#he literally just pushes everything out of the way

[pochaccoups]

cw — dry humping, making out, handjob, pet names ‘baby’ and ‘pretty girl’, best bf cheol (minors dni)

It’s a confession you make half-hoping Seungcheol doesn’t hear you: “you’re so hard. Let me jerk you off.”

You say it in the heat of the moment, utter it against his lips, reluctant partly because it’s perverted, it’s obscene, and it’s just utterly desperate of you, and partly also because you’re supposed to be taking it slow with him. You’ve had too many relationships go to shit when you fucked them right off the bat and found out after that you’d had nothing in common. Then you met Choi Seungcheol, who seemed a little too good to be true, and from the moment you’d told him you didn’t want to rush into any kind of intimacy just yet, he was more careful with your boundaries than you yourself.

For the last God-knows-how-long though, you’d sat in his lap, rutting yourself against him while he stole your breath with his lips, and fuck, he’s so hard against you that you think it must hurt, and he’s your boyfriend, so why wouldn’t you help him out?

When you say it, he tugs you away from him by your neck, not harsh or rough at all but rather in the way that everything he does has an air of dominance. He stares at you with hardened features, his attempt to appear stern betrayed only slightly by his kiss-swollen lips and cherry red cheeks, and yet you’re not afraid to persist.

“I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret,” he says, so soft and low that he could lull you to sleep.

“It’s fine, Cheol. It won’t even count because you’re not putting it inside,” you say with a shrug and a grin.

Seungcheol has never felt so torn in his life. He wants to build up tension slowly with you until you trust him, until you’re certain that you’re ready to go all the way with him, to take the next step and bare yourself to him. Saying no to you is impossible though, especially when you make him want to give you the entire world. He’s also so, so hard, and his only options are to give in to you or jerk himself off in the bathroom alone.

His thumb traces over your bottom lip, his boner growing worse from the soft suppleness of it, from the batting of your lashes, from the carnal gleam in your eyes. Fuck it, he thinks. You’re the one who wanted it in the first place, anyway.

“Alright,” he says, and he already sounds out of breath, like the mere thought of your hand around him is enough to make him lose his mind. (It is.)

He starts to shift beneath you, simultaneously grasping your waist to reposition you ever so slightly as he pulls his sweats a few inches down his hips while your ardent fingers help him along. “But the second you wanna stop, we stop, okay?”

“Not gonna wanna stop,” you say, humming. Seungcheol pauses and stares at you, unamused. It makes you roll your eyes. “God, okay, I’ll tell you if I wanna stop. Now can I touch your dick, please?”

He narrows his eyes at you in faux doubt, only to wink at you and finally push his boxers down enough to let his cock spring free.

You feel your insides literally warm at the sight of it. It’s darkened pink, veiny, long, and girthier than anything you’ve ever seen. How can you not think about how it would feel inside you, stretching you out? Because God knows it would stretch you out. You’re pretty sure you’ll need several weeks of foreplay for him to fit.

“Cheol, you’re huge…” you say before you can stop yourself, growing suddenly timid.

“Good thing I’m not putting it inside then, hm?” says Seungcheol, chuckling a little.

He notices the shift in your eyes—it’s not hesitation, you’re just stunned. His hand soothes up and down your back, a silent reminder to take your time. For a split second his heart drops when he thinks maybe you’ve changed your mind about this, about him, and then your hand reaches for his length.

“Can I?” you ask. So polite, as if you’ve never done anything like this before. It makes Seungcheol want to smother you with kisses.

“Please,” he replies, only hoping it’s not too desperate.

The relief when your fingers finally grasp him makes Seungcheol’s shoulder sag, and he finds himself sinking further into the couch when your thumb swirls over his reddened cockhead. Beads of precum drool from his slit and you smear them all over his tip, smirking softly when Seungcheol’s breath hitches in his throat.

With your bottom lip between your teeth to stop yourself from making an embarrassing noise, you start to pump his member slowly. You drool at the heaviness of it, at the way your fingers don’t touch as they wrap around him, at Seungcheol’s tiny noises as he inhales and exhales.

“Think you could spit on it for me?” he asks and his voice has dropped about three octaves now. He’s careful with his words, wanting nothing but for you to do things on your own accord.

He has to stop himself from cumming on the spot when you give a nod and a sweet smile before bending forward to let a dollop of spit drop from your pretty lips and land perfectly on his tip.

“Show me how you like it, Cheol,” you say. His heart skips several beats and he wishes he could record your words and listen to them again and again. Fuck, you’re perfect. He already knew that, knew it after about two weeks of knowing you, but you just keep affirming it for him and he wonders if you know your effect on him.

Seungcheol’s hand is warm as it engulfs yours. His grip is much tighter—painful even, you would think, but as he starts guiding your hand up and down with vigour, he throws his head back and moans, and you can’t help the way your pussy aches at the sound.

He shows you exactly how he likes it: tight, and with a flick of the wrist to swirl around his tip.

“God, fuck, baby, that’s it,” he grunts and bucks his hips into your hand.

Heat creeps up the back of your neck. There’s a dash of timidness you get from being this intimate with Seungcheol for the first time, although it’s not even you who’s exposed, and then there’s desire. Wild, burning lust. He’s the hottest man you’ve ever laid eyes on, and he’s falling apart in your hands.

“Your cock’s so pretty, Cheollie,” you say. His already dark eyes have grown impossibly darker, riddled with want as they flicker between your intertwined fingers around his cock, and your face. “Can’t wait to have it in my mouth.”

“F-fuck, didn’t know you had such a dirty mouth, pretty girl,” he moans, quickening your pace. His precum leaks all over your fingers, so wet that there’s an audible slick sound with every pump up and down.

“Only for you,” you say, and your gaze falls to his glistening lips, and you’re moving absentmindedly towards them until you’re kissing him. It’s even messier than before, more breathless, like neither of you are holding back your wanting anymore. Your tongue licks against his shamelessly. You’re hungry for him. He settles a hand at the nape of your neck, drawing you closer to him so that he can kiss you so hard your head starts to spin.

You’re not sure when you’d started grinding on him again, rutting your crotch over his hard thigh like a dog, but you can’t find it in yourself to feel ashamed of yourself when Seungcheol’s chest is starting to heave, his moans are growing more frequent, and his cock is throbbing against your hand.

“You’re twitching, Cheol. Are you gonna cum?” you tease, your cunt fluttering.

“Yeah, ’m close,” he says through gritted teeth.

And he’s certainly honest, because a few more strokes and he’s giving a deep, guttural groan and cumming in thick, milky white spurts all over his hoodie. His blissed out face is a sight to behold, although he doesn’t let you do so in favour of pulling you in for another kiss, one that’s soft and chaste this time.

Choi Seungcheol’s duality will kill you one day.

“Did so good for me, baby, thank you,” he says, giving you his sugary smile. “I’m gonna go… uh, change real quick and then I’ll return the favour, yeah?”

“Wh- return the favour? But- that- I wanted to help you out, though, so it’s fine!” you stutter, and he’s already plucked you off his lap like you’re weightless and stood up to his feet.

“Baby,” he says, taking your hand. “I felt you grinding all over my leg. Let me take care of you like you did for me.”

[lightlycareless]

to celebrate both the new masterlist I made for Toji, and the newyear (and also his birthday??? damn) I decided to write a little something for him :) it was somewhat inspired by these other works that aren't really necessary to read but you can go ahead if you'd like.

warnings: none. domestic fluff. megumi is your son :) also please excuse my oocness with him, I have yet to grow accustomed to writing him 🥺

happy reading!

The bedroom door quietly creeks open, followed by the sound of quick, pitter-patters making their way to your side.

And then, after a few seconds of apparent reluctance, a gentle nudge on your shoulder finally wakes you up.

“Mom, mom.”

“Hm—hmm? What—what is it, sweetie?” you murmur, slowly blinking your eyes open and getting to see your favorite batch of unruly hair, alongside a cute, oh so adorable frowning face staring back at you. “Is everything alright, Gumi?”

“I can’t sleep.” He quietly confesses, gently clenching at your sleeve.

“Oh, that’s not good. What happened?” you lament. “Did you have a nightmare?”

Megumi nods.

“With the wolves?”

He nods once again.

“Can I sleep with you?”

You don’t bother asking him anything else, instead, you simply smile, carefully lifting your blanket and gesturing him to join you, which he does without hesitation soon after, your bed barely budging underneath his weight as Megumi accommodates himself between you and his father, who barely acknowledged his presence given the way he remained soundly asleep.

“Are you ok here?” you ask, pulling the blankets over the two and wrapping your arms around your baby—well, he’s hardly a baby anymore at his 6 years of age, but to you he’ll always be your baby.

“Yes.” Megumi responds, snuggling closer to you and sighing, already feeling his fears vanishing underneath your comforting warmth. “…goodnight, mom.”

“Goodnight, honey” you smile, giving him one quick kiss to the top of his head before closing your eyes and returning to your peaceful slumber…

…

…

…

Amidst Toji’s snores, which your child, poor little Megumi, was not accustomed to—waking up soon after the first round of beastly growls (his words) graced his ears.

“Hmm—! Mom!” Megumi groans, quick to cover his ears in hopes of easing silence, to no avail. “Mom!”

“What is it, Gumi? The same nightmare?” you murmur.

“No! It’s dad and his horrible snores!” he cries back. “How can you even sleep?!”

“Oh, that’s—” you giggle, causing your son to complain once again. “I just got used to it.”

An impossible endeavor that would have him reconsidering if his nightmares were all that bad to begin with, maybe he’d rather deal with them that his old man’s literal growls… unless he were to get a combination of the two.

Now that is a true nightmare.

But contrary to you, he’ll never get used to your and his father’s nightly dynamics, and the longer he goes on awake because of the latter, the grumpier and decisive Megumi becomes.

It’s not Toji’s fault that he has the tendency to reach out for you when asleep, drape his arm over you as if to check you were still there, perhaps afraid that he’d wake up and you’d be gone—but to an exasperated Megumi that was just the needed excuse for his patience to reach his limit, quickly pushing himself off your embrace and towards his father, a prominent scowl on his face as he waits for him to give him another reason.

Just one more snore and then, he smacks him! A sound so loud that it makes you jolt fully awake and instinctively looking over to your son, primarily worried that he might’ve unwittingly hurt himself, before realizing Toji was the one in danger after all. Yes, someone as robust  as your husband could still fall victim to Gumi’s punch; hence the laughter you’re trying so hard to hold back.

“Huh—what?” Toji breathes, half awake, half asleep, but completely in pain. “What was that??”

“Shut up!” He cries back, attempting to hit him again; luckily Toji’s reflexes were quick to kick in, saving himself from another humiliating endeavor. “You’re too loud, I can’t sleep!”

“When did you get here?” Toji asks, holding onto Megumi’s wrist and keeping him from afflicting him again.

“Our little blessing had a nightmare.” You begin to explain, placing your hand over Toji’s grasp and releasing your son. “And wanted to sleep with us, that’s all.”

“Did he?” Toji smirks. “What’s it about? That he smiled for the first time in his life?”

“Toji…”

“What?” He laughs. “You know I’m just teasing.”

“I didn’t want to sleep with you dad, I only wanted mom!” Megumi declares, ready to go back to his rightful place, until Toji decides he’s not gotten enough of making fun of his child, quickly encaging him within his arms and keeping him away from you. “No, you—Mom!”

“Oh, too good for your old man, now?”

“Toji!” you gasp amidst giggles. “Leave our son alone, or we’ll leave!”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Toji responds.

“Try me.”

It’s a mystery how Megumi fell asleep, probably relented himself to his situation and just gave up, but the sight that welcomes him that morning is one that Toji has him smiling: you, cuddled up with his 6-year-old son underneath the warm blankets he hates to leave but must do so because of work.

All to give you the life both deserve; one he never thought he’d be gratuitously given—unless it was with you. Only if it was with you.

Time certainly passes by so quickly, to believe that he once believed himself deserving of nothing but loneliness, he now has this:

A wife that loves him unconditionally, wholly, with all his scars and fears…

And a son that only grows bigger and snarkier each passing day. The similarities between the two are uncanny to say the least, but when he finds you in him, he can’t help but smile. It makes his heart… warm.

For the first time in his life, he looks forward to what the future holds.

[reignpage]

hiiii i hope this doesnt add to the super specific ask about the eden characters and doesnt seem weird but im kinda curious of what the eden couples argue about, like what causes them to argue and how long does it take for them to resolve their issues? (maybe also what they do for forgiveness? like im thinking someone would cut up fruits for their lover as an apology 💀)

Two questions in one ask HOW GREEDDDY😡

Gojo and reader

In college:

They argue about Gojo’s friends. The frat guys who are rowdy and boisterous. Most of them are nice enough but frat guys get drunk and they become people reader can’t stand to be around. But they’re Gojo’s boys so he gets defensive. This is a recurring issue so it doesn’t really get resolved, it just dies down until it gets brought up again

In life:

They argue over Gojo’s immaturity. He’s too go with the flow sometimes and it leaves reader to deal with things, like he’s always lived in a position of privilege so there are some things he misses or he just doesn’t know, like how to lead a business or be a good role model.

It doesn’t take very long for Gojo to realise because he can see her getting visibly panicked.

Gojo apologises for leaving the responsibility to her by stepping up and getting serious. And then he’s pampering her with a spa day and shopping

Geto and reader

Generally:

Geto has a tendency to become withdrawn, to start smoking more often and to lose sleep, not telling her what’s on his mind. It’s hard for reader because she’s never been in his position so she doesn’t know what to do, she wants to give him his space but she’s worried giving him too much would just allow him to spiral more, but then pushing her way in might just push him away altogether

It varies every time. Sometimes it takes a week, sometimes it takes a month etc

Geto can only apologise and try to do better, making up for lost time and attending all the therapy. But none of it ever seems to do the trick

Choso and reader

They don’t have deep issues to resolve lol, these two are like hippies, it’s all just weed and art for them

But reader does get annoyed when Choso leaves his supplies around. She trips on paint cans or stubs her toes on canvas lying on the floor. She gives him the silent treatment.

It never lasts long, choso’s got a sixth sense when it comes to his muse. And he hates making her upset, so he’ll clean everything in the house just to cover all bases. And then he gets on his knees and literally begs her to forgive him.

Reader always has a devious idea for a punishment (not always sexual but tends to be) it could be something like being her nude model for hours. Choso will do whatever, he has little pride lol

Toji and reader

Oh god, these two argue all the damn time. It’s mostly reader telling Toji off. Something like leaving his basketball everywhere or staying out too late or not throwing beer bottles away or getting into a fight with another player or a coach etc etc

It can last a while since they’re both stubborn. Longest was when he quit his job as a physical trainer without consulting her and that fight lasted three weeks. But generally it’s days.

Toji knows he’s usually in the wrong and he cozies up to her, rubbing her shoulders, hugging her from the back, kissing her until she breaks.

They fuck it out.

Lots of angry sex. Sometimes they fight just to have angry sex.

Nanami and reader:

They don’t have little fights. Nanami’s literally perfect, he has no flaws no I am not biased. Reader on the other hand is full of flaws and bad habits lol. But he’s forgiving and oh so patient, so there’s rarely ever any issue.

They do have big fights though, mostly around reader’s insecurities. Like the research partner. There’s no shouting, just tears, a lot of tears and lot of sobbing and begging.

When he sees her like that, Nanami’s heart breaks. Like literally. He falls to his knees and begs her to let him in, to not push him away, to trust him and believe him when he says there’s no one else, there’s never been anyone else.

He holds her in his arms until she calms down, takes her to the bath, and does her whole routine for her. Then he takes her to bed where he tries to soothe her and lets her fall asleep crying. When they wake up, reader is ashamed.

He doesn’t let her apologise.

Sukuna and reader:

Boy oh boy where do I begin with these two?

They argue over a lot of things. Sukuna hates when she’s nice to stupid, rich men, especially if they’re handsome. Reader hates when he’s nice to stupid rich, women, especially if they’re beautiful, and oh my god if they’re beautiful AND younger. Sukuna gets upset because she never butters him up like that. Reader is upset because he’s never nice.

They fuck it out.

Lots of angry sex that are more like hate sex? It’s just the forest over and over again, in every surface in every room in every conceivable position.

Then they’re good again.

Sometimes reader remembers what happened in first year and just gives him the silent treatment. Oh god sukuna hates the silent treatment, it’s worse than when she screams at him and attacks him, or even when she snubs him in public. He tries to do it back to her and these ice cold moments in the estate where they pretend the other doesn’t exist can last weeks, months. One time lasted 5 months.

Sukuna always caves first. He cuffs her to him when she’s sleeping so she’s forced to acknowledge his presence and even though she breaks the silence first, they both know he lost

He doesn’t mind losing when it feels like winning

[multiheadcanons]

MEMES AND TRAITS THE MERCS STOLE FROM SCOUT AND POORLY USE TO PISS HIM OFF

soldier: soldier started calling everything a “glizzy” after he heard scout say it exactly once. he was eating a hot dog and said “damn this glizzy is perfectly dressed.” he did not get it, he did not care enough to ask what that meant. he just started calling everything a glizzy. rockets? glizzy. ammo? glizzy. the medigun, fully charged and primed for an ubercharge? “HIT ME WITH THAT GLIZZY, DOC!” this was the beginning of the end with scout, once he got past the white knuckled shock of hearing that man say glizzy way too many times to the wrong things.

pyro: pyro eats up a whip and nae nae, no lie. they saw scout do it after a successful push of the payload, and everyone looked at scout weird, but pyro registered that smile, and those movements and committed it to heart. on the next battle, pyro physically dragged scout to a location near the edge of the map, and made a motion to stay still and watch. it freaked scout out until pyro air blasted one, two, three, four of the opposing team off the map; and after the fourth’s screams were cut short from hitting the bottom; they turned slowly to scout, and hit a whip. it’s the only time scout actually laughed. “yeah, get that shit pyro!”

demo: everything scout knows demo knew well before him, it just never came through right with his accent. but when scout started dapping people up demo was ALL IN for that. always brings scout in way too hard and knocks the wind out of him and stings his hands. “you’re not doing it right, lad! like this!” scout never wants to complain because it feels cool to get dapped up by someone he also thinks is cool, though he doesn’t want to admit that. scout does not want demo dapping up anyone else though because they’re not cool enough, except heavy he’s got no opinion on that because it’s funny to watch demo get the wind knocked out of him.

engineer: engineer hits that “gyat DAMN” often because of his accent. scout is convinced he’s using it wrong, that pisses engie off because it’s literally his accent and scout can get the fuck over himself he’s not from the first generation that made up language. sometimes to piss him off he’ll say skibidi toilet with no actual context to go around it. and scout hates that bc he hates skibidi toilet. also an enjoyer of the dap even when heavy and demo practically lift him off his feet with it.

heavy: heavy will dap people up. he loves it. makes him feel like he’s getting closer with his team. will always end a dap by pulling them in for a brief, yet crushing hug. everyone eats it up, laughing after they catch the breath he forcibly removed from their lungs and patting his arm or back, whatever the recipient can reach. also loves to say rizz, it makes his teeth vibrate in a good way. “doctor, you are a rizz master!” “demoman, keep rizzing your weapons!” “i LOVE my weapons rizz!” he doesn’t know if he’s using it right, scout just wholeheartedly assures him he’s using it right.

medic: medic heard scout say something fucks once. now, for him, EVERYTHING fucks. he himself DEFINITELY fucks. he assumed it’s a good thing. there was one time in the throes of battle, he managed to catch scout to heal him, and used the speed boost he got from it to catch up and yell over the din “you’re FUCKING today, scout!” and scout jumped his ass about how he’s not even using it right and he never wanted to hear that again. unfortunately, the doctor is a hellish bastard who loves pissing people off, so now everything does indeed fuck. he definitely fucks. “oh, my medigun? ja, that fucks. and i fuck too.” “doc, nobody wants to hear what you’re fucking, dude”. pissed scout off more when he and soldier were ubered, running into battle, and soldier said very confidently “your glizzy tops ALL OTHER GLIZZIES” and medic responded, making direct eye contact with scout in the heat of battle; “ja, my glizzy fucks.”

sniper: snipes dabbed twice in the privacy of his own nest to see how it felt and couldn’t get over his own shame that he did that. he did it twice because he alternated arms to see if it felt less stupid to do it the other way. it didn’t. he will never bring himself to do that again. that was embarrassing. has a dreadful feeling the other teams sniper saw him do it. sometimes after a really good kill streak he’ll do a small dab as a treat. he does unironically use “deadass”

spy: anything that will piss scout off spy is happy to do. spy has used words he knows does not exist to confuse scout as to the current slang going around. he’ll have scout on the internet desperately searching words that not only don’t exist, but he can’t even spell, just to make sure spy isn’t a step ahead of him. but spy is always two steps ahead of him. spy will say shit just to feel the bostonians eyes burn holes in the back of his skull, only to turn to him and say “what, you’ve never heard that before? look it up!” then hides in his room to watch him desperately search a word he can’t even spell. unironically uses “deadass” because he heard snipes say it once and it wriggled its way into his mind like a worm. he says it after like… everything.

[somerandomcockroach]

OKAY THIS MUST BE BLURR?? I think he was the one showing the road and helping people evacuate?? And I think he just sticks his head out and looks for people who need help to get out and save just like with Swindle

HELP yes this is Blurr. He blabberies a lot. MGRHFJROIFPROdo you bring your millions on a death operations? Please the image of the wealthy runaway kid buying and running his little bar at his fifteens

BLURR LIKES SWEET CONFIRMED PLEASE SPEED RACER FULL ON SUGAR WHEEEEZEEE ....A week ago... they don't even have an access to dates?.. WHEEEEEEEZEEEEE OKAY NUMBERS WOULD HAVE LOOKED FUNNY IF HE ACTUALLY HAD A BDAY TODAY

I TAKE ALL MY WORDS BACK IT'S NOT HIS. HE DRINKS IN SOMEONE'S BAR AHAHSHAGHSAG *breathes in and out* Short Swindle sitting on a long bar chair when his toes can't even reach the floor with his elbow and head on the table in the underground bar that still works while the rumble is above and Blurr staring up. I love it.... HERE IT STARTS. IT WAS THE PROBLEM RIGHT FROM THE 11TH MECHAS. THEY ARE NOT SEEN. JUST BIG ROBOTS. OH. DEBTS. MMMM. LOVE DESPERATION BECAUSE OF BEDTS. Can I joke about debt trauma making Swindle desperate of money? A smiling man came in your life and suggested money. His sensei. Imagine a teen coming across a real pilot. First impressions showing that they can easily die and their mecha's life saving systems suck. And then hearing "I had to do it for the people". Not sure if Blurr could read it as a "leave me be" answer, but it might be a good push for a teen's mind *BEATS THE TABLE* *BEATS THE TABLE MORE AGGRESSIVELY* TRAUMATIZED PEOPLE WHO CAN FINALLY REST FOR A LITTLE BIT IN A RANDOM PLACE WITH RANDOM PEOPLE

VORTEX LAUGHS LIKE HYENA. PLEASE SOMEONE MAKE HIS POSSESSED MECHA LAUGH I WANNA HEAR THE CRACKED MACHINE WHEEEZEEING

GHFDHEGWEHRG I can't decide if Vortex is so yuky that you don't want to strangle him with your own hands or Blast Off is too smart to leave the trace of his hands on his neck HFHGEGFHEGHSG

CAN I. MY BRAIN DECIDED THAT BLURR WAVES HELLO IN A ROUNDED FAST MOVEMENTS This time he brought money but better be safe, come on, make your mood by learning it's free .................Okay I was just laughing at it but I think they are fed like animals in the program and he does shovel good food to share man.... ............man...... I am melting at how their relationship slowly changes over years... Also walking orchestra. Yes. WHEEEEEEEEEEEZEEEEE VORTEX I LOVE YOU IN THE MOST STRANGEST WAYS Was Swindle promoted to the work in lab? Or overall their group was promoted to something that freed them from rough experiments?.. .............I wonder if you have in mind exact bot for the boss position with this smile.... I kind of think of bots with mnemo surgery And Shockwave went through something too..... IMAGINE. IMAGINE EVEN IF CRAZY AND HARD TO HANDLE WARRIOR. DOESN'T COME BACK ON E DAY BECAUSE OF MONSTERS HE USED TO KILL DAILY. Have to take care of every of them... Brawl's safety and their own. Not like with such answer they can get something out of any of them .......okay that's why I usually don't read stuff on pc on tumblr it turns into this disaster...... THEY DID IT. I KNOW IT WAS CUT OFF SHORT BUT THE IMAGE OF THEM ALL VIOLATING. TURNING EVERYTHING UPSIDE DOWN AND MAKING THEIR PLANS TRUE. YESSSS. PROMOTION TO "I'M BUYING". THE DAY HE CAN DO IT. MAN. HE HAS POSSIBLE CANDIDATE HE HAS AND I DON'T EVEN WANT TO TELL HIM TO RUN BECAUSE THIS IS LITERALLY THE ONLY PERSON WHO FITS FOR EVERYTHING AND ACTUALLY WILLING TO HELP OKAY BYYYEE OH GOD HAGSHAG DAMN GOD *THROWS UP HANDS*

Chapter 3 of Blurr’s storyline in Mecha AU!

Previous chapter

“Speaking of Mechs.” continues Blurr, ”That thing's evacuation system sucks. What if you were stunned by the fall? What if something short-circuits and starts a fire???”

Swindle just clenches the glass in his hands. Feels the cold moisture of condensation dripping down onto his fingers.

“Then I'd burn.” he doesn't say

Under the cut⤵️

——————————————————

It's Swindle's birthday.

He thinks it is.

He's pretty sure.

Since he was taken into the program, it's always hard to tell. It's like time flows differently here. He had a calendar, but Brawl put it somewhere a while ago and then forgot where it was. And they're not allowed to have phones yet. Though Swindle assumes Onslaught managed to steal one from someone anyway.

Shit. Where's the calendar?

Swindle remembers the date, but can't remember the month.

There's a strange static tingling sensation in the back of his head. If he turns his head too fast, it'll grow into an unpleasant pricking pain.

The last time in the lab was disgusting.

He can't remember what month it is. He's not even sure why it bothers him so much. Not that birthdays mean anything within the walls of the program.

He stops in the middle of the living room and looks around with a meticulous eye. He's already checked the beds, desk, and nightstands...hah.

“Hey have any of you seen my calendar?”

Vortex, sitting on top of the bunk bed shakes the ash off his cigarette right down into Blast Off's lap.

“Nope.”

“TEX YOU'RE LITTERING ON MY BED.”

“I could have ..torn it up” offers Brawl from across the room.

Swindle turns on his heels and angrily rests his arms at his sides.

“You tore it?”

“I might have,” Brawl scratches the back of his head.

Swindle pinches the bridge of his nose

That's fine. Not that he cares that much. Not that any celebration at all would save the crappy day.

He has some new “experimental” medical procedure scheduled for later, which generally means suffering. Or if he's lucky, some critter will attack the city and instead of squirming on the slab, he'll have to go cuddle with huge nasty beasts. Which is slightly better than the actual procedures. He'd like that to happen. If only his head would also stop buzzing....

“Happy birthday to me” Swindle thinks, sticking his Mech hand under the plates of a particularly ugly monster and pulling something disgustingly oozing green blood out of there. He can see the faces of the random gawkers who didn't have time to evacuate. Ooh, some of them got that nasty stuff on their faces. Swindle has no time to feel sorry for them.

The monster did attack, but it's entirely possible that this monster ended the last meager supply of luck Swindle had. Because somewhere. Something. In his head begins to hurt again and the world in front of his eyes begins to slowly blur and..

ahh FUCK….

The monster grabs him knocks him to the ground and Swindle can literally feel in his bones that something's wrong, but the data from his Mech doesn't give him any useful information. Which isn't that uncommon. These things are glitchy as hell and aren't designed to recognize anything but the most basic popular malfunctions.

The word “error” shines mockingly in his face. Blurring in his eyes and reflecting in red on his uniform.

Error, error, what the hell is this error. He needs to know what's wrong so he doesn't accidentally kill himself, but all this bucket offers him is oops. You're in trouble teeheee~

He can hear the sound of Blast Off's giant cannon in the distance. And the loud rumble where Vortex and Onslaught are trying to get out of the ring of monsters.

His Mech is unresponsive. His damn machine refuses to move and Swindle isn't quite sure if it's the Mech that's the problem, because his head feels like a piece of raw rotten meat and maybe the error meant that what's broken is him.

The monster leans over him, trying to rip off whatever it can rip off and thank god this thing apparently isn't smart enough to realize that the Mech is controlled from the head because it's aiming straight for his chest.

He needs to get out. If he can't get this thing to move, he needs to get the fuck out of it before the alien gets him.

He manages to open the emergency hatch and quietly slip out and ohhhh the world is spinning, this is not bloody good.

He manages to take a few steps before a loud B A N G comes from somewhere above and IS THAT A TRAIN???? Who in their right mind would think of using a fucking train as a throwing weapon???? Is that Brawl? It's got to be Brawl. Oh, Swindle is so gonna kill him.

Because (sadly) in addition to the monster, the train and Swindle, there's also physics involved in this circus.

So while the monster is effectively brought to rest and knocked sideways with a hole in it’s head, the train stops its forward motion and starts its downward motion.

Right onto Swindle's head.

He just has time to think that dying from a train falling out of the sky is a pretty creative death. His legs are shaking, his head is buzzing and he only manages to take half a sluggish step in an attempt to avoid the inevitable when a loud “MOVE” comes to his ears and something yanks him to the side.

The tug sends fire down his spine and head. The ensuing landing reverberates with pain in his shoulder and sides. He barely has time to process the first two sensations until a moment later he hears a rumble so deafening that he thinks his eardrums are about to burst.

Swindle props himself up on his elbows and hisses in pain as the movement causes the back of his head to sting.

“Ah I'll fuckin' kill him...”

A voice comes above him

“Ouw dude. You okay?”

There's.. Some teenager hovering over him. And behind him is lying...the wrecked train...right where Swindle himself was standing a second ago.

The strange teen frowns worriedly and pulls Swindle upright and drags him somewhere else

“Come on, it's best not to be in the open during monster attacks”

“Ah” thinks Swindle ”right. Without Mech you're a pathetic tiny piece of chop begging to be stomped on by Brawl.”

He tries to focus on balance so he doesn't hang too much on this kid.

They find the nearest unlocked door, which turns out to be the entrance to an underground bar.

“So” says the stranger, letting go of Swindle and shaking the dust off his hair ” You're a pilot! That's so cool, but you're kinda small for a pilot.”

Swindle sighs sullenly.

“I'll let you have that one comment about my height because you helped me, but next time you're dead.”

“Helped? I saved your ass.”

“Helped a lot” says Swindle grudgingly. “Thanks.”

The teen laughs and climbs into the bar. It's a mess everywhere, people clearly evacuated in a hurry and threw everything in haste.

“What's your name? Oh, or, wait. Do you guys use code names? I've heard pilots call each other by call signs, but half the time those call signs sound so dumb, I don't see how they can respond to that.”

He waits for the kid to cut off his flow of words to take a breath. Man, what a chatty boy.

“You can call me Swindle.”

“Kay” the kid pulls out a couple glasses ”I'm Blurr. Would you like something Swindle? I don't mean to brag, but I'm pretty good at mixing cocktails.”

Swindle looks around the room suspiciously. The bar, even though it's underground, looks pretty good. Too good, in fact. The place is clearly not for the poor.

He walks over to the bar and climbs onto a bar stool. There's no one else in here but them, but the electricity is on so he doesn't doubt for a second that they're being filmed by a security camera right now. Maybe a few even.

Blurr throws him an expectant look.

Swindle pretends to go through his pockets. As if there could be money in them out of nowhere. Then he makes a comically confused face and spreads his hands.

“Oh, no, I think I left my millions at home. What's the cheapest thing you have?”

Blurr snorts.

“Ice is free.”

“I'll take the ice then” nods Swindle.

There is a loud rumbling sound above them. It must be Vortex having fun again bouncing on the aliens that have fallen to the ground, crushing their heads.

Swindle is just. He takes off his helmet, takes a glass of ice and presses it to his head enjoying the way the nasty buzzing recedes.

Blurr waits for the rumbling to recede before speaking again.

“But really. You're a pilot but...uh. Are you even old enough to drink?”

Swindle sends him his best grumpy look. It's not exactly a joke about his height, but it's damn close.

“Are you old enough to pour?”

“Sure,” says Blurr too fast for it to be true. If Swindle had to guess, he'd say the guy in front of him is no older than seventeen. The tattered jeans and the T-shirt with the F1 logo printed on it definitely don't help. And, hey, those headphones look very expensive. So do the sneakers. Kid's clearly from a wealthy family.

Blurr pulls out a bottle of syrup from somewhere and pours it straight into his mouth. Doesn't miss, which is amusing. Doesn't wince, which is frankly impressive. Swindle feels the unbearable sweetness just looking at him.

It suddenly hits him

“Hey, do you have a phone?”

“Sure,” Blurr pours himself more syrup. Swindle twitches.

“What's the day today?”

Blurr's mouth is full of an unimaginable amount of sugar, so he just pulls out his phone and turns its screen toward Swindle and oh...oh. He was wrong about the date. And the month, too. It's not his birthday. His birthday was a week ago...

Does that mean he must be nineteen now? Yeah, that makes him nineteen.

Blurr takes the phone back and slips it into his pocket.

“Your face looks funny.”

“I just realized it's my birthday today,” smiles Swindle.

“Oooooooohh~~~” rejoices Blurr ”Congratulations! It's kind of poetic that you almost died just today. Can you imagine how funny the numbers on your tombstone would have looked.”

Swindle chokes on air.

“That's certainly a very appropriate comment, thank you...”

“Sorry haha said without thinking.” Blurr reaches under the counter again and pulls out a bottle from there “Hey, they have more syrups!”

There's another loud rumble from upstairs.

Blurr presses his head into his shoulders and stares up at the ceiling as if hoping to see something through it.

Swindle puts his elbows and head on the tabletop

“Don't worry, it's just Brawl.”

Blurr doesn't take his eyes off the ceiling

“ You can tell that by the sound of falling concrete?”

Swindle lazily dangles his feet. The chair is high and even the toes of his shoes don't reach the floor.

“Brawl is the loudest. And the heaviest, too. He's always crashing into everything, throwing things and breaking things too. You can hear him a mile away.”

He pauses to listen

“And that kch-ooooooooomm is Blast Off's cannon. It's some super rare experimentally advanced one, so it sounds like something out of a space movie. He couldn't stop bragging about it for half a year when he got it.”

Blurr chuckles and leans his elbows on the counter, relaxing.

“ And this...uh...what's this?”

“That's Vortex, he's our local lunatic. Best not to listen too much to what he does, it's almost always disgusting in ways you would never even consider.”

Blurr makes a disgruntled face and is silent for a couple minutes.

“It's weird hearing you call them by their names. I mean, I kind of always knew Mechs were run by people but you guys are never seen, so most of the time it's just.. Huge robots and huge monsters. You know what I mean. I was actually surprised when I saw you get out of that Mech.”

Swindle just nods. Because, what else is there to add.

“Speaking of Mechs.” continues Blurr, ”That thing's evacuation system sucks. What if you were stunned by the fall? What if something short-circuits and starts a fire???”.

Swindle just clenches the glass in his hands. Feels the cold moisture of condensation dripping down onto his fingers

“Then I'd burn.” he doesn't say

Blurr doesn't seem to notice his glum mood

“Oh, hey. If it's no secret, why did you go into piloting in the first place?”

Because he had no choice? He can't answer that, that information isn't for civilians.

Because he didn't know what he was getting into until it was too late? That's not vague enough either.

Because he was up to his neck in debt and barely into college before a smiling man showed up on his doorstep and offered him good money if he agreed to a couple tests...?

“I had to do it for the people.” Swindle decides to repeat a line of propaganda.

“Ohhhh.... That's...a good reason. The monsters are disgusting, of course. But the reason is cool.”

Swindle just. Holds his glass of melting ice, listens to Blurr's mutterings, and enjoys the peace. This random teenager is not his superior or colleague and has nothing to do with the organization at all. Swindle doesn't have to remember to salute or follow orders or fear being reported to his superiors.

He can just. Be.

Just him and his free ice and his saved for free life.

That's. Sweet.

Blurr's drinking syrup again.

...and a little disgusting.

—————————-

Brawl jumps out of bed, hits his head on a shelf hanging on the wall and drops everything on it onto Blast Off's head

“Swindle!!!” yells Brawl.

“Why are these books sticky???” shrieks Blast Off.

“You don't wanna know~” giggles Vortex.

Swindle sighs.

“You're alive!!!” ignores Blast Off Brawl's complaints. And a second later runs up and pulls Swindle off the floor in a crushing bear hug.

Behind them, Blast Off, with his face wrinkled in disgust, gathers all the dropped books back onto the shelf.

Swindle wheezes pathetically and slaps Brawl's arm with his palm, either to reciprocate the gesture or to beg for mercy

“Br...khaaaaah...Brawl I can't breathh.”

“OH. I'm uh. Here. Wait.”

Brawl puts him back on the floor and runs back to the shelf.

Onslaught, who has peeked into the room, puts a hand on Swindle's shoulder

“You've been gone a long time. Boss said you tried to escape.”

His tone isn't judgmental. And not pressuring. Not even questioning, but Swindle knows Onslaught wants more information. Swindle clutches a piece of napkin with a phone number in his pocket and smiles weakly.

“I've found a...friend? I think?”

Onslaught nods. In a manner that only he knows how to do. Not giving an opinion, not encouraging or condemning. Just taking in the information. Swindle admires him for that.

Behind them, Brawl pulls some piece of paper out from under the books that have just been put away and drops them again

“FUCK!” yells Blast Off. Vortex just starts hooting like a hyena.

“Hey Swindle I found the calendar!” yells Brawl waving the paper.

Swindle frowns in surprise.

“It's a different calendar...”

“I found you a new one.” nods Brawl.

“...Why...is it...it's torn in half?”

“It had stupid flowers drawn on it, so I ripped them off. And I accidentally ripped off more than I needed.”

“Ah,” says Swindle, clutching the calendar, ”That's...Thanks. I forgive you for losing the previous one.”

Behind them, Blast Off is trying to strangle Vortex with a jacket.

------------

Blurr waves his arms happily like a hyperactive windmill.

“Swindle!!!”

Swindle smiles and adjusts his glasses

“Your party can be seen from across city.”

“I know~~” primps Blurr “Are you hungry? There was a snack table around here somewhere.”

“I didn't bring any money.” lies Swindle.

“Hey man, it's a party. Help yourself, it's free.”

“Оh.” Swindle's mood instantly brightens. “All right, then.”

“You look terrible” Blurr decides to share.

Swindle, busy shoveling food into his pockets, nods.

“I've had a rough week. Actually, it'd be cool if you didn't tell anyone you saw me here. I'm kind of not supposed to be here.”

He doesn't elaborate.

Blurr is a civilian. In his mind, a rough week is rude people or an exam or bad weather. Swindle's bad week is strap marks on his wrists and double vision. It's nausea from injections and sleepless nights because Vortex won't stop screaming in his sleep.

Blurr doesn't know that. With him, Swindle can pretend to be somewhat normal.

-----------

“Heeeeey“ says Blurr ‘I haven't seen you in a long time~"

“That” thinks Swindle ”is a pretty standard phrase for both of them.

Blurr looks older. Taller too. He was taller than Swindle before, but now that difference is starting to look almost comical. He's also flaunting a cast on his arm.

“Did you get hurt?”

“Didn't make a turn at training” waves Blurr off “It's no big deal. Wanna go find something to eat?”

Blurr is always trying to feed him, Swindle notices over time. Offers him drinks or snacks or whatever.

“ I like your uh..cap?”

“I got a promotion” Swindle smiles proudly “Me and the guys were made a special group...actually you're not allowed to know more than that, so you'll have to take my word for it when I say we are officially cool.”

He purposely adjusts his cap by the brim so Blurr can get a good look at it.

Blurr makes a delighted sound. Something between a “wow” and a giggle. He generally makes a lot of sounds all the time. Tapping his fingers on every hard surface, stomping in place like he's always late for something, laughing, whistling, clicking his tongue. A human orchestra.

__________

Onslaught sits down next to Swindle and clutches his hands in his lap in front of him. This makes the bed legs squeak pitifully. Onslaught has grown surprisingly large. He can almost rival Brawl in height already. Most people find that intimidating, but Swindle just thinks Onslaught is like a wall. A big, solid concrete wall that's so good to hide behind.

“Be careful with what you tell this guy.”

“Don't worry” says Swindle ”He's not the type of friend you tell secrets to. He's just a fun dude who's great to hang out with.”

Onslaught hums.

“And who feeds you for free.”

“If that's how you're trying to ask me to share, you're not doing a very good job.”

Vortex snaps his fingers as he walks past them

“Hey Swindler, the lab is closed for today. It's your day off.”

“Wha...”

Onslaught tilts his head.

“Vortex. What did you do?”

“I spat in their dna sample vault” proudly proclaims Vortex “and didn't tell them exactly where.”

-----———————-

Blurr frowns.

“Hey...are you okay?”

“No” thinks Swindle.

“My friend died” he says instead.

He's not okay. He feels like an animal caught in a beartrap, trying to chew off its own paw to get free.

Except the trap is closed around Swindle's head and it's not a body part he can afford to lose.

There's been a lot of talk. Even more rumors. Swindle listened but tried not to believe.

And then one of pilots, Shockwave… was taken to the lab and brought back a different damn man and it felt like Swindle had the rug pulled out from under his feet with hot coals underneath.

Because Swindle's boss, with his stupid, rehearsed smile, started writing reports about how “human personality flaws are something that can be fixed. That challenging behavior is something that can be repaired with tools.

Blurr freezes.

“Who?”

“Vortex.”

Because of course it's Vortex. Talented but difficult to handle. Powerful but uncontrollable.

They wanted a pilot who would be a beast on the battlefield and a loyal dog on base. And who else would be a more ideal test subject than him?

Vortex was being very rude that day, even by Vortex standards. Yelling and swearing and throwing things around. Kept saying that no shitty lab could make him “a fucking puppet.”

Scratching the stitches on his head until he started leaving a trail of blood behind him.

He went on a mission.

And never came back.

The reports said it was all the monsters' fault. That Vortex was unstable. That the accident had nothing to do with the new technology. But it was nevertheless suspended.

Swindle is both bitter and amused by this. Vortex would eat the same monsters for breakfast any other day. The bastard was unkillable.

“Oh my god” says Blurr “I'm so sorry to hear that.”

He says something else. Probably comforting. About how Vortex died protecting people, maybe. About Vortex being a hero.

“Vortex,” thinks Swindle, ”loved life. He loved adrenaline and danger and pain and thrill and fear, but he never wanted to die. They did something to him. Something that made him go over the edge.”

Vortex got his head in the trap and ripped it off to escape it.

Swindle knows him and the others are next. And knows that no one but themselves can help them.

---------------------------

Blast Off seems...very quiet. He could never stop complaining about Vortex before. Yelling about the garbage. Resenting the unmade bed and the cigarette ashes.

Vortex's bed remains unmade.

Blast Off regularly cleans everything up, but never wipes away the little circles of ash from the places where Vortex used to put out cigarettes on the furniture.

Onslaught puts his hand on Swindle's shoulder and squeezes. Not hard. Just enough for Swindle to register the gesture as important.

Standing nearby, Blast Off lights a cigarette and leans on Onslaught.

“Ons told me about your plan. I want to join in.”

“What kind of plan? Can I get involved?” inquires Brawl.

Onslaught sighs.

“Repeat after me - I don't know, they don't tell me anything.”

“I don't know, they don't tell me anything.”

“Good job” nods Onslaught “From now on, every time they ask you any - listen. Any! Question about us, you will answer them with this phrase.”

“Got it,” grins Brawl.

Swindle smiles.

“Gentlemen, it's time to violate all that is written, and rewrite all that is violated.”

__________________

Blurr lazily takes his eyes off the phone. He's wearing a racing suit and tons of hairspray. He's shiny and gleaming like a fine collectible figurine that should be on the shelf of an expensive exhibit. He's also bored.

“Sorry buddy, the interview is long over, if you have any questions you'll have to pay for the session.”

Swindle smiles.

“How about one tiny little question?”

Blurr makes funny big eyes.

“SWINDLE!!! I haven't seen you in a thousand years! You...oh I didn't recognize you haha sorry. Nice coat. You quit being a pilot?”

Swindle proudly adjusts his glasses. He's wearing a brand-new, ironed shirt that's exactly his size. Nice neat tie, expensive coat. Swindle isn't surprised Blurr didn't recognize him immediately. Sometimes he looks in the mirror and doesn't recognize himself. After all those years of wearing the pilot's uniform, he felt almost attached to it. And yet here he is.

“You could say I moved.” he winks snarkily, “Up. All the Mechs you see on the streets now are my Mechs~”

Blurr completely forgets about his phone.

“REALLY?? Oh man congrats to you!”

“Thanks” nods Swindle ”You want something to drink? I'm buying.”

———————-

Onslaught adjusts his tie. It's still, years later, a little strange to see him in a uniform instead of a pilot's suit.

“You do realize it's going to be hard to find a person like that, right? We need someone famous enough to be effective and dumb enough to want to save mankind instead of sunbathing on a yacht.”

Swindle adjusts his glasses and leans back in his chair.

Someone outgoing so they can quickly befriend all the right people. Handsome enough to have their face printed on a poster. Smart just enough not to say too much. And not associated with Mecha program so they can't be accused of trying to get promoted through their acquaintances.

Someone who already has everything but still willing to put themselves at risk for the cause.

“You know, I think I have a possible candidate.”

[devondespresso]

This Comfort

T | 4.5k words | Stobissy (Platonic stobin x Chrissy) | canon divergent season 4 rewrite, pre-relationship, hurt/comfort, happy ending, weird-as-shit stobin | cws: referenced eating disorder, implied depression, implied suicidal ideation, referenced drugs

happy holidays @stellarspecter !!! hows it feel to be THE reason i like this rarepair so much that i had to hold myself back from trying to do a whole chrissy lives s4 rewrite? I tried to be subtle but i also just HAD to reread your stuff while brainstorming this, hope you like it!!! 💕💕💕

<< dividers by @/saradika-graphics >>

Chrissy kind of wants to cry. 

Her body always seems to want to do that at the first hint of peace she can find. In a bathroom stall, at the rotting picnic table behind the school, and now in the basement at Nancy Wheeler’s house, surrounded by still, sleeping bodies. She can’t help but find their presence soothing, even if their warmth doesn’t reach the cold vinyl of her sleeping bag, even if the gentle rhythm of their breathing can’t be heard over the sound of Olivia Newton-John’s voice clogging her ears.

Would the song even work if she got sick of hearing it so much? Can any song keep her safe if she keeps associating music with life-or-death?

Chrissy’s supposed to be sleeping, or supposed to be trying, at least. But she can’t hear the huffs, can’t feel any warmth, can’t even smell over the stench of highschool boy’s body spray— so Chrissy doesn’t try to sleep, even if she has a comparatively easy song to fall asleep to. She just watches, still as if she were out like they are, watching those tiny movements in the bodies around her.

Chests rise and fall slowly, languid unlike any other moment from the day. Some people twitch or stir—just barely—as their bodies dream, hopefully of something far removed from everything that’s happening now. It’s only half the room in her line of sight, but something about watching even just a part of the life around her makes it easier to feel the rest of it there.

It’s nice. Really nice, compared to the past twenty-four hours. And for some twisted reason, that makes tears prick at Chrissy’s eyes.

Her song starts again, a rhythmic melody that had made her sway in her seat the first dozen times she listened to it today. A melody that somehow—even after literal hours of hearing it over and over and over and over and over—still takes her to a time unblemished enough to keep her from letting Vecna end it all.

The beginning instruments all cut off so Olivia can start singing, new instruments coming in to replace them, but they’re not the same. Chrissy swallows, but a tear still falls, tickling her skin down towards her ear before it stops, falling and soaking into the flattened pillow that smells like the same musty body spray as the rest of this cruddy basement.

“Chrissy,” a voice whispers from behind her, said like it isn’t the first time they’ve called, barely audible over her music. Chrissy pushes up slightly, just enough to look behind her, to find Steve sitting up and keeping watch on the couch, leaning towards Chrissy as much as he can with Robin sleeping on his lap. His eyes stay focused on her through the dark, looking maybe for rolled back eyes or waiting for her to start muttering in tongues, but Chrissy only looks back and waits.

“You okay?” he whispers through the dark, again just barely loud enough. Chrissy nods to him, and turns down her music a notch or two.

Steve keeps looking like she never responded. Maybe—hopefully—because it's too dark to see and not because he expects a different answer with enough waiting. Chrissy swallows a lump in her throat, and answers again.

“I'm okay.”

Steve hears her—he has to—but he keeps looking at her that same way. Attentive, and a little on edge.

Chrissy slides one side of her headphones off her ear so she can hear her own whispers.

“I’m fine, I promise.” She says, loud enough that he has to hear her—or believe her—yet still low enough to mask the way her throat tightens around the words.

Steve hums, a soft thing that blends with the sounds of the room, but Chrissy can make it out.

“Come up here.” He whispers, nodding over to the small sliver of couch left next to him, just big enough to fit her. Or, big enough if she were like Robin and could just half-lay on pretty people without feeling electricity seize her body from head to toe. Chrissy opens her mouth to politely decline and save both of them the awkwardness, but Steve picks that moment to look away—look down to Robin—and lift her ever so slightly, ever so gently, to scoot them over and make the space next to him more comfortable.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Chrissy whispers but finds herself getting up anyway, padding over quietly as Steve settles, Robin slumping back down onto his lap without stirring.

“It’s no big deal,” He mutters, a soft smile pulling at his lips, still looking down at Robin, “She sleeps like the dead like this.”

Chrissy hums, and Steve looks up.

“Or– like a baby, I guess is a better word for it right now.”

“It’s fine.” Chrissy insists, taking a seat next to him, settling into the corner with a respectable distance between them– a distance that the rest of her doesn’t seem to pick up on, unfortunately, but respectable at the very least.

Steve hums and watches her, trying to do it subtly out of the corner of his eye, but even just a day around the real Steve is enough for her to know what worry looks like on him.

Fortunately for her, he doesn’t push. And when Chrissy busies herself with getting comfortable in her new couch corner, Steve looks away, absently combing through Robin’s hair as he plays casual.

“Rough sleeping with music always in your ears?” Steve asks, a lightness of humor there that she wishes was the only thing tied to that question.

“Not too bad, actually.” she says, pairing it with a little smile and hoping it’ll convince them both that she’s alright. “Especially out of all the other songs from Grease. The walkman itself is probably more annoying.”

“Yeah, my ears do not envy you there.” Steve huffs, smiling a little, making Chrissy’s smile come a little easier before they both run out of things to say and the levity falls off both their faces. Chrissy’s dropping faster with no eyes on her to keep up the charade for, while Steve’s falls slowly, slips into neutral as he gets caught up in thought once again.

Chrissy gets to keep a few moments to herself before she catches Steve glancing at her again through the corner of her eye. She pretends not to notice, holds her neutrality for a few nauseating seconds before she sighs, closing her eyes and drawing her knees to her chest in a way that turns the subtle glance into full-force attention.

“Do you think…” She starts, but finds the words stopping before they can get out of her head. Does he think she’ll die? Obviously he’s not going to tell her if he does.

“Eh, sometimes.” Steve answers, shrugging lightly in a way that's playful but not flippant enough to derail the conversation.

Chrissy huffs from the tinge of amusement, then tries again.

“Have you wondered what would happen if we got tired of our songs?” 

“Not yet, to be honest. But I figure we’d try to find new ones.” He says, quick enough that it feels like a simple answer to him. But even still he considers it, even if it’s just to show her he’s taking her worries seriously. “I mean, if the whole point is picking a song that reminds you about what’s good in life, I’d figure there’s got to be at least a decent handful of them that’d work.”

Chrissy hums, resting her head onto her knees as she considers. It feels like a simple enough thing, just find songs that remind you of good things, but as she combs through the library in her head, she’s not sure she has as many of those as the others do. Or at the very least, not ones that haven't been sullied by other memories or the things she’s learned since then. Birthday parties with a Chrissy that didn’t think twice about what was in those cakes, sleepovers with girls that had a lot more to say in the halls than they did in their bedrooms. She should count herself lucky that out of all the songs she had loved, she still had one of her favorites.

Though she supposes she should also count herself lucky for even being alive right now. If circumstances were different, she might’ve genuinely felt it.

“To be honest, I’m more worried about how Max doesn’t seem bothered by listening to the same thing nonstop.” Steve chimes in again, that sweet little note of humor back, and though it still makes her smile—truly smile, at both the humor and the intent behind it—it can’t fully lift her out of the headspace she keeps crawling into.

Still Chrissy hums along with him, the sweetness she puts into her voice just as erosive as the added sugars she keeps an eye out for.

“The magic of a really good artist, I guess.”

“Maybe. Though I know I’d still get tired of it no matter who’s voice I’m blasting.” Steve replies, tone light as if he didn’t notice how fake her tone was, and just that thought grants Chrissy an ounce of real levity.

“Even Freddie Mercury.” Chrissy asks with teasing scrutiny.

“I plead the fifth.” Steve smiles mischievously, and when Chrissy raises a suspicious eyebrow at him, he lets out a small but genuine laugh that Chrissy wants to mirror desperately.

Steve hushes himself quickly enough, but Robin still stirs in his lap, groaning and tucking her face down into the denim of Steve’s jeans as if they were somehow comfortable enough to put her back to sleep. But then again, Chrissy figures they don’t have to be, as Steve’s hand finds it’s way back to her hair again, carding his fingers gently and intentionally as Robin stills and soon returns to slow, sedated breathing.

Steve sighs, not tense or aggravated, just restful, like the mood of before was so calm that any change in it counted as disturbance. And then within seconds, he’s back, glancing once over to Chrissy again before looking back at Robin as he continues.

“Rob’s probably the type to be fine listening to most of her music over and over.” He hums, “Not that she needs it. The second she even thought that music might be it she shoved all the tapes she could find into her bag—including our manager’s, actually—”

“Your manager’s?”

“Yeah, Keith’s in for a bit of a surprise soon.” Steve laughs again, “Point is, though,” Steve looks back at her with a new, almost concerning level of sincerity once again veiled as small-talk. “Robin has a pretty good stash of other music in her bag and I’ve got a handful in the glovebox, too, so if you want to pick a couple backups to keep on you…” He shrugs instead of finishing with any extra nod to the favor he’s offering, and Chrissy’s conscience appreciates the discretion.

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” she mutters, figuring at the very least that it wouldn’t hurt to look, maybe pick a couple that’d sound nice, even if she doubts anything from after 79’ would spark any good memories, the thought itself is sweet enough to make her sincerely grateful. “Thank you.”

“‘Course. It’s all up to you, just know it's an option.”

Chrissy hums and nods, not really wanting to continue the conversation but also lacking anything else to start talking about next.

Really, she only gets a few seconds to think about it before Steve’s glancing her way again, eyes lingering to study her and somehow sneaking inside towards the softest parts of her, all right under her nose.

“You’re doing good, y’know?” Steve says, quiet as anything else they’ve said tonight, but Chrissy finds it deafening. “This shit sucks… so much. But your still here, still sticking together, still keeping up with the kids—which, believe me, is a feat in of itself.” He huffs to himself, before glancing back to Chrissy with raw compassion. “I know all of it’s… smothering, almost. Too big and too stressful, but you’re doing great, alright? And we’re gonna make it work out.”

He’s lying, obviously, Chrissy hasn’t done jack-shit and Steve just wants to make her feel better– so Chrissy nods—on reflex, almost—because she knows to take a compliment—to take comfort—when it's being given to her. She knows so she nods and tries to just take Steve’s words with a polite smile and a polite nod but–

Her eyes water and tears fall too fast, too many goddamned tears coming and spillingout and she tries—God, she tries— to keep them back and to smile and show him it worked, shes good now, thank you—but she’s failing, failing miserably, so she falls back on breathing– breathing normally and praying he can’t see her crying through the dark–

“Chrissy, I mean it.” Steve says, with the softness of sincerity that—regardless of whether she believes him or not—breaks through the last of her defenses, letting a small, pitiful sound choke its way out of her throat.

“Chris–”

Chrissy stands—giving up on looking okay in favor of being quiet—and wipes her face, looking around for the bathroom door that Nancy said would be down here.

“Chrissy, hey–” Steve whispers, a hand finding her arm gently—not grabbing, just touching—and while it tempts her so heavily, instinct leads her away.

“It’s fine– don’t wake Robin–” Chrissy chokes on her own words and aborts, going towards the bathroom, ignoring Steve trying to whisper-call after her, ignoring how he whispers to himself before the couch squeaks, ignoring his footsteps coming up until they’re right behind her– and Chrissy stops and flings around and–

Turning catches Steve off guard—enough to stop him a foot or so away—and makes him retract an outstretched arm.

“Chrissy, it’s okay.” Steve insists, struggling for words to say next and doing nothing to keep it from taking over his face. “Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–”

“Stop.” Chrissy says– tries to say, even though it comes out wet and weak and crackly– “You’re fine, I promise–”

It doesn’t sound final but it’s all Chrissy can get out—is all that she really needs to. Tears keep coming like she’s a broken faucet and Steve’s still standing there—already knows she’s crying and isn’t going to ignore it—so she just covers her face with her hands, cold fingers cooling unruly flames of embarrassment, and tries catching her breath.

“Wha’s…?” 

Chrissy doesn’t try to recognise the voice, just jolts up at the new sound and finds Robin up and walking towards them, going slow and rubbing her face like a rough morning.

“Rob, now’s not–”

“Are you crying?” Robin says as she drops her hand and gets a barely decent look at Chrissy, voice sounding suddenly wide awake, face skipping confusion and going straight to concern as she turns to check Steve next, “Are you– no, no you're– ok, good, so–” She turns back to Chrissy within another blink. “Are you okay? Or– no, stupid question.”

“No,” Chrissy says, but then Robin’s eyes flash with guilt, “No, no, I– not stupid question, I’m okay, I promise, I–”

“That’s debatable.” Steve interrupts, as kindly as he probably can.

“I am.” Chrissy says before heaving a massive breath and pushing her hands across her face again, all to get herself in any way capable of explaining, “It’s not your fault– or yours, or anyones! I’m not mad or sad or upset or anything– I’m just crying!” Chrissy pauses for another breath, then finishes—with more control than before— “Just crying. And crying in front of people is embarrassing, so…”

Steve and Robin both stay silent, gears turning trying to figure out what to say or do next, and while Chrissy does feel a little bad, a small part of her says they were asking for it.

“I cry a lot.” Robin says, in what seems like a reflex at first, but she keeps going even after she seems to realize what she’s saying, “I cry all the time, like, constantly– or not actually really that frequently but when I do it’s like an absolute behemoth amount of crying, and I love crying– or well, maybe not– no actually I do, if I need to cry then I love to cry, just get it all out, y’know? And this whole thing—the end-of-the-world monster crisis thing—is like a really good reason to need to cry, the most understandable reason to cry—even Steve's cried about it!” 

“Yes!” Steve confirms immediately, like he either somehow forgot or the detail didn't occur to him.

“And last time– okay I didn't really cry during it much last time because it felt like there was so much going on like all the time but the second we got Steve a hospital room and I could sit down next to him, I started bawling, like really ugly snotty sobbing, and I cried for, like, three hours straight and one of the nurses kept bringing me water so I wouldn't dehydrate and die because I actually could not stop crying and I didn’t even feel that sad, y’know? I had been way more upset in the middle of the whole thing but I didn’t cry once—”

“Just peed your pants a little.” Steve mutters, catching Chrissy off-guard and making Robin fling immediately over to wack his arm.

“You–” Robin says, pointing at him and scrambling for words, “And you shit your pants twenty minutes in!”

“I what?” Steve whisper-laughs, bordering on a dangerous volume again.

“Yeah, you shit yourself and you smelled so bad–” Robin starts breaking into giggles and struggling to keep her volume down, so Steve somehow decides that covering her mouth with his hand would help. It does, kinda, in that it muffles her laughs until she gets them under control and starts swatting him away.

They collect themselves together, clearly trying to keep attuned to Chrissy without directing the full force of attention on her, but as they both try to manage each other’s clumsiness Chrissy feels the pressure of conversation ease and is just left with Robin’s words and the care that both of them were trying to show. Chrissy wipes her face even though new tears still fall, and steels herself with another breath that finally comes easier than the last.

“Robin.” Chrissy says.

Robin stops, and before Chrissy can chicken out she dives forward and takes Robin into a hug.

Robin’s clearly caught off guard but recovers quickly and wraps her arms around Chrissy tight, leaning in with a cheek pressed into her hair, holding her immediately. Chrissy sobs a little for no good reason but Robin doesn’t let go, doesn’t ask again, just keeps holding on.

Instead of waiting ages for her tears to stop, Chrissy just lets go when her crying quiets down and she no longer feels the need to hide from the people holding her. Chrissy loosens her grip and Robin lets go right after, leaning back to check on her, breaking into a sweet, lopsided grin.

Another hand falls carefully onto her back, and when Chrissy turns around and finds Steve still there quietly trying to check in too, Chrissy lunges forward a second time. Steve holds her tight like Robin did– possibly even tighter as his shoulders curl around her frame, like she’s being tucked inside his chest, safe away from harm.

Chrissy kind of hates pulling away, but by the way both Steve and Robin stay close after letting go, Chrissy gets the feeling that it won’t be hard to get more of that affection from them.

“You ready to go back to the couch?” Robin asks.

Chrissy nods.

“Awesome,” Robin says, taking her hand and leading the way back eagerly, “Cause, like, I don’t know about you but I would love to be sleeping right now– and I don’t regret waking up, obviously, totally a good reason to wake up, I just also love getting a full night’s sleep–”

“Aw, poor Robin, not being asleep right now.” Steve teases, getting quieter as they get to the couch but still being loud enough to annoy Robin.

“Aw, poor Stevie, was already awake when things started happening and only had to wake up once in the middle of the night.” Robin whines back, taking a spot in the corner of the couch and pulling Chrissy down to sit with her.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re so funny, Robbie.” Steve smiles, not making a move to sit down with them. “Where’d you put your bag?”

“Why?”

“Wanna look at the tapes you have.”

“Steve, you don’t have to.” Chrissy 

“‘Don’t know what you’re talking about, I just want to listen to– uh… Bowie. Obviously.”

Chrissy huffs, torn between the guilt of a favor and a rush of amusement, but couldn’t help but play along.

“And not your manager’s stellar music taste?”

“Steve!” Robin hissed, “You told her?”

“Yeah, what’s she gonna do? Keith’s gonna know.”

“We don’t know for sure!”

“Yeah we do, his walkman’s basically glued to him.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Not with you cause he likes you, but on a Tuesday close with me and I’d be lucky if he heard me dying.”

“Oh, I think he hears you just fine.” Robin laughs.

Steve sighs with a quick eye-roll before gesturing back to the room.

“Bag. Where?”

“Behind the trunk under the staircase.” 

Steve looks at her incredulously but goes to find it, repeating her interesting choice of hiding place under his breath as he goes.

“Did something happen to your other tape?” Robin asks, turning and hitting her with the full force of her concern—and while Chrissy appreciates it, a lot, she needs to look away to relieve some of the pressure and calm some of the heat that hits her cheeks.

“No, no, it’s working fine, I just, uh… was worried I was going to get sick of listening to it all the time.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Robin nods and the intensity of her worry lessens considerably, replaced instead by an almost frantic kind of ramble, “Good as in, like, y’know, that it’s not broken and you’re just being extra cautious, I mean–”

“Yeah, it’s good.” Chrissy smiles, cherishing the way Robin smiles with relief as she realizes she’s being understood.

Robin’s eyes flick slightly to something behind Chrissy so she turns around, catching Steve as he gives a note to a recently awoken Nancy Wheeler and starts finding his way back to the couch around the minefield of sleeping teenagers on the floor. He stops right in front of the couch—in front of Chrissy—and kneels down to open the bag between them for her to see.

“Let Nance know about the new plan.” He mutters, probably softer than he has to, “If by some chance something does happen, she’ll know to try your old tape first.”

Chrissy looks up at his eyes for a moment before turning them down into the bag, impressively full of cassettes, some loose, some in their cases, but almost all of them well-loved. Chrissy reaches in and starts looking through the ones on top, some obviously Steve’s, some obviously Robin’s, some probably Keith’s, and a good many that have to be for both of them. She searches through them blankly for a few minutes before Steve and Robin try helping with suggestions.

“I think some of The Go-Go’s are in there.”

“Steve had ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’.”

“There’s definitely some Cyndi Lauper.”

“What was your old song again?” Robin asks.

“‘Hopelessly Devoted To You’. From Grease.”

Robin hums and stares into the bag. After a second, she starts picking handfuls of them out, picking each one intentionally but still grabbing more than enough for Chrissy to choose from until one catches her eye.

“Wait, wait, wait–”

Robin freezes, looking back to Chrissy with her arms still shoved in her bag, unmoving. Chrissy reaches over and picks up a tape that had already made it to Robin’s lap: a standard-looking cassette without its case and a couple of attempts at hearts drawn on it. It wasn’t the only cassette to have cute drawings—far from it—but it was the first one she saw with wonky hearts scribbled out then copied right next to it, like someone tried, failed, and then was told to bring their failure back instead of hiding it away.

She checks the other side. “Time After Time” by Cyndi Lauper.

“Steve gave that to me ages ago.” Robin hums, and Chrissy smiles, looking over at the other cassettes with little drawings on them.

“Was it the first one?”

“Second, technically, didn’t draw on Total Eclipse of the Heart until later.”

Chrissy nods, then looks up to Robin again.

“Would you mind…?”

“Oh, yeah, totally. I mean go for it. Worst case scenario: I’m still in touch with my dealer.” Robin jokes, making Steve snort as he stands and drops the bag over by the end of the couch.

Robin gets comfortable as Chrissy goes ahead and switches the tapes in her walkman, going to set her old one on a table nearby. When she turns back around, Robin is laying down on the couch, making grabby hands up towards Steve until he finishes his headcount and turns back around.

“What?” He laughs.

“Get over here, it’s my turn to be big.”

“Hm, if I have to.” Steve laughs and goes to settle with her before pausing and looking back over to Chrissy.

“You want on the couch, too?”

Chrissy goes over towards them and Steve smiles, taking that as her answer.

“We can leave you a spot if you want, or…”

Chrissy flushes but pointedly doesn’t take the offer for the separate spot on the couch, and luckily, Steve and Robin both figure out the answer without her having to say it.

Robin lays on her back half-propped up while Steve basically lays on top of her, spooning but with the little spoon on the verge of crushing the big spoon, but they seem more than content with it, Robin hugging Steve almost like a teddy bear. Steve gives Chrissy the go-ahead, so with her walkman in hand, she carefully takes the spot between him and the back of the couch. She brings the headphones up to her ears just as an arm comes around her back, the new melody fitting the new warmth she’s feeling deep down perfectly.

Chrissy lets one of her hands find Robin’s above her across the polo shirt pillow connecting them. Both the bodies laying with her relax, shifting slightly to get comfortable in their strange arrangement on the cramped couch, but the one thing that stays perfectly consistent is the slow rise and fall beneath her, the feather-light puffs tickling her hair, and the warmth of life enveloping her.

Chrissy knows it’s not perfect. The next few days will be far, far from kind to them. She knows that even when she wakes from this nightmare, she’ll just be stuck right back where she was before, working her ass off at cheer practice during the day and then begging their drug dealer for ketamine at night. The thought will probably never leave her mind.

But right now, Chrissy enjoys the new music playing in her ears, the familiar song with a man and a woman’s voices that feel uniquely alive right now, warm and safe and real.

If you’re lost,

You can look

And you will find me,

Time after time.

If you fall, 

I will catch you.

I’ll be waiting,

Time after time.

Chrissy falls asleep. No dreams, no Vecna, just sleep.

[sugarushwriting]

look what you made me do

stalker jungwon x reader part 3

content and trigger warnings: many. just know this is ALL a work of fiction.

kinda long and a wild ride [not proof read]

“would you walk upright?” jungwon growled between his teeth, walking you up the dirt, narrow path to a front door of a cabin.

“my leg is still healing!” you snapped back.

jungwon held you with your hands behind your back, leading you towards the secluded cabin in the woods.

he unlocked and opened the front door, leading you in to the tiny cabin. “where do i sleep?” you asked, wondering how many beds there were and if he was going to make you sleep with him.

“in the basement with the other two.” jungwon replied, and lead you towards another door towards the back, unlatching the lock, before revealing a dark, narrow staircase. he began to lead you down the steps carefully.

you swallowed, and you literally were surprised. you must’ve really pissed him off at the hospital, because he was no longer giving you grace.

it first started when you tried to write a note to one of the nurses asking for help. you thought jungwon was asleep—but he wasn’t.

“what’cha writing?”

you startled, quickly putting down the pen, and attempted to hide the paper, but he was quick to snatch it. reading it, he gave you a disappointing glance but said nothing.

the second time, you attempted to get out of bed, as you were sure jungwon was sleeping. except you were caught when your bed alarm went off due to you being a fall risk.

the third and last attempt, the doctor and nurse were at your side, jungwon stepped out for a phone call.

“i’m not his wife, please you have to help me!” you rushed out in panic.

almost too fast, they didn’t hear you as you were mumbling as well. you couldn’t risk jungwon hearing you.

your eyes quickly darted to the door, jungwon not paying you any mind, before you almost yelled, “i’m not his wife! help me!”

that caught the attention of the medical staff, but jungwon as well, as he ran into the room.

but jungwon had the perfect cover up.

“oh, she had a nasty brain injury when she was younger, so often times she forgets things either for seconds at a time or even years.” jungwon waved off. “and with this new fall, i’m sure it didn’t help at all.”

the doctors were able to confirm it from past medical records of you visiting the doctor for the tbi and different instances of forgetfulness.

you were fucked.

reaching the last step in the basement, you nearly tripped over your feet as jungwon turned on the light revealing cage like rooms you’d see at an animal shelter.

in two of them was danielle and asa. they both sat up, running to bang on the chain linked door, their mouths open from shock and crying.

they were dressed in nothing but a plain black tank and black spandex shorts.

jungwon pushed you in one of the cages from across them. you landed to your knees with a thud and an ‘ouch.’

you looked up at jungwon who had a face of no emotion, threw the same clothes the other two girls were wearing at your face.

“change. i’ll be back with some guests.” jungwon stated, locking the door. he then turned to danielle and asa with a menacing smile.

“you two eat. make sure you get enough for energy.”

“why?” asa choked out.

“it’s hunting season.” jungwon replied.

no way to tell time, but it seemed to be never ending hours, the door to the basement door unlatched and footsteps padded down the steps. two sets. all three of you girls stood up, weak.

jungwon came in view with kai.

“kai?” you whispered out. kai smiled.

“which one do you want?” jungwon asked. “just not her,” he pointed to you, “you know she’s mine.”

“danielle.” kai smiled.

and with that, jungwon unlocked the door to her cage, dragging her out. “let’s go.” jungwon ordered.

danielle began begging for her life and babbling doing anything and everything to please and beg. both men ignored her, as they drug her up the stairs. the basement door latched once again.

“what do you think they’re doing?” you choked out, holding back a sob.

asa stared at you, tears streaming down her face, “you heard him,” she sniffled, “it’s hunting season.”

you let out a loud sob, covering your mouth, walking backwards to where your back hit the wall and you slid down.

asa went quiet, trying to keep herself warm in the lack of clothes you all were given. there was a few small rectangular windows to see the ground outside, and it seemed to be dark, now raining with drops smacking the window.

again, no telling the time, just seemed hours away, more footsteps were heard and the latch of the basement door.

this time jungwon came down with ni-ki. jungwon smiled, “you’re the lucky winner with asa.”

ni-ki grinned, “perfectly fine with me. always thought she was pretty. too bad she was always a bitch.”

asa quietly sobbed in her cage, and tried to back into a corner as jungwon went to open her cage. he paused, “you’re a feisty one, behave.”

ni-ki chuckled, and jungwon finished opening the cage. luckily asa listened and didn’t try anything. it was probably best.

“what—why?” asa asked softly as ni-ki took a hold of you. “are you hunting us?”

both men smiled. “yep.” jungwon said.

“but there’s a twist.” ni-ki said.

“what’s that?” you asked.

the boys seemed proud of their plan. “you run, we hunt. if you get away from the electric fence line, you’re free to go.”

“if you catch us?” asa asked.

“you become our bitch.”

“and if we don’t agree?” you snarked.

both boys looked at you, then asa, then each other, back to asa. “we kill you.”

“what—what happened with danielle?”

“eh, i’ll leave that up to your imagination.”

with that, jungwon and ni-ki began forcing asa up the stairs. “it’s not fair! it’s two against one!”

“i’ll be the only one hunting you, dear.” ni-ki said to asa.

once you heard the latch of the basement door, you began to pace in the small enclosure. if you get caught you become their bitch. what could that mean?

stay at home maid? housewife? pet? slave? sex toy?

you shuddered. you had to escape, you had to find that damn electric fence. but how? you were in a secluded part of the woods. no telling how many miles—acres of land this was.

but what happens once you get free? do they just hunt you all over again and stalk you? make you live your life in fear?

your thoughts were interrupted with a gunshot.

“no!” you screamed, running up to the chained fence door. “asa! no!”

was she caught? did she choose death? did ni-ki go rogue? footsteps thudding from above, then halted. the basement door unlatched, and down came jungwon.

“asa,” you whispered out

“ni-ki needs to control that damn temper of his.” jungwon mumbled, then looked up at you. “she’s alive, just shot in the arm. fucker wanted to scare her into submission. didn’t even give her the 30 second head start like we agreed.”

“jung—jungwon.”

“don’t worry squid, your hunt will begin tomorrow.”

he grabbed a pillow and blanket from the shelf nearby, and opened the cage to throw them in, before quickly locking in back.

you thought, maybe he didn’t actually lock it? remembering your hand ties, they weren’t tight!

when the door latch was heard, you tried your hardest to get the door open—but failed. this time, jungwon wasn’t pitying you.

the next morning came. jungwon fed and left you alone. same with afternoon and evening. it wasn’t until it was pitch dark outside he came back down, wearing all black himself.

“time to hunt.” he smiled and went to open your cage. “try anything funny and i won’t hesitate to kill you.” he threatened and you nodded.

you had no weapon other than a damn pillow.

quickly dragging you upstairs, he threw you out the front door, him locking behind it behind you both. “you have 30 seconds to run.”

you looked at him from the ground where you landed. “huh?”

jungwon began to countdown, “29, 28, 27,” he clicked his tongue and you threw your body up, running as much and fast as you can towards the woods with your hurt leg.

you ran and ran and ran, soon the pain subsiding as you were running on pure adrenaline through the trees, dirt, fallen logs and branches, over snakes probably.

but you didn’t look back, not once. not even when you heard a gunshot and a dog barking.

your breathing was hard, you were fighting off tears, and tried to focus on the path ahead. your eyes happened to look up and you found an old tree house. looked like it hadn’t been used in years, as it was falling apart.

should you hide, or should you keep running? you decided to climb the branches like you used to as a child as the ladder was nonexistent to this treehouse.

a flash came to your mind of your younger self doing so, but you paid no mind.

when you got safely in the treehouse, since the trap door was open, you kept it open. you didn’t want anything to look out of place.

you huddled down in a corner, trying to control your breathing and sobs. you couldn’t let out much of a sound.

you looked side to side, seeing markings in the treehouse, markings that also brought back memories. your mind flashed a scene of you up in the treehouse with a little boy.

a younger jungwon.

“show yourself my squid!” you heard jungwon yell, throwing you out of memory lane.

could it be a real memory or something false?

you held you breath as if you were holding a bubble. you heard the dog bark. once. twice. then footsteps walk away. you heard a tree branch crack. “found you!”

only it wasn’t you. jungwon followed the noise, then, you heard a gunshot.

what just happened?

then you heard two voices you never thought you’d heard again.

“come down! it’s just us!”

asa and danielle. you quickly looked through the trap door and your eyes did not deceive you. it was yours friends frantically waving for you to come down.

you did. and when your feet hit the ground, you saw a body on the ground. a body dressed in all black. jungwon.

“what—what did you do?”

“it was either them or us.” danielle stated.

“them?” you squeaked.

asa grabbed your hand as you stood frozen, and followed danielle through the woods and soon a green pickup came into view.

“get in and we’ll explain.” danielle said.

“where are we going?” you asked, still in shock and fear.

“police station.”

on the drive, danielle and asa explained. danielle had somehow managed to overpower kai, hit him hard over the head with a giant rock. danielle stated she killed him. he wasn’t moving nor breathing. that’s when she took his keys and had to get a plan.

when danielle saw asa shot and being taken to ni-ki’s ride, danielle took the gun kai had stashed and shot ni-ki. she quickly went to help asa, and when they checked on ni-ki, he wasn���t breathing either.

that’s when they both knew you were next, hid out in the woods, and ambushed jungwon, shooting him. killing him.

“they’re all dead?” you mumbled out. danielle continued to drive in silence, asa grabbed your hand.

“remember, it was them or us.” asa sighed.

you all stayed in the police station, giving statements and talking to detectives for at least 9 hours. so to your surprise, all three of you were called back 4 days later to the same interrogation room.

“we found the cabin you all stated you were held, and it’s just like you all explained.” the detective nodded, showing pictures.

his partner looked at all three of you, “but there’s something that doesn’t add up.”

“what’s that?” you asked.

both detectives took in a deep breath, before one spoke, “the three dead men we found, do not match the identifications of the ones you gave us.”

“impossible!” danielle screeched, you and asa wide mouth in disbelief.

one detective took out photos of the dead bodies from the morgue. you all three, wide eyed, looked completely in disbelief.

in front of you were three men. but not kai, jungwon, or ni-ki. however, they were look-a-likes of the three.

“did you look where we told you?”

“we searched the entire property, miss.”

“i don’t believe you!” danielle huffed.

“well, the three you’re claiming did this have proof of plane tickets and being in a completely different country during this timeframe. been away almost a full month.”

“nope! no way!”

“we need you three to be truthful!”

“we are!” asa exclaimed.

“there’s two theories we have,” one detective said and the other began explaining.

“the first is these three men did do what you said they did, you all just believe it was the guys you claimed because they looked so much alike. you all did go to high school together and haven’t seen one another in a while, so maybe when these guys claimed to be the ones you thought, you believed them.”

danielle whispered, “what’s the second?”

the detective hesitated, “we should bring in a psychologist first.”

you slammed your fist on the table. “we’re not fucking crazy or making this shit up!”

“what’s your second theory?” danielle asked again.

“you and your girls were so distraught from the loss of your friend kelly, that you all went down memory lane, finally grieving the girls you once were. bullies. you all felt bad. took some bad hallucinogenic drugs, started hallucinating everything. possibly made it all up. these boys were the fall guys in some way.”

“unbelievable!” danielle threw her hands up. “we don’t even do drugs!”

“you three popped positive for some hallucinogenic substances.”

“stop talking.” asa said.

the detectives went to say something, “not you.” asa looked at you and danielle, “we’re no longer victims, we’re suspects.”

“aw come on, we didn’t say that,”

“we all want a lawyer. now.”

“wouldn’t a lawyer make us seem guilty?”

asa shook her head. “at this time, it doesn’t even matter.”

you three ended up being separated into separate interrogation rooms, with your lawyers.

how did drugs end up in your system? the only thing you can think of is when jungwon fed you all. but wouldn’t you have felt the affects then?

nothing made sense. none of it did.

they claimed kelly’s car accident was an accident. although initially they thought was one car, a driver came forward claiming to be impaired when they caused the wreck and ran.

you mentioned maya. you probably shouldn’t have, but you did. still, the detectives had so call proof that the three were in a different country.

they looked through each of your apartments. no trace of spy gear or anything out of place. same with the so called farm you girls remembered. yes, owned by yang jungwon, but the caretaker said no one has been there for more than a month. since jungwon went on vacation with some high school friends.

of course maya’s remains wouldn’t be found. the pigs ate them. the wood chipper was clean as can be.

you ran your hand through your hair in frustration, pulling at its ends. “this is a fucking nightmare.” you cried.

one of the detectives came back into the room to give you and your lawyer paperwork for release.

you looked over the guy, eyes furrowing in focus. why did he look so familiar? then, your eyes went wide. you swallowed, fighting back more tears.

when you read his name tag, your thoughts were answered simply by reading the name.

kim sunoo.

yang jungwon’s cousin.

“you are free to go for now miss. don’t leave the country.” the guy smiled. almost mockingly he added, “stay safe!”

[ariadne-karloff]

Random headcanons

Food.

Creed doesn't have a lot of control when eating: he eats like it's the first time in ages, and could be the last. He basically inhales the food, actually enjoying it only after he's eaten enough and or feels safe. He could keep eating indefinitely if you put food in front of him, no restraints, no shame, just a void to be filled. His healing factor helps him battling the nausea and the too full part. If he's by himself, he then nap the hell out of all that food. The presence of food, even still alive, gets him sidetracked and he needs to refocus on the task at hand.

Sleep.

He sleeps curled up, or half curled, with his head on his arms. If he's sleeping with someone, the someone becomes a teddy bear. He secretly loves being the small spoon but it's very difficult to find someone big enough. But with his past lovers they found a way: he stays face down and they sleep literally on him. Apparently it was Mystique the first to think of it, but Victor remembers someone else, heavier than her, and with the scent of clear waters and snow and forests. He runs hot, but if he can, he sleeps hidden in blankets, still trying to banish the cold he felt when he was in the cellar and during the first winter he was alone outside.

Mental Health.

The Canon: He never left that house, as he said himself. There's the mini "Spider-Man. Punisher. Sabretooth: Designer Genes" where he basically says he has PTSD. In another one, "It comes with the claws" (it's a Daredevil issue if I remember well) it seems he's not completely grounded, and he doesn't know what to do with people (and specifically women. He takes one and he's very gentle and careful but doesn't know what to do with her).

The headcanon: his mental health is highly challenged because of his upbringing. When he was prisoner in the cellar, he lost a great part of his ability to understand people and the notions he had, leaving him extremely late in what a person should know or feel. He basically lost roughly 3 years (old 90s canon). The solitary confinement is torture and he's been closed there for ages, plus the father hurting him and withholding food. So, yeah, he's weird and has a LOT of problems. Since he tried to get help but people said he didn't deserve it, he chose to be not conforming and accept that "normals" will never accept him for what he is, but he push it in their faces.

He def has ADHD and he's not in tune with emotions. As a defensive mechanism he shares false facts about his misdeeds to create a different picture of himself, and this is the same reason behind some of his taunts.

His Mother

As you may have read on my stories, his mother tried to protect him. She couldn't help him because of the abusive husband, and also cultural setting, but she loved him dearly, and tried to do all that she can. She gave him all the food she can hide from her husband and also blankets or things to keep him warm, and she talked to him. She also cleaned him and his small place, trying to keep it as clean as possible. One of his most treasured memories it's her using warm water and a soft cloth to clean him, and then letting him sleep a bit on her. Her arms were the safest place on earth for a long, long time. So yeah, I'm following the canon in which he spared her, after killing his father. She kept him safe even knowing he was completely deranged and out of his mind. She would have kept him with her, but Victor was restless and needed to get away from everything and go deep in the woods.

Queer.

He def isn't straight and he also is "age blind". For the "not straight part" it's the comics fault. He's queer coded to the bone. In some issue he's pictured like one of those "bisexual evil characters", but nothing is clearly stated (as it's pretty common).

Clean.

He can't stand being dirty. He washes as soon as possible, and he does that even when running free in the Canadian forests. He wouldn't have a strong scent because it's dangerous and helps finding you. Many people think he stinks because he doesn't smell of chemical products, and also after battle who would smell like flowers?! No one.

He's an asshole.

Absolutely an asshole. He's snarky, pushy, talks too much about the wrong things, tries to boast himself and he's too loud. He also tends to vanish up north without saying anything to anyone to recharge his batteries. But kids weirdly feel safe with him, so probably he's not so bad. Even if he sometimes says he eats them for fun (like the cats, he doesn't eat them, there's not enough to eat, not even as snacks)

[sseulforgii]

Oh my my my

Im Nayeon x Reader

a/n: this has been sitting half-finished in my drafts since October. time to let it out of the vault. 🙂‍↕️

"I'll still look at you like stars that shine in the sky"

When you were seven years old you can't explain what that feeling was in the pit of your stomach and in your chest. All you knew was when your next door neighbor, Im Nayeon, dragged you out of your parents' grasps and into the backyard that summer night where the stars so brightly shinned, your whole world stopped. It's the way her eyes twinkled more dazzlingly than any stars that night and the way her bunny teeth smile light up the whole backyard brighter than any moon. It's the way she giggled as she pushed passed the adults in that party and asked you to dance with her in the middle of her aunt's wedding. It's the way her dad chuckled at your mortified expression and her giddy state when she announced that she too will marry you someday then kissed your cheek before running away giggling. You were seven but that very moment was etched in your brain permanently, albeit you still can't name that feeling yet.

At sixteen you finally knew that there was this certain feeling you have for your next-door neighbor. It wasn't because she was always so sweet and playful towards you. It wasn't because her eyes swam with so much emotions when she looks at you. It wasn't because of the way she calls your name with a giggle every single time. Nope, it was none of these butterflies-in-your-tummy moments but rather such a silly mishap, her literally falling on your arms from standing on a stool as she was installing a wall fan for your mom that made you realize that you were in love with Im Nayeon all along.

You were twenty-three and working in your mom's booth in the fair one night, handing out free samples and selling the jam she made when it all happened. There were a lot of games, some contests, a handful of rides, and good food everywhere. The lights and decorations make everything more magical and romantic even. You spotted Nayeon with her friends from the city. They were playing a shooting game and you can't help but stare at her as she laughed and played with them, a ghost of a smile starting to form in your lips as you see her enjoying herself. You were brought back to your task at hand when your mom playfully hit you with her spatula and you felt your cheeks heat up at the thought of getting caught.

Your mom laughed at your expression, you always pretend to be so nonchalant and quiet when it comes to Nayeon although the people around you were quite positive you'll end up together. You rolled your eyes at her as she said, "You know you can always ask her out, right?" Of course you denied it, "I don't like her that way, mom, just drop it," you say as you hand out more samples. You mom gave you a knowing look but didn't say anymore as Nayeon and her friends are approaching your booth. She gave you her adorable smile where her bunny teeth showed as she waved at you. You gave her a very brief smile and pretended you were busy refilling your tray.

On your periphery you see a boy beside Nayeon chatting with her playfully, you tried to swallow something bubbling in your feelings and scowled a little. Your mother, to her credit, tried her best to stifle a laugh as she was observing you while giving out some food to Nayeon and her friends. As they were eating the boy suddenly asked Nayeon to go somewhere with her for a while and you heard her agreeing and telling her friends she'll be right back. You sighed and got strange looks from her friends but kept quietly working while looking at Nayeon walking away with that boy. "Where are they going?" you hear one of her friends ask while the other snickered, "He's taking her to the marriage booth to ask her out." You slammed the jar you were holding on the table and everyone was startled. Your mom looking at you knowingly as she said, "Go get her, you idiot."

You never ran as fast as you could in your entire life. You navigated through the crowd as flashbacks of her promise to marry you someday is the only thing on your mind. You spot them a few feet away talking and you stopped to look at Nayeon, breathing heavily. By some force, as always when you're both in the same room, she looks up and spotted you immediately. She gave you smile although you can see she's a bit confused. This is it. You've made up your mind after trying, and failing, to brush off your feelings for her. You jogged your way to Nayeon with determination as you kept your eyes on her, and you saw her eyes change from confusion to understanding then mischief. She giggled when you reached her and you can't help but tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear as you said a breathy "Hi." You can't move as you saw her staring right back at you and the boy she was with looked at the both of you in confusion and disbelief.

"Sorry, we have somewhere we need to be," she said to the boy even though she's still holding your gaze. And just like when you were kids, Nayeon took your hand and ran to the marriage booth laughing. You ran with her, butterflies erupting in your tummy and heart so full you feel like flying. You looked up, the stars twinkling and the moon shining brightly, just like the that very day and here she is making good on her promise even if it's just a silly game. But in your head, you promised you'd marry her for real on a night like this, when the stars are twinkling and the moon is shining - so pretty and mesmerizing just like the girl smiling at you and holding your hand.

[doubledeadstudio]

Finally got the courage to ask a question (Happy New Years Eve/ Day whenever you see this) but just a general question

What was the creative process of making Reanimated Heart, Another Rose in his Garden and Pygmalion’s Folly? What was the inspiration behind those three games? What was your favorite one to work on? Do you plan to make new games in the future?

Happy New Year to you too, anon! I love questions like these. The development and creative process is something I'm very passionate about.

Creative Process? Inspiration? (Just shoving both of this in one, long discussion about how these things came to be)

Okay, you guys will probably think I'm an insane person, so let me explain how I got started on them...

I first started with RH (of course) when my friend Tay told me about this game she was playing where a character really resembled Crux (it was Markus from Red Embrace: Hollywood). And I played it because of that, and I was like, damn??? He really does? And I was on the path of my artist journey that I was like looking at the game assets and the dialogue and stuff where I was like... Wait, I can do that. I can write like this. I can draw everything. Who's stopping me? I had a dream with the tree, and I started writing dialogue in "hypothetical" VN scenarios, and I was like... okay, fuck it, I already got disowned by my family and I wanna kill myself, I've got nothing left to lose.

So I started pre-development for Reanimated Heart and wrote like about 20,000+ words, made sprites and backgrounds, spent an ungodly amount of money for music and fonts and did research, and released the Prologue on itch. It ended up kind of a flop? And I was honestly so mad for years LMFAO, but I kept at it because I liked making it. And then a fan, Ashe, contacted me out of nowhere and suggested I improve my socials. (Thanks Ashe.)

All in all, I think that, if RH never gathered attention... I would still be making it, but releases would've been shorter and weirder, and it wouldn't have the level of polish it does now because "nobody's playing this shit anyway." But having a fandom motivates me to push past my comfort, and inspires me to do releases semi-regularly. So, thank you guys for the support. :>

Anyway, enough RH rambling. Another Rose happened because a couple of members in the chat (I remember Maz and Chat in particular) kept joking about Omegaverse and I've never like... consumed any Omegaverse before, and I literally had no fucking clue what it was other than mpreg and werewolves. And I was like drinking that day and I got intrigued. And I kept thinking about the scenarios and became like ACTUALLY invested, but I didn't know anything about it still, so I kept asking Maz about it and she really helped hash out the "lore" and gave me really good scene suggestions. I honestly think Another Rose is the most indulgent of all my games because...

First of all, it's just straight porn. Second, aside from the quality of the work, I don't think about the audience, at all. There's only a price point to it but it's basically like a smut novel with some path deviations (that also just read to different porn)? Third, I'm like... I'm not going to lie, obsessed with my husband's OC Mars. And it's funny af to me how people ended up disliking him, because this whole game was like just my personal (smutty) love letter to how much I love that godawful man.

For Pygmalion's Folly... There had been long discussions in my server about murdersims. I'll be honest, I didn't get them at first, but I think Adri framed it in a way that I understood it, which was like... it was a morbid fascination to how bad things can get in situations like that. So I ended up playing the first BTDs and obsessively finished TPOF to the point I was having dreams about it, and I'm not going to lie, I had a dream! Again!! And it was Florentin killing the MC over and over. I woke up in a haze and wrote like the first 3000 words of the game in a frenzy with just 2 hours of sleep, and I was like, okay. This is getting made for sure. And because Adri was the avid murdersim fan, I consulted with them about the game, and they were the one that suggested the stats system, as well as some scenarios for endings.

So I guess tl;dr I cannot explain how I make games to you guys because they just kind of form when I'm drunk or get prophetic dreams.

Favorite to Work On?

Honestly, I loved working on all of them equally, believe it or not. (I equally also hate all of them when I'm crunching for the release. /jk)

The thing about these characters is that they're all OCs that are near and dear to my heart, ones that I've had for YEARS (I've had Vin for 12 years, can you imagine that?), and seeing all of them in action excites me so much.

I love that I got to make Abel the protag and I love that I got to put him in fun, sexual situations. I love that I managed to show off Florentin's special powers, and draw amazing grisly CGs with him. I love that Black, Vin and Crux are different, romanceable characters, that you can go to their houses, that you can see CGs with them, that you can follow their character development and be invested in their secrets, that they even have awesome voice actors that bring them to life!

And I love that so many of you also love them too, and write fic of them and draw them... Honestly, that's already my dream, and I'm so happy about it.

New Games in the Future?

Absolutely, yes! I got the VN dev bug and you guys will have to chase me out of here, LMAO.

But this year, considering how busy I'd be... I'd say probably not in case something really pushes me to make something (like, I had an idea I can't stop thinking about). My top priority right now is Reanimated Heart's Chapter 1 finale, and I have some free DLC I'm thinking of adding for Another Rose and Pygmalion's Folly, so those will probably get prioritized first.

[amethystfairy1]

well I've spent all day thinking about it so here are some predictions for how "And you open your eyes into mine, and everything feels better” is going to work out in defending order from most likely to least likely (and also kinda vaguest to most specific ig) If there's two contradictory predictions assume they're two separate thoughts I think are most likely in that order to happen

Martyn POV chapter 3

Chapter 3 Is a Martyn POV of chapter 2

C3 is the aftermath of C2

Martyn runs away again and/or throws up again or something after the kiss because intrusive thoughts just EXPLODED in his mind

Martyn doesn't believe Ren's feelings are genuine

Ren has an emotional breakdown

Flower husbands give relationship advice (they are very unqualified)

Ren's previous headspace causes either a shutdown or regression (basically he's the quiet, respectfully curious, obedient mas again [I think those were the adjectives?])

Martyn blames himself for Literally Everything that's happening in the relationship because he "forced this" on Ren and he IS just as bad as the others

Ren blames himself in layers of assaulting Martyn, kissing his master (out of his own accord), not knowing how his own emotions work, and now fully well and good believes Martyn is gonna sell him (somehow more than before because now he deserves it)

Martyn breaks down and apologizes for his intrusive thoughts, thus confessing to them (he's under the impression Ren already knew) causing either

a meta-ish conversation about those unwanted feelings not defining someone esp since Martyn is actively disgusted by them

More angsty relationship strain before the resolution (listen after reading almost 800k words worth of your tippy taps, I feel like some things are safe to assume.... I hope-)

Martyn confession (this is only this low because it could end up being in another fic)

An actually healthy conversation occurs

Another attack or ambush of some kind occurs

Due to [insert reasoning here], flower husbands misunderstand the situation and believe Martyn pushed Ren to do something, causing them to doubt Martyn's character and causing more feelings of betrayal

We get treebark by the end of the fic! (Only this low because I wonder if treebark would be established now or kinda saved for after the duo figures out their emotions, which could happen this fic or in a later fic)

Feel free to ignore this just wanted to share the thoughts that have been plaguing my mind in the bestest way :))))

These are alllll fantastic. I love all of them, I LOVE seeing people trying to work their way through how my stories are gonna break down as they come out, it's always so much fun! I love love love it so thanks for sharing!

And my response is this.

I hope you enjoy it.

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

okay this is the first time ever requesting anything EVER! But I love ur writing so I had to. I’m think a three way between the reader, James and Dave. But it’s like they’re fighting over who’s doing it right? And the reader is kinda innocent and has no experience. And they end up fucking her, taking turns like a competition bc they both in love w her? And, idk, maybe they met her bc she works for a catering business so they both know her? Idk if that makes sense lmaoo. Obviously only if ur comfy w it, but I beg!!!!

A/n: I will never not be mad that my computer glitched AFTER I FINISHED THIS and none of it saved so I had to start from scratch all over again 🥹 I WAS LITERALLY ADDING THE TAGS kill me 😩

Two days later and I’m still mad IT WAS PERFECT I genuinely think I peaked with that one 😫

Warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), slight breeding kink, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

“What-what do you want, Dave?” You asked, struggling to bite back moans as James curled his fingers at just the right angle.

Dave could picture you now, doing everything you could to get off on your fingers without him there to help you. “I was just checking in, see how you were doing in the new place.” He said, twirling the phone cord in his fingers. “Didn’t realize how needy you were, want me to come over?”

“What’s he saying?” James asked, barely pulling away from you, his hot breath fanning over your cunt. His fingers didn’t stop, still thrusting into your tight hole to prep you for him.

Dave heard James over the receiver, anger already boiling in him. “Who’s that?” He asked, struggling to hold back to venom in his voice. “Are you with someone?”

James took the phone from you and hung up on Dave, going back between your trembling thighs. "Don't think about him, just think about me." He said, flicking your clit with his tongue. "Let me show you what you've been missing with Dave."

You wanted to get him to stop, you knew you should've, but you couldn't. His tongue, his fingers, he felt so good. Your head fell back and you reached down to him, fingers lacing through his hair and pulling him closer.

You’d just moved to L.A. not long after your tour with Metallica. They weren’t the first band you’d gone with for catering and such, organizing dinners whatever. First you went out with Megadeth where you met their lead singer, Dave Mustaine.

He seemed to have a thing for you, you didn’t catch on right away but he didn’t make an attempt to hide it.

Dave was great and helped you move into your apartment, it wasn’t far from his place which was why you gave him a key. Now you were regretting that decision.

Your moans filled the room, echoing off the walls. Still, you heard the keys jingling in the door, followed by Dave storming over.

He stormed into the room, swinging it open and stopping dead in his tracks at the sight. James between your legs with a firm hold on your hips as he thrust in and out of you at a brutal pace.

“What the fuck.” Dave hissed, pulling his shirt off over his head and making his way over to you. By the time he got to the bed he was just as naked as you and James.

Dave reached over for your head, turning you to him as he stroked his semi hard dick. He lined himself up with your bruised lips but James pushed him away before he could really do anything.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He demanded, unable to take most of his attention off of you wrapped around him. "She-she's never done this before, Dave, you can't just-just choke her."

Dave stared at James who was abusing your hole right now with his thrusts that lacked any rhythm. He was so close, he tried to push it off but he couldn't help the high that he was so close to.

Dave rolled his eyes and looked back to you, he knew, as much as he didn't want to, that his former bandmate was right. Your lips parted, moans left you, but you could barely handle this, let alone any more.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipped under his weight. Dave brushed your hair out of your face and cupped your cheek in his hand so you could look at him. He smiled down at you so warmly it distracted you for a moment from James brutal thrusts. "You're doing so good, darling." He purred. "You look so pretty like this."

"So fucking breedable." James grunted, his hand pressing down on your stomach where a bulge had formed from him. A soft gasp left you, Dave's eyes shot up to James, glaring daggers into him.

With a few more thrusts James came, painting your walls with his cum. He pulled out of you, letting his cum drip down your ass as he laid down beside you.

James wrapped an arm around you and pulled you to his side, letting you rest your head on his arm.

Dave scoffed. "Couldn't even make her cum."

James shot him a look. "I made her cum."

"Not with your dick, you didn't." James rolled his eyes at Dave's words. "You fuck like a bitch in heat."

"At least I fucked her." Dave had to stop himself from punching the blond.

He moved to kneel between your legs, looking over you a moment and running his hands along your sides with a featherlight touch. "Not good enough, obviously." He muttered. He leaned down, kissing your cheek and jaw, nipping at your earlobe. “Sweet thing needs it soft and slow.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt Dave’s cock push between your wet folds, bumping your clit. Dave let out a low groan as he pushed into you, feeling your walls around him squeezing so deliciously.

Dave paused to let you adjust even though there wasn’t much difference between him and James, as much as he hated to admit it.

Dave started rolling his hips, watching your reactions closely until his dick was angled just right inside you. You squeaked, eyes shutting tight.

Your legs wrapped around him, pulling him impossibly closer to you. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” Dave asked, giving your hip a gentle squeeze. “You look so pretty like this, taking me so good.” He cooed, smiling warmly down at you.

Not wanting to lay there uselessly James traced shapes on your stomach, hand moving lower until his rough, calloused fingers found your clit, rubbing it in pace with Dave’s thrusts.

His attention was on you the whole time, James hated that he wasn’t the one making you feel this good. He hated that it was Dave, of all people it had to be Dave. He made you cum on his fingers and he’d be damned if he couldn’t do it again.

Dave kept his rhythm, rubbing your thighs and sides, trying to ignore James’s fingers bumping his groin every few thrusts.

Your mind was a muddled mess, eyes fluttering in pleasure. You couldn’t focus on anything but the way they were making you feel, the way the veins on Dave’s dick dragged on your gummy walls, the bulge that came with him fucking you so deep. James’s fingers rubbing you smoothly, jolts of electricity shooting through you.

“That’s it, darling, just relax.” Dave purred, letting you come undone from every little sensation. You head fell back, back arching off the mattress as you came on Dave, walls fluttering around him and he followed suit not long after, filling you to the brim with his seed.

A low groan left him, his hips jerking a last time before he pulled out and laid down on the other side of you.

You shifted closer to James, the two mens cum mixed together with your own juices as they spilled out of you.

“Are you kidding me?” Dave demanded. “After that, you go to him?”

“Dave.” James said, rubbing your side and squeezing your waist. “Look at her.” He rolled you onto your back, letting Dave see the glazed over look in your eyes, your lips parted slightly with heavy breaths.

Dave couldn’t exactly be that mad at you now, not when you were so out of it. “Fucked dumb, huh?” He cooed, kissing your temple. “Just sleep now… I’ll kick James out later.”

The blond rolled his eyes and pulled you closer to him, taking you for himself while he could.

[hencheri]

Who in wayv do you think is into impact play the most?? like whipping and spanking

18+ mdni.

pairing: xiaojun/hendery/yangyang x fem!reader

warnings: impact play, more like physical violence in some situations, implied noncon, i always go in every direction with these hdcs lol.

.

let me go into dark stuff because ughhh bdsm is just not something i want to write about.

xiaojun

obviously xiaojun, duh. if you follow me since the beginning, you know how much i love sadistic!xiaojun... i even think he's into receiving some pain, but still in a sadistic way. he loves your fingers pulling really hard on his hair because he's already hurting you, going in without any preparation. or your teeth biting into his bottom lip, drawing blood, because you don't want him to kiss you. he loves that type of pain because it's the reminder that he has the upper hand on you, that it's merely pathetic attempts at defending yourself.

xiaojun will hurt you no matter if he loves or hates your guts. i won't lie that he'll hurt you even more if he likes you. leaving marks on your body is like telling you he loves you, that you're worthy of his attention. your skin is like xiaojun's canvas, he uses it to paint his love, his admiration. he's a passionate man, let me tell you that... but what if he hates you? if in one situation you're his canvas, you can imagine you're nothing as beautiful in the other.

but xiaojun certainly likes to squish your face in his hand, absolutely adoring how your cheeks puff out. loves loves loves to bite you, there's nothing sexier than looking at your shoulders littered with his bite marks, or even better, the inside of your thighs. and of course, he spanks you. your ass, your thighs, your pussy, your face... he always does it. the intensity may vary depending on his feelings for you, but you can be sure that if you slap him back in the face, he'll be so turned on he won't be able to stop fucking you for very long.

yangyang

because someone mentioned it in my inbox (still haven't answered pls im so sorry), yangyang is so into knife play. and biting. i just can imagine him so well loving to scare you off with a knife, it definitely amuses him. scared of this little blade cutting you? scared of feeling pain? how cute. i don't think he actually wants to hurt you, but scaring you is so hot to him for some reasons. truthfully, he's a little piece of shit.

yangyang is like a little vampire, too. he bites all the time. he especially loves it when you get annoyed by it, pushing his head away from your neck, but he only smiles and laughs, doing it again as soon as he can.

he's not that much into impact play i think, oops, but he wouldn't mind it. if you ask him to slap you, he'll do it without any hesitation because that means you're as freaky as him and he loves it.

hendery

can't talk about impact play without including xiaodery :/ that'd be absurd. hendery literally does anything to you, anything he wants. he just manhandles you so roughly you always end up in so much pain. bruised knees, bruised hips, sore legs, sensitive pussy. sure he doesn't directly hits you, but he does like seeing you hurting because of him. it actually makes him so hard he has to fuck you again and again.

hendery sure doesn't mind some slaps here and there, but what he likes the most about it is certainly the little noises you make after feeling his palm against your ass. he likes lewd and loud sex, so he'll do everything that crosses his mind. if he wants you on the floor on your bare knees or your face shoved into the pillows with your ass up in the air, that's how it's going to be. you best believe that if any of the positions that he puts you in hurts, he'll probably not care.

i know hubby!hendery feels bad about it, but ... dark!hendery doesn't :( whether you're his girlfriend, just friends with benefits, or a one time thing, this man is here to fuck. like i swear you're not leaving without bruises.

[jkftkth]

i really do wonder what a bts comeback will mean and does every member have a plan figured out for themselves.

fan accounts going awol when some members were exploring their artistic individuality and only now resurfacing because a group reunion is closer - it makes you think. was there ever even an artistic connection? or was it more about what has been sold to the audience over musical talents - an entertaining family dynamic/bond fans can project onto. fitted roles where a member is only likeable if they’re playing it just right.

2024 changed my feelings for good on where i think i belong, and there’s probably little that could happen for me to want to be part of bts’ fandom again.

firstly, there’s only so far you can go being a fan of tae and having to witness on a daily basis the level of disrespect he faces from both company and fandom no one else has. when you see quite literally the worst of the worst, day after day, but it’s only a limited amount of fans who voice concern and make actual space for the exclusive severity of it all to be acknowledged and discussed and questioned…you either stay and pretend it’s not happening/it’s not “the actual worst” because it’s impossible to satisfy every fan, orrrrr—

i mean, everything until up to now has been with the intent of a) making us fall for the brainwashing so we stop advocating for him as an individual, or b) exhaust us into quitting being his fan so his label can turn around and say to him hey look—why did you think you could make it when no one likes you?

and i obviously believe other members are a victim in their own way too. because you would have to be living under a rock to not see that hybe does not respect its idols as workers, as money makers, and as humans. neither does it protect most of them, the actual opposite for specifically taegikook and so a fan of the group or not, anyone would naturally want better for hybes idols across the board because they deserve better than staff badmouthing them in official reports and on online platforms.

of course there are other reasons i’ve had enough, such as contractual fan service being pushed so much whilst at the same time fandom reactions being intensely watched and made note of to the extent labels are out here monitoring fanfiction and assigning tropes to members and not caring what type of delusion and hate that cultivates??! to the group motto of “us is always before me” being celebrated, to fandom not actually caring about idols’ rights, to fandom falling for a dirty pr firm’s media manipulation/fabrication so easily, to hybe basically being in all fandom spaces with their dumb ass bots to sway opinion, to i mean the list goes on.

i don’t think i’d call myself bitter, or a hater, or a “solo.”once they return i’ll feel relief for all of them that that chapter of their life is over and they came out safe and sound (🙏), but i confess i have little excitement for a group album because group songs mean one thing for fans of tae and group arrangements always do the opposite of wanting him to shine and group entertainment is hard to enjoy when you know there’s a script running more often than not at his expense.

a tour? well i know there’s sincerity in how important performing is, and it’ll probably mean a lot after 18 months of being forced away from that, so it will be nice to see them doing what they find enjoyable yes. do i look forward to the exerting schedules for the sake of making up for hybes financial losses? do i look forward to the billionaire continuing to rip them off while he carries on riding their success as his own?

i know there are contracts. i know idols’ rights are a topic of concern and few are willing to talk about it and make a change. i know their industry can get really manipulative really fast as soon as they step out of line and that can lead to a really dark reality. i know there’s always a bad guy in the story. i know the group is still important and loved by tae (and jk), i know he wants to think the best of the group’s fandom because he is still a group member, i know i’ll support him wherever he goes but like

it’s just hard to forget the least three years and stay unaffected.

[edwinisms]

i like to think, as a hc or a theory (because it’s definitely possible), that charles has had a few kisses throughout his high school years, sure, but past that he’s undeniably a virgin– well, kind of undeniably, because I think he’d deny it if found out by trying to use technicalities (“I mean that one time there was friction involved–“), but to any reasonable person, and by occult standards (see: edwin being a virgin sacrifice), he’s a virgin.

and i think this because it seems like him to fib about his level of experience (like he did when agreeing he’d sleep with crystal, matching her level of casualness about it) when in the presence of people who do, actually, have experience, in the hopes he doesn’t come off as lame or childish. given what we know about his “friends” when he was alive, they seem like the type to have teased or bullied boys– especially in their own circle– who haven’t gotten laid, or at the very least would’ve thought less of someone for it. and given what we know about charles, i don’t think he’d be nearly as sleazy and inconsiderate as his group when it comes to landing girls with the primary intention of adding to his body count. and considering he’s only supposed to be 16? and has never mentioned any significant relationships pre-death? it just seems unlikely.

all that to say– I can see him maintaining that facade of experience and confidence literally right up until the moment it matters, and in the heat of the moment getting nervous and embarrassed because “uhhh. so I may have been exaggerating some things.” though he’s not totally clueless either, I think it’d take a bit of a soft heart to heart moment for him to be reassured enough that he won’t fuck up and hurt his partner to go any further.

anyway not sure what the relevance of this is, but it’s something.

[soullessjack]

so im on s5 of miraculous and i keep thinking about cat noirs whole “kept at a distance” arc bc it’s genuinely really interesting but gets so wasted by always winding up with him basically validating ladybugs nonsensical decisions and treatment—the same treatment that we were already shown upset him enough to destroy public properly about it. the most consistent reason LB ever gives cat about why he can’t be fully trusted or relied on is that he’s too much of a liability for their partnership to work—either because he’s too reckless, too in love with her, or his cataclysm would be too dangerous to use.

whatever it is, the baseline is that she thinks he’s a liability, and obviously that’s like salt in the wound for cat since he genuinely loves her and enjoys being partners with her, but it’s also just sad to see him continue to respect her decision and act like it isn’t a problem for him when he’s literally upset enough to physically lash out and use his powers to do so. and I know a lot of it can probably be explained by ladybug’s experience in the cat blanc timeline, but 1) she starts holding him at a distance way before that even happens, 2) she’s actively making it worse by not telling cat noir about cat blanc and why she thinks she has to exclude him for his own safety, and 3) SHE SHOULD HAVE TOLD HIM ABOUT CAT BLANC TO BEGIN WITH BECAUSE IT’S LITERALLY A WORLD ENDING SITUATION INVOLVING HIM DIRECTLY‼️‼️‼️‼️

instead she just allows him think he’s unwanted and unnecessary, calls the shots on how he should feel about “having more free time” and ironically makes him even more susceptible to being Akumatized because of it. ladybug might not be aware that cat is adrien and has a terrible home life he actively uses his miraculous to escape from, but she’s playing right into all the key aspects that adrien resents from his father; she decides what he wants without considering or asking him, she trusts him conditionally and still distances herself enough for him to just not know certain things. it’s done with good intentions, but it still clearly affects adrien very poorly, and it’s just such a frustrating glass-chewing miscommunication that only needlessly complicates the situation

don’t even get me started on Kuro Neko where ladybug falls head over heels for the changed version of her partner and narrowly avoiding her having to actually screw up and learn a lesson about accepting cat for who he actually is because catwalker is just “too perfect” for her to function—instead of being an obedient idealized version of her best friend who lets her be in control of everything (WHEN ADRIEN LITERALLY USES HIS DOUBLE LIFE TO HAVE THE CONTROL HE DOESN’T GET AT HOME).

theres so much potential for the base concept of the miraculous of destruction and its Kwami/holder being distrusted outliers among the rest of the Kwami/holders, but the magic system sucks and it kind of loses any chance when the other Kwamis are established to be catastrophic if they use their powers without a holder. and it gets even more confusing if you consider that Fu specifically chose adrien to hold that miraculous, but then encourages Marinette to keep her distance from him and barely acknowledges him as a hero in general. Like why did you even bother testing adrien for his worthiness or whatever if you obviously don’t think he’s worthy of knowing anything about you or the rest of the miraculous OR his best friend’s identity??? but you’re totally okay with her just giving them out to anyone in Paris who’s conveniently around and having her know their identity???? master fu when I catch you master fu

auugghhhfgg I don’t know the magic system thing could be its own separate post but likeeeeee I just think the miraculous of destruction whos constantly mistrusted for no reason and goes Kamehameha Krazy in another timeline is very special and could be treated so much better if the writers were good at their job and didn’t make every character’s sole purpose be validating ladybug/marinette even when she’s in the wrong