Heya! I'm Malachi. This is my little corner of the internet for vore/endosoma related content, it's a comfort interest I've had since I was little. I'm a hobby artist/writer and am (eventually) hoping to get a job in practical nursing! Anyways, onto what you'll see on this blog
Fandoms
Honkai Star Rail
The Mandela Catalog
My Hero Academia (Tentatively)
Transformers
DC (Batfamily/Doom Patrol)
Marvel (X-Men/Spiderman)
Chuck
White Collar
Sonas
Malachi | Humanoid Shark | They/he/it | 21 | Main Sona | Pred
Sam | Human | They/he | 21 | Secondary Sona | Prey
Under the Sheltering Skin (Stretched Out So Pale And Thin)
Fandom: The Mandela Catalog
Characters: Alternate!Cesar Torres & Michael O'Connor (OC)
TWs: Referenced/implied character death, mentions of suicide, mentions of digestion (none happens), stalker-ish behavior, body horror, blood and gun violence (referenced)
A/N: Finally got around to writing for a fandom I low-key desperately missed writing for. Said fandom is horror heavy so please heed the tags before reading! Otherwise, enjoy!
Michael is going to die, he's sure of it. Whether from a stress induced heart attack or the alternate that followed him home, he isn't sure
The creature—the thing is outside his front door, he can hear it clawing at the wood fervently, almost desperately, like it's starving. He hopes it isn't, but the garbled, twisted cacophony of someone else's name rumbling from it's voice box with a statick-y hum proves otherwise
Dread swells in his chest, it's not going to leave because it's convinced he's someone else. A dead man. He remembers reading the news report, Mark Heathcliff had shot himself in the head point blank with a Desert Eagle. Marked as a suicide by reporters and police alike
The alternate had gotten what it wanted, Mark Heathcliff was dead. There was no reason for it to be hunting him, even if it thought it was it's forner victim reincarnated
He had to get out of here before it found a way in, before it got to him too, the scratching, nails-against-wood sound was getting worse, the alternate’s mockery of a voice more frantic. Icy cold panic digs its claws into his heart when the doorknob clatters. And the only thing between him and the monster outside quivers against the force it's using
And Michael doesn't think. His situation doesn't allow him to, and his instincts are screaming at him to run
He does, hoping, praying that the beast is too distracted by finding a way inside of his home to notice him making a mad dash for the garage, practically stumbling through the entrance and into his car's back seats, laying flat on his back so that he isn't too obvious to the naked eye as his heart thumps rapidly in his chest
He tries breathing exercises, really, he does, but his lungs refuse to work at the knowledge that the alternate is still out there, looking for him. Hunting him. He's so mind-numbingly afraid of what it's going to do to him if it catches him. He knows what it's capable of
He’s known since he was 10 years old, curiosity having gotten the better of him when he made the innocent mistake of peering through the peephole of his mom's room, only to see a too-tall shadow, wearing his father's face, looming over his mother. Mouth agape in horror while blood soaked through her satin nightgown
He idly wonders if he'll meet the same fate as her, unable to stop his death when the alternate inevitably kills him, he doubts he's well hidden enough for the alternate to move on, it has to know it's prey hasn't escaped it
He almost screams when he looks at the back window of his car. Sees it staring back at him with predatory glee. Fangs gleaming in the dim background light of the hallway just outside the garage, wearing the visage of Cesar Torres
And suddenly, Michael feels like a cornered prey animal
He knows if he tries to run, the thing will chase him. Outrun him. Relish in the chase before killing him off in blissful finality
Though there's something in it's nearly all black eyes that doesn't exactly scream murderous, it looks ravenous, and it dawns on him that it's going to eat him. That realization is enough for him to scramble frantically to the front of his car, grasping for the keys in the darkness
Maybe, just maybe, if he can start his car and book it out of this place, the alternate will leave him alone, let him live the rest of his life in peace, and haunt someone else
Michael's heart sinks when he can't find the keys, very aware of the alternates eyes boring into the back of his skull
The sweet scent of terror is heady to Cesar, makes him all too sure that it's Mark trying frenziedly to escape him. Unfortunately for Mark, he's not about to let that happen
It's so easy for him to lean over the roof of the car and allow his face to look in the windshield. Some part of him feels guilty for scaring the human, but the feral, animalistic side of him has been starved for years
So he doesn't hesitate to grasp the handle of the car's door and open it while the brunette's distracted by fear. Taloned hands wrapping themselves around the other male’s torso, lifting him up to his face
Only to come to the realization that it isn't his best friend, but an eerily similar carbon copy. Everything's similar but the horrified brown eyes staring back at him
Oh, well. He's close enough to Mark. Opening his jaws, he lowers the man in, ignoring the more human part of him urging him to be careful
Michael can't believe what's happening, desperately clinging to the alternates claws as he's lowered closer and closer to a gaping maw, full of fangs and a pitch black darkness in a bid not to be eaten alive
It doesn't work, he's fully inside within moments. The creature around him purring in delight, swallowing around him thickly
For a moment, he wishes the alternate had bitten him in half when the muscles begin to undulate and shift. Until he's somewhere, decidedly, dreadfully roomier. It gurgles around him, as if it's greeting him in some sort of tainted way. The purrs continue like some sick symphony
All he utters in the inky blackness is a terrified “Oh, fuck”
Because he's going to die here. In the belly of the beast, digested painfully and alive. Something that comes to a head when he feels a tingling, warm sensation against his exposed skin
He can't see, but he's so sure it's stomach acid, slowly making its way up to his chest, and he slams his eyes shut, waiting for the burning, scalding feeling
But it's just…warm. Still tingly, for sure, but warm all the same. And the pain never comes. He feels drowsy, the need to sleep overriding any other instinct he relies on for survival
It isn't long until he succumbs to it, the last dregs of his awareness silently praying, again, selfishly even, that he wakes up alive, that this is all just some horrible nightmare
Outside, Cesar kneads idly at the swell in his middle. He’s all too aware he's going to have to explain everything to the poor, horrified man in his guts in the morning, but is all too content to waltz over to his passenger's room and collapse on the bed, allowing Michael's weight to settle. Staring listlessly at the ceiling until daybreak arrived.
Been thinking about my vore AU for White Collar a little bit in between BNHA brainrot and have come to the conclusion that Neal's an ambulatory cane user. Loosely based off of the fact he was shot in the leg and just... occasionally needs a mobility aid to get around sometimes, especially when the pain's really bad
Ok so im making sure that my tumbr aint broken, but I cant rb a couple of your drawings that I found adorable, and 100% either way its up to you who can rb, but Im making sure that you wanted that to happen cause most of the rest of your posts I can rb TwT
- someone who is decently bad at the internet and had bad luck making sure it's not something about my account that needs to be fixed
There's an options to turn RBs off and I had mine off and just... forgot to turn them back on. Whoops
TMW the evil goddess you're supposed to be fighting against takes a liking to you because of your connection to the Twilight and now you're confused as all fuck
