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brick-a-doodle-do · 8 months

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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.

“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

#mw #brickfic #mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #dsmp g/t #dsmp gt #dream smp g/t #dream smp gt #g/t #dsmp vore #t!tommy #tiny!tommy #g!wilbur #giant!wilbur #moral obligation au

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a-xyz-s · 1 year

Text

One hell of a meetup

Characters: human!tubbo and giant!ranboo

Word count: 1350 words

Cw: vore, safe/soft vore, angst, unintentional fearplay, mentions of death (doesn't happen), very light profanity, instincts

Just a short oneshot from almost a year ago I finally got to finishing. Idea, motivation to finish and proofreading provided by the lovely @brick-a-doodle-do am a vore hoe indeed Brick :D

******

"Ranboo?" Tubbo breathed out in a shaken whisper, a wave of cold sweat washing over his neck when his own voice echoed back through the pitch black cavern.

No response.

For a bit he could swear he was dead and in hell, the heat certainly fit the description. What wasn't quite fitting was the sheer humidity, the gentle winds of cool forest air passing by just out of reach, the deep thunderous rumbling of what could've been recognized as a hum and the ever slightly motioning and twitching wet ground right under his stiff sprawl out body. It wasn't long before the realization hit with full force and Prime had Tubbo wished he was dead right then and there.

The bloodchilling memory of what happened only moments ago fought its way to the front of his mind encasing his already blind eyes with panic filled darkness. Then, as if on cue, was the teen scrambling back to his feet, squirming around as his sporadic movements lead to his limbs slipping and sending him tumbling back down, each soft fall followed by a frightened whine.

Desperate determination left his body momentarily, lying limp on the muscle he now recognized as his 'friend's' tongue, heaving heavily, not getting enough oxygen through his system to think rationally. When it began to shift under his weight, he felt his body slipping off of it, slipping closer to… something, gravitation sending him downwards.

Now that? That forced a horrified scream out of his tightened throat, all the determination and adrenaline from moments ago returned in double the force and successfully pushed him up on his hands and knees.

His eyes have adjusted to the dark by now, but without a sliver of light he simply couldn't see, not even his own trembling hands moving him forward were more than pitch black splotches blending with the surroundings.

It's not like he needed to see, he knew his- 'friends' end goal far too well, he knew he just tried to slowly finish him off, most likely savoring the moment.

It wrecked a choked sob out of him, he never thought meeting up with an online friend, someone he trusted with his life, would cost him his life.

Guiltily he thought back to his parents, all those well-meant warnings and stranger danger talks he's had through the years, Prime, he hated them so much, but what would he give now if he had just listened.

Tubbo growled, he felt rage boiling his insides substituting the previously consuming panic, this wasn't fair. None of this was fair!

All he wanted was his friend, not just the comically deep voice coming through his phone's speaker, nor the half pixelated face smiling back at him. He wanted to hold him in a long tight hug, which he'd make sure was only the first of hundreds more. But he supposes that was too much to ask of life.

Ranboo may have tricked him, but there was no way he was going to give up, going to make it easy for the motherfucker. Oh fuck no!

He's going to reach the front, reach the teeth and then kick with all the force he can muster, if it takes a lost tooth for the bastard to open his jaws, if that's the price for Tubbo's life, then it's one he will be paying.

'Surely just a bit closer', Tubbo reached his arm out trying to feel for the teeth, he felt nothing but void in front and before he could piece together the puzzle his other hand slipped.

This time there was no slimy plush to catch his fall, he felt the upper half of his body slip for considerably longer before stopping at an elongated wall of flesh which wasted no time in doing it's duty. It squeezed around his torso tightly and began pulling down, paying no mind to the protests of Tubbo's hands which tried and failed repeatedly to push him back up.

"RANBOO!!!" the boy screamed in terror. He knew it was stupid, calling out the name of his soon-to-be-murderer, but in the chaos all his mind wanted was his friend.

All at once the tugging stopped and the boy found himself back on unstable ground, he stifled a sob. 'Back on Ranboos tongue', he reminded himself bitterly, but it was a ground no less.

A loud booming vibration came from all around him, startling his tiny-in-comparison form, similar enough to the previous hum, but different in tone to be recognized as something softer. Maybe less of a hum and more of a hush? In any other circumstance it may have even been comforting, weren't it for the burning feeling of betrayal and impending doom.

"Let me go, please," Tubbo broke. "I just- I just wanted to be friends, just to meet you, to have you here with me, to hold you, and- no nO NO NONONO!!!" The boy shrieked, kicking with his boots into darkness which mercilessly drew him in like a magnet. His nails found nothing to dig into, hands nothing to hold onto and feet nothing to push against and so helplessly his body slid back to the very same demise he was spared of moments ago.

This time, as a final nail in the coffin, as the fading light that sealed his fate, the same muscle he found his footing on pushed against his torso. Briefly his back got harshly pressed against the bony roof of the mouth, squeezing all air out of his lungs. Afterwards came a strange sensation, as though he was falling but oh so slowly, like every inch of his fall was slowed by some strange kind of safety measure sliding up his sides, leaving them drenched in increasing layers of slime. His limbs rested there, pinned against his body and rendered useless.

It only lasted ten seconds or so, the longest ten seconds in Tubbos life.

He landed, the soft walls underneath giving in downwards and further softening his ungraceful arrival.

This really was happening, wasn't it?

Ever since he's made eye contact with the giant who had yet to utter more than a hum of uncertain tone and emotion this is where he was bound to end up.

He should've run when he had the chance, should've fought harder and somehow, anyhow, fought off the monster's gluttonous gullet. And he should've begged when he had the slightest sliver of hope his words may be heard. To be frank, he felt an overpowering certainty that nothing he did mattered anymore.

Tubbo let his body fall back, slowly pressing against and sliding down the wall of flesh behind him. His hand, shaking, unable to stay still, traced a soft half circle by his head. More followed suit. Minutes later he finds himself gently rubbing at the stomach walls.

Tears fell silently down his cheeks, everything around, every inch of the plush surrounding him, was Ranboo. His entire world was nothing but his wished-for best friend. And yet, Tubbo felt so alone.

None of this was fair.

******

Ranboo let out another hum, content with the light weight finally resting securely in his storage. The tangled mess of thoughts his mind had become, blinded by primal instincts which screamed nothing but 'protect him', began clearing up now. If he had to guess, Tubbos first reaction to his sheer size may have been the trigger, he didn't hold it against his friend, meeting a giant, in a literal sense, wasn't quite the everyday occurrence.

It was quite fear inducing, but sadly someone forgot to notify his instincts and deliver the message that his friend wasn't in any real danger.

And in the process Ranboo forgot to notify Tubbo, who now sat there, sobbing and trembling terribly, awaiting what he believed to be approaching death.

When he fully awakes from his instinct flooded trance, Ranboo will have a lot of explaining to do, but for now, he was overflowed with joy to finally hold his best friend close.

******

Thank you for reading! Lemme know if you liked this shortie :D

#mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #g/t #g/t writing #mcyt vore #tw vore #dsmp g/t #dsmp vore #unintentional fearplay #tiny!tubbo #giant!ranboo #one hell of a meetup au #oneshot #xyz writes

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kayla-crazy-stuffs · 11 months

Text

Spiderweb

Here I come with another fic :D (A bit short tho)

Hope you enjoy :]

tw: Safe/soft vore, fearplay, fear of dying, death mention

"It's not my fault, you know!?" said a fly hybrid as he flew really fast with his friend. “Yeah, yeah, shut up and keep flying! The stupid bird is about to catch up with us! I don't want to end up being bird food!” said the other.

They were both hovering around the forest they were in, trying to lose sight of the bird that was chasing them.

"Is it still behind us?!" “Yeah, it looks like it's not going to get tired anytime soon! We have to find a place to take shelter!” he answers back, flying faster.

The black-haired man let out a sigh. "I don't think I'm going to make it… My wings hurt…" The other looks at him with concern. “What nonsense are you talking about Sapnap?! Of course you're going to make it! I'm not going to let you die, much less at the hands of a stupid bird!"

Dream quickly approaches his friend and grabs his arm, dragging him along at the same speed. He quickly scanned the surroundings as they flew, his eyes fixing on a hole.

"There! There we can hide from the bird and you can rest your wings!” Sapnap nods as Dream continues to drag him. They quickly head into the hole, when Sapnap's eyes widen in fear. "Wait! Dream stop!” Dream was going to ask him what was wrong, when his eyes also widened in fear and he tried to brake suddenly.

Both hybrids collided with a spider web. “S-Shit…! How could I not see it?!” he yelled trying to get away from it, but it was impossible. The black-haired man next to him sighed deeply.

"Now we are going to die..." Dream looked at him sadly. "Nonono... We'll get out of this Sap-" "No Dream... Not this time..." he interrupted him. He went to try to convince him when a ‘loud’ laugh echoed around them.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here…?” said a voice. Dream and Sapnap looked up, both wide-eyed in terror. "Apparently two small snacks got trapped on my web, huh?"

The voice continued, which turned out to be the voice of a spider hybrid. "Let us go!" Dream yelled at him, being a hybrid, they might have a chance to make it out alive. Or so he thought until the spider spoke again.

"And why should I? You two look really delicious.” He responds with a smirk as he reaches for Sapnap, pulling him out of the web. The raven only squirms in the grip of the larger hybrid.

“Sapnap! Let him go!" Dream yelled, watching helplessly from the web. The spider just looked at him with a smirk, putting the hybrid in his hold, inside his mouth, closing it with an audible click of his teeth.

It wasn't long before the spider swallowed, sending the hybrid down his throat. “SAPNAP!” Dream watched in horror as the bulge, which was Sapnap, made its way down the larger hybrid's throat until it disappeared below the collarbone.

He licked his lips, now looking at the green fly, pulling him out of the web and bringing him closer to his lips. Dream squirmed as hard as he could, but that didn't stop the spider from shoving him into his mouth.

Immediately the tongue began to lick him,covering him in saliva. Dream tried to move away from the muscle in vain. Soon the spider got tired and pushed him to the back of his mouth,swallowing him without any effort.

Dream wriggled his way down until he entered a more open space. He looked around for a moment though he could barely see, someone hugging him from behind. Sapnap.

"Sapnap..." he said softly, looking at the Raven and hugging him back. "I’m sorry..." They both sat up, leaning against the spider’s stomach wall, as Sapnap let out a sob.

He wasn't the type of person who would show his feelings like that, but they were about to die so he really didn't care at that moment.

Meanwhile, the spider just rolled his eyes, they were crying for nothing. They would soon find out about it. So he closed his eyes and with a hand over them, he fell asleep.

#mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #mcyt vore #dsmp g/t #dsmp gt #dsmp vore #tw vore #tiny!dream #tiny!sapnap #giant!???#safe vore #soft vore #they don't know that #fearplay #fear of dying

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data-expunged-0 · 7 months

Text

Apex Predator

Yeah, this is a rewrite of that shitty pred!tommy fic that I wrote a while back.

Anyways, this fic contains soft, safe vore, mentioned fatal vore(don't worry nobody dies in this), angst, and vague threats. Don't like, don't read.

Also, THIS IS ABOUT THE CANON CHARACTERS, NOT THE CREATORS For those of you who can't tell the difference, canon Dream, or c!Dream, is the one who was tortured in a prison. Content creator Dream, or cc!Dream, is the one who does 3v1 Minecraft manhunt rematches every other day.

You scrambled through the forest as Sam chased after you, rain pitter-pattering on the muddy ground. "Just stop running already! Quackity and I just want to talk!" You knew damn well Sam was lying. If he 'just wanted to talk', then he wouldn't have his trident out.

The event was clear in your mind. You owned a home near Quackity's casino in Las Nevadas, and Quackity had called you, asking you to come to his office one last time to have a 'friendly chat.' He then threw a weird, cyan splash potion that shrank you to a fraction of your height and ordered Sam to kill you.

You couldn't outrun Sam. You knew you couldn't. He was far faster than you could ever be. But that didn't mean he was smarter.

Well, he probably was smarter, but he relied on some sort of thermal vision to find keep track of where you were going. He was never much of a tracker, so he had to be tracking something that wasn't scent, since the gas mask would throw that off. Your eyes darted around the forest floor, desperately looking for something you could throw at him or something. You then spotted a puddle of mud.

I saw a guy do this in a toothpaste ad once, you thought to yourself as you covered yourself in mud. You grimaced at its weird texture as it partially dried, but it was either that or getting caught by Sam.

Sam slowed to a stop near you, looking around and sniffing the air. Eventually, he walked right past you, continuing his search. You breathed a sigh of relief once he was out of earshot, but then you heard footsteps. Loud footsteps. And... crying?

Suddenly, Tommyinnit burst through some nearby foliage. From what you'd heard, Dream was messing with Tommy while he was in exile. By the looks of it, Dream had taken things too far.

Unlike Sam, who relied on thermal vison to see you, Tommy spotted you almost immediately. "Reader? Is that you? What are you doing here?" "I- long story."

Suddenly, you heard paws impacting against the muddy ground. Sam was coming back. He'd probably heard you and Tommy talking. Tommy could tell from the fear in your eyes that you needed to hide.

Tommy went through his options in his head. He could shove you in his pocket and run, but Sam would hear him. He could put you in his hoodie pocket, but Sam would hear him and his favorite hoodie would be ruined. There was only one more option, but you wouldn't like it.

"Reader, I have an idea on how we can get out of here, but you need to trust me." "Okay. What's the plan?" "There's no time to explain. You're completely sure that you trust me?" "Yes! Now hurry up!"

Tommy grabbed you with both hands, and you immediately regretted telling him to hurry up. He haphazardly shoved you in his mouth, licking the mud off your clothes and face as you tried not to scream, desperately hoping he wasn't going to do what you thought he was.

Those hopes were immediately crushed as his tongue guided you to the back of his mouth and towards his throat, you bit your tongue until it bled to keep yourself from screaming.

You slid down his esophagus and into his stomach with a wet plop. There, you cried as quietly as you could, hearing Tommy talk to Sam.

"Tommy, have you seen Reader anywhere? I was just looking for them." "Nope. Sorry, big man."

Sam sighed, then walked away. Tommy tried to find a spot next to the tree that wasn't muddy. He sat down, resting one hand on his stomach.

"Alright, so I've got a bit of explaining to do." "No shit, sherlock! What made you think that was a good idea?!" "I dunno, man! I was just..."

Tommy sighed. He didn't really have a good answer. He just knew it would be safe somehow. Neither of you really cared how. Tommy sat under the tree, purring as he started to doze off...

#giant!sam #giant!tommy #tiny!reader #mcyt vore #dsmp vore #g!sam #g!tommy #soft vore #safe vore #not beta read #we die with honor

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quotemenevervore · 1 year

Text

*comes out of the fic void after weeks to throw this and get dragged back in*

Content warnings: soft, safe g/t vore, character thinking they’re going to die or think it’s unsafe for a good chunk of the fic, fear and panic.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The morning had been a slow one, flurries falling around the city as Quackity watched through the window. He’d finished his paperwork for the day, and with the snow falling, he wasn’t gonna have Foolish work on any buildings. He didn’t wanna risk losing him as well, after everything that’s happened. The city itself was still in shambles, leftover destruction from Dream’s most recent scheme. With a sigh, he dug through his pocket to find his lighter and a spare cigarette, one that had been left by Wilbur. He, too, had vanished, and Tommy had told him what had happened. He sighed, lighting it and stepping out onto the balcony. Wilbur may not have any qualms about making the office smell of cigarettes, but the blackette certainly did.

He spent a lot of his time nowadays like this, smoking and reminiscing about the past. The cold air sucked the warmth from his fingers, made the chain around his neck icy cold. The rings themselves still rested against his heart, the only way they stayed warm in the freezing weather. He didn’t even know why he wore them anymore; not even Sapnap had come to check on him after the fight, and he knew that everyone saw the death message. It seemed that they’d finally given up on him.

Like you knew they would, a voice sounding so unlike his own whispered in his head. It was only a matter of time. Abruptly putting the cigarette out, he turned back to the door, effectively cutting the thoughts off and stepping back inside to the warmth of the office.

And yet… his veins flooded with ice when he stepped in.

There was a glass jar on his desk, one that had not been there when he’d stepped out. It wasn’t the jar itself, no. It was the contents of the jar. Inside, slumped against the side of it and clearly exhausted, were his ex-fiancés. They had to have been shrunken to only a few inches tall, and yet he could still make out most of their features; Karl was asleep, hair disheveled and limbs curled awkwardly against his fiancé. Sapnap was also asleep, but he didn’t seem to be any different than usual, only shrunken.

A dark tendril curled in his core at the realization that he could do anything to them, and nobody would be any wiser. Sapnap wouldn’t be his target, prime no. Sapnap hadn’t been the one who screamed at him, who broke their engagement and tore apart his already fractured heart.

But… Sapnap would be deeply upset if he caught Quackity hurting Karl. And he didn’t have a whole lot of time at the moment anyway, he never knew when someone would come to his office. Foolish hadn’t been happy to be told that rebuilding was on hold, after all. Frowning, he thought over his options.

He wanted Karl to see how badly he hurt him. He didn’t necessarily have to kill him to do that, but he couldn’t up and hurt or toy with him if Sapnap was around. He didn’t want to lose the damaged relationship he had with the fireborn. He… could scare him, though. Carefully and quietly unscrewing the lid, he pulled the unconscious brunette out of the jar, replacing the lid with a soft click. Pulling him closer, he took in the man’s features.

He was paler than he should have been, and the bags under his eyes stood out prominently against his cheeks. His hoodie seemed baggier than it had been before, and Quackity was surprised to feel a twinge of concern. Karl didn’t seem to be taking care of himself anymore, and Sapnap has apparently just been.. letting him. He steeled himself, reminding himself of everything he’d put him through, and opened his mouth wide enough to safely place him inside.

He wasn’t going to hurt him yet. If he even chose to hurt him at all, at this point. It seemed he’d been doing a good enough job of that himself. He was just going to put him in his crop, effectively cutting off the contact between him and Sapnap. He can interrogate him later on, when Sapnap had settled in a little better with him while he tried to figure out how they’d wound up like this. For now, he didn’t trust letting the fireborn out of his sight.

The unconscious form barely even twitched as he gently rolled him around, getting him covered in saliva so that the trip down didn’t hurt either of them. Or wake him up, Quackity realized. He’d freak out if he woke up before he was fully in his crop. Well, he’d freak out either way, but it would take him longer to figure out what had happened if he woke up in his crop.

Deeming him slicked up enough, he nudged him back towards his throat with his tongue, keeping close attention on him in case he began to wake up. With barely a stir, he gently swallowed. It took two swallows to get his lanky body down, and he trailed the limp form down with a hand as his mind drifted back to the situation at hand.

Someone had shrunk his fiancés, and he needed to find out more.

~ ~ ~

Sapnap wasn’t sure what had happened when he woke up. All he knew was that his head was pounding, and he felt strange. It took a while for him to be able to open his eyes, but he almost regretted it the second he did. The world around him was warped, somehow.. but it looked like an office. If the office was built by Foolish for his giant form.

Looking up, he saw a metal roof, and something finally clicked for him: the area looked warped because he was inside a jar. And the office, it must have been giant because he’d been shrunk! Slamming his hand against the jar, he tried to break the glass, but even he could feel how thick it was. There’d be no shattering it, even if he were to try using his fire to do so. Instead of his hand, he slammed his shoulder against it, trying to knock the jar to it’s side. Several minutes passed, and all he earned himself was a sore shoulder.

A muffled sound got his attention, and his head snapped over to the balcony door where- oh, fuck. Not only was he shrunken and in someone’s office, he was in Quackity’s office. He hadn’t seen him since.. the fight. The avian walked back to the desk, sitting down and pulling his paperwork back to him with a sigh. He only glanced at the jar a moment, but upon realizing the other was awake he had the other’s full attention.

“Hang on, I’m turning the jar.” Sapnap stepped back as he reached over, carefully turning the jar on its side and unscrewing the lid. The fireborn hesitated only a moment before coming out of the jar and sitting down a little ways away from the giant. He couldn’t help the instinctual fear he felt from looking up at the other, even if he trusted Quackity wouldn’t hurt him.

“So, do you have any idea how this happened?” He shook his head. “I was just sleeping at Kinoko, then I woke up in that jar.” The other hummed in acknowledgment, tapping his pen against the paper absentmindedly. “I didn’t even know this was a thing until now.” “Me either.” Sapnap admitted.

A small silence followed, but the avian cut it short. “I will do my best to look into this, but until then, it may be safer for you to stay here.” The fireborn sucked in a small breath, knowing that mentioning Karl would be a bad idea. Someone needed to take care of him, but.. Quackity wasn’t likely to let him go home like this. Maybe.. maybe some of the other Kinoko members can check in on him. Hopefully George wouldn’t be completely knocked out the whole time he’s gone… “Yeah, probably.”

Quackity could tell what was bothering the other, and he sighed. “I’m sure Karl will be fine until I figure out what happened.” “Yeah…” He really wouldn’t be if he got any worse. He was barely remembering to eat as it was. But there were more pressing matters at the current hand, such as the giant hand sitting right in front of him. Jerking back, he looked up to the other’s face. “I'm not gonna make you stay in my office all the time, we’re gonna go to my house.” “You have a house?” “Well, I’m currently staying in a penthouse in one of the standing hotels. The rest of the damn country got blown to kingdom come thanks to Dream.”

Sapnap carefully clambered onto the other’s hand, trying not to overthink the whole situation. He was crawling into his fucking fiancé’s hand, while his other one is at home continuing to get worse. Hell, he doesn’t even know how this happened- did something similar happen to Karl? The hand curled slightly around him, steadying him as Quackity started to leave the office, locking the door behind him.

The strangest thing to Sapnap, as he was held against the other’s chest, is that he swore he could hear Karl. But that couldn’t be right, right? Surely he’s just imagining it since he’s really worried..

~ ~ ~

Karl had had the strangest nightmare. Dream had been chasing him down, taunting him that he’d ruined his relationship with his fiancés to trip him up. No matter how fast he ran, Dream always seemed a step ahead, and threw a weird potion at him. And when he woke up, he was held tightly in a now giant Dream’s fist, which only tightened as he understandably panicked and thrashed. The last thing he heard before he felt his bones strain under the pressure was , “Don’t worry. Your precious fiancé will join you soon.”

He woke up with a gasp, breathing the muggy air in heavily as his heart tried to calm down. Jame- Sapnap must have had a similar nightmare, if the warm and restrictive surroundings meant anything. Not even counting the loud heartbeat he could hear, the loud whoosh of air as he breathed deeply in and out. But when he opened his eyes.. Sapnap wasn’t there. Plus, his surroundings seemed damp- was this another tale? Was he teleported in his sleep? Dammit, he usually woke up when that happened!

He sat up, eyes narrowing as he tried to decipher what was going on. So his surroundings were damp, dark, and warm, and also incredibly soft. It held him kind of tightly, like an embrace. It seemed to move around him, like it was- he gasped, scrambling back and flinching when his back hit a wall. He was in something. He was in something living, he’d been eaten!

“Hey! Can you hear me? Please let me out!” He kicked his feet out, hands scrambling for purchase against the walls- the stomach walls, which could start secreting acid at any moment- “Please!” He shrieked, panic overtaking him as he started to thrash in his confines. “I can’t- Let me out!”

He struggled for as long as he could, but he already had so little energy to begin with, and he went limp with a shudder, panting for air as tears began to stream down his saliva-coated face. He hadn’t even made a bruise, he didn’t think. There’d been no pained noise from whatever had eaten him. All he’d done was wear himself out. Maybe.. maybe he could sleep through it. Could just respawn in the In Between, lose his second life and just hide away. He couldn’t get away from XD or his demands, but he could hide from everyone to keep them safe.

His tears only slowed because he let his eyes drift close, and he finally let his mind drift off.

~ ~ ~

Quackity felt slightly guilty as he watched his fiancé sleep on the pillow beside him. His other hand smoothed over his abdomen, where his other fiancé had just went back to sleep. He wasn’t going to lie: the hurt, the fear and misery in Karl’s voice made a dark,dark tendril of satisfaction curl around his heart. He’d finally given the other man the treatment he’d put him through. But..

He’d be lying if the other’s hiccuping sobs didn’t also twist his heart in a way that threatened to break it. He’d only just started quieting down when Quackity got them all to his room, and by the time he had both Sapnap and himself laid down for the night, he could tell the other was already asleep. But while he and Sapnap slept, the avian himself was plagued by his emotions, his heart warring over itself over and over again. On one hand, Charlie’s words kept echoing through his head, repeating his own lessons to him. And even his own commentary..

Is revenge worth it? …No.

And yet… he still found himself justifying his actions. He sighed, letting his eyes fall shut. He wouldn’t sleep, he knew that, but he could rest his eyes at the very least.

In the morning, he brought some food and water to Sapnap, leaving it and the tiny man on the floor so he could roam around. “I’ll let you know when I’m at the door, and I’ll give you time in case you’re right behind it before I open it, okay?” “Sounds fine to me.” Sapnap already knew he couldn’t squeeze under the door, and climbing stuff could lead to him falling and dying to the fall damage, so he simply accepted his current situation. Not imprisonment, because as soon as he thinks of it like that he’s screwed. But he just can’t do much on his own at the moment, and that was fine. It had to be.

Quackity offered him a soft smile and a goodbye before he closed the door, sighing as he began his path to his office. The snow had ended, and Foolish was eager to work again so he had to be there to get the estimate that the other had for him. He put Karl on the back burner for the moment, reminding himself to let him out so they both could eat later on. He just wanted the other to start looking normal so he’d feel less guilty, is all. He tried to erase the guilt from his heart as he shut the door to his office.

And now he waited.

~ ~ ~

“-And I’m telling you that that might not work.” Karl’s eyes snapped open when he heard someone speaking, his brain registering it as Drew- no, Helga?- Quackity. Quackity was speaking, and his voice seemed like it was echoing through the organ that he was still in. “Quackity..?” He whispered, eyes wide in disbelief. Quackity sounded too close to be anything but the person who had eaten him. But how was he still alive?

There was no way he wasn’t trying to kill him, not after what had transpired between them. He did not remember the fight fully, it all vague and fuzzy, but he had enough pieces to put it together. He remembered the rainy evening, the distress he felt, the distraught on his fiancés face when he told him to make Quackity leave, and Quackity’s own hurt and anger that he threw right back at him. Quackity wanted him to suffer, and he chose the worst fate he could think of to bestow on him.

Which… also meant that the nightmare he’d had hadn’t been a nightmare. It had to have been real, how else would Quackity have managed to swallow him otherwise? He was confused, scared and above all just upset, and it made itself known when a sob tore itself out of his throat unexpectedly. Everything around him seemed to still, and he slapped a hand over his mouth, terrified. Quackity had to have known he was awake. His shoulders continued to shake with muffled cries as he heard the larger dismiss whoever he’d been speaking with before. A few moments passed, and something pressed against him.

“Relax, you’re safe.” “Safe!?” “It’s a crop, it’s not my actual stomach. Chill out.” The nonchalant, bored tone that Quackity had made him sick with worry. He bit back another sob, thinking about lashing out and hitting at him again. But then he’d probably just get put into his stomach.. But wasn’t he just gonna end up there when he finally got done with him? He hadn’t even realized he started shaking until a soft sigh came from above and the pressure against him started moving.

His hand. It had to have been his hand.

“…Why-“ he wasn’t proud of his voice cracking, and when he realized what he was asking he stopped. Why would you do this? As if he didn’t already figure it out. And it seemed that Quackity knew what he was going to ask, because he remained silent for a moment before responding, bitterness evident in every word. “You know why.” And, yea, he did now, but he hadn’t even remembered what had happened between them. Between the tales, XD’s constant games, and him getting nowhere closer to getting a grasp on his abilities, he hasn’t been able to get his memory back together again. He can’t even remember the last time he updated his memory book..

But Quackity wouldn’t believe that. He knew that for a fact. So instead of responding, he fell limp against the wall, trying to keep his tears at bay. He was going to die thanks to something he couldn’t even control. He still shook, unable to stop the fear still running through him, but he was not comforted again.

~ ~ ~

He didn’t even realize he’d fallen asleep until his eyes snapped open as the organ around him squeezed inwards. His brain caught on quickly, and he flailed his limbs around. No, please, I don’t wanna go like this- “Karl, stop.” The command was harsh, and he flinched, the walls squishing him into a ball. He panted, tears already streaming down his face. He wanted to at least say goodbye to Mas- Sapnap, and George-

“You’re not dying. I'm bringing you up.” His words were softer than before, and the shift hurt his already confused brain. But he got the gist of what the other wanted, holding still and hoping against everything that he was just bringing him out.

Thankfully, he’d been right. Squished back up through the tight muscles of his throat wasn't all too pleasant, and seeing the sharp teeth before him when he’d finally escaped the pressure only spiked his heart rate. But he was gently grabbed by the man’s tree-like fingers, and deposited onto the desk. Beside him sat a cracker, with a slice of meat and cheese atop it, along with a small container full of water. There was a large, possibly twice the size of himself, sandwich set on a plate not that far away. A drink was also there, though Karl couldn’t tell what it was.

He turned back to the giant once he’d sat himself down, questioning the small meal obviously meant for him. “You have to eat too, I’m not that cruel.” His eyes and words were emotionless, and the neutral line of his mouth didn’t give the brunette any less anxiety. He.. thought about running. Jumping off the desk, see if he survived the fall damage then running off to find himself a solution to the tale he was in. He hadn’t even scooted that far to the edge before a hand shot out, wrapping tightly around him as he was yanked upwards to be face to face with the now irritated Mexican.

“If you’re going to kill yourself anyway, I’ll gladly just eat you. Otherwise, I’d eat what’s provided.” He swallowed nervously at the words, body jerking from fear, but did not make another attempt to jump when he was set back down. He wondered idly if the aches he felt were phantom pains or if he’d just been bruised, but he didn’t mention it. He simply sat down and started eating the food provided to him.

If he pushed any further, would he be denied food and water as well?

“I’m sorry..” he mumbled, though it went unheard as the other continued his sandwich. A shudder went through his body as he thought of every way he could be tormented by his former fiancé. He could be bitten, starved, swallowed into the other’s actual stomach, the other could literally crush his bones in his fist if he wanted to- his shoulders jerked with a sob, but he forced himself to be quiet, shoving a piece of cheese into his mouth to muffle the cries threatening to escape. Anything that could get him in trouble he needed to avoid. He just needed to behave, and maybe he’d be released.

Hopefully.

When they both had finished eating, he was swallowed again, and while he didn’t fight, he couldn’t stop the shivers wracking his small form. They barely relaxed when he slipped into the other’s crop again, this time recognizing it for what it was. He took a deep shuddery breath, pressing his back against the closest wall to him. All he could do now was behave and pray the other would have mercy on him.

~ ~ ~

They continued like this for about a week, Karl refusing to speak unless it was to answer a direct question. Strangely enough, the questions themselves weren’t what he expected. He’d expected taunting and scathing remarks, and instead was asked if he’d had enough to eat or enough water to drink. He’d been granted access to the desk, as long as he didn’t try to jump off of it again while the other finished eating. And even then, he barely utilized it, too scared to be seen as stepping out of line.

He’d been with Quackity for long enough that he knows he has Sapnap as well, and he knows the other is purposely keeping him from knowing Karl’s whereabouts, and keeping them separate. He wonders if that’s part of his punishment. He wished he’d remembered sooner, he wished he never opened his mouth that night. Maybe then he wouldn’t be sitting in the crop of one of his fiancés wondering when he was going to be killed.

There was a part of him that held out hope, that Quackity would realize he didn’t want to do this and free him, or even just let him see Sapnap again before he killed him. He knew after everything he was probably beyond forgiveness, so all he wanted was mercy. But today seemed different, and Karl had a feeling when he woke up that his time was running out. Quackity didn’t speak to him once, nor let him out for both of them to eat. He hung his head in resignation and hoped it wouldn’t be too painful.

~ ~ ~

Quackity had a nightmare unlike the others. In this one, he was put in the same situation he put Karl in, but it had been Schlatt to do it. And then it changed to Charlie at some point, the lessons going through his head again before he was killed, and jolting awake. He was amazed he didn’t wake Karl or Sapnap up, carefully sitting up to get ready without disrupting either. He left food and water for Sapnap, placed his pillow on the floor, and shut the door.

He threw himself into his work, be it physical labor or paperwork. And yea, he should stop, he should let Karl out, get them both fed, but every time he tried to, his anxiety crept up and locked his body up. Foolish had noticed it as well, and told him to head back to his house for the day. Thanking him, and reminding himself to give the totem some extra gems as payment for looking out for him as well as everything else, he went back to the room.

Which led them to now, where Karl had started fidgeting slightly but hiding the movement to the best of his ability while Quackity read a book to distract himself with Sapnap sitting on the desk he was sitting at. But distractions can only work for so long, and Sapnap hadn’t had anything to distract himself from his worry about his memory-losing fiancé. Finally, after a week of staying with Quackity, he built up the courage to ask.

“…Can you do something for me?” Sapnap asked quietly. It was unlike him, catching Quackity’s attention instantly. He put the book he’d been reading to the side, giving the fireborn his full attention. “What?” “I.. know you aren’t a fan of Karl anymore. And I understand why you’d still be upset over what happened. But.. Can you please check on him?” He knew his face had twisted into a frown, but his attention became divided and he wasn’t focusing on hiding his expression.

Karl hadn’t fought back since that first outburst when he released him the first time. Not even when he continued to release him and let him eat, which the dark part of his brain wanted him not to. And yea, he did seem a little weaker from not moving but the bags under his eyes were fading, meaning he was finally getting better. It… warmed his heart, unfortunately. It seemed that the brunette finally realized he wasn’t going to be truly eaten every time he’s stored, and he wasn’t shaking anymore. Until today, that is.

But the main thing is that he also never spoke. Karl was a very vocal person, it was part of the reason Quackity liked him so much. And since the outburst, he hasn’t spoken more than a few words. He knew he cried, but that dark part of his mind relished in it, like it relished when Dream begged and cried. It.. was starting to make him feel sick.

He’d been having nightmares about his second death that whole week. About what Charlie, his closest friend since his fiancés, said before killing him.

You are not a good person.

No, he wasn’t. And he was down to his final life, having nobody but his shrunken and distraught fiancés to keep him company when he caused their divide to begin with. He sighed heavily, overcome with conflict. “..why?” Sapnap shrunk back at the question, but he didn’t flinch. “It’s just… I can’t rely on George to watch over him. He’s always sleeping now, I can’t ever wake him up. And prime knows Dream’s probably got-“ “What does that have to do with Karl?” Sapnap looked worried, tail flicking with nervousness.

“Karl.. doesn’t really remember things anymore. He doesn’t remember me half the time. I.. that night, I thought he’d been playing a sick joke, and I confronted him and he just broke down. He sounded so scared. I’ve.. I've tried my best to keep up with him, help him remember stuff like eating or showering or anything and he won’t. He keeps disappearing, coming back injured or shaky and he keeps calling me by a different name and it’s hard to take care of him alone-“ Quackity’s eyes widened and he raised a hand towards Sapnap to get him to stop. “Breathe, Sapnap. You have to breathe.”

“He probably didn’t want me telling you.” He rasped out before the stern look of the avian finally stopped him. Quackity leaned back as he caught his breath, mulling over everything Sapnap had spilled. Karl was having memory problems. It doesn’t explain why he’s been disappearing, but it does explain the outburst, at least. He wasn’t willing to forgive yet, especially considering that Karl seems to remember what he’d done now. Though, Sapnap probably reminded him every time he didn’t remember.

But… that made sense. The bagginess to his clothes, the paleness to his skin, the severe bags under his eyes… Karl wasn’t taking care of himself. He wasn’t remembering to. It was like he’d become a shell of who he used to be. And Sapnap hadn’t been letting him shrivel up, he’d been trying his damndest to get through to him.

…Suddenly, revenge didn’t feel so nice.

“You’re going to hate me.” Quackity muttered, shaking his head. He knew he had to admit the truth. There was no way he could keep this charade up, not anymore. “Please, Quackity-“ “It’s not that. I.. can’t go check on Karl because he’s here.” Letting Sapnap process that, he started the process of bringing his other fiancé up. Karl didn’t even squirm, surely he knew what was happening now.

At least this time he did deserve his fiancés’ anger.

Gently spitting him into his palm, he didn’t spare Sapnap a glance as he dried the other off with a sleeve. He couldn’t see the hurt, the anger from him. He already felt guilty enough. Quickly drying him off to the best of his ability, he placed the brunette down beside Sapnap and pulled away from the desk, moving his chair away to give them space.

“Sapnap!” “Karl!” He tackled the other in a hug, not caring about the residual saliva soaking into his clothes. He pulled back enough to look at his face, surprised to see the bags under his eyes almost completely faded. He seemed to have more energy as well, yanking the other back into a hug. “I thought he was gonna kill me..” he whispered into the fireborn’s ear. “I’m sorry-“ “But he didn’t. He even took care of me. Why?” Sapnap shook his head. “I don’t know.” His eyes shifted to watch the avian, who remained a good distance away and was avoiding eye contact. He didn’t miss the shift in the air, the guilty silence he was emitting.

“So..” he cleared his throat, catching the other’s attention. There was still no eye contact from him, though. “Is there a reason you ate Karl?” “Stored, not eaten. And I think you can figure that out on your own-“ “But the way you’ve been acting lately tells me that you’re out for blood from anyone who’s wronged you. Karl’s included in that, so why..?” Quackity looked at the two, expression unreadable. Eventually, his shoulders slumped, and he sighed. “I’m on my last life, Sapnap. I’ve lost everyone I cared about. Hell, Las Nevadas is still completely demolished despite me and Foolish working on it. I don’t want to go out in a blaze of overworking only for everything to crumble down like Wilbur did, and I already feel like I’m too far down that path to change.”

“Quackity..” “I’m tired. I thought safety lied in power, and I’ve been proven wrong three times now. The only reason I haven’t given up on this place is because Foolish hasn’t. And if he has, he hasn’t shown it.” Yet.. He forced himself to continue. “There’s no point in getting revenge anymore. All it’s gotten me is scars and pain. Besides, I hadn’t known the whole story behind Karl until now.”

The brunette startled at the mention of his name. “Me?” “Your memory problems. It explains why you yelled at me, you didn’t remember who I was. And you looked like shit when I first pulled you out of that jar, like you hadn’t been taking care of yourself.” Karl looked away, embarrassment tinging his cheeks pink. “I try..” “It’s not your fault. You can’t really control the fact that you can’t remember.” Hesitantly, he scooted his chair closer to the desk. When neither tiny flinched away, he scooted close enough that he could rest his head on his hands on the table to be close to eye level with them.

Sapnap came forward, sitting right in front of him while Karl stayed his distance. He didn’t blame the man, but his heart did hurt at that. When it had just been the two of them, when he let him out to eat, he’d sat close by. Did he do it out of fear? He couldn’t let his mind linger on it, guilt already eating away at his core. Instead, he chose to breach the other topic consuming his thoughts.

“How long has the memory loss gone on for?” He asked softly. Karl looked guilty, sad and scared all in one, and it made Quackity want to recoil and give them distance again. Karl broke his gaze first, fiddling with his sleeves nervously. “Since before Mex- El Rapids. It’s why I begged everyone to leave, something told me it wasn’t safe there anymore.” “And you didn’t think to let me know? Send a quick message saying ‘Hey we’re leaving I don’t think it’s safe here anymore’?” The look on Karl’s face told him what he knew the answer was going to be. “I’m sorry, I for-“ “But Sapnap doesn’t have memory issues.” He gently cut the other off. Sapnap looked guilty as well. “I do take blame for that, and for not inviting you to Kinoko or reaching out sooner. Karl told me he’d done it, and by the time it occurred to me that he probably forgot to, I couldn’t trust him to be alone long enough for me to find and explain everything to you. I searched for months, Quackity. And I already told you about George, he’s asleep all the time. He looks like shit too, but nobody can ever get him up or keep him up.”

Quackity sighed. “I.. can’t forget the shit you said to me, Karl. You really fucking hurt me.” “I know..” tears welled in the shrunken man’s eyes. “But, I may be able to forgive you, now that I know the whole story.” The hope in his other fiancé’s eyes made him continue. “And, I’m sorry for trapping you in my crop and not taking your fear seriously.” “I wasn’t scared the whole time, I kinda figured you weren’t trying to kill me for a while.” “Then I’m sorry I didn’t take your distress seriously. I just got lost in my want for revenge again that-“ “Again?” “Purpled wanted to take my second life. Dream backed him up and so did my right hand man.” “Why would Dream want revenge on you?”

“I went to the prison every day, trying to get him to give me the revival book. It was after he murdered Tommy. I..” he felt reluctant to continue, knowing it would upset Sapnap and Karl both, but everything should have been on the table to begin with. He won’t make the same mistake again. “I snuck in weapons. Or, Sam let me in actually. We came to an agreement about it.” Sapnap sucked in a breath. “You tortured him?” “Yeah.” He felt proud when his voice didn’t hold the same bored tone it had when he spoke about torturing Dream in the past. It was progress.

Maybe he did need the lesson from Slimesicle.

“I can’t kill Dream.” Sapnap spoke up. He didn’t seem too upset about the torture, but he could have also developed a good poker face. “There’s a fucking god that won’t let me.” “Really?” “It’s, what’s his name- I found the opposite of the revival book. The book of death. I wrote Dream’s name in it and he showed up and told me I couldn’t kill him. He said if I tried despite the warning, he’d erase me from existence.” “What?” “Yeah. So, I couldn’t kill him when he escaped.” Quackity nodded, not quite understanding why he was being told this.

Karl caught on faster, realizing that they were sharing the secrets they couldn’t spill to just anyone. Perhaps… they were doing it as a way to rekindle their relationship? Showing that they can trust each other? “I’m a time traveler.” If felt foreign, coming out of his mouth put that way. But he didn’t let himself back down. He wanted to fix things just as much as the other two seemed to want to. When he had both fiancés attention, he continued. “I know it’s like impossible and-“ “There’s been crazier stuff on this server, man. I believe you.” “Could it be causing your memory loss?” Both sounded genuine and concerned, and it made him want to cry. He’s been dealing with all this alone for so long- why didn’t he confide in them sooner?

“There’s a god, XD-“ “That’s the fucker! Sorry, sorry. Continue.” “Right, so he gave me the ability to travel through time, forwards and backwards, except he never gives me the power to control it. He says he does, he says I can learn it, but I still just keep randomly being pulled across time. I’ve met so many variations of ourselves, our ancestors, our descendants, and they’ve tried to kill me or I’d have no choice but to kill them and-“ Quackity gently scooped him into his hand, using his other hand to run a finger down his back. “Breathe, Karl. You’re starting to panic.”

Sapnap sat in thought for a moment, piecing everything they’d been told together. “That explains everything.” He looked up at the two, raising a hand towards Karl so Quackity got the hint and picked him up too. “The memory loss, the absences, calling me by different names- it’s all because of the time traveling.” Karl nodded, sniffling. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys sooner, I just didn’t want to be disregarded.” “Karl.” Quackity’s voice had softened. He hadn’t realized the extent of what his fiancé had been suffering through alone, and it made him feel awful. He found it a lot easier to forgive the outburst now. “We never would have turned you away for something like that. It would have saved us all a lot of heartbreak, honestly. I understand your fears, trust me. But you two were the ones who told me I shouldn’t live under them. We all have skeletons, but you shouldn’t have had to face this alone all this time. I’m sorry I didn’t notice.” “You weren’t supposed to. Must have done a pretty good job hiding it, then.” He offered a smile. “Seriously, though. You could have told us sooner, we may have been able to catch onto it and help you before it got this bad.” Sapnap added. “I’m sorry.” “You have nothing to apologize for, mi amor.”

The confusion on the brunette’s face at the nickname yanked on Quackity’s heartstrings, and he came to an impulsive decision. Lifting both his fiancés up to his face, he pressed a kiss to both of them, his lips taking up a good amount of their faces. Sapnap gasped at first, breaking off into laughter as he squirmed from the affection trap he’d been placed in. A smile stayed on the avian’s face as he pulled away, looking at both his fiancés with adoration.

Karl had turned red, confusion and worry flooding his features. “But.. I thought-“ “I can’t say I can’t forgive you knowing the full truth now. You’ve been suffering enough, you don’t need me adding onto it.” “You never did..” Tears finally started to spill from his eyes, and Quackity was quick to reassure, unknowing if they were sad or happy tears. “By separating from you two. By not reaching out myself. I should have, but I thought you guys were just busy for a bit. I could have kept your memory from twisting around and making you believe that I had been guilty of taking your first life.” “Oh, can we not deal with the fucking logistics of everything? I want to kiss you both!” Both fiancés laughed at the fireborn’s outburst, and more at his pout, but they indulged him regardless, Karl kissing him before Quackity smothered both of them with another kiss.

Things weren’t perfect, not by a long shot. And they wouldn’t be until they find out how this had happened, and how to reverse it along with helping Karl with his time traveling issues. But, Quackity had one life left, and he was going to be damned if he didn’t spend it with the two men he loved. He was going to make sure they were going to be okay.

#mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #mcyt vore #safe vore #soft vore #g/t vore #fear play #dsmp gt #dsmp g/t #dsmp vore

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