#cw disturbing audio

[isnt-a-blog-blog]

ok so i feel the need to put a content warning here for this one but other than body horror because HLL i dont know exactly how to tag it?

i mean, spoiler alert, i made an art sequence of hunter to HLL based off a series of music albums centered around prion disease in a similar vain to EATEOT literally just named "vCJD" (the name of the disease the album is an allegory for) and like, what do i even put a content warning for? death? neurodegenerative disease? unsettling audio? i dont know, someone please tell me what to tag this because im probably gonna run out of tags trying to put every single edge case

anyway boring disclaimer aside

hi there

remember that time i made a teaser over a year ago about shaped hunter?

i finally bothered to finish it

credits to those under the alias "The patients" for the music and the artist PhiSigma who's cover arts for vCJD i am parodying in this

p.s. nobody managed to guess the topic for this so unfortunately that cookie goes unclaimed

[blitzgurl08]

imagining this with Lieb (the lingo show) and Svetlana (total drama roti)

[all4yoi]

𝒥ust a bet﹕hyung line

𝑒nhypen x fem!reader ︎︎⚹︎ cw: angst, no fluff (yet), reader is mostly viewed as a loser and nerd, lowercase intended, kinda went overboard with hoon's, reader gets called a bitch once, not proofread!

synopsis﹕after a few months of dating, you find out you were just a bet.

part two !

★ LEE HEESEUNG (wc 0.3k)

you and lee heeseung has been dating for a total of five months, and throughout those months you can confidently say that you were the happiest. he was the perfect boyfriend, his family loved you and so did yours.

today, heeseung promised he would take you on a date after his basketball practice despite your protests on how he should be resting instead. you wouldn't have agreed if it weren't for the fact that he had shot you with his pleading big doe eyes that never fails to make you agree on whatever he asks for. 

so here you were, making your way towards the gymnasium with your bag hanging on your left shoulder. the lack of dribbling and smacking basketball noise from behind the closed doors told you that their practice was done.

entering quietly out of habit, you were about to approach your boyfriend when you overheard his teammates talking to him.

"don't tell me you're still with her?" asked one of boys, an amused smile on his face. heeseung only raised a brow.

"what? you won the bet, you can dump her now. you're ruining our image you know? plus she's a total nerd and loser, you're much better with someone like yunhee." and with only just a few words, you felt your world crashing down.

right, who would date someone like you? you always found it weird, that heeseung just approached you one day in your biology class with the cheekiest smile on his face. the fact that he wouldn't leave you alone until you've agreed to go on a date with him. it all made sense now, why the popular basketball captain suddenly gained interest on the school's "biggest nerd."

"speaking of.." another guy spoke, nodding towards you with a cheeky smile. heeseung turned around only to be met with your glassy eyes.

you didn't move, wanting to hear him defend you. wanting to tell his teammates that you weren't a bet and he actually liked you throughout the months you two have been dating.

his silence said everything and with that you turned away and ran out of the gym.

"shit." he muttered, running after you.

★ PARK JONGSEONG (wc 0.3k)

"i'll pick you up later, okay?" your boyfriend of almost a year said softly through the phone. you've been dating jay since the first week of your first year in uni, others found your relationship weird. maybe because back in high school, jay never and refused to even spare you a glance. he was an asshole who looked at you as if you were the epitome of disgusting.

but the past is in the past now, right?

"okay baby, see you." you reply and put your phone down on your table, knowing that he's usually the one who ends the call.

you go back to the papers scattered on your table. the silence in your room was disturbed by sudden noises in your phone, turning to look, you see that jay hasn't ended the call.

picking your phone up with a smile, you were about to call out for him but a voice stopped you.

"i can't believe you've gone this far dude." you recognized the slightly muffled voice, it was a friend of jongseong's.

"what do you mean?" your boyfriend grumbled. the audio was muffled, you figured he was moving and the phone was in his pocket.

"you're still dating her!" the voice exclaimed, as if amused. "seriously, i didn't think you'd take that bet seriously. fine you win, i'll clean your car for a month. but you've gotta cut it out, you're starting to disgust me." the boy laughed.

before you could hear what your boyfriend would say, you ended the call. your hand was trembling and tears were falling from your eyes unconsciously.

were all those months just a joke to him? were your feelings really worth a free car wash for just a month? were you that unworthy?

jay was an asshole back in high school, you thought he changed. turns out he didn't, you felt like a fool for falling for his antics.

★ SIM JAEYUN (wc 0.3k)

if someone would be asked who you were, they'd all say the same thing. a loner, pathetic loser, and a nobody with a pretty face.

because what was a pretty face if you had no friends and a social life?

you almost believed you would die alone, you were too socially awkward to make friends. so when sim jaeyun, the transferee, approached you with a warm smile and a hand outstretched for a shake, you were beyond shocked.

your relationship went from being block mates, friends, then next thing you knew you two were dating. at first you were reluctant to enter a relationship, scared that it would ruin your friendship, but he insisted you both tried. that was three months ago.

you didn't have any friends, but atleast you had jake.

jake who smiles at you as if you had carved the stars in your hands. jake who would never forget to bring your coffee every morning. he was everything you ever needed. he was it for you, you only hoped he felt the same towards you.

walking through the hallway of the school, you stopped infront of your locker only to be met with a sticky note on it.

HOW LONG CAN JAKE LAST WITH LOSER L/N?

A WEEK : 卌 - 卌 - 卌 - 卌 - III

FIVE MONTHS : 卌 - I

A YEAR : II

Furrowing your brows, you stare at the note as your breathing grew heavy. It was obvious that the paper was old, it had folds and it was only stuck on your locker with a washi tape.

"what are you doing l/n? go on, cast your vote." a mocking voice said from beside you followed by a bunch of laughter. "personally, i thought he'd last a day. i guess i'll vote for five months then." then the hand went and tallied on the five months category.

"what's going on here?" upon hearing your boyfriend's voice, you fled away immediately, not wanting to face him. everytime something good happens in your life, it's always ripped away from you. jake was just like them, you were just a toy for their own entertainment.

★ PARK SUNGHOON (wc 0.5k)

"i'm sorry baby, i really am busy with practice tomorrow." your boyfriend, sunghoon, says in genuine sorry. it was the fifth time you have asked him to meet your parents, who also by the way was so desperate to meet the boy you've been dating for seven months now.

every time you ask him, he's always busy. either with practice, a project, a family matter, or whatever excuse he can come up with. but you always brush it off, knowing he means well and he really is busy as he's an athlete student.

"i'll meet them next week, okay? i promise." that's also the same thing he says everytime too, and once again, you only nod in response.

you and sunghoon met in a physics class. he was clutching his head with a frown on his face as he desperately tried to understand what the professor was going on about.

you remember clearly the way he approached you in the library, a physics book on his left hand as his right scratched his nape. "can.. i noticed- uh, can you help me with this topic?"

that was where your relationship started. you tutored him and helped him improve his grade. when he got an A on the finals, he kissed you on the lips in glee. he was taken aback by his own actions but nevertheless asked you out after.

"i love you," he whispers, pressing a kiss on your temple. "let me get something from my room." you hum in response as he takes his arm that was previously wrapped around you before going up to his room.

you can't help but notice the way his phone was blowing up from beside you.

you weren't the type to snoop around other people's phones, especially your boyfriend. it just felt wrong, you trusted him fully. but the way it kept ringing with text notifications, you just couldn't help it.

looking back to the stairs, you note he isn't back and there was still rummaging noises from his room.

taking his phone, you enter his passcode and read the messages from one of his group chats.

JONGSU

lol don't tell me she asked again.. em ba rrah sing

DAEHYUN

hahah when is she gonna take a hint?? 💀

JOON

you gonna blame her? hoon's been at it for months lmao

DAEHYUN

i actually can't believe he went that far, wasn't it only supposed to be for a month? 🗿

JONGSU

a week actually, but ig that bitch y/n was so easy. yk hoon likes to get his ego fed 💀💀

putting the phone down, you exhaled in disbelief. you took your bag from the floor and threw it over your shoulder and went to the door of his apartment to put your shoes back on.

"baby?" sunghoon emerged from the stairs, looking at you curiously. "you're going already?" he asked, extending an arm towards you but you slapped it away. the tears on your eyes shocking him.

"hey, hey what's wrong?" he tried again but his hand was yet again slapped away.

"i don't want to see you ever again." was the last words you uttered to him (shakily) before leaving his apartment.

[adoredaqua]

stay, please?

NOTE: was listening to an audio and thought about Vi. i felt bad that i haven't put anything out in a while, so here's a little something :). i am working on another fic with Sevika, but it's longer than i was anticipating, hopefully, i get it done soon, cause you guys deserve some more fics from me

previous loser! Vi work, you don't need to read it to understand this

synopsis: loser! Vi is trying to finish a project, but she can't help but be distracted by you

CW: fluff with a suggestive theme ;), proofread and edited, no usage of y/n, modern setting, college au, hyperfeminine! reader (referred to as "pretty", wears dresses and heels), established relationship, vi being a desperate horn dog cutie

word count: 1 300 +

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

“Hi baby,” a soft voice calls out in the dimly lit room. A pencil scribbling on paper is what greets you back. You smile to yourself, not taking any offence from your very concentrated girlfriend. You move carefully to not disturb Vi, who is hunched over on her desk. Stacks of textbooks and notebooks block your view of her side profile. An old lamp is the only source of light, that and her laptop. Vi was content with that. She didn't like having the main light in her room on. She likes the darkness, and she swears it makes her work better. Even with the continuous complaints of her decreasing eyesight, she still insists on her lamp.

You softly close the door behind you, placing your purse on the doorknob. You gently remove your hoodie, well, Vi's hoodie and place it on top of your purse. Originally, the two of you were going to hang out, but unfortunately, Vi completely forgot she had a group project to finish. She was better than this. She was good at planning everything so she could have time for you, family, life, and school, but she was bound to slip. She felt incredibly guilty having to cancel on you, but you knew better than to keep Vi away from her academics. 

You had texted her a couple of times, and after not getting any response, you impulsively decided to come anyway. Not that anyone would have minded. Vander knew you, and so do her siblings. You’ve visited and entered they’re home without much of a warning before. Usually, you were met with loud chatter and yelling from Milo and Powder, but the house was quiet. You had finished your homework and were hoping Vi would be as well. Though that doesn't seem to be the case. 

You make your way over to Vi, putting a hand on her shoulder to grab her attention. She straightens herself up, and once she does, you put your head on top of hers.

“Whatcha doing?” You say, taking note of Vi's freshly washed hair. It was soft and silky. You could spend hours running your hand through it, and you have. 

A chuckle and a hoarse voice replies, “Just the project. Turns out I'm the last one to finish my part, so I have to finish by tonight.” She grabs your hand, rested on her shoulder, and plays with your fingers. 

“I thought it was due next week?”

“It is, but we all agreed to finish it early, so we don't have to deal with it anymore. Besides, it's kinda embarrassing being the last one not done on my part.”  

You hum as a way to agree, a bit disappointed because there doesn’t seem to be anything to turn Vi’s attention away. “What are you doing here, though?” She turns her head to look at you, admiring you. It was nice to let her eyes rest on something pretty rather than stare at a screen. 

“Are you not happy to see me?” You raise an eyebrow, teasing her, though you know she didn’t mean it like that. It was only fair that Vi got teased as she does with you, all the time.

“No, of course not.” Now having her attention, she spins her chair to be able to get a good look at you. You wore a light pink babydoll dress, which had lace around the bodice with a little ribbon in the middle to draw attention to the cleavage, and that’s exactly what it did. Vi’s eyes scanned you up and down, hunger grew with each detail she noticed. She knows you were about to go to bed. Your hair was in its natural state, and she could smell lavender off of you. Your skin was glistening from your body oil, and you looked so soft, waiting to be touched. Face was bare from the makeup you had worn that day, and Vi can now admire the moles adorned your face. 

“You look really good.” Vi bites her lip, like she’s holding back from pouncing on you. “Like, really good.” Fuck, did you always look this good? Maybe it was her seeing you in a new light. 

You were always glammed up. Never able to leave the dorm without a face full of makeup and your hair done. The outfit had to be equally as thought through as everything else. That was one of the reasons why Vi liked you. She admired how much time you took care of yourself. While everyone wore sweatpants and hoodies to school, including her at times, you were there at school, in heels and a frilly dress with a new hairstyle every day. 

To see you in a more casual state was mind-boggling to Vi. This was something she didn’t realize she needed. It almost felt wrong to be blessed like this.

“Oh? I’m just in my nighty.” You look at her with an odd look, not knowing how high her heart rate is going. 

“I know, but…” She trails off. Her hands find their way to your nighty, pushing the fabric up to expose your thighs more. 

“Violet!” Smacking her hand away, you giggle at your girlfriend’s eagerness. “I was just here for a quick visit and to say goodnight.” It was the simple truth. You were planning on having a quiet night to yourself, but it felt weird not to have seen Vi in the day. Thankfully, she only lived a ten-minute drive away from you. 

“Wait, no, you should stay.” Vi looks up, looking like a wounded puppy. You take a mental picture for yourself to tease her later.

“Don’t you need to finish your project?” You pout at her. Vi curses to herself, seemingly frustrated by the circumstances. She hopes to curse everyone who put her in this very difficult situation. Her professor, her schoolmates, and even time itself. 

“I will, just-” She cuts herself off, thinking of a plan convincing enough for you to stay. “I’ll get it done really quickly. Just give me an hour. You can also stay the night.” 

“Please.” It was practically a whine the way Vi was so desperate to have you with her. 

“An hour? That’s too long.” You sigh to yourself, if she wanted you to stay, she needs to work for it. Literally. 

“No, please. Please stay. It’ll be quick.” Vi pulls you in close, trapping you between her legs. Her strong arms wrap around your frame, as she nuzzles her face into your abdomen. If you say no, she at least wants to have your scent on her. 

“You sure I won’t distract you?” 

“Yes, I promise.” Vi eagerly responds, and you can’t help but giggle. “So, you’ll stay?”

“Mhm,” you nod your head and kiss Vi on the forehead. 

“But, you have to stay in the living room.” 

“What?” You pry yourself off, and she looks as if you were the one who said something ridiculous. “You don’t want me in the room?”

“No, because you’re going to distract me,” Vi whispers like she’s terrified of the truth, and she was. You were distracting enough as it is; she doesn’t need to fight herself more than she already needs to. It was a constant battle in her head when it came to you. Janna, if she could, she would have you every hour of the day, every day. 

“Please? Just an hour.” She pulls you back down for a kiss. It was slow and innocent, just a way to convince you. And before it gets more heated, she pulls away to gaze into your eyes. A silent plea to listen and not fight her on the subject.

“Fine, fine,” You wave her off, as you turn away to settle in the living room, you take her hand in yours, “but, just know…” You guide her hand to your back and let it slide off to the curve of your ass, making sure she feels the absence of underwear. 

“You’re missing out.” Humming to yourself in victory, you walk off and let Vi think on the consequences of her actions.

“Holy shit.” 

[catiuskaa]

audio creak file.mp3 [1:07]

PAIRING! pervy?Chan x roomate!reader

SUMMARY: Chan struggles to make music, and you, his friend and roommate, try to help him when you can. Say, Chan also struggles to keep his cool whenever you’re near… what will you do to help him feel better?

WC: 3.2k

CW: convenient minsung because I say so, angsty(?) (reader is just kinda dense and Minho screams the truth to her), smut: mentions of soft dom!chan, mentions of panty stealing, Chan’s a pervy simp (he’s just soooo down bad), and I just really got carried away writing on my notes thinking about when Channie smiles hearing the creaks in heyday...

A/N: basically, if being inocent was a crime, i’d be imprisioned for tax evasion. kinda perv!chan thoughts to soothe the iching that the mosquito bites give. have fun! ^^

[☆☆★☆☆]

He let out a frustrated groan, fingers digging into his curly locks in a sign of desperation. He had listened to every single audio sample Changbin had found. Twice. But no, nothing screamed “This is it” to his perfectionist self. And it was getting him fucking desperate.

He wasn’t wearing headphones because of the company he had been with not too long ago since Changbin and Han tried to help him —keyword: try—, and also knowing that you wouldn’t be home for a while meant that there was no one he could disturb, the sounds coming from his laptop not nearly loud enough to reach to the neighbours. He scrolled down the same folders again, wondering when you would be home in the back of his mind.

You and Chan had been roommates for a bunch of years now. You two had met at Han’s birthday party thanks to Minho, as he introduced you, one of the first people he had ever danced with and even won competitions with to the leader of the Korean boyband.

You clicked almost instantly, sharing anecdotes from each side of the industry. He, a famous idol, and you, a backup dancer for many groups in different companies.

It was unknown to both of you that Han and his cat-like soulmate had tried to matchmake you that day, as you just stayed like close friends. Minho laughed at Jisung as they both returned from your shared apartment the day you moved in, like two years after. Now that you’d split the rent, considering neither of you spent that much time home to pay a large amount, you paired up.

“At least they like each other, silly,” he mentioned, his tone of voice sounding soft, a smug smile on his face. He was so winning the bet.

“Nooo!” Han whined, much like a toddler would when toys were taken away. “Those two are meant to be, Hyung. They are literally each other’s type!”

“Well, I don’t think they’ve noticed,” he chuckled, thinking about what he would buy with the ten bucks Han would owe him. And Minho would’ve been right.

But then, the sex dreams started.

“Chan, I’m back!”

He blushed, quickly shoving those thoughts into a bottomless pit in his mind.

“How you doin’?” You grinned, your head popping inside his room, leaving your bag on your own, next to his, before coming back and leaning on the door frame.

Your wet hair made the top of your summer dress fabric somewhat sheer, his eyes trailing your figure before clearing his throat.

“I’m stuck,” he admitted, dimples on display as he smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ve been looking for a sample I thought existed, but maybe I just made it up in my head.”

“That does sound like shit,” you mentioned, leaning down just enough to rest your forearms on the back of his chair. He felt tiny droplets falling from your hair onto his shoulders and back, making goosebumps trail all over his body.

“But how… how was the… the swimming pool?” He quivered, trying to hide the flustered quiver in his voice. And failing, hoping you wouldn’t notice.

“It was good! It felt sooo nice.” You stretched, whining as you extended your arms, making a mess in Chan’s head, who struggled to hide it. “I’ll go get changed, and then I can help you. Sounds ok?”

“Yeah.” He leaned into your touch when you ruffled his hair, leaving his room.

He sighed as he rested on the back of the chair, arms thrown over his eyes, and swallowed dry. He felt like such a perv, his insides churning and turning whenever you were near, making him feel like a horny teenager.

It all started one night when he woke up in a sweat, hard-on nearly hurting underneath his boxers. Pictures of you still reeling in his mind, legs wide open for him, eyes pleading, begging for release.

Then, two nights after, dreaming about your body pressed on top of him as you straddled him, clenching on him, fighting for dominance in a sloppy kiss.

Later that week, you in that cute summer dress you bought with him, letting him fuck you and manhandle you in his car, the apartment too far, and your bodies too horny that the drive home felt impossible.

Seeing you every day with those thoughts in mind was difficult, sometimes having to escape your sight so you wouldn’t see him getting hard just by you doing the slightest things that weirdly turned him on.

“The one you dream about is back,” you teased, now wearing an oversized shirt and a towel over your shoulders. He gulped as he looked at you, not only for what you had said unknowingly but also because of your shirt, long enough to cover your thighs, giving the illusion that you were almost naked. In his room. Sitting crisscrossed. On his bed.

He felt blood on his cheeks and some running down, headed south. He giggled halfheartedly, the sentence ‘don’t get hard’ echoing in his head.

After playing the samples again, tricking himself into thinking he might have skipped one just so he would keep searching, he started getting frustrated again. But nuh-uh. Nothing.

“Ok, this is trash,” you blurted out.

With a smile on your face, before he could even ask you what was wrong, you grabbed his chair from behind, pushing him far from the computer, saving the files and then closed it with a slap.

“Break time, Mr Producer. We both need a coffee.” He snickered, shaking his head sideways as you both went to the kitchen.

“Can’t say no to that, can I?”

You laughed. “No. Too late, anyways.”

He started getting the milk from the fridge, pouring it on the mugs you handed him, and settling them in the microwave, a small smile on his features accenting his dimples.

“Audio sample related, can’t you just make your own?” You asked Chan, not entirely curious, question directed to find a solution for his issue rather than learning that piece of info.

“I mean, yeah, sure, but it’s simpler this way,” he shrugged, eyes confused about where to look, not daring to stare at you for too long. “If not, I just have to keep recording random stuff, hoping to find something that sounds like what I want.”

“Isn’t that easier? Not like it’s something you can brag about, but there’s a ton of creaking shit in this place,” you pointed out thoughtfully. “Like… that!”

In the blink of an eye, you crossed your way until you were directly in front of Chan, and you turned around, leaning on the counter before you as you opened and closed the cabinet's door on the wall.

“See? It creaks,” you said from above your shoulder.

But just when you stood back on your feet, you realised how close you were to each other. And it hadn’t helped that when you leaned towards the cabinet, your shirt had followed along with your body, letting Chan see your lack of pyjama pants, instead being welcomed by some cute cotton panties. Ones he knew well because, uhm… he uh… may have used them for a wrong purpose.

Yeah, fuck, he had come on those.

You hadn’t realised how little space had been between him and the counter and attributed that to your head, not knowing that Chan had unconsciously moved towards you, like metal to a magnet. You wiggled on your place, your personal space suddenly far away from you, caged in Chan’s presence. He stopped your tiny motion by gripping your waist, letting out a gasp, blushing. He turned you around so you wouldn’t feel his hardening cock on your upper thighs.

When you both locked eyes on the contrary, the tense atmosphere shot up, turning even thicker when he rested his arms on the counter, at your sides, thumbs casually stroking short lines on your waist.

No words were said as you got lost in his brown eyes, deep chocolate-coloured orbs, not needing any kind of golden or honey stripes on them as they drew you in, gorgeous eyes so raven that it was hard to distinguish where the iris was. Then, your eyes trailed off at his mouth, your breath hitched, rose-coloured plush lips so enticing. He licked them, and you swore you heard him swallow dry.

You pressed your body on him, getting closer and closer, and suddenly, he let out a small whimper. The sound made you shiver, heat pooling in your lower belly. He blushed furiously, not daring to move from his place. You could feel it, feel him.

The sound of your phone chiming in your room made you both aware of the situation —and position— you were in. You got shy, quickly letting him have his personal space back, both of you missing the other’s warmth on your skin as you blurted out something that sounded like “gotta go walk my fish” as you run to your room, slamming the door close, frowning as soon as you were alone.

“Fuck.” Both of you said at the same time, having the same thoughts.

“I fucked up.” Chan stared at the hot mugs on the counter, both waiting for someone who had run away.

[☆☆★☆☆]

“He’s just scared, girl,” Han said through the phone after letting you ramble and blurt about what had happened barely twenty minutes ago. “I promise, if you make him feel safe, like he won’t lose you, he’ll melt on your hands.”

"...I don't think so," you mumbled, picking on your nails.

"You called me because he got hard," he sighed, not bringing his statement to a conclusion just because it was so painfully obvious. "I know you're the only one who thinks otherwise."

You were about to reply with a snarky comment about how he should just 'stick simping about Minho' when you started to hear said man speaking to Jisung, and then with all the calm in the world, ignored him when he went straight to the phone.

"...Minho?"

"Leave my boyfriend alone and go fetch yours," he replied as you heard Han groan in the back. It was almost as if you could feel him deadpanning from the other side of the phone.

You frowned even if you had a smile on your features, not taking the comment completely seriously. "Ok, rude. What a meanie."

"Jokes aside." You heard him breathe in from the other side of the phone.

Oh boy.

"The interminable teasing and bickering between you and Chan were amusing at first, but it's getting very stale and surprise, fucker, you live together!" He paused, clicking his tongue. "So, why don't you two cut the bullshit and admit your sexual and non-sexual feelings for each other?"

"My what?!"

"Stay with me now, but this is getting old really quick, goddamnit."

You could feel him getting worked up, not just because of his tone but because he kept ignoring Han, whose comments echoed at the back of the phone call.

But Minho was serious. He was not gonna get cockblocked for ten bucks. Not tonight.

"You're getting kinda off-base, buddy!" You frowned, raising your voice at your phone.

"Oh, it's almost one o'clock, fucking spare me!" He grumbled, getting slightly angrier. "Yeah, I get it. It's Chan. He can be a dick sometimes because of his severe self-esteem issues and how he doesn't know how to communicate his feelings all that well. But I kinda think he reminds you about that other guy you dated in our dance team, who was an absolute son of a bitch, and we can agree that you deserve to be with someone who's not that complicated or whatever, but still, you can't get Chan out of your head, can you? Don't answer. We know it." He interrupted you, who just stood there, unable to speak as you were just getting bombarded with facts you didn't want to deal with.

"But you? I've known you for years, yet you're still being a dumbass. You're behaving like a baby who'd rather act tough than show her true feelings 'cause last time, you got hurt! Owie," he cooed, tone still angrily mocking. "And now you're just dancing around the other in this pathetic act you're tryna put up to hide your pent-up feelings, SO, AGAIN, for my sake, either deal with it and stop bitching my man about it, or get over with it already!"

"Minho, I-!" You turned silent as you heard a beeping sound coming from your phone.

…He hang up.

You stared at the screen, eyes almost out of place, as you muted the device, letting it vibrate with the unread texts Jisung sent, apologising in every way he knew.

"A baby?" You muttered, the word almost sickening in your mouth. "I am not a baby!"

You laid back down on your bed, rolling on your sides, Minho's words echoing in your mind as you cursed under your breath. Almost unconsciously, you stood up, left your room and approached Chan's as if wanting to enter just to get his confirmation regarding his allegedly existing feelings for you.

He startled you when he closed his door, meeting you in the hallway, his eyes glued to yours as soon as he saw you.

"Oh. Hey." You mentioned awkwardly.

"Hey," he said, tensed-up shoulders visible due to the lack of sleeves on his shirt. "I just... uh..."

"I... wanted to say that, uh..."

"I am sorry if I... uh..."

"It's ok... I uh... don't... I mean... I know that you can't really uh... control... it?"

You could almost hear Minho's laugh in your mind.

"Right," he sighed. You smiled reassuringly, and he did the same in an uneasy stance.

"Right. I mean, for all I know, it could happen for whatever reason."

He licked his lips. "I uh, yeah. Kinda, I guess."

"Never mind. I uh... 'm glad we feel the same way."

You both smiled sheepishly and headed to your respective rooms.

Chan sighed, hurriedly getting back to bed, wishing to get weird ideas out of his mind, not bothering to check his computer again. He rolled in bed, hand anxiously travelling through his hair so frequently that it was starting to get greasy.

He frowned, passing his hands through his face, the scene in the kitchen crossing his mind again, his already weak excuse for not being so clearly attracted to you crumbling when he remembered the eagerness he thought he had seen in your eyes.

He stood up again and went to open the door just to go check, because what if he hadn't just made it up in his mind?

But then, he met you right in front of his room.

He needed to try it. He wouldn’t ever forgive himself if he assumed wrong and then stupidly lost his chance.

So before you could escape, speak or come up with any kind of excuse as to why you were there again, he approached you, cradling your cheeks softly and pecking your lips.

His heart skipped ten beats. Your arms shoved him away weakly, which only made it worse. He was pretty sure he might have lost his pulse already.

His eyes locked into yours, a sight of contentment leaving his lips as you grabbed him from the rim of his shirt and pulled him back in, smiling in the kiss. It heated very quickly, a sloppy kiss with all tongues and teeth, both fighting for dominance. You went to get the edge of his shirt, but instead, he gave you a light smack on your thighs, and you jumped, legs crossing around his waist, arms around his neck as he guided both of you into his room, closing the door with a kick.

The two of you breathed heavily, the air thick with anticipation and lust. He pinned you up against the closed door and kissed hard, feeling the heat rising as your bodies tightened against one another. Your tongues met, mingling in an intense way that drove you wild. You let out soft sounds of pleasure, suddenly changing sides, pulling him away just enough so you could have access to his neck, your teeth trailing from his jaw, trying to find a sensitive spot.

He whined, barely moving away, trying to calm himself down, the sudden blow of emotions too intense for him. He then panted, and you quickly went back to that spot you had found, nibbling on it.

"What are we- fuck- what are we doing?"

You set a finger on his lips, your face going back to his. You had no idea.

"Shhh. Let's just... enjoy it," you whispered, leaving a small chaste kiss at the corner of his lips, tempting him. You then flinched, moving away, "but not if you don't want to—"

He let out a groan, deep and enticing, hungrily going back to your mouth. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back, your lips pressing firmly against his.

"No... I want you."

"And I want you too, Chris." You admitted, doe eyes trailing down to his lips, licking your own. "Now."

[☆☆★☆☆]

Your schedule had gotten filled up to the brim, chances of meeting Chan reserved for the ungodly hours of the night, which were used to get some well deserved sleep. Rehearsing over and over left your body exhausted, your mind clouded in the remaining work you had left, only the most sinful parts of it replaying the encounter that had happened barely three nights ago.

It was obvious that he was awake, the light in his room shining from underneath the door, knowning that he’d probably be working on his samples.

And he had tried, looking for one of the files he had recorded that delicious night. But something felt wrong. He frowned, looking at how long the audio was.

He played it before using it, at first just hearing random noises he was recording. Then he heard himself groaning, the sound of the bed sheets moving with his body, and then, after some loud steps, the door creaked open.

And those voices were you and him, that was no doubt. He blushed, the sound of the door slamming close getting his mind back to three nights ago.

“Ah, fuck, Chan!” You moaned through his headphones.

The bed creaked under both of you in rythmic beats, matching each thrust, your moans decorating the purple-lit room.

As both an idol and a producer, Chan had listened to many voices and samples for a long time, ears used to the constant stimulation, but the sound of your needy whines as he slowed down in hopes of not coming too soon made the task even more difficult.

“Don’t- ugh, fuck-,” he whined, hearing the heavy breathing through the recording. “Let me hear you, baby, please.”

Chan tried to pause the recording, a flustered mess, but instead accidentally unplugged his headphones, the sound of creaks and moans filling his room once again.

He paused it, mortified. Where you home? Fuck, he didn’t want you to think he was recording you in secret.

He turned around slowly when the door creaked open.

“What's going on here?” You walked in with an oversized top on, the cut of the sleeves made so that your body could be seen through the sides of the tank top.

“I-i uh…”

“Don’t have too much fun without me.”

“Chan? Are you listening?” Changbin questioned, frowning.

“Uh?”

He remembered that he wasn’t inside his room, like the night before, your thighs straddling his, but in the studio, showing his friends the audio he had put together. He couldn’t help but smile and get lost in his thoughts when certain creaks came out.

“We like it,” Han repeated. “We can get to writting lyrics soon enough.”

Chan’s phone chimed next to him, his eyes trailing it with no thoughts to it.

Let’s have fun again tonight.

He bit his lip, turning his phone off.

“I’ll call it Heyday,” he mentioned to his friends, renaming the new audio file.

He’d keep the other one a secret.

[☆☆★☆☆]

[hard hours]

~Kats, who came up with this idea on the beach and has had it stuck in her head since day one.

[j-demi]

I H3ART YØU….💔

Animation Meme featuring the Neon Nights AU! I hope yall like the lil bits of lore in this one ;3c

Neon! Aiden belongs to @/cloudysunflowrs on twt Audio: I (Heart) You by KMFDM

CW: Light Flashing + Disturbing Imagery!

[muffledmayhem]

Unwanted memory.

CW : LOUD AUDIO , DISTURBING IMAGERY . DISORIENTING VISUALS

[another-lost-mc]

is it bad that i'm thinking about pent-up karasu? karasu who's been *trying* to have some alone time with you but keeps getting interrupted by one of the demons brothers or the angels or that damn sorcerer? karasu who keeps lovingly trying to pull you away for just a *moment* of alone time to savor your taste and keeps getting cock-blocked for some reason or another? karasu when he *finally* gets time alone with you and absolutely fucks you senseless??

a/n: it reeeeally doesn't take much to get him riled up.

➤ pent-up!karasu | headcanons

2.1k words | nsfw | gn!reader

cw: sexting, dick pics, masturbation, audio porn, oral sex, overstimulation, demon form!sex

— Pent-up!Karasu, who misses you terribly. He hasn't seen you in a few days because he had to focus on an important project for work. He texted you as often as he could and he called you every night before you went to sleep, but it wasn’t the same.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who finally has a chance to see you at RAD. He has a meeting scheduled with Diavolo and agrees to meet with him at the school. He’s nearly giddy with excitement when he pulls out his old RAD uniform and gets ready. He hopes you’re as happy to see him as he is to see you.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who looks for you in the busy hallways of RAD and his heart flutters when he finally spots you. He can't resist the urge to hug you tightly even though the demon brothers are waiting for you nearby. He desperately wants to kiss you, but he knows neither of you have the time or privacy to do that right now.

— Pent-up!Karasu, whose greedy eyes glance down at your RAD uniform and he wonders how he never noticed that you look so lovely in dark grey. His cheeks burn when he suddenly imagines peeling the layers off you one by one. He notices that your expression looks hungry too, and he ducks his head bashfully when you tell him how handsome he is. You hug him one last time before you head to class, and he misses you already.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who finishes his meeting but doesn’t have time to see you again before he leaves. He flies to work in a daze and is completely distracted by thoughts of you. Once he's alone in his office, he slumps heavily in his chair and glares at the erection tenting his pants. He palms his cock through the thin material of his uniform for relief but it doesn’t help. He feels needy and impulsive and reckless. After a moment of hesitation, he reaches for his D.D.D.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who sends you a text message even though he knows you’re still in class. He suggests that you excuse yourself from the room and go somewhere with more privacy.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who apologizes for disturbing you. He complains that he can’t get any work done; he sends you a photo of his lap so you can see exactly how much you affect him. He took off his blazer and the sleeves of his green button-up shirt are rolled up. His left hand rests on his thigh, drawing your attention to the bulge straining against the zipper of his pants.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who hopes that you’re starting to feel as horny as he does. His messages are a stream of disjointed, lustful thoughts. He sounds more bold and depraved than you’ve ever heard him before.

Seeing you earlier was enough to make me hard. I don’t think you realize how much I’ve missed you.

I want to touch you so badly. You could do anything you wanted as long as I can have you.

It’s tempting to come back to RAD and find you. Have you ever thought about what it’d be like to fuck in an empty classroom, bent over one of the desks where anyone could find us? Would you like that? Too bad I didn’t think of that earlier.

I wish you were here. Being inside you would feel so much better than this does.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who sends you proof of his desire. First he sends you a photo: his pants are undone and bunched low on his hips. His slender fingers are wrapped around his cock that’s rock-hard and leaking precum from the tip.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who sends you an audio message next. He bites his lip so he’s not too loud in your ear, but he can't help how good it feels and he wants you to know it. When he glides his hand up and down his cock, it makes a soft, wet sound that echoes in his quiet office. His chair creaks under his weight every time he thrusts up and drives his cock into the tight grip of his fist.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who babbles his desperate fantasies when he’s about to cum. "I wanna feel you around my cock, I can't wait—f-fuck, I can't stop, it feels so good—" He gasps your name and whimpers high and needy in his throat as he strokes himself through his orgasm. He keeps going until he's so sensitive that it nearly hurts, and he stops recording when he's finally limp with exhaustion and temporarily sated. The entire recording is less than two minutes long.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who sends you one last photo when he’s finished. His cock is tucked away now, but his pants and the bottom of his shirt are both stained with the pearly-white ropes of his release. He sends another message too, one that contains a request and a promise:

According to Lucifer’s schedule, he and his brothers will be attending a student council meeting this afternoon. It should give us enough time, so I’ll meet you at the House of Lamentation when you're finished class today. Try not to touch yourself before then, dear one. I’d like to take care of you myself.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who keeps his word and is already waiting for you when you arrive home from RAD. He pulls you into his arms as soon as you shut the bedroom door. “I’ve wanted to do this all day,” he breathes before he finally kisses you with all the love and desperation he feels for you.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who licks across the seam of your lips and whines into your mouth when your tongue curls with his. He rubs his half-hard cock against your belly and palms the swell of your ass, encouraging you to grind against him. You’re so warm and soft and pliant in his arms, and he wants nothing more than to rut into you like a mindless beast. He feels possessed.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who walks you backwards until your legs bump against the edge of the bed. He drops hastily to his knees when you sit down and he shuffles forward until he’s tucked comfortably between your legs. He fumbles with the belt and zipper of your pants, and he pulls your pants and underwear down your legs so you’re completely bare to him. His heightened senses can smell your arousal. He strokes you gently with a couple of his fingers, and he exhales harshly through his nose when he feels how wet you really are. He teases you and peppers your bare thighs with kisses until your hands slide into his hair and pull him closer. 

— Pent-up!Karasu, who finally buries his face between your legs like he’s starving for you. His lips worship you with kisses and gentle sucks so you can feel the heat of his mouth. His fingers tease your entrance, circling the tight hole slowly before moving his hand away again. He digs his fingers into your soft, squishy thighs when they shake on his shoulders and tighten against the sides of his head. The bedframe shakes slightly as you chase your pleasure.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who moans loudly when you finally cum in his mouth. He pulls back and murmurs about how delicious you taste while he smacks his lips. His mouth and chin glisten from the mess you made of him. His erection aches in his pants but he leans forward again, flicking his tongue against you for a second time even though you gasp his name and shiver pathetically in his grip. He knows you're sensitive but he can’t resist just one more taste. Pinpricks of pleasure and pain shoot through his body when you tug on his hair and push his head away when you can't take anymore.

— Pent-up!Karasu, whose self-control cracks when he drinks in the sight of your bright, glossy eyes and pouty lips. He rises slowly to his feet and starts unbuttoning his shirt because he needs you now. He preens under your appreciative gaze when you stare at his bare chest. His dark eyes are smoldering and predatory, glowing with the power of his sin that's determined to have all of you.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who is in his demon form by the time you're both undressed and fully bare to each other. He pushes you back gently so his talons don’t scratch your delicate skin. Once you’re resting comfortably on your back, he kneels between your legs. He guides your legs up and rests them against the curve of his hips. 

— Pent-up!Karasu, who would never risk hurting you no matter how much he wants you. He presses a bottle of slick into your hand and stares hungrily while you stretch yourself open for him. Your fingers disappear into your body and his cock twitches eagerly. He’s so desperate to be inside you, but he can be patient a little longer. You stop fingering yourself before you cum again; you feel so painfully empty without his cock and you both know your fingers aren't enough.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who braces himself on his arms and lowers himself on top of you. He whines against your neck as he pushes inside you, burying himself to the hilt in one long thrust. His pace is slow and shallow at first so you can both adjust. It's not long before you grasp his shoulders and urge him to move faster. The room fills with the animalistic rattling that reverberates deep in his chest when he moves harder and deeper inside you. He curses and moans in time with each desperate thrust. His hips smack noisily against yours when he starts to lose control and fucks you into the mattress with abandon.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who reaches between your bodies and strokes you with his palm because he doesn't want to cum before you do. You arch your back against his chest and a cry rips from your throat when you finally cum. Your body tightens around his cock like a vice and he moves even faster, drawing out your pleasure until you’re completely satisfied. 

— Pent-up!Karasu, whose sharp talons dig into your sheets and his wings flutter restlessly when he cums. He groans and continues thrusting desperately while he rides out the lingering waves of pleasure crashing over him. You're full of his cum and your bodies squelch obscenely each time he pumps his cock inside you. Your ankles hooked against his back trap him in place. He keeps moving until he’s milked dry and his hips come to a stuttering halt.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who catches himself on his hands before he collapses heavily on top of you. He's hot and sticky with sweat and his hair sticks to his forehead and neck. There's so many things that he still wants to do and say, but right now he kisses you sweetly like nothing else matters.

— Pent-up!Karasu, whose soft kisses grow hungry when lust stirs deep in his belly when he realizes he still wants more. His hardening cock twitches inside you and he starts to slowly rock his hips. He drags lips along your jaw and down your neck as he picks up the pace. He savors your breathy moans in his ear and you're as eager as he is when you start to move together.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who makes a frustrated hissing noise in his throat when the front door slams nearby and the demon brothers return. He doesn’t want to stop, but he slows his thrusts and frowns when he hears stomping footsteps approaching from down the hall.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who groans and rests his head against your shoulder when someone bangs on your bedroom door. "Yo, Lucifer's ordering Hell's Kitchen for dinner tonight! You two wanna join us?" He's annoyed by the interruption and grumbles inaudibly under his breath. He looks up when your body starts shaking with barely-stifled laughter, and he can't help but chuckle too.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who rolls off you carefully and gets a damp cloth from your bathroom so he can clean you up. You both get dressed and he steals glances at you from the corner of his eye; lust still courses through his veins. His talons have disappeared but his wings still twitch irritably against his back. He suggests having dinner somewhere more private instead, and he's relieved when you agree. He waits for you outside while you explain to the others that neither of you will be staying for dinner after all.

— Pent-up!Karasu, who takes you back to his nest where no one else will bother you. He murmurs a promise in your ear that he’ll feed you later, after he’s fucked you properly.

[lovelykil]

OK.. so can we have more of crazy insane inlove kyle 🤭but..with a little NSFW pleaseeeeeee?pretty pleaseeee?😇😇

─Headcanons─

kyle x reader older ver.

hc; insane inlove kyle but nsfw

cw; nsfw

note; yes yes also tell me why that one audio from tiktok where it's like "is THAT dick GOOD bitch" and then they say "yesSS KING 😩 ooUAHHG" went through my brain when I was writing this🙁🙁😭

also this is short Idk what else to put tbh ⤵

He hates seeing you with people he didn't trust which was a lot of people besides his bestfriend, Stan.

After a long anxious day of trying to keep himself together as multiple students made talk with you, some even touching you he follows you home without warning of him showing up at your house.

All day he was out of it, he worried you may had started liking someone else

You'll leave him

Stop talking to him

Find him disappointing

Only just because you were hanging out with someone else that wasn't him.

my god he's so possessive he just wants to trap you somewhere forever with him

He enters your house just after a few minutes when you walked in, locking the door behind him and walking up to your room.

He knows your schedule, you go straight to your room to finally rest your brain after an exhausting day of school, then change into some comfortable clothes, scroll a bit on your phone then make a snack for yourself.

Though your routine would be disturbed when you saw the door lock twist, then finally open to reveal Kyle.

You jumped back a little frightened from his uninvited visit, you landed on your bed with a shriek.

"Kyle?! What the hell are you even doing here dude?" You cried out a little mad, he was always doing some weird shit and this was one.

He slowly walked up to you not saying a word till he began to pin you down, his two long arms resting beside your shoulders. He panted slowly, his frizzy curly hair blocking his eyes

You immediately started to blush, taken back by his action you fell back on the bed, your elbows no longer supporting you.

"kyle?.."

"please tell me I'm yours, please don't leave me." Kyle's voice trembled from above, he softly started to sniffle like he was crying from underneath his messy hair.

Your eyes widen, you sat up slightly and moved aside his hair in his face to see his watery eyes. His eyes met you and you could tell he was just loosing it.

You fell silent for a second, deciding whether or not you should even ask why he wanted you to say that, ever since you guys started dating he's been.. well

"It's okay I'm yours, I won't leave you, Kyle." You put your hand on his cheek and wiped away a small tear running down his pale cheek, smiling calmly at him.

He melted into your touch, his hand setting on yours. You watched as he slowly calmed down his head inching down to your neck. You suddenly felt a heat to your face when his hot breath came in contact with your bare skin.

You struggled to maintain calm growing nervous with each second.

"really? do you mean it sweetheart?" In a hush tone he asked, placing an innocent soft kiss to your neck

You nodded nervously, a low moan escaping from your lips.

"you know I would kill for you, right?" His words sent a weird sensation downward, you were completely shocked but just got turned on at the same time.

Maybe it was just the way he said it, so low.. and into your ear or the close contact with your body next to his, he was on top of your small figure.

Before you could answer him you felt his knee hit against your middle causing a gasp from you, you put a hand to your mouth quickly.

"What are you doing??" You put your hand down, now more nervous and aroused as ever.

"I wanna hear you say my name and tell me you're mine." He answered, kissing your neck some more, his leg starting to rub against your temple through your pants. You sucked in your lips from the pleasure he was making you feel, your eyes shutting.

"I'm waiting." Kyle stopped, pulling away from your neck to look down at you.

You nodded your head, your eyebrows curving "yes I'm yours Kyle, please.." You whined.

He smiled, kissing your cheek slowly going down to suck on your skin.

"what a good girl you are."

[cyanbugremix]

Let's Watch An Adult Movie! - Stories of the Shaw Pack

Characters: 11 yr old David, Ash, and Milo, 15 yr old Madelyn Talbot

CW: None; Fluff

Written in May 2024

Summary: During a sleepover, the boys decided that they were going to have a movie marathon, but they need to pick something. Of course, Asher had a great plan: they could watch an adult movie!

Can be found ✨here on Ao3✨, written by moi (cyan_bug37 on Ao3)

~~~~

“What movie should we watch?” Asher asked, kneeling under the TV and looking through the DVD cabinet. He took out a few that were blocking the back row.

“How are we supposed to know?” Milo leaned forward over the arm of the couch.

“Well if you get down here with me, then you could see,” Asher looked back. Milo shuffled out from under the blanket and leaned down next to Asher.

“What if we watch Ice Age?” Milo’s eyes locked on the blue and white DVD.

Asher hummed in thought, and then he had a great idea. He turned to David with his eyes lit up. “What if we watch an adult movie?”

“Aren't you not allowed to watch adult movies?” David countered.

Asher turned to look at Milo who only shrugged. Milo had watched a lot of rated R movies, more than he probably should have, either late night on the cable network or because it was some of the only movies his parents owned.

“Okay and?”

David adjusted his sitting position. “Won’t you get in trouble?”

David knew that if his dad had found out he watched something he wasn’t supposed to, he might have a very stern conversation about waiting to watch it with his dad so they could talk about if something disturbed him.

“Well my parents aren’t here. Besides Madelyn is in charge. And she won’t care!” Asher continued. He leaned down to the bottom shelf and slid one of the movies out: American Psycho.

“I won’t care about what?” A feminine voice asked. Asher turned to see his sister leaning against the door frame between the entryway and living room. Asher’s eyes looked down at the DVD in hand. His mouth opened to come up with some other excuse, but man, was he a bad liar.

“Ash. Give that to me,” Madelyn walked over before he could respond, Milo scooting out of the way. She snatched it out of Asher’s hands.

“What?! That’s so not cool!” Asher whined. “You watched it with your friends last week!”

He jumped up off of his knees so he could be at his full height.

“Maybe because I’m 15, and you’re barely 11,” Madelyn rolled her eyes. “Besides, I don’t want to get blamed by Mom and Dad if you have nightmares.”

Asher crossed his arms and bore his hatred and annoyance into his stare. Maybe that would get her to give the movie back. . .

Madelyn wasn’t budging.

She rolled her eyes again. “Fine. Chillax. You can watch any PG-13 movie in there, how about that?”

Asher held out his pinky, after a second Madelyn linked hers with his and they both relented.

Asher grinned and dropped himself back down to the floor. “Booyah!”

He would take what he could get.

Madelyn set the movie on one of the shelves before going to walk out of the room. She glanced at David, re-evaluating her decision. “Make sure it’s not too bad of a movie.”

He quietly nodded. With that, Asher's sister left. After a few more minutes of analyzing every possible movie, and checking the back for its rating, Asher had found the new selection.

“Okay! New plan! We’re watching Mean Girls!” He excitedly announced. The cover was pink and it looked like a rom-com to David.

“Looks fine,” David agreed. Milo nodded.

“Sick! Okay. I’ll put this in, and then go start the popcorn,” Asher opened the case and gently took the movie out. The DVD player whirred, loading the movie onto the TV screen, and soon the previews began.

~~~~

As always, I have no ownership or rights to these characters, stories, or franchises. I write this to appreciate the content Redacted ASMR/audio makes. Anything I write is not official in their stories, other than using moments from the original story line. I make no profit from this.

Please don't steal.

[screamintoad]

The Footage

A/n: Happy October everyone! This isn’t canon in way, shape, or form to Agate. It was just something that I thought could make goosebumps raise. 

CW: descriptions of gore, cannibalism, Agate manipulates and manslaughters

 Break has come to a close and the students of Night Raven College have returned to their normal schooling routines. Well, it would be normal if it was quieter. All day the students have been talking around and raving over something. And Agate wanted to know what that something was. 

  During lunch she approached a group of students who were huddled around a central student who was showing off what looked to be a beaten up camera. The students saw her approaching and immediately dispersed to make room. She raised a brow and gestured to the camera, “Where did you get that?” She asked. The student, who she saw was in Heartslabyul from his red vest, held it out for her to see. “It was washed up on the shore by my house and I found it over break. It’s a camera that belonged to a diver.” 

  She cocked her head to the side, “How do you know it belonged to a diver?” She asked. A hint of criticism laced her voice. “Let me show you.” So the student turned the camera on and started playing distorted footage. 

  The beginning of the first video began with a man talking with who Agate presumed was a friend. They were on a boat and were wearing diving gear. They talked about how perfect the weather was as they wanted to check out a new part of the ocean that most told them to avoid. 

  They should’ve listen.

  The next clip was of them swimming in the open sea. The camera now situated on the first guy’s diving suit. He looked down and somehow missed the large figure swimming far below them. The camera barely caught its glowing stripes before the man swam up to the surface. The footage glitched out here and the following clip was cut at the two drinking on the boat. The other without the camera looked around as they felt something bump the boat. He peered over the edge when a large clawed, webbed hand reached up and dragged him over and into the cold water. When the cameraman panicked and looked for his friend all he saw floating was a severed arm. 

  The video glitched out again as vibrant blue eyes could be seen peering out of the seemingly endless water. 

  Next clip’s audio was as disturbing as it was distorted. The man was underwater now and you could hear him thrashing around as the sounds of flesh tearing and bones breaking was all that could be heard. The water now a deep red color. The camera was finally dropped from his hands and sunk down to the sea floor. A large merfolk with teal skin and blue stripes bit into the man and ripped him into two. Another large merfolk that mirrored appearance joined the feast. They communicated with various clicking noises as the larger, older one rammed into the boat and began ripping off pieces from it. 

  The last video showed off the wreckage. The 2 merfolk from before circled around the destroyed boat, with how dark it was you could only see their glowing stripes as they passed. One of them had 2 pairs of horns, one set bigger than the other. What seemed to be the silhouette of a shark swam in front of the camera but it was quickly grabbed by the horned merfolk. It’s claws dug into the creatures flesh and tore its fins off. Its teeth bit chunks out of it in a way that could only be described as, brutal. 

  The screen went dark as the student turned the camera off. “So that’s the mystery I’m going to solve!” He proclaimed. Agate jolted back as she realized she leaned closer to the camera to closely examine everything. “That is a piece of crime evidence.” She stated, “It needs to be reported to the authorities. It is not something to be taken lightly.” Her tone had a bit of bite to it. 

  “Go too far or you’ll be drowned.” She warns many of the people who do business with Azul. Now, she’s warning someone who may go too far for his own sake and curiosity. 

  The foolish young man shrugged her statement off so, she took matters into her own hands. That camera needed gone. She needed it gone. What was, it, precisely? The one that bleeds. 

  The week passed by in a blur to Agate yet to him, it was agony. Constant dreams-no-nightmares of a vicious attack. A voice calling out into the night, drawing him to follow. One night, he made the mistake of listening. 

  The sound of something howling lulled him out of campus and down close to the sea. He stood on the ledge of a cliff as the call finally quieted and he was brought back to his senses. His breathing became ragged as he panicked and looked around at the seemingly empty night. The ocean waves crashed against the rocks below him, a deadly reminder of one wrong step and he would be gone. 

  He was about to take a step back when the sound of the waves seemed to pause. In a flash of lightning from the brewing storm, there was a giant creature at the cliff with him. Its arms held its large torso up and out of the water. Its skin was smooth and teal in color. Yet its stripes and eyes and horns all shared the same bright blue glow. 

  Those eyes…

  One quick motion was all it took for the student to be grabbed and yanked towards the merfolk as it fell back into the water. 

  The night fell silent once again. 

  Bright rays from the morning sun are what woke up Agate the following morning. She yawned and the taste of metallic still lingered in her mouth. She looked around to catch her bearings as she remembered what had happened. Now she was in a cave that had a small lagoon in it, yet there was a tunnel from the lagoon out to the open sea. She stretched and stood up. Her clothes a mess, she determined that it was easier to just toss em into the water. Something would surely eat them, just as she did last-

  With the camera in hand she gave a short knock on the Headmage’s office door. Without a reply she walked in anyways. Crowley very awkwardly gestured her to sit but she didn’t. Agate held out the camera before sitting it on his desk. “I would like to report a missing student.” Her voice now far more alert. She wore her dorm uniform as she had a shift right after this. “He said that he wanted to find the mystery behind the footage on this camera but, I believe it is best for the island’s authorities to go through it.” She finished her claim and left before the Headmage could utter out anything. 

  As she turned a corner she bumped into a very frazzled Riddle, “Excuse me! Have you seen…” the name of the student fazed through her mind as she replied.

  “I last saw him yesterday. He came to the lounge and left after saying he was going for a swim.”

[brick-a-doodle-do]

ITS DOOOOONE WOOHOOOOOOO FIC TIMEEE :3333

SPIDERMANSPIDERMANSPIDERMAN! i originally wrote this for beckyu and i kind of still did but i feel bad giving her straight angst so it was INSPIRED by beckyu and her liking of superhero au's at the time dhdjfnnsn

ty to @munchkin1156 and @a-xyz-s for the ending ideas, ANDDD thank you munchkin, @dingbatnix and 3d for proofreading ILY 🫶

(title from doomsday by derivakat)

you're stuck in the web and caught in the lie

wc: 6748

cw: sfw vore, unwilling prey, fatal vore mention, mentions of puking, (lots of) panic, little comfort

—-—

The bulb in the bathroom teases with his sanity, flickering in the corner of Wilbur’s vision as he stares at himself in the mirror. His eyes are heavy, exhaustion lingering on them, for moments before he had been passed out after a long night. Ultimately, he had been woken up by commotion in the streets, but loud feedback from the radio in his room is what drove him out of bed and stumbling into the connecting bathroom. 

Tommy, a borrower he had discovered just before starting his vigilante work, hadn’t been anywhere to be seen as of this morning, which he considered a given since he was housed on the other side of the flat and slept through almost anything.

So, it was just him, splashing water on his face and dabbing it dry with a hand towel. His mask hangs over the edge of the sink bowl, looking warped without a wearer. Wilbur stares at it, frowns, and sighs while swiping it off the porcelain. The tight, sturdy yellow and black fabric stretches in his fingers as he fidgets with the edge of it. After a tiresome moment of consideration, he swipes his hair back and slides the mask on, fitting it under the bodysuit. Wilbur then takes his top layers of clothes off, throwing his shirt and shorts onto the hamper and stretching in the skin-tight suit that makes him cringe.

His radio chatters louder than normal, screams and police sirens amplified through fuzzy audio. He briefly hears someone discuss his name—his hero one, at least—and discuss his absence. Wilbur yawns. He’d rather slip back under the covers of his bed and drift off until the foreseeable future. The only thing standing in the way between Wilbur and his comfort is his moral obligation to perform no bad. 

Offering his masked face a tired rub, he trudges from the bathroom with heavy feet and finds his way back into his bedroom, listening for any indication of where the disturbances are before shutting it off. It goes silent, and now audible are the distant sounds of police sirens echoing throughout the city. Wilbur unlocks his window and slides it open, stepping over the edge and out onto his fire escape. He shuts it, then places two fingers over his palm. Instantaneously, a pearl white web shoots from his wrist, latching onto a nearby building. Quickly, he pulls himself up onto the railing and jumps, hand wrapped tediously around the web as he swings, legs curled up with practiced ease. Through his fatigue, he finds his way through the city, web after web latching onto different buildings that he only lingers on for a few seconds before jumping to the next. 

A few flashes catch his attention from down below as the early-morning crowd of people notice the hero's arrival. For the most part, he ignores them, instead keeping his eyes out for the sounds of sirens and the sight of distress. 

Spotting a crowd, Wilbur zeroes in on it, instinctually latching to a nearby apartment building and landing on the roof half-gracefully. He creeps over the edge, crouched as he approaches. There’s a gathering of police cars, a count of three ambulances and two nearby fire trucks. A whole crowd of pedestrians and traffic has positioned themselves outside of a ring of orange barriers. The only thing Wilbur can’t locate is the problem.

He scans the street, looking beyond the crowd and studying the depths of the block. Wilbur gazes over the horizon, where the only thing to meet him was the beginning of a sunrise. Despite his yearn to watch the upbringing of the morning, he turns his gaze away to find his villain. 

A scream grows exponentially, echoing through the busy street and filtering through his mask. Wilbur whips his head over his shoulder, eyes narrowing as he scans the skyline. He huffs as he’s left without eyes on the villain. 

About half-way to the edge of the rooftop in hopes of contacting the police down below, there’s a piercing screech from directly behind him. Wilbur startles, the noise making him wince and cringe hard enough, leaving him now falling over the edge of the rooftop and into open air, where his eyes widen at the realization of the descent. Reacting quickly, he shoots a web to the railing and latches on, jerking to a stop before letting the web retract and raise him back to the rooftop. Wilbur connects his fingertips and feet with the concrete wall, sticking to it effortlessly while he creeps up the side of the building. 

Through his awkward angle of the top of the ground, he spots a misplaced train car half-dug in the concrete, minute sparks still flying from the impact. Wilbur spots a round of people inside through the tinted windows. They’re jarred, no doubt, presumably both mildly and gravely injured. Only few still move about the confined spot, mostly with agitation and fear. He doesn't mind them for the time being, more focused on the culprit of the disturbance. 

Despite the size of Essempi and their neighboring towns, he didn't meet a lot of supervillains. Occasionally some with creative costumes, though they don't pose much threat—he had himself half-convinced that the serenity of the town was just the beginning of some in-progress-anti-hero organization. 

So, there weren't many villains who could make the technology to haul a train car onto a rooftop. 

His imagination doesn't have to run much longer, for the mechanical noises of XD’s robotic extra arms draws his attention to the side, where the approaching villain stares around the skies for him. Satisfied with his obscurity, Wilbur raises a little bit to get a better view of the scene.

Suddenly, there’s an irritating whir that toys with his eardrums. He looks back, a helicopter catching his line of vision. Fuck. Just as he notices it, the spotlight ticks on and lands directly on him.

Wilbur gasps, squints at the bright light. The space now illuminated around him and XD’s attention turned to him instantly. He ducks down, spinning around so his back is against the wall and facing out to the city. Wilbur finds the attention of the aircraft and makes a motion akin to slicing his neck, silently portraying that they’re doing more harm than good. 

Abruptly, part of the light is obscured from above him, thankfully shadowing the blinding light, although posing even more of a problem than potential blindness. Wilbur sighs, looking up to see XD’s carved mask—his old one—the cracked thing boring daggers into his own mask. 

“Spiderman! Y’know, I thought I hated the cops, they just weren't ever on my side, but look at this! They helped me find you,” XD says, chuckling and then offering a salute to the aircraft. Wilbur’s shoulders slump a little as he flips back over and climbs up to the rooftop, hopping over the railing to find footing on the concrete ground. From this view, he notices that XD’s figure isn't laced with thick armor and his grand mask, and he’s instead stood, black slacks and a neon hoodie with his old smiling mask slapped on his face. His hands are in his pocket, looking casual, almost lazy. 

“You look like you've seen better days,” Wilbur says. Why hasn’t XD made a move yet? 

Dream shrugs. “Didn't want to be too…noticeable.” 

Wilbur looks at the bright green hoodie he’s sporting and then at the train car of people. XD’s arms twitch. 

“You should reconsider,” Wilbur suggests. Within a moment, he flicks a web at XD’s mask to distract him enough before darting to the left of him and running after the train car to help the civilians. XD isn't showing much interest in fighting him, 

Immediately as he approaches the car, he gets halfway to wedging his fingers between the seal in the doors before there’s five metallic fingers wrapping his torso and pulling him through the air. It throws him, wind screaming in his ears around him and hissing in his ears as he begins his descent—over the open air, no building to catch him. The crowd beneath him gasps, loud enough to bring him back to reality. 

His hands find a familiar position and he has the quick reaction to latch two webs onto the railing again. He retracts in a second, back onto the railing, crouched with his hands on the cold bars.

XD still isn't moving. He’s everything but hostile, apart from launching him off the side of the building. The spotlight from the helicopters above whirs loudly, circling the two on the building. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Wilbur asks finally, snapping XD’s attention to him.

“Okay—look, I should've really planned this out, and I don’t want to totally humiliate you…” XD trails off. Wilbur slips off the railing and onto the roof, standing up to await the villain’s plan. 

“It's kind of late for reconsidering the humiliation, didn't you just launch me off a building?” Wilbur points out.

“Shut up! I'm thinking,” XD insists. 

Wilbur sighs. He runs again, flicking yet another web at the train car. He jumps, the web retracting and he glides overhead the villain, who through the corner of his vision is still caught up picking web off his face. 

He lands on the roof of the train car with grace, considering his next move. Wilbur carefully climbs down to the back of the car, where he’s barely visible. Soothed at the fact, he offers a wave to the city-goers in the car. “I'll get you out,” Wilbur whispers, more of a reassurance to himself than anything.

Winding a quick punch and releasing it just as quick, the glass in the window cracks from his enhanced strength. The surrounding people inside the car step to the side on instinct as he punches again, the crack deepening. Through the reflection in the windows, (Any lighting in the car had been replaced by phone lights, making it incredibly difficult to see inside), he spots one of XD’s arms launching at him. Wilbur jumps, landing on the roof of the train car and wincing as he listens to glass break. 

“That car isn't for you to save, Spiderman,” XD says, coldly, his voice less casual and reminding him of their typical encounters. The arm launches for him again and Wilbur dashed out of the way, flicking a web across the building and dashing out of the way.

He darts out of the way for the third time, huffing out in impatience. “Oh, so you brought it up here for fun?” Wilbur asks, shooting a web at XD’s arm, effectively folding it against the villain’s back. 

He hisses out in victory, although the action is short lived because as he jumps from the railing, overtop of XD and going for another calculated web, the wind is knocked from his chest as he’s grabbed from the air and jerked to the side. Wilbur groans out in pain as he’s shoved to the concrete, which startles a shriek out of him. It’s then that he’s brought back to open air, dangling from the ground with an irritated scowl hidden underneath his mask. His shoulder stings from where it had slammed into the ground, but when he tries to soothe it with a rub, he finds his hands are pinned to his side. 

Wilbur glares at XD. 

“I’m going to put you down, and we’re going to talk.”

Wilbur knows obliging would be the best decision, leading him to tentatively nodding at the offer. As suggested, he’s lowered down, cautiously, the arm then retracting with a whir and laying on the ground beside XD’s form. 

“Have you ever heard of the trolley problem?” the villain asks, his real hands still in his pocket. Wilbur shrugs.

“In passing,” he says, “Why? I don't see anyone else hostage, do you know how the Trolley Problem works?” he muses, brows furrowing at XD’s response: something of a laugh. 

“You have two choices here, alright?” Suddenly, a screeching sound is scraping at his ears, two of XD’s arms wrapping the car and holding it up, right near the edge of the rooftop. “Save a train car full of people,” the villain continues, then reaches into his pocket. Wilbur squints as the villain pulls something small from the depths of his hoodie and holds it up, a string with something on the end of it dangling in the air. 

His heart sinks. Tommy.

“Or a pest. Your pest.”

Wilbur’s mouth falls agape, his shoulders slump, and his hands tense. Play it off, Play it off. He still has the time to embarrass XD and make him believe he has the wrong guy. Surely XD doesn’t—actually know his identity.

“I don’t see anything,” Wilbur says, his voice rushed and quivering.

“It's—It’s on the end of the string, look—there's some pest at the end of it.” XD clarifies, a smudge of humor in his tone. 

Wilbur lets the clarification run dry and finds himself bitterly glaring at XD. The villain hums, shakes the string a little. As he does, Wilbur watches Tommy flail at the end of it. His heart pounds in his chest, twisting at the thought of the poor borrower caught up in his work. He tried hard to keep Tommy out of it—he never even hinted at it. The idea that Tommy dangles in the grasp of Wilbur’s enemy without any hope that someone could save him makes Wilbur want to puke. 

A scream from the people in the train car snaps him out of his thoughts, adjusting him to his very real situation that he needs to find a solution to. He can save Tommy from a lethal fall, or save a cluster of people from an equally deadly height.

“Which one, Spiderman?” XD persists. 

Suddenly his lax clothing and old mask doesn't seem so lazy anymore, and Wilbur finds himself staring at the carved out smile with disbelief. 

“Did you wake up and decide to do this?” Wilbur asks. He’s wasting time. The hero watches as Tommy is drawn a little higher, and the likelihood of death increases massively. Meanwhile, Wilbur just stands there.

“I was bored. Wanted to test my theories about you, turns out…I was right,” XD hums. Wilbur knows that XD is clawing at the inside for a chance to blurt his name out and rip the bandaid off. Something in Wilbur has to hand it to the villain, though, because even with an audience of news reporters and cops and civilians, he still has held off. 

Okay. This cannot be hard. (Albeit reluctantly), He’s Spiderman. Wilbur can always do both. 

“I’ll take the train,” Wilbur decides, “leave the 'pest’,” he lies, easily. The words are like poison to his tongue, but he’s found an obvious route to take. 

“Okay. Okay! Well, what's your heroic plan without a little entertainment?” XD comments, then releases the car immediately, his silver arms retracting and glistening under the rising sun. Wilbur yells out, running near the edge of the building to go after the train, although before he can get the momentum to jump off, he notices that XD has dropped the rope holding Tommy. 

His eyes widen at the realization, he screams out a rushed “Tommy!” and quickly, he flings a web in the vicinity of the borrower, hopefully latching onto him before taking to the railing, finding his footing before jumping off of the building. 

Calm and calculated, trying to ignore the blood rushing in his ears and the way his head screams about his inevitable failure, he instantly retracts the web holding (what he hopes to be) Tommy, then lifts his mask up in a panic, getting a good grip on the clump of web before shoving the flash of white into his mouth and pulls the mask back down over his mouth. His mouth shuts with a click that blurs his thoughts of a plan. 

Briefly, he recognizes movement within his maw, and with the reassurance, Wilbur finds the time to finally focus on the train car, which plummets, although nothing too worrying yet, especially as he now has the opportunity to advance downwards, the wind lapping all around him. He’s done this a thousand times. 

Something clicks against his teeth, hitting from the inside. The wind in his ears and the adrenaline completely flooding him makes it hard to focus on the fact that he had hit bullseye on Tommy, and even more is he distracted at the fact that the poor thing is scared out of his life, in the clasp of someone he doesn't know he trusts. Trapped in their mouth no less. He runs a worried tongue over the figure in his mouth to try and resolve the boy’s fear. It was half-assed but all he could muster as a thousand ideas for saving the car floods through his mind and thoroughly bury the memory of Tommy.

A web shoots from his wrist and flies through the wind, whistling against it before coming to a halt when the edge of the web reaches something solid, the edge of a building, just a temporary brace until he can build another. He flicks another web, and another, and another, and he feels the energy leaving his body as Wilbur constructs a base for the car to land in. It’s already caught on the first one he did, but the weight of the metal and the people inside has the web splitting. 

By the time he finishes the landing pad, it’s mere feet from the streets, housing the fallen train car. Meanwhile, now no longer distracted, his blurry mind has the ability to shoot one last web onto a balcony near the scene. Wilbur jerks as the web pulls taught, something in his head shifting to panic, but he ignores it while letting the web retract and guide him up onto the balcony, which he clambers onto and falls over in an instant, something of this morning’s fatigue, his mix of emotions, and the overuse of his silk making him a useless pile of black-and-yellow fabric. 

(*)

Tommy is screaming. He knows he’s screaming, even though the noise is barely audible over the lapping sound of the helicopters that circle the area, which had irritated him enough into covering his ears, he still is screaming. The disturbance of the helicopter had been enough to distract him, and as he zones back in as Spiderman had yelled out something incoherent, and then weirdly, his own name. 

It was then that he finally felt the rush of cold air against his body, and it was then that he registered that he was falling, concrete growing closer and closer and closer, and—his abrupt fate was cut off by an equally abrupt something clashing into him and expanding, surrounding his entire body and jerking him through the air. His stomach sinks at all the movement. He struggles against the sticky web that he’s caught in, memories of getting caught up in spider web as a borrower flashing through his memory. If not for the fact that this situation was nothing similar, and that this was quite literally life or death, he might’ve found comfort in finding some resemblance of his home life.

Wilbur. 

Oh, Wilbur's going to get home and think Tommy abandoned him! Oh, oh fuck—

Suddenly, there's another pull in his gut and he’s screaming even louder as he falls, plummets, zips through the air. It whistles around him, his ears throb, and his hands are shaking so much he can barely even wipe the tears off of his face without it being consistent with hitting himself. There’s a thick groan that murmurs from his mouth as, despite the layer of web between him, he’s tossed against someone’s hand, whiplash settling in nicely with his jittering soul.

He barely recognizes the black and yellow fabric all around him before he’s catching his gaze on a distantly familiar bottom profile of a face, one that, terrifyingly, opens up and draws Tommy close. 

“No, no, nonononononoNO—” Tommy yells, a mouth suddenly his only surroundings. The morning light illuminates the space around him, rows of human teeth entirely surrounding him, fleshy pink walls and the faint outline of the opening of a throat just mere inches from him. 

“Shit! Let me out, fuck—HELP ME!” Tommy pleads, screaming, he can't even help but try to be hopeful in a time like this. He can’t even wrap his head around the fact that he thinks he'll be curled up in Wilbur's hands tonight if he asks. What is he, four? 

Tommy sobs. Tears break through, finally the adrenaline of the situation coming to a screeching halt as soon as the mouth he’s in shuts tight, the the jarring view of the city overhead coming to a close with an echoing click that replays in his mind a thousandfold. Tommy sobs again, shaking, his struggling within the cage-like web intensifying. He has a higher chance of avoiding becoming food if he can stand up and fight. 

Finally, finally, his legs can move more than a few inches. His legs are free, and he tears his arms free, picking the excess pieces off of him, baring his teeth as he strains his arm just to get free. He can barely fend off an inanimate spiderweb, he can only imagine the idea of fighting off a prodding tongue that’ll inch him slowly to the back of the throat that’ll send him to his real death. 

He pulls at the silky material, which has been soaked slightly as the person's saliva fills the room. It's at the moist sensation under his fingertips that he realizes how suffocatingly damp it is. Tommy pats at the surface underneath him, cringing, almost gagging at the fact that he’s sitting atop a tongue. He’s…he’s going to die, he’s sitting on his deathbed. 

He can barely maneuver himself to stand up without fucking falling. Tommy jerks a little bit, almost falling into the person's teeth at the movement. 

Finally stumbling to a stand with a scowl on his face, he tries to feel around for something solid. He seems to reach teeth, because his pounding fists collide with something hard. He punches at them, sobbing, a sudden weakness in his form overtaking him. 

“Let me out! Please! I—I can't die, not right now! I—I just—” Tommy finds himself stuttering over his words. He doesn't know why he doesn't want to die. There shouldn't be a problem if he simply ceased to exist, though the idea still tormented him. 

If he were to die, it at least shouldn't be at the hand of something Tommy had spent most of his life avoiding, and certainly not by something he had foolishly begun growing to trust. 

The feeling of something wet seeps into his clothing, prodding at him—and so caught up in his cries he takes an embarrassingly long time to recognize that there’s a tongue placed by his shoulder. Tommy shrieks as he does realize, scrambling away from the muscle the best he could, (which wasn’t easy, considering the thing took up most of the mouth). 

He swallows down a gulp of vomit, cringing at the fact that he’s even existing right now. Tommy draws a hand to his face, fisting his tears away. It doesn't matter in the end, as by the time he gets his face dry it's ruined by another orbit of tears. He still shakes, his hands propped in his lap while he leans against the closed rows of teeth, awaiting his inevitable fate. 

Just as expected, the world jerks, heavy, heavier than before, and suddenly he’s almost downed in a pool of saliva as he’s drawn back, back, and, NO—he claws aimlessly at the tongue, his efforts run useless while he’s shot down the throat in an instant. His hands fail to cling onto purchase and he slides, easily, too easily. He can't flex his limbs enough to flail, and even if he did the struggle would go unmatched against the pool of acids he’s about to meet. 

He falls, he screams as he falls. His gut churns at the fact that he’s landed in someplace new, equally as dark as a mouth but painfully obviously not. 

It’s hollow, nothing like the tunnel he just traveled down. It’s warm and suffocating, however, and he feels as if he couldn't breathe. Probably because his nose is stuffy and breathing in through his mouth triggered another fit of sobs. 

Tommy stretches his arms to feel his surroundings, coughing, then immediately sobbing again upon the feeling of fleshy walls that contort around him, flexing slightly. He’s going to die. He’s going to puke—he is dead. He falls against the surface he’s surrounded by, attempting to draw his knees up, though they slip into the thin pool at the bottom of the chamber, his chamber. 

The warm liquid soaks his shoes, and in half a second, he’s convinced himself that it stings, and that he’s going to die within the next five minutes. 

If only Wilbur were here. He would know how to calm him down, even if he was dying. If he was on his last breath and Wilbur was there to reassure him, he’d believe him. Full-heartedly. 

Tommy punches at the fleshy walls, yelling, despite how much strain it puts on his already-sore throat. “Fuck,” he whines, sliding against the walls and sighing.

He has a plan for everything. Wilbur, as a joke, locked him in a jar once, then proceeded to accidentally forget about him, and he inched off the counter until he fell and broke the jar. He was all cut up but he was out. So, why isn't his brain catching up to date with recent events and getting him a plan? 

Tommy knows why, but he doesn't exactly want to admit it just yet. 

His surroundings jerk, throwing him to the other end of the area before the walls squish in on him, embracing him from all angles and making him wail at the fact. His face is pressed against the slick flesh, the pool of saliva and, (what he tells himself is) acid, he sobs again. Again again, his body aches as he shakes with somber origins, again he cries again, Prime, why won't he stop crying? 

(*)

By the time Wilbur regained feeling in his head and it was no longer a sludge of mixed emotions about what just happened and reassurance that he had Tommy, and by the time Wilbur had picked himself up from where he lay on the cold concrete of a balcony and webbed away, he realized there was nothing in his mouth. 

But, he completely remembers the web with Tommy in it being secure in the makeshift pocket while he did his work, so why wasn't it there anymore?

Wilbur lands in the crowd, wincing as he catches the attention of news broadcasters. He’s about to web away to avoid public attention when something in his gut hits him so gently that he pauses, and his eyes widen. Wilbur pauses, freezes, then shudders.

Tommy. 

He runs off, immediately, into an alleyway where he leans against the wall and places a disbelieving hand to his gut. “Wh—Tommy?” Wilbur whispers, careful as to not catch the attention of the nearby reporters.

There’s a response. It’s faint, he can’t hear it—shit. At the very least, he’s alive—hopefully for the time it takes to get him out.

Okay, just…focus. He’s focused before—he has to be focused to unstick. But he’s never swallowed anyone before! Wilbur closes his eyes and pulls his attention to the moving figure in his gut, squeezing in his stomach and pretending like he’s trying to puke, (which probably wasn’t the best idea considering he does feel like he’s two webs away from vomiting his guts out). 

The attempt is disturbed by flashing cameras, which startle him to a defensive position and make him forget about his focus. He groans, staring at the news reporters that have taken to crowding around him, cornering him in the alley. 

“I’m gonna be real with you guys, I think there’s a lot more interesting things to film than me,” Wilbur says, huffing out a dry laugh.

“Why did you wait until the last second to save them?” A reporter asks. I was saving someone else, Wilbur muses in his mind, once again reminded of Tommy.

“Seriously, leave, I’m done with this scene, you should be too,” Wilbur tries. 

The reporters only grow closer, photo after photo after photo—it overwhelms him, to say the least, especially with the fact that his gut is being absolutely attacked by Tommy. It takes a lot for him to not curl up against the brick wall behind him and murmur reassurances to him. Flashes and questions blur in his mind, and thankfully his energy has seemed to return and he has half the mind to toss two fingers over his palm. A web sprouts, spiraling up onto the building above so he can get away from the crowd of people. 

Landing on the concrete, he sprints behind a doorway and kneels there, just in time for a particularly revolting punch from the inside of his gut that leaves him clutching his gut and gagging as something travels upwards in his gullet—finally. He gags again and feels something thrash in his mouth. Tommy, no doubt.

Without adrenaline rushing through him and numbing his thoughts, he notices there’s a distinct taste in his mouth. It’s tangy and unpleasant, mixed with the taste of salt—undoubtedly tears. He winces at it, making a move for the edge of his mask. Before he could pull it up and beg the trust he just thoroughly undid, the laps of a fucking helicopter catch his attention. Immediately, his hands drop from his face and he scrambles up, flipping them off tediously before running to the edge of the roof and jumping off, landing on the neighboring one. 

Wilbur takes a sharp left, his webs wrapping around a street light. Gracefully, he lands on it, looking around the sky for the aircraft. It seems to have lost sight of him. 

Gently, with his tongue, he pushes Tommy to the side of his mouth and rushes out reassurances while he glides through the city and back to his apartment building.

“You’re okay—I’m so sorry, Tommy. You’re okay, I promise you’re okay,” he says, it’s half-mumbled but it, hopefully, has gotten the point across. 

The little “fuck you!” from within his mouth says otherwise.

Finally, for what has felt like hours when in reality barely half an hour has passed, he finds footing on his fire escape. The security of being home feeling like a boulder off his shoulders. He opens his window, climbing in and shutting it with ease. 

Immediately, Wilbur lifts his mask up and spits Tommy out. The boy quivers against his skin, shaking and murmuring curses with his strained voice. Wilbur’s heart twists, guilt coursing through him even more than the adrenaline had earlier. He did this to Tommy.

“Tommy,” Wilbur calls, his voice soft. His hands find themselves frozen, unable to comprehend how much of a trance Tommy has been put under. “Tommy, hey, king, come on, you’re safe,” Wilbur says, taking a distracted seat on the floor. “Are you

okay? Are you hurt?” Wilbur adds, pulling the tiny a little closer to inspect his shivering form. 

He’s not sure if Tommy actually recognizes that he’s not in Wilbur’s mouth, or even gut. 

“Get the fuck away from me—” Tommy breathes out, his voice shallow and dry. He coughs, shuddering with another sob. Wilbur frowns, deep, watching intently as the borrower collects himself in his cupped hands, shuffling to sit up and glare at Wilbur.

(*)

“I didn’t mean to swallow you, I promise—I just—” Spiderman says, his own lies running dry on his tongue. Why is his voice so familiar? “Just tell me

you’re not hurt, man—”

Tommy doesn't respond to Spiderman and instead takes a look around the space, realizing very quickly that the space is identical to Wilbur’s apartment.

He hiccups, coughing as phlegm gets caught in his throat. “Why are we at Wilbur’s house?”

Something in Spiderman’s face, from what he can see of it, shifts, something of confusion tugging at his lips. Then, in a blink, he’s shifted onto one hand and Spiderman pulls the mask off fully, revealing—

Oh.

Oh.

“Wilbur,” Tommy breathes out, coughing again. His heartbeat picks up at the fact that Wilbur, out of the whole city, sat behind the mask. “You fucking swallowed me,” Wilbur almost flinches at the words, “and you lied to me.”

“You know I wouldn’t hurt you, not intentionally.” Wilbur returns his hands to the cupped position, but Tommy doesn’t move. His eyes are glued on Wilbur. His hair, his worried eyes with tears swelling in them and fatigue lining them as dark bags, his frowning lips, and the black-and-yellow suit that clings onto his body.

“Fuck, Wilbur, you—I don’t even know—” Tommy says, groaning and leaning into Wilbur’s hold. It feels warm, similar to—-

“Are you mad at me?”

Tommy’s eyes widen as he scoffs. “What the fuck?! Of course—-of course I am, Wilbur! I thought I was going to die! I probably would’ve!”

Wilbur winces. Bastard.

“I’m sorry,” the man whispers.

Tommy looks at Wilbur strongly, and for some reason, the action alone is enough to make him sob again. He shudders, goosebumps trailing his spine. 

“No, no—Tommy, you’re okay, man!” Wilbur reassures—or he tries to, it doesn’t really work, because Tommy just ignores it. 

“I’m not!” he retaliates, sobbing into the human’s gloved hand.

“Toms, darling,” Wilbur tries gently, taking his thumb and oh-so-gently drawing it along Tommy’s tiny, red-and-puffy face, ridding of his tears in an instant. His heart hurts at the nickname and the show of affection. “You’re still alive, aren’t you?” 

“I almost wasn’t,” Tommy seethes out. “I would’ve died from that fucking villain you were fighting, you could’ve chewed me to death, and I probably was going to disintegrate when you swallowed me! Fuck you, Wil.”

Wilbur’s expression shifts. “You didn’t die, though, you’re very alive. And, I told you, Tommy, I never wanted to swallow you. It just happened. I must’ve startled too hard and did it.” Tommy scowls. He shifts, his damp feet sliding on the slick fabric of Wilbur’s suit. He almost forgot he was covered in saliva and acid.

“That doesn’t make up for the fact that you did it, instinctually, or whatever. Your brain wanted to eat me, just admit it!”

Wilbur stays quiet.

“Put me down,” Tommy then asks, now growing impatient after the warmth that Wilbur’s hand had provided has since run cold and proved nothing comforting. Wilbur, the bastard, looks so hesitant to his request it makes him shudder. “Wilbur, put me the fuck down,” he repeats, stronger, masking his (dwindling) panic. 

Begrudgingly, looking as if he regrets every moment, the human obliges and lowers the boy onto the floor, close to the bed where Tommy’s nearest nook is. “Thank you,” Tommy offers smally. He doesn’t know if he expected Wilbur to let his hesitance overtake him, but he finds that he’s grateful for the fact that he’s no longer engulfed by Wilbur’s hands and has found a place on the floor, already making a rushing move to the shadows of the bed. 

Though, as he walks, he feels his limbs are tired and ache. He doesn’t understand why they do, however—he had only cried, a mental problem, and he had kept his struggle to a minimum (in terms of how he usually flails), so why did he feel such a strong desire to collapse?

Tommy feels tears swell up in his eyes again, soul tugging at him to break down again. He winces at such fragile sensitivity and strays from his path, pulling off to lean against the leg of the bed. He sighs against it, holding back the floodgates of his tears while trying to ignore that Wilbur is still sat on the floor. He blinks away his tears. Tommy’s throat burns from earlier, also now housing the sobs he’s shoving back down his vocal box. He’s not crying again, no fucking way.

“Are you sure you want to be alone, Toms?” Wilbur asks, still soft as ever. It’s hard to be mad at the bastard when he’s been nothing but reassuring. But he almost died because of Wilbur, three separate times in barely an hour. How could he not be pissed? Then again, he had bargained with himself that Wilbur could be the only one to ever talk him out of the fear of death. Ironic, his mind muses.

“Not really,” he says, coughing a bit. He blinks away another circle of tears. It doesn’t work, and the irritating sting in Tommy’s eyes just pushes him far over the edge and he cries again, drawing his knees up and crossing his arms over them while he stares off into the shadows. He can’t hear much, but not in a concerning way, he’s just spaced out long enough for the only constant in his mind being his shallow cries.

Perhaps as he’d expected, he’s drawn back to reality with a nudge on his side. He grumbles, looking over to find Wilbur’s hand next to him, fingers folded into each other except for his forefinger, which pokes at his side again. From under the bed, most of the man’s face is obscured, but he can see Wilbur’s lips, which sport a fine smile, nothing amused, only genuine.

“Do you want to rest? I think you could benefit from a break from this shitty morning,” Wilbur offers, “we can finish talking later,” he then adds, which the thought of reliving today, even in memories, makes him shiver, but falling asleep on Wilbur had been his one wish when in—there. 

Hesitant, he shuffles up from where he sat. At his movement, Wilbur’s hand opens up and lays flat against the hardwood floor, moments from Tommy.

A part of him does wonder if it’s a ruse, but a lot of him doesn't have the energy to give a fuck. At least, not for right now.

He climbs onto the hand, his own hands bracing Wilbur's fingertips so he doesn't lose his balance, and he finds a seat on the crease in Wilbur’s fingers that connect them to his palm. 

“I'm still actually mad at you,” Tommy says as Wilbur draws him out of the shadows and back into the air. 

“That's okay, sunshine,” the man reassures. Once again, he takes his thumb, the gloves digit rubbing over Tommy’s face, tugging up to dry the last of his tears. The boy grumbles at the touch, but his disapproval only makes Wilbur stifle a laugh. 

“I thought we were resting, dick.”

Wilbur hums, shuffling up from the floor while keeping Tommy steady in his hand. He walks to the bed, sitting on the edge. “And you're sure you’re not hurt?”

Tommy sighs at Wilbur. “I'm not, if I was I would’ve told you, I still trust you. Kind of. Bitch.”

He has such a way with words.

Wilbur just hums, carefully drawing the boy up to his mouth. Tommy scrambles back, pressing further into the hands under him. The panic is short lived, especially as Wilbur only pecks a kiss on the top of his head. 

“Stop that,” Tommy demands. Wilbur draws him back, slightly. At the distance between them, Tommy stumbles to a stand and walks the length of Wilbur's palm and stands on the edge of it, arms outstretched to pull Wilbur’s nose closer to him. He hugs it, or, the best he could. 

“Awe, Tommy,” Wilbur says, his tone high in adoration. Tommy pinches Wilbur’s skin, causing the human to retaliate his hand and drag the borrower with it before situating himself in bed. Tommy snickers, slipping off Wilbur's hand and onto his chest. He frowns at the placement and walks, along the Spiderman suit and latching onto Wilbur’s chin, using all the (lacking) strength in his arms to pull himself up Wilbur's face, stumbling only slightly while readjusting. Wilbur stays still, he can spot the man’s eyes on him, but otherwise he remains  absolutely frozen until the borrower plops down by the older’s nose and gets extra comfortable.

Only because he knows Wilbur wouldn't be able to move him without waking him up, and the human wouldn't dare. 

—-—

taglist: @da3dm, @i-am-beckyu, @local-squishmallow, @skullsnbruises, @krazycat49, @munchkin1156, @nobodywritingao3, @a-xyz-s // taglist request

[veetyuh]

CW: non-graphic mentions of CSAM, graphic descriptions of the mental health effects of viewing it, and rambling about antis in relation to it. If you've heard my shpiel on this, sorry in advance.

I used to do content moderation so I have seen way too much actually vile shit. CSAM included. And it is difficult to describe the gravity of what seeing that does to a normal person. But here's my best shot at what it did to me, anyway.

Imagine you're given a video from some nondescript, totally blank (firstname_numbers) account, and when you open it, you can't quite process what's happening on screen. It's not blurry or dark or otherwise obscured. It's very clear, but your brain won't allow you to accept it for a solid 30 seconds. Then, there's horror that sinks into your bones and makes your stomach turn. There's some sort of primal, lizard-brain fury mixed in — and perhaps you even fantasize over retaliating with things you didn't fancy yourself capable of. There's soul-crushing sorrow as you recall there's nothing you can do to help stop this, and all you can do is bear witness to this atrocity, then pathetically report it after the fact. The video automatically unmutes. The sounds are the worst part. If you've ever seen the brick video, this audio is similar in that it haunts you forever. It's overwhelming. You cycle between these emotions so quickly that they blend into each other, and become greater than the sum of their parts. It's a nuclear bomb set off inside your skull. You want to cry, punch a wall, and throw up. You do none of those things because you are too stunned to function. And then suddenly, there's numbness. Like a switch has turned off all the feelings in your brain. All of the unspeakable things you were feeling are gone in an instant.

Maybe you're a tougher nut to crack. Maybe the switch doesn't flip for you on the first video. So you let those emotions ride out until they've physically exhausted you. You pace and you marinate in the aftermath, feeling like you need to vent but knowing you can't. You can't even summarize what you saw without painting a picture so disturbing that it'll fuck up whoever is kind enough to listen to you. All you can do is turn to a loved one, explain that you saw something earth-shatteringly upsetting, and hope they can distract you. Maybe they express sympathy and give their best effort. Maybe you give your own best effort. Maybe you drink or use substances to get away from it, but it still festers in the back of your mind the entire time.

But that switch will flip for you, eventually. And when it does, it'll have you shitting bricks. It's like a hurricane stopping, only for you to realize you're in the eye. One moment you're feeling physically ill from the strength of your own negative emotions — the next, you can't feel anything. Your head feels different. Clearer, more room for thought. But then you move on to the next video, and the fresh horrors do nothing to you. And that's when the gravity of emotional dissociation sinks in. You can't feel anything. You could cut a man's throat and it would feel the same as tying your shoe. You have tapped into something that feels ancient. It's like you've regressed into a lower evolutionary life form incapable of emotion. Below cavemen. Humans aren't meant to experience something like this. It's the cold, unthinking indifference of a creature which could eat its own young without blinking.

But you use it for good. You use it to function when you otherwise can't, and overcome the task at hand. And it helps you tremendously as a content moderator. Eventually, you get so good at it that you can turn your emotions off at will, and do it before you even view your first video of the day.

It does not help you once you're done. While the metaphorical emotion switch can be turned off at will, turning it back on is a chore. It usually takes a while to wear off. Maybe an hour or two once you're done. But the more you do it, the harder it is to break out of it.

Imagine going back to your normal life while you're stuck in that mindset. You try to watch TV or play video games and none of it brings you any joy — like the worst, most suffocating depression. Except it isn't depression, and you have the will, the energy, and the definite need for something to take your mind off what you've seen, but nothing changes that listless straightjacket your brain is stuck in. There should be dread and panic taking root, because the accompanying thoughts are there. Is this your new normal? Will you ever feel anything again? But there is neither dread nor panic, because your body won't allow you to feel them. Not even chemical alteration gets it back on track, and it's only after you've nursed away the hangover the next morning that you can kindle a tiny spark of emotion, again. And through the searing headache, you wonder if fighting the good fight is truly worth the possibility of being stuck without feelings forever.

All of this to say, repeated CSAM exposure is anthrax. It makes you sick in ways you didn't even know were possible, and if you survive it, the experience will follow you forever. You're also not going to talk about it in public. Even vague descriptions of it are enough to seriously traumatize those who encounter it. It feels like a public safety hazard to talk about. Trigger warnings are not enough. A proper description would warrant a fucking consent form. That's something your therapist has to coax out of you like you're a Vietnam vet with war trauma.

What you DON'T do is repost it. Even if it's to argue or express anger/disgust. You don't scroll the tags looking for it, either. No one in their right fucking mind treats actual CSAM the way antis treat "cp" and that's what infuriates me the most about them. They water down the term the same way kids water down "gaslighting."

Drawings of fictional characters are not CSAM. If you can describe it publicly, if you can repost or respond to it and use it for rage bait, then it isn't CSAM. The people who do this are, very obviously, not experiencing any of the trauma which is involved with viewing real CSAM. They are acting on disgust impulses, and then they have the audacity to imply that their discomfort is tantamount to experiencing some of the most traumatizing material a person can view.

It isn't CSAM. They know that it isn't CSAM. Every sane, socialized human adult knows that it isn't CSAM and I'm exhausted with acting like it isn't incredibly offensive to call it that.

[hotcat37]

Out of context references to my fics but they quickly get worse 😍

CW: DISTURBING IMAGERY/AUDIO

[thenullproject-archive]

ACT I: October 7th, 2020 - THE BEGINNING | Part 1

CW: blood, death, extensive use of audio cues, video glitches/flickering, disturbing content

Next part >>

Kuiper’s discord members get a notification in the announcements channel:

The dimension is quieter than usual.

Hours later, they get this jarring image of Crux from Puns ( @elitebuster2012 ) with the following blurb:

[From Puns' perspective] He knew something was wrong, felt that feeling he dreaded the most in the world, knowing that one of his precious lights had faded. He rushed to where it had last cast its light, and there he found him.

The beauty of the surroundings belied the horror he felt, daisies and marigolds waving gently in the breeze while his son lay in a pool of spreading crimson. He fell to his knees, golden tears dripping from his face, as he lifted the lifeless body. He felt so light, so empty, the boundless light that had filled him to the brim gone.

The god's tears continued to fall as anguish turned to fury, reality itself starting to tremble. When he found the perpetrator, his wrath would be limitless. But who could kill a starborn*…

People noticed that a “password” channel appeared in the server and that something was up with the image.

Video recap of people’s conclusions of the image (courtesy of @cosmiicchaoss recovering the footage from the old, locked twitter account)

People saw that the tail’s markings were written in binary.

It translated to hexadecimal: 66 6C 6F 72 61

Which is finally translated to flora. *note, Starborn was the older name for Starliians, as they are called now!

—————

❌ This project is discontinued!! This is just to describe and archive the events in this server for the enjoyment of past members and people who wish to learn about it. Visit the pinned post for more info. ❌