Voretober: Fear
I figured it would be fun to do something a little different for the last day, so have some good old reader insert prey/pred Bakura! Not shippy, just vore, heh. Wanted to really keep up with the theme on this one.
Warnings: Implied fatal digestion, unwilling prey.
Wordcount: 895
Your head hurts a little. You were just walking home when something grabbed your mind and twisted it like a corkscrew and everything went black, and right now, you’re sitting in a slippery… well, it might be a bowl? It’s hard to tell. The sides are greased with something that smells sweet like melted frosting, though, so even though the edge is no more than a few feet (or… inches, more likely) away, even a running start just gets you sliding down on your butt.
You weren’t always tiny. You were normal-sized and did normal things and now some magical giant has plucked you up like a grape and dropped you in a mixing bowl.
“Now, let’s get a closer look at you.” The voice is rich as honey, but something eerie lurks beneath the surface, sending a shiver up your spine. Dark chocolate eyes scan over you, but you get the feeling you’re the sweet treat from the way he licks his lips.
“Wh-what are you going to d-do with me?” Your words come out in fractured bits, and you didn’t realize how much you were shivering until right now. His hair falls over his shoulders like snow, but the color is more like bleached bone.
“I could do a lot of things.” He grabs you by the back of your shirt, lifting you up to his eye level, and you twist and squirm, spinning helplessly. If you fell at this height, you’d certainly break something- an arm or leg if not your neck. “I could keep you in a cage, a little pet. I could starve you, make you beg for me. I could even cook you up in a soup, if I wanted, until you’re just a sweet little bit of meat.” His hand curls around your body, and if one finger didn’t tuck under your armpits, you’re sure you’d fall. You have no choice to cling to him, eyes wide in terror at the almost casual way he threatens you.
Somehow, you know he’s done this before.
“But do you know what I’m actually going to do?” You shake your head at that, knowing he can feel your trembling. He licks his lips again, drool leaking out the edges. “I’m just going to have you whole.”
Your heart nearly stops.
He… he can’t do that, can he? Sure, you’re certainly small enough to fit in his mouth, but not comfortably, and-
And he’s bringing you closer to his lips. His breath is hot against you, humid in the same way the sky after a rainstorm is in the summer, and sweat drips down your spine.
“P-please…” You don’t have anything to offer, but try anyways. “Please let me go, I… I won’t tell anyone, please…”
He seems to consider it, before he grins, all teeth.
“I don’t think so.” He opens his mouth, and when you look down, you see a bit of pudge poking out of the bottom of his shirt. God, you hope that isn’t made of other people. You start squirming again, but his grip tightens and you feel a shooting pain in your arm, unable to hold back a yelp.
“Ghh-ah!” His lips wrap around your head, tongue running over your face to taste it and soaking it in thick, sticky saliva. The rest of your torso follows, and you were right- you’re just big enough that your back and stomach scrape his teeth. His tongue lathers you up, and it’s hot and thick and you aren’t sure if you’ve ever felt this much terrified adrenaline in your life. Your clothes are completely soaked and stuck to your body as he swallows, upper half forced into his throat. It’s soft and squishy as it constricts around you, and you’re starting to get lightheaded.
Something brushes against the ‘walls’, and you realize that he’s stroking the outside of his throat. His lips close around your feet as he swallows again, and the vibrating sound around you is- he’s humming. Pleased with his catch, probably, and it just makes you squirm around more.
Another swallow and you plunge from his esophagus to his stomach, splashing down in a pool of liquid. It sloshes around you like the world worst-smelling pool and you scramble up, desperately hitting at the walls around you.
The air rumbles and your space suddenly shrinks as a burp echoes from outside, and pressure against the wall pushes you back. He’s stroking a hand outside of his belly.
“Mmmm, you just might be my favorite… maybe I can find a way to bring you back so we can do this again.”
“B-bring me back?” But that means… you’ll be gone. As if on cue, you realize that the acid is starting to burn through your clothes and itch at your skin. You stumble up, scratching at his inner stomach, but he doesn’t seem to care, fingers dancing around on top of the skin like he’s squishing into a stress ball- with you on the inside.
Dying isn’t quick. You can feel every bit of the acid seep through your skin, into your muscles and bones as it dissolves you into meat, into energy, and at some point he lies down, sloshing even more over your body.
You don’t even realize when you stop fighting and fall down to rest, and your eyes slip closed for good.
