must not be doing enough if you’re still calling me that.” He rises onto his knees, shaking his head. “Guess I just gotta fuck it out of you.” 

And just like that, you feel that spark again. 

“Sure you will, Hyunjinnie,” you simper, voice dripping with honey, so sickeningly-sweet as you coo his name. It has the desired effect, making Hyunjin’s eyes flash. 

He reaches for you, pulling you up into his lap, before you can so much as breathe. “You doubting me, sweetheart?” His hands press into your hips, urging you down on him. Both of you groan as his cock slides along your cunt, and the sparks inside you ignite. 

“I’m not your sweetheart,” you spit back, feeling that familiar sense of agitation, but it’s not annoyance now, it’s anticipation. 

“And I’m not really yours, but let’s play pretend for the night,” he drawls, and you look at him with wide eyes, but he kisses away the wonder on your face, working you up with teeth and tongue, until you’re frenzied with need. Your fingers clutch at his biceps, nails sinking in to tether him closer. 

His hands on your waist guide you down again. As his cockhead breaches your lips, you keen, head falling forward onto his shoulder. 

“Holy fuck,” you gasp. The stretch is delicious, cunt already throbbing around his thickness.  

Both of you freeze when you’re fully seated on him, no sounds in the room but the rhythmic cadence of your panting intertwining with his. 

“You know,” Hyunjin speaks through grit teeth, focused on the spot where your bodies join, “we could’ve been doing this a long, long time ago.”

You don’t know what to say to that. How long has he wanted this? You’re not sure the exact answer for yourself, except that it’s longer than you’d ever truly want to confess.

“Maybe - maybe if you weren’t such a - oh, oh, oh!” Your lame attempt at a retort is lost to the rapid snapping of Hyunjin’s hips when he starts to thrust up into you. There’s nothing you can do but bounce in his lap, clinging to his shoulders as he finally fucks you just as hard as he’d promised. “Hyunjin, please!” 

Hyunjin grunts, perspiration trickling down his forehead as he concentrates on giving you what you wanted. His jaw flexes, brows drawn together in a frown, and even with this fierce expression on his face, he’s so beautiful that you can’t help yourself, diving forward to kiss that gorgeous mouth of his like you’ve always imagined, as if you weren’t just kissing him a few minutes ago, but like it’s the first time, tracing his lips with yours, imprinting the feeling of them against your own to store away in your memory for later.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” His words are the oxygen you inhale, tongues pressed together like the pages of a book. “I think I prefer you this way. So needy for my cock.” He smirks. “Kinda want to keep you like this.” 

He digs his fingers into the plump roundness of your ass as he grinds into you, sliding you back and forth. Your hips undulate, rolling you down on his big cock, feeling every inch of him rubbing against your walls. 

“Hyu-hyu-hyun!” 

It’s impossible to get an entire word out, given the pace at which Hyunjin’s strokes are jostling you. Your staccato cries get louder when he switches it up, laying you on your back and shoving a pillow under your hips. His thighs smack into your ass with every plunge of his thick length, and again you can do nothing but try to breathe, drowning in euphoria as you are.

“Yeah, you’re best just like this. Stuffed full of cock, no room for thoughts. Or arguments.” 

“F-fuck!” You were trying to say ‘fuck off’ but Hyunjin chose that moment to thumb at your clit, giving the aching nub the friction it so badly needed. Your hips buck up, making Hyunjin groan.

“Just like that, so good for me.” 

You whine involuntarily at his praise, hips lifting again, trying to take him deeper. Every stroke of his cock lights you up, your body tingling from head to toe. The strong thrumming in your gut is going to overtake you soon and you’re finally going to get what you’ve been needing for weeks now. And it’s Hyunjin of all people who is going to give it to you. 

You’re pulled out of your reverie as Hyunjin suddenly pulls out, falling onto his side next to you. 

“What are y- oh!” You gasp as he turns you on your side, facing away from him. One hand lifts  your leg, sliding it back until your calf loops over his. Then he enters you again, and again, thrusting in deep, powerful movements. “Oh, fuck, goddamn.” 

“That’s right,” he growls, arm beneath you bending, hand coming to a rest around your throat. Not squeezing, but holding you in place, back pressed to his front. You’re both covered in sweat, bodies gliding over one another, making it hard for him to keep his pace. So his fingers spread on your chest, locking you in place, giving him leverage to pound into you. “Take it, sweetheart. Take what I give you like a good girl.” 

“Ahhh,” you moan, “don’t - don’t call me that.” 

“No? You don’t like being praised?” Hyunjin releases his hold on your thigh, running his others fingers around where his cock keeps sliding between your lips. “Your pussy tells me another story. You’re soaking my sheets.”

“Nah - ah - not that, ’s not that.” With this slightly slower rhythm, you’re able to speak, but full sentences still seem hard. “Like praise. Hate - hate good girl.” 

“Ohhh, I see.” Hyunjin laughs breathily. “I should’ve known. You’re too proud. Think it makes you look weak if I call you that? Hmm?” 

Even in your desperate state, you know he’s not far off from the truth. You don’t want him calling you that, because it feels like giving in to him. Letting him take control completely. Possessing you. His good girl. 

The real, honest to god truth is - you can’t let him call you that, because you do want it. And you hate how much you want it. 

So you deny it. Or at least, you try to. But all you can stutter is a weak “You’re s-such a d-dick,” as he continues snapping his hips into your ass, making your entire body jiggle in his strong grip. 

Hyunjin drops an open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder, wet and sloppy. You curl your fingers into his arm as you sense that you’re approaching the precipice of your orgasm. You can tell that it’s going to be an intense one, one of those climaxes that clears your mind of all thought and leaves you literally shaking in ecstasy. Just as he’d promised.

You do appreciate a man who follows through on his promises. 

Hyunjin must feel the way you’re starting to clench around him, groaning into your shoulder. “Ahh, I think this little cunt’s trying to tell me something again, sweetheart. You gonna come for me? Hmmm?” His fingers rub over your clit, the sudden touch making you jolt. “Come on, be a good girl and c-”

Twisting your head, you smash your nose into his cheek, clumsily seeking his mouth. Cutting him off with heated kisses, hoping he’ll interpret it as annoyance fueling your actions and not see it for what it truly is - untamed desire. 

A strangled cry passes from Hyunjin’s lips into yours, and with one more tweak to your clit, you come undone. Your body locks up, thighs going rigid, cunt clamping around his cock so fiercely that Hyunjin hisses loudly, forehead resting on the nape of your neck.

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn tight,” he whispers in your ear. Sweat drips from his skin onto yours. “You’re gonna make me come. Is that what you want?”

You can’t answer. You’re gone, completely gone, beyond words, capable of making only the most broken, pathetic sounds, wantonly mewling as slowly grinds into you, cock rubbing against your clenching walls. When your legs start to go slack, he resumes his thrusting, but at a languorous pace, and you’re not sure if he’s trying to go easy on you now that you’re approaching overstimulation, or if he’s trying to slow himself down.

“I think it is what you want. I think you want me to fill this little pussy up with my cum, don’t you? Hmm?” His nose prods at your cheek. “A sweet creampie for my good girl?”

The whine that you let you out is pitifully loud. White hot shame spikes through you, but only for a second, the emotion quickly burnt away by your fervent need. 

“Come on, tell me. Tell me you want it.” 

“Ahhh!” You gasp as his cock sinks in deeper, hitting your g-spot. It’s almost too much, the delicious drag, and your fingers dig into his arm, nails sinking into his skin. “Fuck!”

“Tell me,” he says again, but this time there’s a plea laced into the command, a desperate edge in his tone that strikes a chord somewhere deep inside you, and suddenly you want to give him anything he needs. 

“Hyunjin, I want it, p-please!” 

Those are the magic words. Hyunjin groans, his hips falling out of their slow rhythm, jerking erratically as he does exactly what he said, shooting his load deep inside you, moaning your name the entire time. You grip the sheets so hard, you’re afraid you’ll tear them, shoving your hips back against his, riding out his climax with him. 

“Pussy’s sucking me dry, sweetheart. So greedy,” he pants, trailing kisses along your neck. “Think it wants more.” 

“Hyunjin!” You sob his name again, voice breaking. All it takes is his fingers pinching at your clit and you’re coming again, stomach twitching, breath leaving your body in one big rush. 

When your body stops trembling, Hyunjin finally slips out of you, his hand falling away from your cunt. He lets out a tired laugh.

“You can take your nails out of my arm. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Oh.” Your neck burns a little in embarrassment. You hadn’t realized you were still holding on to him so tightly, unconsciously keeping him in place. Keeping him close to you. You relax your grip, and he slides his arms around you further, locking you into his embrace. 

It’s… nice, being in Hyunjin’s arms. Really nice. Lying there, in your messy, tired state, you feel rather content. 

But the longer you lie there, just breathing together, not speaking, your head starts to fill with thoughts again. Questions. The most pressing being, at what point is he going to kick you out? Because despite everything that just happened, he’s still Hyunjin, and you’re still you, and - 

“It’s already started.” Hyunjin hums, lightly shaking you. “I can hear you thinking again.” 

Your reflexes kick back in. “It’s just what I do. You should try it some time.” 

To your surprise, Hyunjin starts to laugh. You roll over, nose bumping his as you give him a curious look. 

“What?” 

“You really can’t help yourself, can you?” He brushes a finger over your cheek. “You’ve got a fighter’s instinct. It’s one of the things I admire about you. But maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to fight me all the time?” 

You stare at him as you try to make sense of the rather casual confession of admiration he just dropped. Nope. Can’t. Not right now.

“I…” You pause. “Sorry. It’s just a habit.” 

He smiles, something genuine that slowly shifts into his familiar smirk, and even as spent as you are, you feel a stirring inside you. “Guess we need to work on that.”

In the morning, you might regret what you say next. But the night’s not over yet. “Maybe you just didn’t fuck me stupid enough yet.” 

Hyunjin accepts your challenge with a kiss. 

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 

© 2024 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost. I do not allow translations of my works.

Taglist: @scoupsjin; @aznstoner; @yourtmblrgirlfriend; @hyunlvrs; @notevenheretbh1; @chrisbangsgalaxy; @dessianna1

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids imagines #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #skz imagines #skz x you #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids x you #fic: yours for the night

[hypnos333]

Slowed to Anger

Alastor x reader

Synopsis: You loved the hotel and yet you risked your life for it

“Omg! Alaster I can’t believe you’re doing this and it looks so nice, I can’t wait to decorate” You gushed looking everywhere around the hotel making him chuckle.

“I’m glad you find this Journey to find this exciting my dear, I wish I could say the same but i’m stuck on a leash” Alaster sigh still smiling but with a broken one. You wrap your arms around his neck forcing him to wrap his around your waist.

“We’ll break this deal so we can go back to living happily together” You said kissing his temple as he closed his eyes as your kisses. “We have been married for decades it’s nothing we can’t handle My love” You continued saying.

Little did you know this was gonna be very different from those decades.

A war broke out between heaven and hell and you were against Lute and keep in mind you weren’t the best in combat nor fighting but you did have powers and you were gonna try your best to survive for Alastor.

You are a doe it made you fast but you felt like a prey everywhere and every time.

You created multiple shadows to corner Lute making her struggle until she actually stabbed you making clueless before looking down at your heart.

“Oh fucking hell” You whispered until your eyes went wide realizing what’s happening. You held onto the sword before Lute pulled it out of you before this time stabbing you in the stomach making you instantly let the life leave from inside of you.

Lute was about to check your pulse until a shadow elopes you making you disappear within an instant.

“M-My dear?” He asked hesitantly in horror seeing you gone and dead. He quickly held you into his arms rocking back in forth trying to heal you he couldn’t because he was trapped.

“No, No No No No NO NONONONONO” He yells out his smile vanished as tears leaked down his face and onto your body.

“This place reeks of death, there's a chill in the air

And I barely escaped being killed by a hair

My wife risked her life just to see the hotel thrive

"Great Alastor, altruist, died for his friends while wife takes the fall"

Sorry to disappoint, that is not where this ends

I'm hungry for freedom like never before

The constraints of my deal surely have a backdoor

Once I figure out how to unclip my wings

Guess who will be pulling all the strings?” He sang before hiding your body somewhere safe to keep so when he gets your soul, you can come back home to him just like you wanted to do.

#alastor x demon reader #alastor x you #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel x you #alastor imagine

[selfishdoll]

❛you wanted this, right?...❜ ━━ ft. ghostface! gojo & geto

⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 SUMMARY. ━━ after disclosing a fantasy you had, your beloved boyfriends decided to make it happen. them in masks, you the victim, and you all inside a big mansion they rented out. an unfair game of cats and mouse seemed delightful, no?

⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 CONTENT WARNING. ━━ everything is consensual & discussed beforehand | fear play | predator & prey play(? maybe), | ghostface mask | voice manipulation (they sound like ghostface | manhandling | rough sex | praise & degradation | oral sex (f & m receiving) | ooc characters (i’m not gege don’t clock me) | pet names (princess, sweetheart, pretty girl, minx, slut, etc) | spanking | minor choking (not really just holding your throat) | double p in v sex | fingering | multiple orgasms | orgasm denial | minor knife play | etc. if i forgot something let me know.

⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 NOTE. ━━ this took much longer then i wanted & went on much longer then i wanted 😭🙏🏾. as always please excuse typos & grammar mistakes.

the anticipation swelling inside you was almost nauseating. your pretty manicured fingers digging into the little pleated skirt you wore. everything you wore was little; little white top, little denim skirt, and little pink thong. why? easy access.

you waited so impatiently for the car to stop, eyes peering between the seat and your phone, feeling your panties wetten as your thoughts swarmed with the events bound to transpire soon. to think your beloved boyfriends would actually make a disgusting fantasy of yours come true.

not without a little teasing of course.

“us, in ghostface masks?” gojo asked with a little grin, coming close to you. “you want us to chase and fuck you, huh?”

“and you’re letting us use knives, right?” geto asked next, a simper pulling his features. his eyes ran down your form, feeling excitement brew inside him.

it didn’t take much coaxing, given they were as freaky as you were. you three decided on a nice gothic mansion, four-story, furnished with several rooms. several hiding places.

whether for you or them.

next were the rules, establishing a perfect plan so everyone was comfortable. the knives used were only sharp enough for thin fabric, you had a word to say incase you got too scared, and also; you had an objective.

you would start at the top floor, your goal to get outside the house through the front. along the way however, your lovely boyfriends will be obstacles. but.. if you could guess correctly who was under the mask whilst they played with you, you were allowed to run and they had to stay put.

easy right? you think so. despite the fact one missup, and you lost. you had to be careful, calculated. sure of your decision before it exited your lips.

“miss, is this your stop?”

you quickly blinked out of your inappropriate thoughts, turning back and forth. you were sure this was the right place, an exact replica to what you saw online. with a sweet smile you thanked the uber driver, exiting the car and collecting your things; your phone and a flashlight. you didn’t need anything else.

shutting the door behind you, you headed up the grand walkway of the mansion; glancing at the pretty windows and rose shrubs standing tall outside. it was beautiful really, you wondered what it was used for before your perverted adventures.

grasping the door, which was unlocked, you entered the mansion and stepped into the dark foyer. you licked your lips nervously, shutting the door behind you. you quickly texted your lovers you were inside the house, knowing they were on the way.

satoru <3

we’re three mins away, sweetheart.

suguru <3

hurry up & find a hiding place, you don’t get a grace period.

you didn’t need to be told twice, flicking your flashlight on and rushing towards the stairs. you bounced with each step, ignoring the slight pain as you continued up them. you made it to the second floor when you heard the front door slam open and close, fear running through your body as you dashed across the hall to the next set of stairs, making it to the fourth floor.

your whipped around back and forth, searching for a perfect spot to wait out the next five mins. those were the intervals you were allowed to wait in one room, before you were expected to move. your eyes quickly settled on one second to the one at the end of the hall, rushing over and opening and closing the door.

you gripped your arms close, regaining your breath and sinking against the wall. you tried to calm down, tried to hear what was going on outside. had they made it to the fourth floor yet? maybe. but even so, you couldn’t hear a damned thing.

the ringing of your phone caused you to gasp, quickly pulling it from your chest to glance down at the bright unknown number, glaring at you. you hissed, accepting the call and placing it against your ear, whilst standing from your spot against the wall.

it was about three mins. you needed to find somewhere else to hide.

“what’s your favorite scary movie?”

you rolled your eyes, a little grin covering your face. “you’re so corny, baby.” you murmured, slowly opening the door and peeking out with your flashlight. luckily you didn’t see their large forms, allowing you to step out into the hall.

“you want the ghostface masks, you get the ghostface treatment, princess.”

“mhm. you’re only trying to get me to talk so you can find me.” you hummed, continuing down the hall to the next room, opening and shutting the door behind you.

the man released a soft cackle, his breath fanning against the receiver of the phone. “oh no, i’m not doing that. i already know where you are.”

you blinked a bit, whipping around in time to spot a large form burst out of the closet and head towards you. a delighted, yet fearful shriek escaped you as strong arms locked around your body. his gloved hand pressed against your mouth, bringing you against his form.

“too bad, we just started and i already caught you.” ghostface snickered against your ear, plastic mask rubbing against your hot skin. his hand dragged down, the warm fabric tracing your skin. “what should i do first? should i cut these useless clothes off? maybe i’ll wait for the other ghostface to get here.. end this game quickly—“

“satoru!” you shouted out, hearing the man click his tongue a bit. the strong arms released you, a triumphant giggle escaping you as you rushed out of the room without even looking back. you ran down the hall, ignoring the other rooms and heading down the stairs.

you didn’t know where geto was, and you didn’t care; you were making far too much noise for the man to ignore. you quickly entered a room, pulling the door open and shutting it behind you. your eyes peered around, regret entering you quickly.

it was a simple room, no closet, no bathroom— nothing. your only hiding spot.. was under the bed. so fucking cliche.

with some effort you got to your knees, sliding your self under the bed with even more effort. you pushed up, assuring your legs weren’t stick out like all those stupid movies and waited. you had five mins, only five and then you’d have to figure out where to go next.

getting yourself from under this bed was bound to take some time, so you planned to exit a little early.

that was until, you heard them. heavy footsteps, pressing against the floor from outside the room. you quickly slammed a hand against your mouth to cover the small whimper, shaking as you watched the door push open. the person entered, black boots coming into view as he shut the door behind him.

they stood motionless for a moment, your eyes closing as you tried to relax your racing heart. hopefully, hopefully they thought you were too smart to slide under the bed. that they would exit the room and maybe go to the next one.

your heart rung in your ears, palm squished against your mouth to cover your small pants. that was until, a strong hand curled around your bare ankle. you screeched as you were dragged out from under the bed, being flipped onto your back, right on the cold wood floor.

you whined a bit as you felt the cold steel glide across your thighs, rising to pull at your thin thong string. “under the bed? really?..” the man purred above you, raspy voice slightly muffled from the mask he wore. you whimpered as your panties were cut off, revealing your soft, wet cunt.

you attempted to shut your legs, only for ghostface to be much faster; blade rising to press against your neck. you knew it wasn’t sharp enough to cut, yet, the thought alone had you keening— arousal dripping down to your ass.

the man hummed a little, fingers tapping on the handle of the knife whilst his other hand traced your thigh, slapping the inside of it. a high pitched moan escaped you, eyes pinched closed as his gloved hand soothed the skin.

“such a minx, begging for us to fuck you in masks. bet all that running around and hiding got you so wet, huh—?” his own question was answered the moment his fingers glided across your slit, slick collected on his gloved hands. ghostface swore softly, two fingers pushing into your entrance with no restraint. he wasted no time in curling them, pushing against your velvety walls all while the knife remained against your throat.

your eyes found the back of your skull, nearly forgetting your goal. you were supposed to be guessing who this was, currently ruining you so easily with his fingers. thumb pressing against your hardened clit, circling it slowly. your sweet moans covered the room, thighs squeezing his strong forearm as little tears threatened to spill.

ghostface leaned closer, his pace quickening. “oh, gonna come already baby? you know what that means.. means we’ll win.” soft squelches covered the room, hissing at the way your gummy walls clenched around his digits. “come on, come on— guess pretty girl, guess—“

your mind raced as he coaxed you, struggling to keep your orgasm at bay. you knew if you got it wrong, you lost. if you came, you lost. you wanted, needed the game to go on just a while longer. a harsh whine escaped you, “suguru!” you finally huffed out, feeling his fingers instantly stop inside you.

“good girl.. though, i doubt you have much left in you to run.” he spoke, a clear smirk on his features despite you couldn’t see.

the man even helped you up, you rushing out the room the moment you were on your feet. suguru was slightly right, given how much you wobbled about; legs shaking as you carried yourself down the end of the hallway.

you didn’t want to get to the next floor yet, fearful gojo was waiting on you. it was so frustrating how well they worked together sometimes.

you opened the door, closing it behind you with a soft sigh. your head rested against the cool mahogany wood, heart racing as a little giggle escaped you. to think you were having so much fun being used as prey for your boyfriends. you were a sick freak, really.

you clicked your phone, glancing down at the time. four more minutes, and you’d have to move. though as excited as you were, you did find this little rest enjoyable. they weren’t going easy on you, keeping you on your toes at all times.

a soft breath escaped you as you rose from leaning against the door. clasping the knob, you turned it, opening slowly— revealing the man standing right behind it.

you screamed as he lunged forward, snatching you out of the room and closing the door. once done you were pressed right back against the wood, squeezed between it and his large form.

“you’re so easy to track, princess— gotta be a bit quieter..” ghostface teased, snaking a hand under your thin shirt to grasp your breasts. he tweaked your hard nipple between his thumb and middle finger, enjoying the pretty moans that escaped your throat. “look at that.. leaking all over this pretty mansion. such a mess.”

you cried out as his palm smacked against your bare ass, keening once his fingers plunged inside you. your legs shook, arched perfectly against the door as his hand move; flexing and scissoring his thick, long digits in and out of your messy cunt. a string of moans escaped your throat, his hand releasing your chest to glide up to your neck, holding it gently.

“fuck.. sucking my damn fingers, so much.” he mused, masked face focused on your pretty pussy. your walls clamped down, desperately trying to keep them inside with each thrust he delivered. ghostface could feel himself growing harder and harder under his slacks, having half a mind to end the game right then and there.

“messy fucking pussy.. go ahead and come, pretty girl. you want to don’t you?— so greedy for our dicks, bet you can’t wait for the game to end.”

you furiously shook your head, eyes pinched as you clenched and clenched; struggling to hold back your orgasm. with the way he was fingerfucking you, you were sure the restraint would dissipate quickly, racking your mind. satoru or suguru? satoru or suguru? satoru or suguru?

“fu—fuck, satoru!” you cried out just when your peak nearly hit, hearing the man swear but release you. you breathed heavily, feeling him step away to give you space.

“tired, baby?” satoru said in a mocking coo, watching in delight as you lifted your body off the door.

without think you flashed your boyfriend the finger, collecting the scraps of your dignity and rushing down the hall and down the steps. you didn’t know if you could last much longer— no there was no way you could.

you felt way too damn good to even distinguish between the two anymore, mind melting away as they fucked you to ecstasy with just their fingers. you hated them so much, for how easily they played with your body.

you made it to the second to last floor, tempted to just take the final stretch, but deciding not to. you turned towards a door, rushing to open it and close it behind you. a bathroom. perfect.

no where to hide but the damn tub.

with a little grimace you pulled the shower curtains back, happy to not see one of your cloaked and masked boyfriends waiting patiently for you. you stepped inside, pulling the curtains closed once you were done. you leaned back against the white tiles, sighing softly as you closed your eyes.

these little moments of peace was so bittersweet, knowing they were short lived. your lovers were much faster then you, you were sure they were on this floor already.. waiting and searching.

you glanced down at your phone, a little surprised either of them hadn’t tried to call you again. it nearly made you giggle if it wasn’t for the heavy footsteps you heard passing by the bathroom. you hissed softly, quickly covering your mouth and pressing against the wall.

your heart beat harshly, hearing doors open, footsteps, doors slam shut, and more footsteps. you didn’t know if it was only one of them on the floor or both, unfortunately.

as the footsteps closed in on outside your door, your heart rate increased; ringing in your ears and nearly whimpering the moment the door opened slowly.

whoever it was stepped into the small space, standing and looking around. the only thing between the two of you being the decorative shower curtains.

more agonizing moments passed before you heard a soft sigh, hearing a footstep towards the door and it opening and shutting shortly after. your hand slowly fell, feeling your lips curl into a little smile.

so silly, you thought to yourself, fingers curling around the curtain. they didn’t even check the tu—

“your hiding places suck, pretty girl.” ghostface chuckled, snatching you out of the tub right as you gave a fearful yelp. the man easily turned your positions, pushing you to lean against the sink, pressed up behind you. a hand came to curl in your pretty dark braids, grabbing a handful and lifting your head.

the moment your eyes landed on your face in the mirror you glanced away, whining as you felt his other fingers gently pinch your clit. “no, no.. no looking away. watch yourself as i fuck you with my fingers, sweetheart.” three fingers easily slid inside your sweet cunt, instantly clamping around the digits.

you reached back, hand gripping his wrist as he fingerfucked you, the other hand steady in your scalp. you watched as your lips parted, moans escaping and eyebrows pushing together; all while your masked boyfriend stood behind you, arm moving with each thrust he gave you.

it was such a sight, making you even wetter by the second, arousal dripping down your thighs. you whimpered as his fingers curled, legs shaking as heavy pants escaped you.

“oh, is this the last round?” the man behind the mask mocked, feeling your pretty walls clench and clench. “you had such big talk, claiming you would get out before we caught you.. was that all it was— talk?” he angled his fingers, pushing against the spot inside you that caused stars to collect in your vision.

“mmm— fuck, fuck!” you cried out, nails digging into his wrist as your head leaned against the mirror. “it— its ah— suguru!” you felt triumphant the moment his fingers were removed, gently letting go of your hair.

before you could think you were rushing out of the bathroom, chubby thighs carrying you down the stairs to the final floor. you gasped out, looking back and forth, and feeling your blood run cold the moment you spotted a large form standing at the entrance of the mansion, waiting ever so patiently.

you moved to run, making it about two feet away before your were snatched from the ground, arms tight around your waist. you huffed softly, kicking for a moment as a sharp, “satoru!” escaped you.

instead of being released, you heard soft chuckles. your eyebrows pinched close, attempting to move away. “don’t cheat, satoru!”

“oh, i’m not satoru, princess.”

your eyes went wide, whipping around to watch the man tug his mask off. and much to your dismay, suguru stood in all his glory, eyes gleaming with excitement as he took in your withering form. “looks like you lost..” his tone was sing-songy, tossing the mask to the side.

“but.. but i thought i w—“

“won?” another voice cut in, watching as the other ghostface; satoru walked down the steps, approaching the two of you. he was close within minutes, sandwiching you between himself and suguru. “no.. you guessed wrong in the bathroom. i just felt so bad about you losing, i let you slip away.” his gloved fingers found your cheeks, a sick simper covering his features.

your breath hitched as you felt strong hands grip your thinly covered body, suguru’s face falling to your neck. “means we get our reward, right?”

you whined in defeat as they snatched you away from the foyer, carrying you towards a room— a bedroom. placing you on the bed, suguru moved first, pushing you to lay out across the blankets. revealing his knife, the man slid it up your simple white shirt, cutting it open and revealing your bare chest.

the cold air licked against your skin, feeling the bed sink in as satoru crawled on; face lowering to your chest. his lips clamped around your hard nipple, sucking and gently biting it. your fingers found his brightly colored hair, the pleasure covering your sensitive body.

you gasped as the cool metal carried down from the valley between your breasts, to your stomach, and finally your skirt. geto, effortlessly, slid the sharp point under the fabric, cutting it off.

“suguru!” you huffed, watching him toss the ruined garment to the side, knife following. said man only grinned, hand finding the inside of your thigh.

“don’t worry.. i’ll buy another one for next time.”

you weren’t given much time to dwell on his words before his fingers glided across your slit, the man watching in enjoyment at you flincing from the simple touch. “practically drooling, pretty girl.. fuck.” he drawled, fingers collected your slick, rubbing it further across your slit.

you clenched onto your boyfriends, head rested back against the blankets as whimpers escaped you. “please, please..”

satoru popped off your nipple with a small chuckle, fingers replacing to tweak at the wet bud. “mhm.. you can wait, right baby? had us waiting for so long, playing your little game. it’s only fair.”

you whined once again, causing another chuckle to escape your lovers. whilst satoru grabbed your chin and captured your lips, suguru’s fingers pushed inside you, wasting no time in curling and fucking you. they no longer had to hold back to give you a chance to run, you were stranded, right where they wanted you.

your fingers clung to satoru, all while your hips moved, angling to glide your swollen clit against suguru’s palm. you cried at as he curled the digits up against your sweet spot, angling just perfect to continuously thrust there. given how much you were holding back this evening, it was no surprise your end was approaching quickly; eyes closed shut as gasps and moans entered satoru’s mouth.

he pulled away, fingers rising to your cheeks to grip, taking in your expression with a soft swear. “so fucking close aren’t you baby? making such a mess on suguru’s fingers— greedy slut.”

“hah— did you seriously clench from that, (y/n)?” suguru’s words came next, your mind flooded with pleasure and far too fucked out to acknowledge their teasing. your thighs shook, trapping the dark-haired man’s forearm between them as you fisted satoru’s hair.

a drawn out moan escaped you, creaming all over his hand, arousal dribbling all the way down to your taint and the sheets.

the praises that fell from their lips caused your head to feel light, barely registering suguru removing his fingers. you regained your breath, sitting up when you realized the two had stepped off the bed.

you watched in excitement as they fiddled with their slacks, pushing them off with their boxers soon following. your thighs twitched, little hole clenching around nothing as anticipation collected in your tummy.

suguru moved close, gently grabbing your cheeks and leading you onto your knees on the bed. satoru moved behind you, pushing you into a little arch, hands massaging your ass.

you whined as his thumb pushed into your mouth, laying on the flat of your tongue. suguru watched as your lips wrapped around the digit, sucking it slowly. he didn’t let it go on for long before he was pulling it out with a soft pop, smearing your saliva across your pretty lips. “think you could put that pretty mouth to good use, princess?” he grinned, moving close and pressing the tip of his cock against your lips.

you attempted to wrap your lips around it, only for the man to pull back, hand falling to your chin. “so fucking greedy..” suguru hissed, instructing you to poke out your tongue. you obeyed easily, whining the moment you felt satoru’s hands large hands grip your ass, nearly turning to look back if it wasn’t for suguru’s hold tightening.

“nuh uh— eyes on me, beautiful. you don’t get to see satoru right now.” he groaned, slapping his tip against your waiting muscle. the soft plaps echoed in the room, all while you felt satoru’s fluffy hair glide across the curve of your ass.

at the same time satoru’s lick tongue slid into your entrance and suguru thrusted into your mouth.

you moaned around his length, eyes rolling back as satoru wasted no time in feasting away. hands gripping you tightly, keeping you arched right there as his tongue dragging across your walls, lapping and enjoying each drop that came from you.

your attention kept being knocked back and forth; suguru dragging his hips back as his hand found your hair, slowly, carefully setting a pace inside your wet mouth. your cheeks hollowed, glossy eyes peering up at the man as he fucked your mouth. suguru groaned at the sight, swearing as his pace quickened, pulling you flush so your nose brushed his stomach.

within minutes his tip was hitting the back of your throat, heavy, full balls slapping against your chin. you could only shake and take it, gripping the sheets under you all while satoru’s tongue never stopped inside you.

licking you up, mixing your arousal and his saliva, only to pull back and spit it right back against your messy pussy in a soft ptuh. slurping it all up, dragging his tongue between your folds.

“wanted this so bad didn’t you, (y/n)? you wanted us to win, to fuck you just like this.” suguru huffed, stuttering between each thrust inside your throat.

you squealed as a large hand slammed against your ass, fingers massaging the raw skin. “he asked you a question, princess— or is your mouth too full to respond?” satoru cackled right into your pussy, hand slithering to your entrance to push two fingers inside, all while he licked your clit raw.

you moaned around suguru’s cock, the man’s eyes rolling back from the vibrations, twitching as his peak got closer and closer. your jaw hurt, center was sore, and your palms ached from how much you were gripping the sheets. but you didn’t care— not one bit.

suguru delivered a few more thrusts into your mouth before his hips stuttered, coming deep in your throat. you moaned around him, your own orgasm peaking— making a mess on satoru’s face.

the man infront of you panted softly, wrapping a hand around the base of his cock and slowly pulling out; pressing the tip against your lips. your licked off the rest of his come, swallowing to which a soft good girl, escaped him, leaning down to give you a gentle kiss.

your lips moved slowly, feeling satoru leave the bed and soon you; being lifted easily by the two of them. like before they sandwiched you between them, your legs wrapping around suguru whilst satoru held your thighs.

pulling back from the kiss you tried to regain your breath, the action short lived as satoru planted his lips onto your own; stealing it right back away. your gripped suguru’s shoulders tightly, whining as you felt satoru slowly pushing his heavy length inside.

the man pulled back to grunt, fingers sinking into your plush skin as he continued to thrust in. “look at that, sucking me in so easily.” satoru teased, the pair chuckling at the whine that escaped you.

he was halfway before suguru came even closer, grasping the back of your knees and slowly, pushing in— right in the same hole. your head knocked back against satoru’s shoulder, lips parted as a silent cry escaped you.

you felt like you were being split open, arousal gushing and coating their lengths as they pushed inside you. you whimpered, never growing used to this stretch no matter how wet you were. “fuck.. oh fuck, suguru, satoru—!”

“i know, baby, i know..”

“splitting so pretty for us, sweetheart— taking us so well.”

their praises made your head feel light, finally breathing the moment their hips stilled. as desperate as they were to move they waited, knowing you were tired and possibly sore. suguru rubbed your legs carefully whilst satoru kissed the side of your face, whispering sweet words into your ear.

moments passed before your breathing settled, the men taking this as a signal to pull their hips back until only their tips were inside. with a harsh thrust, the three of you were moaning— the two men wasting no time in setting out a pace.

one that worked in rhythm, cocks driving in you and out of you at perfect tandem without a care for your well-being. your high pitched moans covered the room, gripping to your boyfriends tight as your legs shook.

“fuck, fuck, fuck!” you cried out, tears trickling down your brown cheeks, feeling yourself gush all over their lengths. unfortunately they didn’t let up, fucking you through your orgasm— ignoring your desperate pleas to slow down.

suguru leaned close, lips attaching to your neck as his fingers dug into your skin. “you really think we’re gonna slow down after waiting for so long, princess?” he questioned with a simper, teeth sinking into your skin just to hear you cry out.

satoru grinned, hand rising to gently wrap around your throat, the vibrations of your voice pressed against his fingers. his cheek brushed your own wet one, softly mocking your moans as his hips never stopped their harsh thrusts. “you don’t want us to slow down any, do you? such a fucking mess..”

you reached up, clinging to his wrist as each drive in and out of your messy cunt rendered your brain to mush; ruining you. your words became incoherent, fingers curling with your thighs wrapped tight around suguru. the pair enjoyed it all, each twitch, cry, moan— the way those pretty fucking eyes rolled to the back of your skull; it was no surprise their own orgasms were creeping up on them, fast.

“feel so fucking good, sweetheart.. so fucking good, keep making a mess of us.”

“gonna come again aren’t you? yeah, we can tell— clenching so damn tight— fuck..”

throat raw, breath ragged, and your voice pitched; you shrieked as your orgasm hit you like a truck, spraying all over their cocks.

their eyes widened at this, gaze locking and making a mental note to somehow get you to squirt again. for now their thrusts stuttered, becoming sloppy and desperate as their cocks twitched inside.

suguru was first, shoving himself deep and pumping you full of his come— satoru following shortly after with a deep groan.

the three of you simply panted, standing in the middle of the room for a moment before leading you towards the bed; where you laid down in a messy heap.

you whimpered as they pulled out of you, feeling their combined releases trickling from your entrance and to the bed. you warmed however the moment their hands caressed your body, kissing where they previously gripped, spanked, or bit.

“i should have asked for this a long time ago.” you murmured sleepily, hearing your lovers chuckle softly.

reblogs & comments are appreciated <3

#mani writes ━━ ★ #mechahrt #black!reader #jjk smut #jjk x black reader #jjk x fem!reader #mdni #gojo x black!reader #gojo satoru x black reader #gojo x black reader #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu gojo #gojo smut #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #geto x black reader #geto suguru smut #geto smut #geto suguru #geto x reader #jjk geto #jujutsu geto #getou suguru x reader #geto x you

[benjaminthewolf]

The Last Resort In Battle (Vore Story)

WOOOOOOOOOOOOO I’M BACK, BABY!

So yeah remember when I said I had a huge Christmas project going on that was gonna have vore in it? Well…here it is. This is an excerpt from Kyle Kills Santa Claus 3: Rudolph Goes Insane.

Btw, the character named “Bread” here is basically Kyle’s JoJo stand, they’re just not called one. And yeah they’re named after the band “Bread”.

Here’s the link to the entire KKSC3 document in case you want to check it out!

WARNING: BLOOD

****

“You better start focusing on me, now, Rudolph.” Kyle whispered to himself under his breath. “…you have absolutely no idea just how much release I am getting right now…”

As if he was able to understand exactly what Kyle had said, Rudolph, in his positively incalculable seething, scorched wrath, narrowed his eyes and gave a primal roar in the exact direction of the man, before leaping forwards in fury with an open-jawed pounce, his gums still considerably caked in blood.

Kyle could tell that Rudolph wasn’t going to hit him from the angle at which he lept, he was going to snap his teeth at his newfound buddy Bread, instead; a being who was magical in nature, and thus, as Kyle assumed, couldn’t be harmed by any physical attacks.

That was where Kyle was wrong.

Not only did Bread begin bleeding when Rudolph’s teeth came crashing down onto him, but Kyle was similarly forced to take a leap back in shock as he, too, felt the pain. Poor Kyle had absolutely no idea what was going on with the both of them, but before he could figure it out, Bread, as they were currently immobilized in pain, was swiftly shoved to the back of Rudolph’s mouth as his tongue gave them a good flick. Bread soon landed near the reindeer’s gullet, though not before striking their body against the man’s dangling uvula in classic slapstick collision, and splattering down onto the back of the tongue as a result.

Forcing his body to swallow despite all of his pain, Rudolph was soon able to gulp Bead down entirely, a squishy, audible sound effect practically rattling through the air, reducing them to now nothing more than a bulge traveling down the giant reindeer’s throat, as said throat was promptly cleared, due to still bleeding rapidly from Alissa.

It was only after the deed had already been done that Kyle was aware of his surroundings again. Surprisingly, and to the baker’s even greater confusion, even though it wasn’t him that was currently getting squeezed and constricted by the muscles in Rudolph's throat, he was still able to feel it, as if it was, indeed, him that was swallowed, instead.

Unfortunately, however, in the time that it took for Kyle to get back his bearings, Rudolph was already striking again. Kyle could not even hear Minti and Mrs. Claus crying out his name as the gigantic reindeer’s jaws finally sealed him inside.

Kyle’s body jolted. He let out a gasp. And then, it finally settled in.

Before the baker’s body could move a single centimeter, though, the gargantuan reindeer’s tongue had already quite literally slapped him out of the air, forcing him to land upon its slick, squishy surface as such, as the front half of the muscle swiftly folded over itself, in order to weigh the man down, and prevent him from escaping.

Kyle was all of a sudden able to sense all of the teensy, minute details of his current, fleshy surroundings, in massive, articulate detail. And as the seconds ticked by, he cataloged them.

First, the back of the tongue rose up, almost causing Kyle to bump his head against the roof of Rudolph’s mouth. He just barely managed to put his head down in time before striking the rough ridges. Then, the area sloped downwards, as the reindeer’s injured, bloody gullet opened up, and Kyle, with his chin deeply squished into the flooring of taste buds and spit, began to slide down towards it.

Kyle took notice of the plump, swaying uvula situated above the deathly drop. And then, he knew implicitly, that this was his only shot. Kyle positively squeezed his hands onto the thing, before hauling himself all the way up onto it. Rudolph was forced to suppress a gag.

Kyle was able to hear many whines, groans, and roars emulating from the reindeer’s voice box as the battle continued outside. Kyle, in the meanwhile, was clinging desperately to this flesh sack, praying rapidly that he wouldn’t get forced off.

Rudolph, however, had rather different plans in mind for the fate of the young baker, and as a result, once again forced his epiglottis to cover up the entrance to his windpipe, as the natural sucking force that resulted from the swallow stretched the uvula downwards. Still, Kyle held firm. Rudolph knew he would need many more swallows before Kyle was forced off, and that was exactly what he did next.

With each subsequent gulp, the uvula was stretched further and further downwards, and Kyle was able to gaze deeper and deeper into the awaiting gullet below. His grip upon the uvula was rapidly weakening at an exceedingly rapid pace, and, with one last exceedingly painful swallow, Kyle was finally flung off. The uvula practically slingshotted back into place as Kyle was shoved through the upper esophageal sphincter with a gulp.

Now, at last, it made sense that he could sense the walls of the esophagus. Squelching the poor man down in a constant, rhythmic pattern, Kyle was able to feel the sleek, glossy muscles tightening in on him, before shoving him forwards a little, relaxing their grip again, and the whole cycle started over. Eventually though, despite the fact he had legitimately no idea how long he had been here, he was also able to detect sounds that were not the esophageal muscles doing their thing, causing him to shudder aggressively.

Kyle’s hearing grew unexpectedly acute as the pounding of Rudolph’s heartbeat literally echoed around in his ears. This meant he was past the reindeer’s collarbone, and would quite soon join in with Bread inside of the reindeer’s stomach. The poor man instinctively shook as he also began to detect the echoing gurgles and growls reverberating around inside the reindeer’s guts.

When at last, the lower esophageal sphincter was in view, Kyle knew that if he wasn’t still able to float, he was soon to be submerged inside of the acids. Thus, he began honing in on his Christmas magic, and though that meant he wasn’t exactly able to sense it when the sphincter opened up and effortlessly squelched him on through, he was able to sense the fact soon thereafter, that he had not been submerged inside the acids, and as a result, had managed to succeed in floating.

Kyle immediately heaved out a sigh as he shook his head and opened up his eyes. The first thing he was was his ally Bread. They appeared to be rather disheartened at the moment, considering where the two of them were. Kyle’s heart twinged as his face, too, began to sink.

Nonetheless, the fact was that they were, in reality, trapped, effectively imprisoned, deep inside of Rudolph’s enormous body, in the chamber that was his enlarged stomach. Kyle merely floated there blankly for a while, attempting to contemplate the situation, as the constant rumbles and groans rustling around the area combined with the orgain’s natural heat, and the goopy, churning stomach walls, all came together inside of the baker’s mind. Before at last, it hit him.

The realization was nearly just as quick as the impulsive, spur-of-the-moment reaction that came after it. All too quick for even Kyle to be able to discern. And yet, as the figurative dust settled, and the color in Kyle’s eyes returned, he now understood what had just happened.

Bread, just as Kyle himself, was trapped inside their current bodily position, their muscles pinching tight. Unlike Kyle, however, Bread had been acting upon the baker man’s orders, and the position they were now stuck in was one that Kyle knew by heart, if only by the fact that he lived in the middle ages.

Bread was holding high their butter knife above their head, frozen and abruptly locked into the perfect position to strike, with their body lurching forwards, and a certain glaze in their eyes, just as if they were not holding a butter knife, but indeed, an axe. More specifically, an executioner’s axe. Kyle was jolted through the consequences. What would have happened exactly, had that blow been landed? Kyle’s being convulsed. He knew very well the answer.

The walls around him churned. The heat around him seeped. The sounds around him boomed. And then, Kyle made his final deliberation.

“No…” Kyle breathed out with a quivering, shaky voice, at last putting both him and Bread at ease.

“I am not going to kill him.”

Bread subsequently placed their butter knife at their side, before allowing the thing to tingle, and at last, magically whisk it all away, in nothing but short of a gentle magical breeze.

Kyle silently hung down his being, his head, shoulders, and all of their further connected parts shlumped down in the air, as Kyle dangled precariously, over the bubbling chamber below.

Kyle had absolutely no idea how long he stayed like this. All he knew was that, sometime after once again opening his eyes, the moment finally ended.

Kyle then shuffled with his fingers. And then…his left hand bunched up.

“...but we do still need to stop him.”

#soft vore #safe vore #vore writing #vore stories #vore story #male pred #male vore #male predador #male prey #m/m vore #g/t vore #gt vore #cruel pred #fearplay #unwilling prey #unwilling vore #multiple prey #furry pred #furry vore #human prey #v.re #v.ore #v/re #v/ore #v0re #v0r3

[nikko-kai-cutie]

Roxanne's going solo~

Alternate Title: Only Roxanne will be everybody's favourite~ Commission for deloco49 on Furaffinity

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/RafftheDrazard Kofi: https://ko-fi.com/nikko_kai_cutie Commissions are open prices here: https://www.deviantart.com/nikko-kai-cutie/art/2022-Commission-price-902555257

Posted using PostyBirb

#Raff'sArt #Commission #Multiple prey #F/F #F/M #Soft Vore #Oral Vore #FNAF #Security Breach

[starlitmark]

Summary: Your two best friends come by to help make you feel better… you hadn’t thought about your impending heat. Pairing: Alaskan Malamute!Mingi x Netherland Dwarf Rabbit (fem)!Reader x Bernese Mountain Dog!Yunho Tropes: hybrid au, friends to lovers au, abo au Genre: smut Rating: R 18+ Warnings: language, hybrids, pet names, small emotional breakdown, implied mxm Smut Warnings: heat/rut sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, biting kink, knotting, dirty talk, praise kink, size kink, nipple play, clitoral stimulation, multiple orgasms, oral (m receive), implied cockwarming, somnophilia, predator-prey play Word Count: 3,280 Note: Happy Halloween enjoy some hybrid smut!! Thank you to @wooahaeproductions for beta reading this!! suffer with me tag  🐾 @kwanisms @pyeonghongrie @mejuii

You toss your phone back down on your bed and try to will your headache away. You’re not sure what caused it, but you know you want it gone. At some point, you start to drift off into a space between awake and asleep. Although it doesn’t help much, it does allow you a bit of relief. The only thing keeping you conscious right now is the rather sensitive state of your small tan ears.  Each time a bit of your hair brushes them the wrong way or your pillows rest against them oddly, you find yourself tossing again to try to remedy the uncomfortable feeling. Everything is loud too. Each sound resonates about ten times louder than it should. The cars driving outside your apartment complex are revving too loud, and the music’s base is too heavy. Your neighbor’s newborn seems to be screaming every other second. Why they’re so sensitive today, you have no idea. 

Yunho and Mingi are the best friends you could ever ask for. Not many friends would go out of their way to get you fresh food and prepare it for you just because of a headache. Even better, they don’t need you to come open the door for them. At first, your other prey hybrid friends thought you were insane for giving not one, but two predator hybrids the code to your home. If you didn’t trust them, they wouldn’t have the code. You do, though.

You smell and hear them before you can see them. The moment they’re outside your apartment door, you can smell Yunho’s comforting pine scent intertwining with Mingi’s soothing Spruce scent. Something about their scents together always makes you feel warm and safe. As soon as you smell them, you hear one of them typing in the code while Mingi laughs at something Yunho has said. You decide to go greet them despite your blaring headache. Pulling on one of the severely too-big hoodies you stole from Yunho, you trudge your way out to the living room.

“There’s our little fuzzy-” Mingi stops mid-sentence.

You don’t respond to them. You walk straight forward and wrap your arms around Yunho’s waist. Due to how much smaller you are than both of them, you also hide your face in his chest, completely enveloping yourself in his pine scent. There’s a hint of pure dark chocolate under the pine, but you’re so out of it at the moment that you don’t think too deeply about it. 

“Bun, are you okay?” Yunho adds, “You, um… your scent is a bit…”

“I feel like shit.” You whine.

You can’t see it, but Yunho nods toward your calendar, telling Mingi to go check it. Mingi’s eyes widen, and he looks back at the Bernese hybrid. You smell both Yunho and Mingi’s scents spike sharp. When you pull your face away from Yunho’s chest, you see him already looking down at you. His eyes are focused and unfocused at the same time. His pupils practically swallow his irises. The bunny in you makes your nose start twitching. You’re not afraid of him. You’re just a bit lost as to why he’s looking at you like that. When you try to turn to face where Mingi is standing, Yunho growls genuinely and pins his ears back.

“Yunho, let her go. We should leave the fruit and-” Mingi tries to reason, though his tone betrays him.

“You know damn well we aren’t letting this cute little bunny be all alone right now.” Yunho responds, eyes fixated on you still. “Bun, why did you let us come here when your heat is supposed to come any hour now.”

“I- um, I’ve been busy with work and-” You take a deep breath, hoping to calm yourself. “You know I’ve been busy with work… I forgot it was supposed to come today.”

You hear Mingi moving back over, practically pinning you between the two large dog hybrids. Even if you didn’t hear him move, you can feel Mingi’s body heat radiating onto you. It only serves to make you feel even hotter.

“Fuzzy, if you don’t want us to be here, tell us to leave.”

You don’t respond for a few moments. The words you so desperately need right now seem to be nowhere. The hood of Yunho’s hoodie falls off your head, exposing your small, tan rabbit ears that are pressed against the top of your head. Mingi places a hand on the top of your head, fingers slotting around your ears, making your head tip back further. You see his black and white Malamute ears peaking out from his messy fire orange and blonde hair. He seems a bit more relaxed than Yunho, who currently has a death grip on your waist. There’s the telltale sign of his sharpened spruce scent with a tinge of winter air to it. He’s far from calm right now.

“Don’t go.” You nearly whimper.

That’s all it takes for the Malamute hybrid to let out a low growl and practically attack you with a heated kiss. At first, you think about how uncomfortable it must be for him to bend so far forward to kiss you. Both dog hybrids’ scent completely surrounds you. It’s like a skin-tight cloak. You never want to escape it. Your lips are glossy with spit and puffy from how Mingi kissed you by the time he pulled away. You know you’re lost in your heat.  Your head feels foggy, and all you can think about is needing to get bred. Now. Yunho practically forces your head back toward his direction. Due to his height, he has to practically bend himself in half to kiss you, just like Mingi had to. 

“Should we take you to your room, little bunny?” Yunho growls into the kiss. 

“Alpha,” you whine, eyebrows furrowing together. 

Yunho lets out another low growl before you’re suddenly not in his arms. Mingi has taken it upon himself to take you into his instead and carry you away. You let your lips latch onto his throat, right against his primary scent gland. You catch a brief look at his fluffy black and white tail. It’s wagging in appreciation, but you know he’s far too influenced by your heat pheromones to notice it. As you nip at his skin lightly, you notice the heat radiating from Yunho, who’s hot on your trail. Before you even make it to your bedroom, Mingi pins you to the wall beside the door. Your feet are nowhere near the ground, so you opt to keep your legs wrapped around his waist. You go to speak, but the intensity of both their pheromones suddenly has your voice dying in your throat. All you can think to do is submit to them, ultimately baring your neck to them. 

“Such a good little bunny.” Mingi comments with a condescending tone, “You smell like fucking candied cherries. I can’t wait to get a bite.”

“Please.” You beg, “Bite me, fuck me, breed me full. I need you. Need both of you.” You ramble through the daze of your heat.

Neither of them responds. You’re so lost in your heat that you can only focus on their scents. They smell as if they’re just as in need of this as you are. Before you know it, you’re naked and spread out on your bed. Yunho is over you, grinding against your bare core. Mingi is beside you, giving attention to your chest. You’re dripping slick all over the bed and Yunho’s sweatpants. Mingi keeps whispering filthy nothings into your ear. You can’t make them out at the moment. 

Suddenly, Yunho’s body is off of yours, and you feel starkly cold compared to a few moments ago. You absolutely have a fever despite the sudden burst of cold, and you whine at the lack of contact. The Malamute hybrid happily takes his place. His lips litter small bites and kisses across your neck and chest. They wrap around your nipple, making you moan loudly. His teeth lightly tug at the sensitive peak, and you squirm at the feeling. Though, you don’t get far. Mingi has his hand pressed against your hip, keeping you in place.

“Mingi, you’re still half dressed. Move so I can fill our little cotton tail properly.” Yunho chuckles.

“Please, please, please.” You don’t know what you’re begging for exactly, but you need something.

Mingi moves a moment later. Just as you’re about to whine about the lack of contact again, you feel Yunho’s bare cock grinding against you’re soaked core.

“Do you need me to finger you open, Fuzzy?” he asks, rubbing his member between your pussy lips.

“No, just fuck me. Put a litter in me. Breed me, please, alpha. Need it, need it so bad.” 

You’re on the verge of tears, and despite Yunho’s rut haze, you find him wiping away a tear that did escape your eye. Seconds later, you feel him start to push his sizable member into you. Even with your heat, you find yourself struggling to take him. Inch by inch, he sinks into you. Slick gushes out of you, scenting the room with your sweet cherry scent mixed with Yunho’s pine and Mingi’s spruce. Your mouth falls open the moment he’s fully inside you.

“Fuzzy, do you think you can handle sucking me off while Yunho fucks you full?” Mingi asks, almost breathless.

You find yourself nodding and turning your head to the side. Mingi’s hard, leaking cock is already waiting for you. Leaning up slightly, you rest your head on his upper thigh, then take him in your mouth. His woodsy scent completely invades your nose, and it sends your eyes rolling back. Yunho presses his body weight against you and buries his face against the scent gland in your neck. You wrap one hand around the base of Mingi’s cock while the other threads through Yunho’s hair. You can feel his dark brown ears twitch at the contact.

“What if I claimed you right now, Bun?” He lets one of his canines graze against your scent gland, “You’d probably let me, wouldn’t you? Be my pretty little mate. Hang off my knot and give me a few pups?”

He only says it loud enough for you to hear it. Though, the way Mingi thrusts into your mouth, you aren’t sure Yunho had said it very quietly. You pull off of his cock a moment later to gasp for air.

“You’re so damn tiny compared to us. Do you really think you can handle getting knotted by both of us? You’re tiny little pussy can barely handle me as it is.” The Bernese hybrid teases.

“Yun,” You gasp when he gives a particularly hard thrust, “Please, fuck, please. Fuck me full, knot me!”

“Now, now, won’t you let me knot you too, Fuzzy?” Mingi practically growls.

You nod before taking him back in your mouth. His eyes darken when you give him wide lust-filled eyes. Yunho keeps spewing filthy words in your ear as he fucks you at a hard, rough pace. Each time Yunho thrusts into you, he forces you to take Mingi further into your mouth. There’s no physical way that you could take the entirety of Mingi in your mouth, so you take a break from sucking his cock and replace it with your hand to the best of your ability. You feel Yunho’s knot bump against your entrance with each thrust. All you can do is spread your legs further as if it’ll help you take his knot better.

“Fuck, Bun, I’m gonna cum. Do you want me to breed you? Fuck you full of a litter?” He questions through a groan. 

“Knot me, Yun,” you beg, tugging at his hair just behind his ears.

That’s all the permission he needs. A moment later, he cums deep inside you and pushes his knot into you. You have a momentary break in your heat only to immediately be sucked back into it when Mingi thrusts up into your hand. You can tell the Malamute hybrid isn’t far from cumming, so you take his tip back into your mouth and swirl your tongue around it. Mingi cums down your throat just as Yunho starts coming down from his high. 

“You didn’t cum yet, Bun,” he comments, reaching between your bodies to toy with your clit.

You grind against his knot. The feeling of him rubbing your clit mixed with grinding down on his cock sends you over the edge. You convulse under him and spout random unintelligible words. 

“Rest for a little, Fuzzy.” Mingi offers.

“But-”

“I’ll get to fuck you as soon as Yun’s knot goes down. Don’t worry about me,” he reminds you, “Take a little break while we have a break from our ruts.”

You rest for a few moments, Yunho’s knot still snug inside you. When you come back to, you’re no longer plugged up with Yunho’s knot. In fact, he’s not on you at all. Mingi is lapping at your pussy. You bury your hands in his long hair as if it’s second nature. His tail is lying up along his spine completely still. You know he’s either entranced in the moment or hyperfocused due to how still it is. 

“Min-” You interrupt yourself with a gasp.

“What did you just call me?” he growls.

“Alpha,” You whine, “Need your cock. Need your knot. Need-”

Mingi practically throws you to be face down ass up the moment the pleas leave your lips. Only then do you process Yunho beside you on the bed. He almost looks as if he’s unbothered. The tent in his new pair of clean sweats tells you otherwise. You’re about to reach for the elastic of the pants before you feel Mingi thrust into you in one fell swoop. A broken moan leaves your mouth at the intrusion. Any and all thoughts leave your mind as he immediately sets a bruising pace. Gripping onto Yunho’s thigh, you hope to keep any threads of sanity that remain.

“Pretty, tiny little bunny.” Mingi groans, “You gonna let me knot you too?”

“Alpha, please,” you whine, “Need your knot too.”

Yunho takes it upon himself to release his member again and slide closer to grant you what you want without asking. You’re more cockwarming him with your mouth than giving him a blow job, but either way, you see a smirk grow on his face. Had you been in any other setting, you’d want to smack that look off of his face. Now, though, it only makes you more desperate. 

Mingi’s grip on your hips is so tight you think there might be fingertip-sized bruises where he’s holding you. Reaching forward, he knots his fingers in your hair, being sure to be careful of your ears. Still, they’re sensitive. The moment he grazes them, you tip over the edge of another orgasm. Despite your muffled moans, he doesn’t stop or slow down. If anything, he speeds up more. Your thighs shake. If it hadn’t been for him holding you up, you would’ve absolutely collapsed. You try to look up at Yunho through your eyelashes, but Mingi is holding you down on the Bernese hybrid’s cock still. Tears spring from your eyes due to the lack of oxygen, but you absolutely love it. Mingi forces your head up and down on Yunho’s cock a few more times before the brunette cums down your throat. Only then does Mingi release your head.

“I’m gonna knot you now, pretty bunny,” he warns you.

Mingi thrusts a few more times before pushing his knot into you. A moment later, you feel his hot cum paint your walls. You whimper at the feeling and feel yet another orgasm roll over you. You can feel the cocky yet exhausted smirks on both dog hybrids’ faces.

“Let’s reposition, Fuzzy,” Mingi whispers gently, a stark contrast to how he was just speaking to you.

You nod and feel Mingi pull your body up against his before carefully maneuvering so that you’re sat in his lap rather than being face down on the mattress. Yunho leans over and gives you a soft kiss before leaning back a bit and placing a small kiss against Mingi’s bare shoulder.

“Do you have a new perfume?” Yunho asks, brushing a few knots out of your hair.

“Um, no?” You respond, “Did my scent change?” 

You start to panic a bit. You know, if they did manage to knock you up already, your scent wouldn’t change for at least a week. Nothing’s impossible, though.

“You smell more flowery than cherry.” Mingi comments, half asleep.

“Mingi,” Yunho says with a concerned tone, “You can smell that too?”

“Mmm,” Mingi responds, “Cherries and… tulips? I love it.” he adds, wrapping his arms tighter around your middle. His arms practically cover your entire middle section.

“Bun, can you smell me or Mingi?” panic starts to invade his voice.

Something overtakes you, and you tears well up in your eyes again. This time it’s due to pure panic. You knew if you smelled something other than a person’s characteristic scent, that meant that they were your mate. Nothing could’ve prepared you to smell a secondary scent on both of your dog hybrid friends. Your typically sweet cherry scent must’ve soured because, one moment, Mingi had his face buried in your neck. The next, he was sat up fully and fixated on you.

“Yunho…” you say, trying not to let the tear fall or your voice betray you.

“What can you smell?”

Your bedroom stays silent.

“Fuzzy,” Mingi sighs, “No matter what, the three of us will always be friends. Tell us what you smell.”

“Both of you.” You admit, “Yunho has a dark chocolate scent with his pine. You have that crisp winter air scent with your spruce. I don’t know what that means or what to do about it, but if you both-”

Mingi turns your face and kisses you softly.

“We’ve known for a while, Yunho and I, that we can smell each other’s secondary scent. But now we know all three of us can smell the others…” Mingi explains, “Now we know we have two mates.”

Mingi’s knot had gone down, so you slip off of him to sit on your knees in front of the two large dog hybrids. Your eyes flit back and forth between them, trying to determine if this is some twisted joke. It’s not.

“Two mates,” you reiterate.

“Two mates,” Yunho confirms with a slight nod, “Two mates who are still very much in rut with a cute, tiny bunny mate that needs to be bred.”

You let out a squeak before Yunho and Mingi practically pounce you. There are about a million worse ways to spend your heat. Spending it with your two loving, caring mates is the only way you wish to spend it for the rest of your life.

COPYRIGHT STARLITMARK 2023© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — reposting/modifying any fic or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations are not permitted. 

Networsk: @kwritersworld @k-vanity @cultofdionysusnet @monsterfvckersunited

Tag List: @sanjoongie @jaehunnyy @ericssmile @anyamaris @almondmilkeu @shinestarhwaa @northerngalaxystar-blog

#yunho smut #mingi smut #kwritersworldnet #kvanity #cultofdionysusnet #mfu-net #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez smut #yunho fanfic #mingi fanfic #yunho x reader #mingi x reader