Hiya! Call us Dibbie. We’re bodily an adult, collectively use any/all pronouns, and are largely queer in some form. We are also a system! Basic info here: https://morethanone.info/#home
99% of us will not be using this blog. It’s just Theresa & Derek, really! But we have different interests and neither of us wanted to pretend to be multiple mods lmao.
For me (Theresa, she/her), pretty much everything that’s been said before goes. Pretty much exclusively safe vore, with male preds, with a heavy focus on prey perspectives. I am perpetually flipping between soft, gentle cuddles and intense fearplay (which ends in gentle cuddles) because they are both.... so good. The fandoms currently rotting my brain are: Incep/tion, Te/en Wo/lf, Luci/fer, Leve/rage, and an obscene amount of other procedural shows.
For me, (Derek, he/they+), I don’t write all that much. When I do, it’s typically predator-oriented things, usually just writing scenarios about myself. I don’t have quite as much interest in any given fandom. It’s still mostly safe/non-fatal things, though.
Feel free to send in asks about anything! We love talking to people. :>
DNI: nsfw blogs, (no shade, just for personal comfort!), bigots, gatekeepers, etc.
basically what happened is the hits started coming and they didn't stop coming. mental health went down the drain, had to move very abruptly, currently settling again, trying to continue care & get a job but it's still kind of on fire. started ADHD meds though! that's a plus.
anyways i can't promise content or anything because (gestures at fires) but i thought an update might be nice since we kinda vanished off the face of the earth. ideally once things are less Burning we can engage & write more.
I feel like these comments imply that reblogging is more difficult than reblogging? So maybe they just don’t know about quick reblog, in which case, (on mobile anyway) you just need to hold down the reblog button for a second
My guy… This is the spam your friends website what the fuck are you doing having your friends follow you if they can’t get behind your weird niche interests? They can fuck off, this is YOUR blog for YOUR niche interests
Tumblr isn’t a bulletin board with a few gems tacked to it, it’s the drawer in your dresser where you pile all your paperclips, fidget toys, pocket knives, random unopened pieces of candy, and the rubix cube you never learned how to solve
This is probably the only voretober piece we’ll get done during October. Life has been really hectic lately, and we haven’t had the time for a lot of personal projects anymore. I do hope you like this one, though; James & Ashley are characters of mine from an unrelated book I’m working on. (I did kind of lose it when I realized I was writing vore fanfiction of my own book, in an amused way.)
Word Count: 3592
Tags: Safe vore, non-fatal vore, fearplay, same-size vore
Hunt (v): pursue and kill (a wild animal) for sport or food.
James was hungry. This was not a new phenomenon by any means; he was always a little bit hungry, it felt like. But this was a different sort of hunger, one not sated by ordering Domino's or Panda Express for the 4th time in a week. No, this was for something... larger, and meatier. Living.
He wasn't quite sure how he managed to swallow his meals whole, nor why it was only sometimes that he found himself craving them. It had happened to his father, and his grandmother, and they had no answers either. They'd only taught him how to deal with it, where to go hunting, how to avoid being caught, how to soothe scared prey. Quite a few "how"s, but no "why"s. After his teenage years, the curiosity for the latter had waned. He'd grown up and lost the child-like wonder at why he could do what other people couldn't, too busy with the daily toil to care. Between work, debt, and life, he had come to much appreciate the relative simplicity of "how" compared to "why."
Of course, it was a relative simplicity. This James was very aware of as he stalked the darkened streets. He was tall-ish, about 5'10, and of average build; not the most threatening, but still a big enough man to be avoided this late. His dark, oversized hoodie probably wasn't helping either, but he didn't mind that. He just kept his head down, heightened senses on the lookout for prey. In this part of town, with the seedy bars and even seedier strip clubs, it shouldn't be hard to find someone wandering alone.
It was in the alley next to a busy bar that he saw her, a young woman alone, leaning against a wall and vomiting. Her hair was swept back in beautiful auburn curls, complimenting her tight blue mini dress, white stilettos, and pale clutch. If he'd met her inside, and if he weren't so hungry, he might have tried to take her home. It made his skin crawl, taking advantage of her vulnerability like this, and he could really only hope she wouldn't fight him too much.
He crept up on her slowly, mindful to stay in her blind spot as she wiped her mouth and rubbed her face. From what little he could see, her make up was smudged, mascara bleeding in a way that looked like she'd been crying. Biting back an apology, James grabbed her, pulling her flush against his chest and clamping a hand over her mouth.
"I promise I'm not going to hurt you," he whispered, a little bit frantic. "I'm going to scare you, but I promise I mean it."
Then, before she could react, he shoved her head into his mouth. She fought him surprisingly hard for all the shock he'd assumed she was in, but the angle was too awkward for her to gain much leverage. He worked steadily but quickly down her body, pulling in her shoulders, then chest. Her hands opened to claw at nothing, and her clutch clattered against the concrete.
Around her hips, James reared back, bringing her flailing legs into the air to allow gravity to plunge her downwards - one particularly strong kick sent one of her shoes flying behind him, bouncing and landing on the ground with a dull thunk. Her clothes were rough against his tongue and throat, but her skin was sweet and smooth; he wished he could have spent more time savoring it.
Instead, her legs quickly disappeared past his lips, and he plucked her shoe from her foot preemptively; he wasn't particularly keen to see what she could do to his insides with stilettos of all things. Then, with a final swallow, he brought the last of her down into his gullet. His fingers found his way to his throat and brushed against the bulge as it worked down, disappearing beneath his collarbone.
Then, James allowed himself to pause, huffing out the breath he'd been holding. He braced himself against the wall with a hand as his stomach swelled out with the last of the woman. The hoodie, to him, did very little to disguise the writhing, person-sized bulge beneath his skin. He drowned in the fabric, contrasting oddly with the way it stretched more tightly over his middle. But it only had to pass as vaguely normal to strangers, and it had served him well in the past, even with meals writhing harder than the woman already was.
Tenderly, he ran a hand over his oversized stomach; he didn't like the way she fought him, but he was so full. He often found he would forget how this completed him, with how infrequently he found himself partaking in live meals, which meant each time felt like rediscovering new heights of pleasure. Something primal in him was sated, and now he simply wanted to sleep.
Unfortunately, to do that he would have to get home. He still didn't like the feeling of his prey still struggling, but he liked the idea of being caught in an alley talking to his stomach even more. He had no idea if she had friends expecting her, so he gathered her things and set a casually hurried pace to his car. It wasn't far - he didn't like to go more than a couple blocks from it, not when he's be hauling a hundred, maybe a hundred-fifty pounds back with him. Tonight, he was lucky enough that his return was uneventful, and he slid back into his Honda Accord.
Here, behind tinted windows and a locked door, he truly relaxed. He'd adjusted his seat before he left to accommodate his gut, so he only had to sit down and settle in. Sighing, he ran a hand over his stomach again; his prey had stopped squirming at some point on the walk to his car, and now she simply sat, curled up and breathing. He could feel how tense she was, bracing herself as best she could in the soft, shifting environment of his belly. By now, he imagined she'd realized she was safe now, after being stuck inside of him without thinning air or tingling skin, not that it would make her feel much better about being eaten in the first place.
Gently, he prodded at her back. "Hey, are you okay in there?"
Unlike most of his catches, Ashley didn't start squirming again now that he was giving her attention. He'd expected it; they often would start fighting him and demanding freedom once they realized he'd actually talk to them. Not her, though. Instead, softly, she replied, "Yeah. Cramped, but okay."
"I can't really fix that part, sorry."
She snorted. "I'd suggest letting me out, but I imagine if that was going to be an option, you wouldn't have eaten me in the first place."
James cringed, though she couldn't see it. "Ah... yeah, no. But I'm really not going to hurt you. I'll let you out in the morning, okay?"
He tensed then, expecting the flurry of movement that usually came with people realizing they'd have to spend the night tucked inside a stomach. But again, she didn't do anything more than shift a bit. "Could I at least get your name?"
"Ah, James. My name's James. What's yours?"
"Ashley."
"It's good to meet you, Ashley." Absently, James began to stroke her back. "...You're taking this really well."
Ashley sighed, squirming a bit. "I'm too tired to freak out right now. Maybe in the morning, I'll lose it, but right now I can't bring myself to care all that much if I'm not going to die."
She sounded sad, weary almost. James found he didn't like that tone of voice from her, and he frowned. There was obviously a longer history to her, but he was far from entitled to hear it if she wasn't going to share - he didn't even know her last name.
"Well... I got your things, by the way. So you don't have to worry about that. And I should have some things that fit you back at home." James bit his lip, thought about her bleeding mascara and her sad eyes, then added, "I know this is probably not the time, but I've been told I'm a good listener."
Softly, Ashley chuckled, her voice a bit less weary than before, and a bit less sad. "Maybe tomorrow. I think pouring my heart out to you would be a little easier once I know what you look like."
Right. She hadn't actually seen his face. Usually, that was for the better; he found it easier to deal with the moral and instinctual quandaries with the knowledge that he was just some faceless, oddly benevolent predator. They'd see him afterwards when he let them out, of course, but it's not like they stuck around very long given the chance. Now, though, he was feeling rather regretful for it. There was an odd loss of intimacy that he hadn't even realized he was missing, and he ached for it.
"Tomorrow then." James sat up a bit more, then settled himself in to drive. It was definitely awkward and uncomfortable, but he had plenty of experiencing maneuvering with and around an engorged stomach. It was an uneventful commute, thankfully. He's had to explain himself to a cop once, earlier in his career as a hunter, with a belly full of prey that had been particularly feisty and had only just settled. In his panic to get home, he'd been speeding and had been caught for it. Luckily, he'd gotten off with a warning, but now he followed every single traffic law perfectly after a hunt.
By the time he was home, Ashley had gone more or less limp. He wasn't sure if she was still awake or not, but feeling her relaxed made him feel relaxed. Now, he really just wanted to sleep, even more because his prey seemed to be dozing inside of him. It was his favorite part of the night, the time when the person in his stomach finally settled down and passed out. Even if they had flung vitriol and fought him to exhaustion, they always would seem so delicate and vulnerable like that. It was a softness that he doubted many people would be privy to, and for all that had come before, James still found himself respecting that privilege.
He truly didn't want to hurt anyone. It made him feel terrible, having people struggle until they couldn't anymore. It clawed at him, even long after his prey of the night was gone. He knew they wouldn't be reporting him to the police - "someone ate me, but didn't kill me, then let me go after giving me breakfast and clean clothes" wouldn't exactly fly on a police report. But he did know them as people who probably would never want to see him again, and would avoid him given the chance, and that felt horrible.
If he had a choice, he really would try to find someone he knew to eat on these odd occasions, so they wouldn't be so frightened of him. It was what he'd done for years until he'd been forced to move. With no friends in the area and an unwillingness to risk his job by eating a coworker, he found himself stalking around areas with people he'd probably never see again anyways. He did his best to remind himself that he didn't ask to be born like this, but it was hardly helpful when people wouldn't look him in the eyes in the morning. He hoped Ashley wouldn't be like that.
James hung his keys, then locked his door behind him. The wall clock told him it was around three in the morning; not bad time for heading out around twelve. Then, he pulled off his sweatshirt. Beneath, he could make out Ashley's form more clearly, the way she was curled up within him. He traced the contour of one of her arms, hidden beneath a layer of tanned skin. His shirt rode up, not nearly big enough to reach over his gut, and he pulled that off, too.
With a bit more force, he pet Ashley's head. "You alright in there?"
In reply, Ashley wriggled weakly, muttering something soft enough that James couldn't hear. When she didn't move again with more gentle prodding, he let her be; it'd be rude to wake her up now. Instead, after setting Ashley's purse on his entryway table and her shoes beneath it, he waddled off to his bedroom. Then, he wormed himself out of his jeans into a pair of sweats before burrowing under the covers on his bed.
Despite tonight being comparatively calm, James still found himself drowsy. A full stomach always made him sleepy, even when it wasn't full of a person. When it was, though, it was a foolproof way to knock him out. With Ashley relaxed, too, he had no particular interest in trying to keep his eyes open. He really could only hope she'd be as calm in the morning as she was now.
He slept deeply that night, and dreamlessly. He woke in the morning, to the sound of birdsong and to light streaming in through his window. Yawning, he stretched, pulling loose all the muscles that had stiffened over night. Then, he groped for his phone, which told him it was around ten-thirty in the morning.
He pushed himself upright, scrubbed his eyes of gunk, then turned his eyes downward. "Good morning, if you're awake." He prodded at at Ashley's side.
She wriggled strongly, though not with panic. "Good morning." Her voice was brighter today, and he wondered if she'd been awake all that long before him.
"Freaking out yet?" He rolled out of bed, stretching again to a few satisfying cracks from his spine, then lumbered off to his bathroom.
"Not too much, no." She pressed out with a hand now, in a gentle sort of way he'd not felt before. "Could do with a stretch, though."
"I had the same idea, actually." With a grunt, James sat on the side of his tub. "Please don't fight me here; it's not going to be comfortable, but it'll be over as fast as I can manage."
Then, he clenched his stomach muscles, pushing and squeezing Ashley up and out. Obediently, she didn't struggle, but that didn't make the process particularly pleasant, only easier. He'd felt like he had turned himself inside out by the time he was done, hunched over and panting.
"You know, I'm not quite sure what I expected you to look like. I guess I had someone bigger and buffer in my head."
James glanced upwards. Ashley was analyzing him, clearly taking in his appearance. Between the bedhead and the shirtless, sort of disheveled look, he almost wished he'd had the time to make himself a bit more presentable. Granted, she was currently soaked in his spit, hair and clothes all in disarray, so maybe it was fitting.
Her brain seemed to catch up with what she said, and she hurriedly added, "Not that you look bad. It's just that you were so strong, I'd thought you'd be... bigger."
For a moment, he stared, then chuckled. "That's... probably one of the better reactions I've gotten. Not that I really blame the other people, either."
"I'm the odd one out when it comes to a lot of things," Ashley laughs, and James thought he really liked the sound of it.
He stood up, stretching again. "There are clean towels in the drawer opposite the toilet, and you're free to use anything you find. I'll leave the clothes outside the door, okay?"
Ashley stared at him, tilting her head. "You're awfully nice for a guy who eats people."
"It's the least I can do, I think." James said, and then he left, closing the door behind him.
Back in his bedroom, he dug through his closet and found the simple shirt and set of basketball shorts he'd started keeping around. He set it outside, neatly folded, then made his way to the guest bathroom with his own change of clothes. He showered and dressed quickly, then made his way to the kitchen to start breakfast.
Unsure of her diet, he put on eggs and toast, then diced up a few fruits. The sound of the shower had long stopped, and by the time he was setting the table, shuffling footsteps had started towards him.
Ashley emerged from the doorway significantly more put together than before. Her hair, now clean and dry, sat in a messy bun, and the clothes were only a little bit baggy on her. She seemed surprisingly at home for being in a stranger's house. "Breakfast, too?"
"Eggs, toast, and fruit. I wasn't sure if you ate meat or not. And like I said, it's the least I can do."
"I do eat meat, for what it's worth, but it's probably healthier for me to skip the bacon today," she snorted, then made her way to the table.
"Are you a coffee person or a tea person?" James asked as he grabbed orange juice from the fridge. He was both, personally, but didn't particularly care for either today.
"Usually coffee, but I don't mind some juice today." She glanced around at the sparse decor and furnishings, then said, "Do you live with anyone else?"
"Just me." James set down two full glasses, then the juice carton on the table.
Ashley hummed, then took a sip of her juice. "I guess it would be hard to explain the whole 'I eat people' thing to a roommate."
James snorted, sitting down opposite her at the table. "You'd be surprised. Well, surprised at my last roommate, anyways."
"Another oddball like me?" She raised a brow.
"Most would call him crazy, I think." James sighed. "I'm.. obviously not human. I'm not really sure what I am, honestly. I just know that sometimes I get really hungry. For people."
"For people."
Her tone was amused and not unkind, and he laughed. "It sounds worse when you say it out loud."
"As opposed to when you just eat the person whole?"
That got a belly laugh out of him, and he smiled softly. "I guess it's a lose-lose situation. I told my last roommate - Aaron - and he didn't really believe me until I proved it."
"And I take it that he didn't run?"
"Not even a little. He freaked out a bit, but... well, we'd known each other for years by that point. I guess that helped. If he'd done the same to me, I'd like to think I would give him the benefit of the doubt, too."
Ashley smiled around a piece of honeydew. "He sounds like a good guy."
"He was, yeah."
If she caught his phrasing, Ashley didn't show it. "Thanks for this, by the way," she poked at her half eaten eggs. "I... had a rough night last night. It feels nice to be cared for."
James didn't reply, only giving her his full attention.
"My partner and I split recently. It was... bad. Probably part of why you found me throwing up in an alley alone." She nibbled a bit more at her food. "I really just wanted to get wasted and into a stranger's bed, but I guess I had too much too fast. This was probably closer to what I really needed than a one night stand, though, as strange as it was."
James had never been all that good at verbal comfort, so he reached across the table and offered a hand. She took it, smaller fingers wrapping around his, and they sat like that for a moment before she pulled back.
The rest of breakfast went by over safer conversation topics, like work and hobbies. All the same, James enjoyed her company, and it took Ashley pushing herself back for him to realize that it was probably time for her to leave.
"Let me call you an Uber." offered James as picked up the dirty dishes and carted them to the sink.
Ashley shook her head." It's fine. I scheduled one for myself and it's just about here."
James blinked, feeling oddly disheartened. "Oh."
"I would have loved to stay, really, but my cat probably misses me by now." Ashley smiled. "He's always been clingy."
James smiled back. "Then at least let me escort you out."
He followed her out into the hall, where she grabbed her purse and slipped back into her heels. Then, she turned back to him and hugged him. He startled, then hesitantly hugged her back. He still wasn't so sure about any of this, but it seemed to be working out okay.
Out of the window, he saw a car pull into his driveway, and Ashley pulled away from him. "That's my ride," she said, pulling open the front door. "Maybe we'll see each other again sometime."
James waved as she left. "Fingers crossed."
That odd bereft feeling came back as she closed the door behind her, and as he locked it. He would miss her the most, and could really only hope they really did see each other again.
He turned to make his way back to the kitchen, and caught sight of a note he didn't remember leaving on the entryway table.
Written neatly on it was a phone number, and a message: "Call me. Maybe we can get drinks inside the club this time. - Ash."
Hey uhhh just so you guys know, there’s a highly n/sfw account on Twitter with the name “novorehere” that is definitely not me. The only Twitter I have is my own personal Twitter account that’s completely separate from this blog. Just wanted to make that clear in case anyone tries to find me on there. Ty!
Respectfully, please don’t do that!! I really don’t want to start drama or hunt people down. I have no idea who that person is, and I don’t “Own” the name Novorehere. They’re not pretending to be me or anything, and haven’t done anything wrong. Also, minors should not be interacting with nsfw accounts anyway. Thanks for thinking about me, though. I’ll be just fine on my own ^_^
Friendly reminder that harassment is never a valid answer to anything. Even if it were an impersonator, the answer is to report them and move on. Don’t be the guy making twitter worse - it’s bad enough as is. Please never ever send a harassment campaign to anyone, ever, for any reason.
Oh boy, more pred crushes? Let's see what else I've got...
So this is kind of a weird one, but I can explain:
So the s/ea e/mperor lev/iathan, right? She can literally produce healing enzymes in her digestive system. I'm not even kidding, go check her wiki page. I love healing vore so she could theoretically be a great candidate for it.
Anyways to continue my white boy obsession: Der/ek Ha/le.
First off: werewolf. Just... good vibes already. Te/en Wo/lf werewolves are a bit.... well, in canon, they lose their eyebrows when they shift, but I pretend not to see that part.
Secondly: Emotionally Constipated Traumatized White Boy. I huff these men like crack. Derek in particular is like.... a lot of his issues/trauma aren't his fault or connected to his personal actions, either. He's just Trying His Best, honestly.
He's a born werewolf, which means he has so many things he does that are normal to him but like... not normal to humans, and I love the idea of safe vore as extreme cuddles being part of that. He, especially, would be terrible about explaining anything or comforting anyone. Just sitting there, wildly confused as to why the poor beta in his stomach is squirming so much.
He mellows out but is largely very gruff and stoic with a soft center and that shit is just fucking A+ as a character type. He cares so much about people, I think, more than he likes to show, and I think would be really sweet by the end of the show when he isn't trying so hard to pretend he doesn't feel joy.
Also a mention of Peter, too, but like... Peter if he were good. Peter as a villain in the show is good but also I really just love him being like... not that? I feel like the show forgot how badly he was traumatized honestly. I feel like good!Peter would be the absolute best bastard (affectionate) pred. A lot of teasing, a lot of unwilling but less "I'm going to die" and more "Peter i swear to god i have shit to do today." Still capable of genuine connection, though, because of the whole like.... uncle werewolf pack brain thing, but mostly just a bastard.
Evil!Peter does have some potential as a cruel pred, possibly fatal, but like... eh? I like it in theory but I'm too mad abt how they did him in the show to run with it right now lmao
I wrote some things with these two (which I don't love those, they aren't terrible but they aren't my best work and I think it shows) and I might write more in general, depending. But, broadly, I rlly just love my two traumatized werewolf men and I enjoy them being their own version of deeply affectionate safe preds.
god im really going to expose myself (again) as a Generic White Man Liker but... honestly it's terminal. i will not be recovering, so it's ok.
Anyways: Dom Co/bb. I really did start this blog to yell about in/cep/tion, and I think about him more than I should. I still have a whole massive post in my drafts that I never finished talking about how I think he'd be as a pred but the tl;dr is that I think he is just so soft. Like, the whole premise of the movie is more or less "traumatized guy tries to see his children again" and honestly isn't that the vibe of so many of our beloved blurbos.
Ime with fanfic, he tends to get characterized as either an asshole (which I don't get, he just... isn't one in the movie. emotionally constipated, sure, but not an on purpose asshole) or a himbo. I prefer the himbo more but in reality he has to be excellent at reading people and social cues, and is more just... Bad At Emotions.
He is just so delicate, at the core of it, that I think he would be an excellent safe pred. Very gentle, very kind, possessed by a violent father instinct that is perfect for preds. 10/10. I really should write a sequel to that borrower fic (I have a couple of assorted things, but I'd need to format them to fit a bit more logically as a story/chronological progression.)
Also if anyone is curious, pred headcanons below the cut. I'd have put more but... lmao I think this is pretty extensive.
Depends on when you get him. Pre movie, before Mal's death, he's shamelessly in love and recklessly exploring dreamshare. He's a bit snarkier, hasn't settled down as much. He enjoys when his prey squirms, but he doesn't really need it. It's a fun treat, feeling them wriggle around inside him, but it feels just as good to be pleasantly full, too.
He isn't the most talkative, but he enjoys interacting with his prey while they're inside of him. He'll hold conversations or pet at them as needed, usually until they drift off, at which point he'll occupy himself with something else.
His favorite snack is Mal, followed closely by Arthur (or both, if he can get them). There have been multiple cases, both in and out of dreamshare, where he couldn't help but indulge in a treat. Never in anything serious, though, and never if they're really distressed. He prefers his prey to be willing, primarily, and will let people go if they're really serious about it.
He prefers prey in dreamshare, where the feelings are so much more intense. He can feel every movement of his prey inside of him, their breathing, their heartbeat -- all enhanced thanks to the weird properties of dreams. He loves it, loves poking at his stomach and feeling them move and shift about. The people he dreams with, mostly Mal and Arthur, learn to tolerate how curious he gets.
If you catch him during the year or so after Mal's death but before the events of the movie, he's an extremely reluctant pred. He's feeling wildly guilty, and the comfort of having a tasty snack curled up inside him feels like something he doesn't deserve. Mal's shade haunts him, too, reminding him of something he can never have again.
He misses the familiar weight of Mal inside him, and has phantom tingles in his stomach, a phantom taste on his tongue when he sees her shade, photos of her. He buries that part of him that craves the feeling of something warm and alive in his belly and carries on.
If a prey managed to pry his mouth open or otherwise desperately needed to be swallowed, he would do so begrudgingly. They aren't food, but the whole process is far more perfunctory and detached than he'd normally be. He'd check on them, make sure they're okay, but would otherwise be rather quiet and introspective. Probably would spend time spinning his top, rather than talking. He wouldn't forget that they were there, but they wouldn't really be the focus of his attention.
Part of him still really enjoys having prey curled up inside of him. The weight, the movement... it's real and grounding. He knows how they feel in dreams, and how they feel when he's awake; on the very rare occasion when he has prey inside him (likely Arthur, forcing him to take the self-care), he can rest easy knowing that the world is real because the weight inside is too dulled for a dream.
All the jobs he takes during this time are serious and corporate, leaving no room for friendly nomming, even if he wanted to.
Post movie, he's a pretty kind, maybe a bit teasing as a pred. Less so than before, however. He doesn't much care for squirming; he doesn't mind it, but after spending so long on the run, he really just wants his prey to settle down so he can enjoy a full stomach in peace. Generally, he goes for one or two, but could probably stomach up to three if he really pressed himself (something he doesn't do as much as he used to when he was younger).
He's still big into tummy rubs and interacting with the person inside him. Casual talking, gentle strokes, banter; whatever they happen to fall into. Now, he's much more appreciative of the littler things that he'd missed on the run. He likes the confirmation that they're safe and calm, and he especially loves when his prey nods off inside of him. It's such a display of trust in him, and it's something he's missed quite a bit. He likes to feel like people can depend on him, and what says "I depend on you" more than napping inside of his belly?
He also tends to nap on a full stomach, because he's getting older and can't be bothered to keep working when his body keeps trying to get him to settle down and sleep. He always makes sure his prey is asleep first, though.
He doesn't really dreamshare anymore; he gave that life up for his kids and would never look back. As such, and since the jobs he'd done in the past year or two had all been corporate espionage, he doesn't find himself missing the difference between prey in the waking world and prey in dreamshare. He just doesn't really remember it vividly enough for that.
This is cursed as a thought but let's be real, Barney would be the ultimate safe vore pred. Like.... look at him. Plushie pred. Teaches kids how to be kind, could arguably teach preds how to be kind in a different context.
I refuse to have an opinion on how good a pred he is but im saying i can see it
