I am in my early 30s (no minors please), there will be no porn on this blog, I answer to either Qrow or Emma
I aim to keep politics off my blogs, as this is my comfort/escape. Please don't submit vore to any of my other blogs, should you stumble across them.
I am not a ‘prompt’/‘meme’/etc blog and would prefer you reblog from the source if you’re not interested in sending asks yourself.
Yes, this is a vore blog. If it shows up in your notifs with a ‘like’, it’s so I can keep track of what’s been reblogged to my other blogs they're normal I swear.
List of stories is here. My AO3 is here. My DeviantArt is here.
Exclusively soft/safe/clean vore, but unwilling and/or fearplay will appear and be tagged as such. No vore involving minors, no vore involving IRL people (this includes Youtubers such as Jack, Mark, and members of the Dream SMP).
I do not art, but I write both original fiction and fanfiction. Anything I’ve written will be tagged with FQA writing. I currently have two original fiction ‘verses, though their tags include both headcanons and the actual stories.
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Hello there! I hope you're doing well and staying safe! ^^🌈💖🌈💖
Are you open for writing requests? I also wanted to know if you're comfortable with writing about Fandom stuff (like Pokémon, MLP, stuff like that). I'm asking because I do have something involved with either FNAF or analog horror (I still haven't fully decided yet lol).
Thank you so much if you do answer this!! ^^🌈💖🌈💖
ngl the reason I thought this was a bot is because of how disconnected it is from my blog subject 😅
I do not take requests - while I enjoy hearing writing ideas/headcanons as well as feedback on what I've already posted, my energy is limited and I prefer to spend it on personal projects, which can be found mirrored on my Ao3
tenna such a gentle pred idc i cant imagine him being genuinely cruel in any way hes too sweet. hes good at fearplay when he wants to be like he CAN be scary but its all for funsies. and once he has prey in his tummy he cant help but act all lovey and giddy he gets so happy. and he wants to accommodate the best he can. makes sure theyre comfortable. talks and praises and sings to them until they fall asleep. whateverrrrr
Tags: Ashveil x gender neutral reader, hurt/comfort, definitely not canon-compliant, but I wanted to write something where the shadow inside of him isn't entirely malevolent; it basically acts like a puppy for Ashveil's darling
CW/TW: mentions of blood/injury, tight spaces, this could be considered soft/safe vore, you have been warned
Synopsis: Ashveil mentions a way to get his hunger under control for a little while, and you want to help him. While he's 100% sure that it would not harm you, it's obviously extremely weird and nerve-wracking, which is why he has never brought it up before.
AO3 Link
It's happening again. Clawing at his insides, desperate to break free from the nails holding it down like a mere insect in a collection, this ancient corpse still refuses to rest, and even less so in the arm of an old wolf. The Voracity is acting up again, and Ashveil is his own sacrificial offering to appease the beast. No matter how much blood he gives, how much pain, it's never enough. Nothing is ever enough to fill the void within him.
Well. Maybe something is. Or rather, someone.
Blinding him with the tiny light of his office, you open the door to the fridge, eyes wide and scared and so utterly sweet that it makes something inside him clench.
“Ash!” You cry, kneeling down next to the fridge so you can be at eye level with him. Instantly, your hands cup his cheeks, looking into those eyes that bear so much pain, even if they soften at the sight of you.
He tries himself at a smile, but only manages to wince. “Hey there, dear…”
“It's one of your episodes, isn't it? Shit, you should have told me –”
“Didn’t wanna worry you.”
“And yet here I am! Worried!” You scoff, tenderly wiping at a fresh cut on his face, likely stemming from his prosthetic scratching his cheek, if the claw marks on the inside of the fridge are anything to go by.
Every time this happens, you make him promise to tell you, so you can try to help, and every time, you only discover he went through an episode again after it is already over. How can you sit idly by when he needs you? How can you call yourself his love if you can't do anything for him? It's not fair. Why is he the one suffering, if he only ever wanted to help others?
Ashveil hasn't told you everything. You understand why, and you accept that it's for your own good. But when it comes to this – to something he has no control over, he feels just as helpless as you do.
Taking a deep breath, you stand up again. Even if your voice comes out like a broken croak, there is determination in it. “What do you need? If there's anything I can do for you – anything I can give you, please tell me.”
Don't. Don't offer yourself so sweetly, don't stick your head into the wolf’s mouth. Nothing good can come out of this. If you tempt him like this, he's only going to scare you away because, Aeons know, nobody would agree to this. Because of course there is something you can do. Of course there is. But he'd rather die than lose you.
For a fraction of a second, Ashveil's eyes flicker to the side, unwilling to meet your gaze. If there's something you've learned in your time with him, it's what that little gesture means.
“...spit it out,” you demand.
“My love-”
“Now.” Your tone leaves no room for discussion as you cross your arms in front of your chest, staring down at him.
Finally, Ashveil lets out a shaky breath. It's no use. The pain and hunger are wearing away at his resolve, and he finds himself blurting out the most horrifying sentence you could ever hear from his lips.
“I could… Devour you.” As soon as he sees the horror in your face, he quickly scrambles to his feet, taking your hands in his. He curses himself for being so bad with words. “Not as in- like, kill you-”
He really isn't making it better. Dumb, dumb old wolf!
Ashveil bites his tongue, before he tries again. “My ‘shadow’ makes me hunger. It demands that I fill the void in me… That I feed it with malice and injustice.” Then, his tone softens. Softly, his clawed hand rubs over your knuckles. “But it also hungers for… love, for warmth. For something that I can call mine.”
You are frozen in place. This is more than he has ever told you about his affliction, and you can tell that the words only leave his mouth reluctantly. And devouring you? …What have you gotten yourself into?
“My shadow only consumes sin. It could never hurt you,” he insists. “So it's less about devouring and more about… knowing you're in there, and that I can protect you.” Ashveil clears his throat, grey eyes falling to the floor. “It is entirely safe, I promise. Yet I know that it's horrifying to even think about. Which is why I've never brought it up until now.”
Protection? That's the last thing on your mind when you think about a leviathan swallowing you. Still… you can see Ashveil's weary expression. See the exhaustion in him, the pain, the hunger, even if he tries to hide it. The way his hands shake in yours tells you enough. If he promises that it's safe… if it really helps him…
You gulp. “What will happen to me, once you swallow me?”
Look at you. The first to die in a horror movie. The innocent little lamb, happily trotting towards the executioner.
Ashveil perks up at the question, expecting shock, fear, disgust, a simple rejection, in the best case. He didn't expect you to want to know more, let alone actually consider it.
He clears his throat. “Well… once I swallow you, you'll be inside… me,“ he explains, though he struggles with what that means. “My shadow will hold onto you, until I feel better… or until you want out.”
“How will you know if I want out?”
Amidst the horror of this situation, his soft chuckle feels like a ray of sunshine peeking through clouds. “Don’t worry, dearest. The beast can taste everything inside of it. It will know how you feel, what you want, need…”
Letting your hands drop, he goes to wrap his arms around your body, signing softly. You don’t even know all the emotions currently swirling inside of him, the exhaustion mixing with worry and yet it’s all permeated with the warmth of gratitude, with awe that maybe, just maybe, all the fear inside his heart was less warranted than he thought.
His voice is a soft grumble against your ear. “It knows how important you are to me. And I won't let it harm you.”
Feeling his warmth around you grounds you, the anxiety of finding him in this state and then being presented with this choice leaving you dizzy. You can smell the faint scent of iron lingering, clinging to his skin and mixing with the distinct smell of freezer burn. Somehow, you know that this is no solution. Just a temporary thing to keep him safe and sane.
“...okay.”
It’s better than letting him fend for himself in the tiny freezer.
Ashveil’s grip around you tightens, and you feel him gulp. He takes your chin, making you look into his silver eyes, that pink tint overtaking them completely. “Are you sure? Because I won't let you do this unless you're absolutely certain.”
A deep breath. “I’m sure,” you nod, your hands finding his wrists, desperate for something to ground you. “I trust you.”
It makes him choke a bit. Despite the adrenaline he smells on you, you’re still willing to do this. Insanity, this is what all of this is, yet the way his gaze darkens and his breath grows heavy, he can’t deny how much he craves this. Aeons, he feels feral.
“...alright.” Giving in feels like the first breath after almost drowning. “Ready?”
You nod.
With the gentlest touch, Ashveil grabs your cheeks, pulling you closer into a kiss. Somehow, his lips always feel soft, even if he definitely doesn’t take care of himself well enough. The kiss is loving, reassuring, consolidating his promise to keep you safe. The more the kiss continues, however, the deeper it becomes, more passionate. Your lips are parted, letting his tongue slide inside your mouth, and it really feels like he wants to devour you. Small little feral groans and moans fill the air, a testament of what's really lurking beneath the surface.
Suddenly, you hear wet, squelching sounds come from underneath your feet, but Ashveil's grip is too strong to let you look down. You're scared, of course you are. Every creature is born with this instinct of self-preservation. Still, you do everything to fight it, because you want to help him. You need to help him. And so, instead of dreading what's to come, you close your eyes and wait for it to happen.
When your lips part, a giant maw engulfs you, and everything goes black.
What happens next is a mystery to both of you. One of his beasts devoured you, that's a fact. But how exactly you managed to get into him, or where you'd be, if they were to cut Ashveil open? That's an entirely different question.
Slowly, you wake up. The first thing you feel is the sheer warmth surrounding you, the humidity in the air. All around you, you feel something pressing against your body, warm walls that keep you there. When you open your eyes, you see nothing but darkness. Well, if you're inside of his… stomach? Arm? In any case, it would be weird if there were any light sources inside his body.
From the outside, Ashveil can feel you. Even if there's no visible change to him, he can feel you inside of him, filling that void that usually haunts him and threatens to tear him apart. Aeons, your aftertaste still lingers on his tongue… For the first time since he forced that cursed shadow into his arm, he not only feels peace – it's sheer bliss to have you inside of him.
Tentatively, Ashveil speaks up. “Can you hear me, little one?”
Wherever you are, his voice sounds muffled, words too far away to understand. Yet being able to hear him at all already calms your racing pulse somewhat. At least, you know that you're alive, and that this isn't some sort of purgatory. Uhm. You think. You doubt that he'd hear you if you were to answer, so instead, you tentatively try to explore what's around you, only relying on your other senses. Thankfully, there's no smell of bile or leftover takeout slowly dissolving in acid filling the air. In fact, you can't smell anything at all. Perhaps any food he consumes is assimilated instantly? Or you’re not in his stomach after all?
Slowly, you start to feel around your space. You're laying on something fleshy, encapsulated like a sardine in a tin, but you don't feel suffocated. It's more like being wrapped in lots and lots of blankets… This whole situation should weird you out more, so why was that the first comparison that came to your mind? Maybe you've really gotten used to living with and loving a beast.
Though Ashveil isn't sure what's happening, he knows that you're safe. He can feel you in there, can feel your steady heartbeat. Carefully, he lowers himself back into the fridge, writes a message to Mr. N to not disturb him, and closes the door. He doesn't need anyone interrupting this moment. He wants to savor this properly. Wants to savor you, buried so deep in his core, where nobody can harm you.
Just when you're about to see if you can reach for your phone, the sudden touch of something brushing against your leg makes your heart skip a beat. Is- is there anything else in here?
That's when you suddenly hear it.
“Mine.”
It's clearly Ashveil's voice, yet it sounds like anything but him. The word isn't a physical sound, but instead a deep, possessive growl that reverberates inside your head. Soon, that voice is joined by many more, all of them sounding like him, yet you know that it must be the shadow in his arm borrowing his voice.
“Sweet.” / “Cute.” / “Love.” / “Tasty”
They chant all around you as you feel more things brushing along your body, until thick, powerful tendrils coil around your arms and legs and your torso. For a second, you're worried that they'll squeeze you, but they simply undulate along your body, feeling every inch of you.
“Mine,” it growls again, but this time, it sounds less like a threat, and more like a giddy animal purring. One of them brushes against your cheek, and it's akin to a pet nuzzling its owner.
“Stay?” / “Stay.” / “Stay?” / “Stay!”
…just what have you gotten yourself into?
Timidly, your hand raises, hoping that nothing bad will happen when you touch the tendril. “... I'm staying.”
And when those words fall from your lips, the tendrils tighten around you in a loving embrace, keeping you trapped in the weirdest hug you've ever experienced.
You sigh.
Every minute that you spend inside of him, Ashveil feels himself grow more and more tired. The violent spasms earlier drained his energy, and the added sensation of being sated only adds to his growing sleepiness. Like a wolf laying down to rest in his den after a long hunt, he can barely keep his eyes open, and frankly, he doesn't want to. You trust him – enough to now be inside of him. That alone fills him with so much love that he may just cry.
Similarly, with the way you're being surrounded by warmth from all sides, you can't help but feel incredibly sleepy despite your circumstances. Knowing that Ashveil is doing better, or at least so you hope, is bringing you a sense of comfort that only makes you feel all the more love for him. Realistically, you should be scared of this monster dwelling inside of him, holding you so tight. But how can you, when it's a part of him? When it wants you here, and needs you so?
Maybe you've really got a fucked up sense of self-preservation. Maybe you're just too trusting with this old wolf. But as you close your eyes and drift off to sleep, both you and Ashveil know that there's no other place you'd rather be right now.
Have this while I'm working on more Ashveil stuff! The heatwave snuffed out any brainpower I had so I'm gonna try to use the next few cool days to get something on the page...
you need to make more self-indulgent art btw. hyper-specific self-indulgent niche shit that appeals to You Specifically and maybe nobody else will get it or even like it but that's the point.
ok yeah so i was being dramatic it did not look that bad i was just really angry that day ANYWAY HERE'S THE FULL THING BRBRBRBRBRB dont look at me im shy about this one
