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whennoonecares · 3 months

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Okay but: Modern AU for Cody x Obi-Wan, where they live in the same apartment building. Maybe they've shared a couple words before, but I wouldn't call them close.

I'm picturing Obi-Wan as a nurse, and Cody as security for somewhere, but neither job is set in stone.

Because the important bit is: they end up in the elevator at the same time. It stops between floors.

Obi-Wan- having experienced this before and frankly being too tired- sits on the floor. Where Cody- never having experienced this- doesn't freak out as such, but he doesn't feel good about this.

It's a few minutes, the little "Hey, we've phoned the fire department" light comes on, and now it's a waiting game.

Obi-Wan says, "You don't have to stand, you seem tired."

Cody eyes him suspiciously, but sits down.

They get to chatting and find that they'd been in the same brigade, but during different years, let alone all the faces one sees or doesn't while in the military.

It's a nice conversation- keep each other calm, though they weren't overly worried. Maybe nice enough conversation to go for coffee sometime?

#codywan #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #modern au #clone wars #star wars #cw claustrophobia #stuck in an elevator trope

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artlatrine · 3 months

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too tight a space, too big a tummy

#me arty #cw claustrophobia

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gabessquishytum · 10 months

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Everyone is doing trapped in an elevator prompts and every one I’ve read has Dream having the panic attack and Hob comforting him and I love them all…

But I have the reverse stuck in my head and so I’m making it your problem!

Maybe they’re at the same university or something but Dream knows of Hob, this loud brash jock who once tried to buy him a drink at a bar (a mean-spirited joke, surely, the star of the rugby team making fun of the friendless poetry major). He was annoyed the second Hob stepped into the elevator and gave him that wide smile with soft brown eyes…

And then the elevator stops between floors and the lights flicker out and Dream rolls his eyes, prepared to deal with an hour or two of Hob’s prattling as the subtle scent of his cologne fills the small area.

Except Hob falls utterly silent. Dream looks over and sees him sinking to the floor struggling to breathe.

“I’m fine,” hob assures him. He is not fine. Hob has some trauma regarding small spaces. It’s so embarrassing because Hob has had such a crush on Dream and dream already clearly hates him. This is just going to make it worse.

“You are…not fine,” Dream says. It is distressing to see Hob this way. It hurts Dream to see his eyes fill with tears. He kneels beside him calling on all his tactics for soothing his younger sister, Delirium who frequently has panic attacks.

They sit together for two hours and all of Hob’s trauma spills out, how he is an orphan here on scholarship and losing his family made him determined to live his life to the fullest and most joyful every day. Dream holds him in his arms and is forced to realize his impression of Hob was all wrong. And this time, once the elevator is working again, he’s the one who offers to buy Hob a drink at the nearby cafe, because he can’t leave him alone until he gets Hob smiling again.

Love this!! I love it when Hob is the vulnerable one, and Dream gets to take care of him.

Everyone says that Hob is so nice, he's a sweetheart, and despite being a big deal with the sporty kids he has friends all over campus. He gets in fights sometimes but it's always in defence of himself or one of his friends.

Of course Dream thinks that all this is too good to be true. Hob may be sweet and handsome but there must be some underhand reason for all his kindness, surely?

Meanwhile Hob is absolutely bummed that the person he's had a massive crush on since the first semester clearly thinks that he's annoying and awful. Hob (ADHD icon) spent his whole high-school career being told that he was too much, too irritating, too loud. It really hurts that Dream clearly thinks that, too.

So when they get stuck in the lift together, Hob is really really trying not to be annoying. Trying not to breathe too hard or sweat too much. Obviously it just makes him panic more, and he can feel Dream staring at him... and that's when he starts crying.

The next few hours are a bit of a messed up blur for Hob. When he comes back to full awareness he's curled up in Dream’s arms, shaking slightly, snuffling against his neck. Dream is stroking his hair and talking to him and Hob is very much convinced that he's in heaven.

They come out of the lift holding hands, and they continue holding hands in the cafe, and when Hob dozes off with his head on Dream’s shoulder on the bus home... Dream doesn't let go. He's got to admit, he was wrong about Hob. And he can't wait to get to know the boy who's currently snoring into his ear.

#the sandman #dreamling #dream x hob #cw claustrophobia #cw panic attack

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unlikely-gravestones · 2 years

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I wonder if Hob's ever been buried alive.

I don't know how his immortality works- do his wounds miraculously heal within minutes? Hours? Has he sometimes had to pretend to be injured, because no one heals from a stab wound to the gut over night?

Or does it take him just as long as any other person? Does he spend weeks bed-bound while recovering, slowly but surely knitting himself together? And if that's the case...has he been buried?

Has Hob woken up, weeks after being 'laid to rest', starving and in pain because fuck does his head and chest hurt and- why can't he move. Why is it so silent. Has Hob ever trailed his fingers, shaking from the effort, across wood grain 5 inches from his face? Has he, head pounding with pain and confusion, frantically mapped the limited space of his chamber because why are the walls so close to him why is he lying down why does-

Has Hob ever realised he was buried six feet underground.

Has he ever clawed at what he realises now is his coffin, hands scrabbling and nails catching? Pounded at the lid of it and screamed? Has Hob ever had to climb his way out of the ground

Anyway :)

#I was reading a fic that mentioned the air in Hob's dream being stuffy and hot and idk why but my brain was like #Oh a nightmare??#Maybe bc I live in Australia and the heat is my no 1 nightmare but #My brain was like ooohh warm air STUFFY air must be contained somewhere what about a room no a BOX no a COFFIN #And then I thought of Hob having a nightmare about being buried alive #And then I thought....what if he has been #And now we're here besties #Forgive me comic people I don't know how his immortality is handled in the comics please let me have my fun #And by fun I mean putting my blorbos well being in a blender and wrecking that shit #the sandman #hob gadling #sandman #dreamling #Cw buried alive #cw claustrophobia #I mean he's def gonna be fucked up about that for a while

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chaotic-orphan · 3 months

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Febuwhump: day two

Prompt: Solitary Confinement

Prompt from @febuwhump

Tw: violence, claustrophobia (explicit), blood, general brutality, strong Whumper, (if I missed anything lmk, sorry I’m tired)

P.S. — the pronouns for both characters is male, it might get patchy sometimes but just from the outset, okay enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*

A hand curling into Whumpee’s shirt and hauling him out of bed in the dead of night was his wake-up call. Whumpee eyes shot open in the darkness, panic seizing his chest as he seized the wrist of the hand, his legs hit the floor but turned to jelly, his bare feet finding no purchase.

“Wha—!” Whumpee cried in alarm, legs kicking uselessly at his attacker. The hand in his shirt bunched the fabric and another was on Whumpee’s hip. The next thing Whumpee knew they were weightless until his back thumped into the wall across the room, winding them, as they fell to the ground with a dull thud and a gasp.

Whumpee had only got his hands under him when they got a kick to the ribs. It lifted Whumpee’s body off the floor, before another more forceful followed. The impact sent Whumpee back into the wall gasping, his head knocking off the wall leaving him dazed.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out, Whumpee?” Whumper’s voice said from above Whumpee, fury hidden behind the eerie calm of his voice.

“Wh—” Whumpee gasped, the words catching in his throat. Whumpee coughed trying to clear it which gave Whumper another reason to kick him in the ribs again.

Whumpee wrestled his arms down over his ribs trying to protect him futilely, but Whumper just kept kicking. The final kick stomped down on Whumpee’s back as they tried to get to his hands and knees. Whumpee hit the floor with a pained oomph.

Whumpee coughed pathetically, rasping in breaths to fill his lungs but every breath felt like a dagger in his chest.

A hand balled into the back of Whumpee’s shirt and started to drag Whumpee out the door of his room into the hall. The fabric of his pyjama bottoms sliding easily across the hall, mixed with the lame sounds of Whumpee’s feet screeching across the wood trying to get to his feet.

“Get up Whumpee,” Whumper told him without letting Whumpee go or slowing enough to let Whumpee get to his feet. Out of sheer will Whumpee pushed themselves to his hands and started half crawling on all fours. Half crawling, because Whumper would pull him at the worst times and Whumpee would slip and have to start the process over again.

Whumper dragged Whumpee to the stairs and didn’t slow or push Whumpee down like Whumpee thought they would. Instead, Whumper dragged Whumpee down the stairs and when Whumpee twisted in his hold Whumper let go and Whumpee tumbled half way down them.

They landed with his back against the railing, mouth open in a silent scream at the fire of pain that raced through his ribs and chest and back. They stared up pathetically at Whumper as he descended, the moonlight and shadows painting him more like a monster than a man.

Whumper crouched down, catching Whumpee’s cheeks in between his thumb and forefinger and pinching him until Whumpee cried out.

“Look at you. Pathetic. To think I had a bit of respect for you, if I’m honest, that you would even dare to fight against me.”

“Fuck you—” Whumpee said, but his jaw groaned at them, and all that they managed was “uck—ou” but still the sentiment was there.

“Don’t worry, Whumpee, we’ll get that nasty defiant streak out of you yet. I’ll never give up on you. You have too much potential to let you go.”

Whumper let go of Whumpee’s face then sent a swift punch to his cheekbone. Whumpee’s head whipped to the side with the impact, crying out. Whumper’s fingers captured Whumpee’s chin and tilted his head back to stare forward. Another swift punch to the cheek and Whumpee gasped. Whumper stood in one fluid motion and kicked Whumpee down the rest of the steps.

Whumpee landed starfish on the ground, his head bouncing off the ground and rattling his brain. Whumpee grit his teeth when Whumper bunched a hand into the back of his shirt again but Whumpee was ready this time and was already pushing themselves up to his feet.

Whumper yanked him the rest of the way to standing and then shoved him forward.

“Atta boy, Whumpee,” Whumper praised as Whumpee stumbled, catching themselves to stop themselves from falling again. Whumpee strode passed Whumpee, practically skipping as he said, “come along Whumpee.”

Whumpee froze when Whumper opened the door to stairs that led to the basement. Whumpee’s legs were like lead as they approached the door, and looked down to see Whumper grinning up at them. Whumper tilted his head at Whumpee, tsking him for lingering by the door.

“Come now, Whumpee, this isn’t the time to be brave,” Whumper said in his smooth, condescending voice. “You don’t want to be in more trouble than you already are, do you?”

Whumpee swallowed hard, helpless tears pinching at the corners of his eyes. They steeled themselves as they descended the stairs towards Whumper, who, after threatening him had already turned to open the basement door, knowing with complete certainty that Whumpee would follow.

The door was made of steel to ensure it couldn’t be broken down, no matter how hard you tried to claw or punch or scream at it. It didn’t bend, or break, or even flinch sympathetically at Whumpee, it just stood like Whumper: cold, stoic, solid.

Whumpee smothered a gasp when his bare feet hit the cement floor, wrapping his arms around themselves as they shivered. Whumpee stepped further into the basement, dread weighing down heavy on his shoulders.

Whumper… he couldn’t know for sure, right? He couldn’t… Whumpee had been so careful.

Whumpee flinched as Whumper shut the door. The turn of the lock sealing his fate. Whumper hung his overcoat and scarf on the coat rack, he kept the suit jacket on which was good. When he took that off and his tie Whumpee knew they really fucked up.

Maybe he doesn’t know, Whumpee dared to hope. They just stared as Whumper walked around to the wall of torture instruments, eyes and body following every movement.

“Tell me, Whumpee, why do you think I dragged you out of bed at 4 in the morning?” Whumper asked, as his eyes roamed over the many instruments designed to cause Whumpee pain.

“Because you’re a sadistic fuck?” Whumpee supplied sweetly.

Whumper laughed. “Mmm, no, but points for style. Try again.”

Whumpee swallowed, tightening his grip on his arms to stop themselves from shaki— shivering. They were shivering because they were cold.

“I don’t know,” Whumpee said, voice quiet. Whumper looked at him over his shoulder, a coy smile on his face.

“Come on, Whumpee. Tell me again what’s my number one rule in the basement?”

Whumpee trailed his gaze just behind Whumper’s head to the wall of horror, not wanting to look in Whumper’s eyes when he said quietly: “no lying.”

“What was that Whumpee? You’re mumbling.”

“No lying,” Whumpee ground out, angry eyes going back to Whumper’s face. Whumper’s smile only grew as he stared at Whumpee. Then he turned his body towards Whumpee and took a menacing step forward. Whumpee had to fight the urge to take a step back.

“Actually, why ruin a good thing we had going?” Whumper asked, shrugging off his jacket. Whumpee’s blood ran cold as Whumper threw his jacket over the chair that Whumpee had been tied to so many times.

Whumper pulled at his tie, loosening the knot.

“Wait!”

The word was out of his mouth before Whumpee could stop it, fear seizing his throat but Whumper paused and that let some relief flood Whumpee’s body.

Whumper smiled kindly at Whumpee. “Yes Whumpee?” He asked innocently.

Whumpee licked his lips, searching for a tangible reason they asked for Whumper to stop other than to delay the inevitable beating.

Whumper tilted his head to the side, lips forming a pout. Whumpee’s heart slammed against his chest, his mind racing as they tried to form a single reason to stop Whumper.

“Why did you bring me down here?” Whumpee tried. If they tried hard enough they could try and play innocent.

Whumper’s smile left his eyes but stayed on his lips, reminding Whumpee of a stray cat who was killing mice just for fun when they were already full.

“You’ll have to do better than that, Whumpee,” Whumper said simply, a smile in his voice as he undid his tie and left it loose over his white button down. Whumper took a step towards Whumpee and this time Whumpee matched it with one back.

“Whumper please,” Whumpee pleaded desperately. “I don’t know why you’re mad at me.”

Whumper shrugged, matching Whumpee step for step. “It’s never bothered me before that you don’t know the reason.”

Whumpee stepped around the medical table, putting it between them, giving him some space from the predator stalking them.

“Yes,” Whumpee blurted. “Yes it has!”

That caused Whumper to pause. “Explain.”

“You— you,” fuck Whumpee! Explain! “You want to teach me a lesson, right? Lesson 1: the golden rule, no lying right? You can’t just attack me for no reason or— or I won’t learn how I disappointed you, right?!”

Right?

Whumper let out a bark of humourless laughter that could curdle Whumpee’s blood. The hairs on the back of his neck prickling, his mind screaming at him to run.

“You know what Whumpee…” Whumper trailed off thoughtfully. “You are right. I do like to teach you lessons. Although, clearly, I need to re-educate on what I constitute as lying. You do remember that omissions count as lying.”

Whumpee’s bottom lip started to wobble, so they bit it to keep it from trembling as Whumper stepped around the table.

“Remind me again,” Whumper said with a step forward, “how did we rectify that situation? How did I teach you about lying?”

Whumpee blanched. “No. No. Nononono,” they protested, backing up as they spoke, hands raised defensively in front of him when his back hit the wall. “No, Whumper please— anything but that, please!”

Whumper grinned, showing his teeth at seeing Whumpee had nowhere else to go. So he took his time in advancing on Whumpee, focusing on the dramatic, really wanting to scare the shit out of Whumpee.

“Oh Whumpee…” Whumper sighed. “Whumpee, Whumpee, Whumpee,” he said, punctuating each use of Whumpee’s name with another step until he was right in front of Whumpee, looking down on Whumpee with that toothy, wolfish grin.

Whumper reached a hand up to thumb away the tears on Whumpee’s face. Whumpee flinched at the contact. They were shaking violently, wanting to shove Whumper’s hand off him but they didn’t want to do anything to aggravate him further.

“Whumpee, this punishment will go away if you just tell me, honestly why I brought you down here. Hmm?”

Whumpee swallowed the lump in his throat trying to get rid of it, but it stayed stubbornly lodged there making it harder to breathe to speak to think.

They couldn’t give up Hero Caretaker… they couldn’t. They didn’t want Whumper to find him too and torture them. Not after everything that Hero had done for them… offering him the brightest ray of hope Whumpee hadn’t seen before. A way out of Whumper and his cruel contracts.

More pressing was the very real fear of going back into that… that cage. Where Whumpee couldn’t move an inch without hitting the edge, unable to think, or scream, or fight back at all.

There was also the chance that Whumper didn’t know about Hero at all, and if Whumpee confessed then Whumper would get more mad and punish him harsher.

“I know you hate the cage, but if it’s the only thing that’ll loosen your tongue then it’s the only way I can punish you.”

“Whumper please, anything but that,” Whumpee begged. “I’ll kneel— I’ll do whatever you want just pl— ple—”

“Shhh, shhh, sh, Whumpee. It’s okay. This is your last chance. Why are you down here?”

A helpless rush of adrenaline crawled vicious up Whumpee’s throat and they did all they thought they could. They shoved Whumper back and when he was far enough back, Whumpee kicked him back further and then ran for the wall of weapons.

They had only managed to just grasp a knife when Whumper was on them, shoving Whumpee forward.

Whumpee’s face hit off the wall, but they got his palms on it and pushed back. A hand snaked into his hair and slammed his head once, twice, three times into the wall. Warm blood trickled down Whumpee’s nose, before Whumper disoriented Whumpee by yanking him backwards. It was a harsh pull to the dazed Whumpee who fell straight backwards, his skull hitting off the cement.

Light flashed behind his eyes at the impact. The next thing they knew Whumper was on top of them, his polished shoe crushing Whumpee’s knife wielding wrist into the cement while he rested his forearm against Whumpee’s windpipe not letting Whumpee up for air.

Whumpee struggled sluggishly against Whumper’s hold, gasping without air like a beached shark.

“God, I love it when you pick the hard way, Whumpee,” Whumper sang above Whumpee. Though it was getting hard to see him with the blackness encroaching his vision. Whumpee felt Whumper pluck the knife from his grip with ease. Whumpee fought back, trying to move but all they did under Whumper was manage a pathetic wiggle.

Whumper let up on Whumpee’s windpipe and Whumpee gasped in air greedily. Then choked on it and sputtered at the rush of oxygen flooding his lungs.

“A knife, hmm?” Whumper asked, eyes bright as he eyed the deadly edge. “Were you going to stab me Whumpee? Tut tut.”

Whumper slashed the knife across Whumpee’s face and Whumpee cried out, struggles renewed under Whumper.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Whumper chastised, pressing the blade against Whumpee’s throat causing Whumpee to still. Whumpee actually stilled.

Whereas before he would’ve dared Whumper to kill him , after Hero he suddenly had something to live. Hero had given him hope, and now Whumpee couldn’t even call Whumper’s bluff in case he followed through with the threat.

Whumper smiled down at Whumpee. “Look at you. Practically docile. You know what, because you tried so hard Whumpee. Last chance to tell me why you’re here.”

Whumpee swallowed, feeling the blade on his adams apple. “Go fuck yourself, Whumper.”

Whumper’s smile widened. “Good.”

Whumper got off Whumpee, hand bunched in his shirt to lift him again. Whumpee struggled this time. Hard. He hit Whumper’s chest, brought his fist down on Whumper’s hand trying to loosen his hold on Whumpee but it was as if Whumpee was doing nothing. As if he was nothing more than air that Whumper could pass through with ease.

Whumper dragged Whumpee, kicking and screaming, over to the box in the corner, the one Whumpee didn’t want to see.

“You fucking bastard! Let me go! Let me go!”

“Okay,” said Whumper and threw Whumpee to the ground while he opened the door to the cage. It was only the size of a locker but could fit a person in quite uncomfortably. Whumpee had enough room to stand, but not enough room to turn, his shoulders wedged tightly inside. Whumpee tried to crawl away from it, but Whumper caught him by the scruff of his neck and yanked him to his feet.

“Whumper—”

“In you go Whumpee,” Whumper said sweetly, two palms placed on his chest and shoving Whumpee into the cage.

“No! Whumper!” Whumpee screamed, trying to wiggle themselves free in time to stop Whumper from closing the door but Whumper’s smile was the last thing Whumpee saw before the door slammed closed and Whumpee was left, trapped inside the metal prison.

His nose was an inch from the door, his breathing already ragged and echoing off the cramped metal.

“You know, Whumpee,” Whumper said from outside, voice muffled by the thick metal. “I think I might pay that Hero of yours a visit while you’re in there.”

“No!” Whumpee screamed, tears already falling as they bent their arm at the elbow and banged on the door. “Whumper let me out! Let me out, please! Whumper! Don’t touch Hero! Let me out, Whumper please!”

Whumpee kicked the door a few times, their chest tight and heaving in gasping breaths but they weren’t getting enough air, and oh god the whole time Whumper knew about Hero?!…

If… if Whumpee had just told them they wouldn’t be in here.

Whumpee wheezed, trying to get in breath but it wouldn’t fill his lungs quick enough and when it did it was gone just as fast as Whumpee tried to blink back tears and kick the door down, the pounding of their kicks echoing off the metal, deafening, but not quite as loud as Whumpee’s heart that thundered from their chest and seemed to hit every wall of their prison.

“Whumper!” Whumpee screamed, pleaded, begged. “Whumper please! I’m sorry! Whumper! Whumper! WHUMPER?!”

Whumpee broke down into a fit of sobs, unable to control anything in their body. Their brain screamed fight or flight, and Whumpee would lose a physical fight against the metal that surrounded every inch of their body.

“Whumper,” Whumpee sniffed, banging uselessly against the metal. “Whumper come back, please! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’M SORRY FOR LYING, WHUMPER!”

Whumpee didn’t know how long Whumper left them there. Time didn’t seem to matter much when your body was fighting with itself. Eating itself with fear.

It felt like years.

Maybe Whumper would leave them there for years.

Maybe Whumpee would die in that box.

That just set them off again. Screaming, pleading, crying. It felt as if Whumpee went through the five stages of grief on repeat for hours on end, all except Acceptance.

Whumper smiled as they left the basement to Whumpee’s broken voice bargaining with them to let them out.

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necros-writing-stuff · 7 months

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Sleep Paralysis: Collab'oween Day 1

GN!Reader/Male!Unspecified Creature.

Warnings: Rape/Non-con; Maybe feeings of claustrophobia and references to the ocean; Fear of death but no physical harm to reader; Utter helplessness; Cunnilingus/Analingus (you can read as either, I don't specify genitals for reader); Penetrative sex; Creature man has a prehensile pp; 3rd person POV.

Word Count: 2080.

Notes: I'm not doing all of the days, just the six prompts I wrote! Please make sure to check out all of us doing this together: @undead-merman @letstalktea @inkyquince @angrelysimpping Also big thanks to Merman for making the banner and divider and all of their wonderful work on this project.

It gets closer each night. They know as the sun fades, as their eyes shutter closed and the warm fingers of Hypnos keep their lids heavy that it's only a matter of time before the personification of sleep partially releases his hold on them and that reality will blend with their nightmares.

For months it's happened every night. They awaken without control of their body, not even able to blink, as eyes watch from the darkest corner of their room. It's just a trick of the mind, they know this, but it doesn't make it any less terrifying.

They'd gone to their doctor. Been referred to get a brain scan by a specialist to ensure it wasn't anything malicious causing the paralysis. All tests came back fine. They were sent home with pills and a regiment to follow. None of it had helped. The only time it ever left was when the dawn broke. Winter was on the horizon. Shorter days. Later dawns.

Then, they'd thought that it wouldn't be able to hide in the dark if there was no darkness. They'd filled their room with nightlights in every corner, left them on as they went to sleep, confident that they'd finally be able to get through the night. They hadn't. The creature cared not for the lights strewn about the room. It was a void of blackness, sucking in the light and refusing to let any stray ray out of its grasp.

Fine then, it's sunlight it doesn't approve of. UV lamps were bought and installed. Their electricity bill would suffer, so they tried to stay away from electronics during the day to compensate. There was a pile of unread books just begging to be read, afterall. Yet, as night fell and sleep abandoned them once more, the creature remained in its corner. The blue hue of the UV lamps only made it more threatening. Cold, sterile. Dead.

They couldn’t even sleep through the day. Something pulled at them, keeping them awake even as they lay with their eyes closed in their bed with the room made as dark as they could for the day. Only when the moon was out could they find a fraction of rest.

After months, they found themself getting used to the creature. It was a black blob with (admittedly creepy) eyes - no discernable features, no intent of ill-will it would seem. It just wanted to watch them through the night.

It just had to move, didn't it? It had to reach a clawed hand it had never seemed to possess before out toward them, its frozen form a threat again for the first time in a long while. The skin (If it had skin) was a black as the void it made; it was hazy due to the smoke that rose from the flesh. The only part of it that continued to move. The smoke.

Perhaps it was the home. The place they lived was haunted, wanting to torment the poor soul living within. With little money left due to the lamp expenses, they desperately pushed every new lamp into a large box and took it to a car-boot sale. They were all new, but half price anyway. They just needed enough for one night in a local hotel. Just one. To see if it would work.

Each night that passed as they sold the lamps, the creature got closer. Like it knew. More limbs came out from the haze; the other clawed hand, long seemingly muscled legs, the torso unfurling and appearing to be as large as the rest of it. A beast. A tall beast that could rip someone apart just by strength alone. Still it's face remained shadowed, the smoke dripping down like hair.

Not every lamp was taken, but enough so over the weekend event that they had the money to stay in a hotel. A single bed, no TV, shitty water pressure in the shower. It was only on the first floor but the windows were painted just all the same. At least it smelled clean.

Hope sent them to sleep that night - a tentative hope that was on the verge of snapping as each second ticked by on the old clock on the wall.

That hope snapped the second their eyes opened with the street lights sneaking through the curtains. It was here. Worst of all, it was closer than it had ever been. Crouched on the edge of the bed, tall frame leaning over so that it looked down at them with those bright white eyes. This close it was easy to see that there was no pupil. No iris. Just white.

Tears welled that they could not blink away, blurring their vision and making the creature even harder to make it. Panic grasped them tightly, their heart hammering in a chest that refused to twitch. They needed to breathe more, to take in deep, filling breaths. But they could only take in standard breaths as their head began to swim. It felt like being suffocated.

If they could scream, they would. Especially when it moved right in front of them. It never moved when they could see. Never. It was now. That elongated hand reaching down, a claw tracing the path of the tears as they fell down their face into their hairline. Some of the tears fell into their ears. It made them itchy.

The creature didn't keep its attention to their face. Its claw wandered down their body, pulling the blanket with it as it exposed them to the cold air of the hotel room. Their pyjamas were lifted, their tummy exposed. Would it start there? Rip of their innards and eat them as they could do nothing to watch?

Slowly, it pressed its hand flat to their skin. The warmth was a surprise. A creature of such darkness should emanate frost, but its flesh bordered on burning as it pressed down. Would it crush them? Would it contribute to the suffocation that felt it was taking hold?

It would not. At least, it wouldn't yet. Every touch was gentle as it flipped them over, every adjustment it made of their body made for their comfort as their head was turned to the side so that they could breath with their body laying on their front. It didn't feel right. It shouldn't be so gentle.

The tears from their left eye now fell over the bridge of their nose and into the eyeline of the other. It merged with the other falling tears as they wet the pillow.

Beside from the ruffling of clothes and the creaking of the old mattress, the room had been silent. As had the creature. No neighbouring rooms made bangs or bumps in the night. A harsh ripping broke the silence. Their clothes. The creature was removing their clothes. Tearing it to shreds with its knife-like claws and discarding the fabric on the carpeted floor below.

Goosebumps rippled over their skin as the night's air fell on it. The creature's flesh was the only warmth they could wish for - and they couldn't only wish that it would stop and leave them alone.

It was a coward. Turning them over so that it didn't have to look in their wide eyes as it tore them apart from behind. Taking their clothes as a butcher would a pelt. Taking advantage of their sleep condition, or perhaps causing it itself so that they couldn't run or fight back.

Such a strange thing, to feel anger after all of that fear. If creatures like this beast could wander the earth, then perhaps their anger would fuel their spirit enough to find a second life after death and seek vengeance on the wretched thing.

Despite the feeling that they couldn't breathe, they did not pass out. They wished they would, that they could drift off into nothing before they would feel the beast's claws in their back. This mercy would not be for them.

And neither would the claws. Not as the creature lowered itself, the bed shifting as its long legs came to sit on the floor and its hidden face lowered to the back of their thighs.

A tongue, long and thick, teased up their thigh until sharp fangs nipped at the flesh of their ass. The tongue returned quickly, flickering as it found its way to their hole.

More anger. More rage filling their heart as they desperately plead with their libs to just move. Just the littlest amount of movement - a twitch, anything! Nothing would come.

It kept poking, prodding, lapping away at their exposed hole while disgusting pleasure whispered up their spine and choked their breaths. ‘Stop,’ they tried to beg. To scream it until their throat would bleed. But what was the use? They’d been begging for months and yet no one was listening. If there was a god or even multiple of them, they’d long since been forsaken to this demonic presence.

There’s a strength to the beast. It lifts them as if it were nothing, their limp body folding as it hoists their hips up and presses it’s face even deeper into their core; that damned tongue flattening and giving a smooth, languid lick that has their eyes rolling back in their head. It should have stopped at this indignity. Why didn’t it just stop there?

It took its fill of their hole, still following with its tongue as it lowered their body back onto the mattress. As if it couldn’t bear to part with them. And sure enough, its stocky form rose over them again, that red-hot skin pressing to their back as something new wriggled and writhed against their saliva-dripping core. It meant to mount them.

One last push. One last demand for a finger to curl, to prove that they weren’t locked away inside of their own body. Underneath its body. A wall of flesh pressing down, closing in and taking away all of the air in the room as their anger slowly drained into sorrow.

That tentacle-like cock of the creature burrowed its way into them, spreading them open and penetrating deep. Strange guttural noises were snarled by their head, the beast having its pleasure while their tears returned. Every thrust of the hips was more like a roll, like a wave coming in toward the beach and retreating once more. It was graceful, powerful, threatening to take them away with it into the depths below.

How could they swim against the tide without the ability to move? How could they possibly stop the water from encasing each and every part of them, leaving not a single inch of skin dry?

Their mind refused to wander away, instead it focused on the smell of burning the creature emanated. It grasped onto every touch and grab the creature made at their skin. It couldn’t kick or scream anymore. Just like the body it inhabited. God, they were so tired.

Sweat gathered on their skin, the heat from their creature making it feel like a sauna in the cheap room. Sharp nips were given to their neck and shoulders, fanged teeth having a taste or maybe even marking what belonged to it. Its tongue came back to clean their cheeks of tears.

Why did it have to feel so sweet? The slow build to the orgasms that hit in waves matching its hips pulling in and out. Its cock moved by itself while it would thrust, slowly undulating, causing their throat to seize from how intensely their nerves lit on fire for it.

Almost. Almost they were freed from being there. It was exhausting being used so thoroughly, their eyelids were heavy and promised the sweet release of unconsciousness. It never came.

Who's to say how long it stayed on top of them that night. They couldn’t see the clock, couldn’t say when the beast woke them from peace. It stayed until the sun’s rays peaked through the cheap old curtains. But it left with a promise, a lingering hand on the back of their neck as it rose up, thumb rubbing over the freshest bite. It would be back.

They still felt numb when control returned to their limbs. Felt numb for the rest of the day until night fell once more and that fear built. All they could focus on was the fact that the semen dripping from their hole never cooled in their frigid winter air seeping into the room.

#spill my guts #collaboween #cw terato #cw noncon #not dol #cw claustrophobia #cw thalassophobia #cw sleep paralysis #gn reader #necro's fics

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citizenoftmrrwlnd · 3 months

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stimboard for : q!philza (qsmp) with imagery of caged birds, dark/enclosed spaces, and chains

x | x | x x | x | x x | x | x

#💫stim #💫for you #💫red line | skipping the queue #qsmp kin #qsmpkin #philzakin #philza kin #q!philza kin #q!philzakin #qphilza kin #qphilzakin #kin request #kin care #fictionkin #kin stuff #cw claustrophobia #cw bad kin memory #cw static #cw flashing image

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fear-aesthetic-tourney · 5 months

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Stranger synopsis

Masks, theatre, circuses, performance. Mechanical Turks, puppets and choir's. A contortionist who bends too far, a clown whose makeup is a bit off, a ring master who smiles a bit too wide. A lion that doesn't open its mouth, an acrobat that doesn't touch quite touch the tightrope, who's feet don't quite touch the ground.

Propaganda

The stranger will take your deadname and pronouns if you join us!! We'll make it disappear (along with your face probably but who needs that silly) trans people join the stranger!!!!

Buried synopsis

Dirt, coffins, chains, water, caves. The sound of water rushing past your ears, dirt rushing past your lungs, rock holding you still. Choking, being tied down, by rope or by attachments, never being quite free, never enough room to breathe.

Propoganda

the cool comfort of the buried calls to me, to lay in the dirt, be one with the mushrooms and the worms and to be at peace, the weight of the earth like a blanket that will eventually consume you and then hold you like that forever. I'm getting chills.

Extinction synopsis

The end of all things. Trash, pollution, nuclear war, a jungle untouched by humanity, at its centre is common junk. Oceans full of plastic, lungs full of tar, melting ice caps, spreading deserts, the destruction of everything. And theres nothing you can do about it.

No propaganda submitted

#the stranger #the buried #the extinction #the fear aesthetic tourney #the magnus archives #poll #tumblr poll #tournament poll #cw uncanny valley #cw choking #cw claustrophobia #cw clowns #cw drowning #cw doom #cw nuclear war

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the-dye-stained-socialite · 2 months

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Closeted Fears

The Captivating Princess/Original Character Elias Leroux Teen and Up (mild swearing) Word Count:1,336 Claustrophobia, PTSD, Intention Triggering, Abelism, Hurt No Comfort, Imprisonment, Nosebleeds. Summary: The Princess has been searching for a way to break in her newest toy, and finally figures out how Perfect hands held an iron grip on their handles. They were supposed to be safe, in the middle of a party, but when they strayed too far from the crowd. She had caught them, and pulled them off to a secluded hallway, claiming she needed "help" with something. Elias, though inebriated, could see a trap being laid. Pins and nets laid out before them, snaring the Socialite. A trap with no way out. The best course was to steer through as carefully as they could. It was their best course. They could have left their chair, but they knew they wouldn't make it far, and leaving their chair behind was akin to leaving their legs, so no dice there. They were neither strong enough, nor brave enough, to wrestle control back from her, either. So through the trap they must go, and hope that she would be kind. She never was.

This was hardly the first time something like this had happened. Ever since they came to the Palace after winning the Marvelous, the Captivating Princess had been deliberately and methodically going through ways to upset them. A well-fixed smile, a polite demure, and a well-practiced mask of unbothered indifference had gotten them through every trap thus far. They'd rendered awful stabbings into polite jokes, saying they knew many doctors. Chemical spills that ate away their favorite dress were 'nothing worse than what happened at their lab'. When she wanted to do something worse? Well, she was just as much a prisoner of the public eye as they were. She was a darling and beloved Princess, and Elias was darling and beloved Regent. They had many lovers, who could accompany them to any ball, salon, or suspicious meeting in the gardens. For those who weren't their lovers? Elias was not above manipulation and obfuscation to save themself. They could even make one of the Princess' own devotees giggle at her expense once or twice.

Without those people, the Socialite lost much of their defense against her. No one to sway, no one to distract her.They'd only been one on one with her a mere handful of times, and avoided it at every chance. Yet here they were, alone together, sitting and standing, in front of an open closet. Barely more than a cupboard. Elias took a deep breath at the sight, calming the rushing river in their veins. They knew she wanted them to go inside. It was tiny, and cramped. Had someone told her? Or was this simply another thing to check off on her list? If they stayed calm, she would never know, and that was that.

Carefully and calmly, they spoke. "You said you needed my assistance, Your Highness?"

"Yes," she responded. "I'm afraid I need that jar," she indicated a golden jar on the top shelf "and I'm not tall enough to reach. I thought I would find the tallest person I know, and that happens to be you, dear."

It was true, Elias was exceptionally tall, moreso in their heels, but she seemed to be neglecting a detail. "I'm afraid I can't do that, Your Highness. My chair won't fit in there, and you have the highest reach between us."

"Well, you'll simply have to stand."

"But-"

"I've seen you do it before," she pressed. "It won't be long, and I really must get that jar."

Elias had no memory of standing within sight of her, but clearly that was a moot point. She had already seen, and made her assumptions. They'd been rather hoping not to overtax their body today fetching a damned jar. "I... yes, Your Highness."

"Good," she purred.

They stood. They walked exactly as far in as they needed to. They kept calm. They reached for the jar. They heard their wheelchair being rolled away, and whipped around too late. They thew their entire body weight against the door, but the click of the lock sealed their personal trap. Solitary confinement.

The rushing of their blood returned, rapids so fast no seasoned Gondolier would dare navigate them. They twisted around and around, desperate for an exit. No mirrors. No tools. An empty space where the tools had been. Their skirts reached the walls of their tiny cage. It was suffocating. A sudden, earthy taste filled their mouth, causing them to gag. Nothing came out. Nothing was there. They ripped off a heel, and began to attack the door, the lock, any possible weak spot. They would do this until their hands were raw and blistered. They would cry so hard their nose would bleed, and their eyes would be swollen shut the next day. They would scream so long they would have no voice for a week. Again and again they would ram into the door, bruising and battering their body. When they could no longer stand, they would curl themself as small as they could, and try not to think of locked rooms, barred windows, and velvet-lined boxes. The Socialite would try their hardest not to think of how they would surely be forgotten, locked away in here until they were nought but dust, with no one to love them.

The party was long over when the Princess decided she had waiting long enough. The guests were gone, the servants were asleep. She made her way into that hallway once more, and retrieved both key and chair from where she had hidden them. As she approached the disused cupboard, she could hear right away the impact it had made on Hearts' little splinter. Their anguished sobs were the most beautiful music she had heard all night. 'Lovely,' she thought. She had finally found a way to break them. That Lively Gossip would be well-rewarded for the tip. Maybe now she could have fun with them. Oh, but first, she would need to set them free.

She rapped her knuckles, lightly, on the door.

A desperate wail of "LET ME OUT!" was their reply.

Oh yes, this was exactly the result she had wanted. "Only if you make a promise-"

"I PROMISE, I PROMISE!"

"That you'll spend the night with me."

"YES, PLEASE, I PROMISE, ANYTHING, LET ME OUT!"

They choked on their last words, and she laughed. "How sweet you can be," she muttered. It did not take long to open a door, but she drew it out as much as she could. The Princess wanted to savor their fear. he made certain to keep a firm grip on their chair's handles as well. When the door was finally open, she could see what a mess they had made. Two heel-less shoes, and two broken off heels, were near their skirt. The Socialite was looking more stained than usual, blood dripping from their nose and ruining their bodice. They were adorably pitiful. She had hardly enough time to take in the art, when they got up, and bolted out the door, sidestepping their chair entirely. Bare feet slapped against the floor as they ran. Her own heels clicked calmly after them. It was below her dignity to push a rider-less chair, so she dragged it behind her.

Elias had only made it halfway down the hall when they collapsed, loosing their glasses in the fall. She was quick behind them. They began to lift, to try again, but she planted a heel firmly onto their spine, and stopped that nonsense before it could begin again. "I promise, I promise," she sing-songed in a mockery of their panic. "Come along, little Regent."

"Can't... move," they said.

"Beg," she commanded.

"Your Majesty, please, help."

"Oh, Majesty? Better not tell my mother. Of course, sweet flatterer, I'll help. Royalty must help royalty, after all." She moved her hell from their back to their fragile glasses, and crushed them underfoot. She lifted the whimpering Socialite into a sitting position, then dragged them up and into their chair. A servant could clean this mess later. Elias began to cry once more, as she steered them off to a private room.

#elias leroux #fallen london #the captivating princess #fallen london fanfic #dye stained fics #cw abelism #cw claustrophobia

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kingprinceleo · 2 years

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vampire au- little continuation of this post Hoax takes him back to their meeting spot and puts him in a little magic jail cell. And shadow is not a fan of it, so much so he triggers a dormant explosive blast of chaos energy. But neither of them know what just happened

#sonic the hedgehog #sth #shadow the hedgehog #sonic au #vampire au #cw claustrophobia

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minecraftfan11onscratch · 4 months

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@whumpuary's Whumpuary 2024

Day 1-2: Captivity - Snow - Secret Revealed

Happy New Year! I accidentally made a banger! ^v^'

Anyhow, I'll essentially try to both draw and write for this event. Starting off with a bit of a personal headcanon-driven thingy for into Dreams.

[CWs: Captivity, implied feelings of claustrophobia, implied guilt and self-hatred] (note: feel free to point out if these need changing)

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They should feel good, knowing that the Visitor with blue hair got his Ideyas back with their help, and had at least one more night to dream. Should feel good that the boy's next Nightopia, a wondrous snowland with a lively train passing by, could peacefully manifest. Feel good with the hope that perhaps, with the aid of this boy and the girl, true freedom could be in sight.

And yet, there was no way.

It was always while no Visitor or Nightopian was in sight, and/or her fellow Nightmarens were not paying attention. It was always then that staving boredom away by sharpening her acrobatic skills wasn't enough.

She knew the boy from the duo of Visitors who were proving themselves to be uniquely fabled was coming. Obviously, he was just taking the free fall to enter his dreams. She just wished he could come much sooner. If only so this... dread, of never being able to escape this prison of a gazebo could leave her alone. The fear of something terrible happening to the duo, with her being helpless to do anything.

Then again... would the duo ever help them again, if both of them knew that they were from the same kind that haunted their dreams?

The girl, on a surface level, took it well. But there was a sense of mistrust in her eyes that made the jester curse their own continued existence. The boy still remained oblivious - he finally arrived, rushing to meet the jester with a wide smile in spite of only his red Ideya remaining unscathed once again.

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#whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno1 #captivity #snow #secret revealed #captivity cw #cw claustrophobia #nights into dreams #nights journey of dreams #sega nights #nights the nightmaren #elliot edwards #claris sinclair #(She is mentioned)#frozen bell

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rainbowchewynuggets · 1 year

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TMA Encore #13a

Tim is surrounded by panes of glass.

He doesn’t know where this could be. His hands hurt, but he can’t remember why. It’s hard to focus.

Something’s very wrong. What happened? Where is everyone? Sasha was just here, wasn’t she?

————

First

Index

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gabessquishytum · 9 months

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The bowlfish but

Both Hob and Dream are trapped in there together, sharing the same space, for the 100 + years

Maybe Hob is tied to Dream in some way, which ends up being summoned too.

Lack of resources(lol) and time, Burgess puts them together in the fishbowl (also because he doesn't know if Hob is anything special, so he isn't risking it)

So basically the "And they were roomates" taken to the extreme

And hopefully is any of these aren't taken...

🪀 🧶. 🎠. (leaving multiple options in case the former is taken)

And if a friend of mine see this..... it's not true, it's not me, I swear!!!

I love this idea!!! Roommates in the fishbowl. I've literally never seen this concept before and I think it's really cool! I am calling you 🪀 anon because i like the yo-yo emoji!

Are they both naked? I feel like they could be. I'm assuming that Hob would be a soldier at the time of the summoning, so maybe he's in uniform. Or maybe they strip him off.

In any case, it's far from comfortable. I believe that Hob would try very hard to get out, despite the fact that Dream refuses to move. Hob spends a good few hours banging on the glass until his fists are bloody and broken. Maybe Dream gently takes his hands as Hob cries and rages. It’s the first time that Dream has moved since they both awoke in the prison.

There are so many painful things to consider… is there air inside the glass? Probably not much, I imagine. Does Hob slowly suffocate again and again, unable to die but not able to live properly either? In any case he’ll soon be starving. Again. The one thing he swore he would never happen. And Dream has to watch. It’s just like Jessamy dying over and over. Presumably Burgess is also stopping Hob from sleeping somehow since the Corinthian told him about that. So Hob is being tortured in that way as well.

Assuming that Hob can breathe, I’m sure he’d talk to Dream, even if Dream refuses to say a word. And that their bodies touch, by necessity of the small space. Hob promises that he won’t ask for death, he won’t leave his stranger alone whatever happens. Dream keeps holding Hob’s injured hands, even after they heal. He hates himself for thinking it but having Hob is better than being alone. At least he can cling to a speck of hope.

Oof.

#🪀 anon #the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw claustrophobia #cw torture

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foxboidrew · 4 months

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Possible tw for claustrophobia!!