#i gotta fucking do everything around here

[icallhimjoey]

supreme leader, would you ever write a sequel to ‘ground rules’ where our baby with joe is here and it’s just a cutesy dad!joe moment? (also wouldn’t be opposed to some smutty times as well bc i just can’t go past gotta-be-quiet-cause-the-baby’s-sleeping-but-fuck-i-want-you-right-now-new-parent-smut) heart you, as always!!

we're switching gears, everyone! sorry for the whiplash! Wordcount: 3K

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Only Have Eyes For You

(read Ground Rules here)

Joe has yet to stop staring at her.

It’s either eyes on her, or eyes on you, and even though you’re gorgeous and make his chest swell beyond what he thought his ribs could ever manage, looking at her is different.

New.

“Will you keep an eye on her?”

“Yea, of course I will. Go get some rest, please, baby.”

It’s been over an hour, and he still needs to raise a thumb up to wipe a tear from an inner corner about every thirty seconds. For several reasons, too.

It’s been five hours since you’ve given birth, and both sets of grandparents – grandparents, that sounds so fucking wild – have left evidence of their visit all over the room. There’s balloons, cards, flowers, bags with gifts in for you and for the newborn baby girl and Joe feels like they brought too much and too little. Were there for too long but left too soon. Should’ve been there right after instead of two hours later, but also maybe should’ve come to meet the baby tomorrow instead of today.

He wants to protect and hide this little girl from the world, but also needs everyone to see how gorgeous she is.

Five-hour old baby, fast asleep in her clear plastic bed that’s been placed right next to your hospital bed where you’re asleep even faster.   

He’s got no idea how much sleep he’s gotten over this weekend. Doesn’t care, either. Just knows that he’s staring at perfection no matter which way he turns, and that the small of his lower back aches because he’s been sitting in his chair weird, but this is the only way he can both touch you and see her little face.

Her perfect little face.

Joe’s got a hand around your ankle as you lie passed out in your hospital bed, finally in what seems to be a deeper sleep rather than just a quick nap, and he wishes you could stay like that for at least the next ten hours. He knows it doesn’t work like that with a newborn, and you’re obviously in a hospital which doesn’t help, but God, you deserve to sleep for a fucking lifetime.

Everything that surrounds you looks and sounds normal, so he guesses your blood pressure must be okay, but he keeps his ears pricked, just to be sure.

The birth was a long one. Almost everything you had tried preparing for hadn’t happened in the way you’d expected, which is what everyone kept telling you was going to happen, but it was still frustrating. It did however feel very fitting with how the two of you had even gotten together.

It was a good thing you managed to pull through most of the labour with humour.

Doctors and nurses had started making jokes of you becoming permanent residents when your dilation had halted at six centimeters for ages, and in return, you had started making jokes that they were going to have to start knocking before coming in, because you knew of a way to induce the labour that Joe would feel more comfortable about if he had some privacy.

“No, no, I do not–” Joe had immediately protested the first time you’d cracked the joke, and the lack of laughter coming from him plus your weird eyebrow wiggle had only made the nurses laugh louder.

“Sorry to inform you,” the doctor said in the middle of giving you another check. “But having sex will not cause labour to begin before your body is ready for delivery.”

“It won’t?” You’d acted all heartbroken. Made Joe mutter, “Jesus Christ!” under his breath, because, you were six centimeters dilated for fuck’s sake. Of course he wasn’t going to have sex with you.

“We’re still not in labour, are we?” the doctor said, insinuating that he thought you had probably tried it at home already.

“Ask him how many times we’ve had sex...” you’d challenged immediately, making Joe groan from the corner of the room where he was sort of pacing around, facing the wall more than the room, because there was another man with fingers deep inside of your vagina, talking to you about sex.

“Can we please focus on—” Joe started, equally as embarrassed as he was humoured by you.

“Once.” You answered your own question and gestured at your stomach. “One time! All it took!”

It had become a running joke between the two of you that Joe didn’t think you were going to involve so many other people in. Joe had gotten you pregnant and then hadn’t touched you since.

Not true. There had been plenty of touching. But you were super pregnant when you’d gotten together and it never felt right for Joe to insert parts of himself into parts of you that felt like they belonged to a whole different person for the time being.

Which actually made a lot of sense to you.

It was just unfortunate that hormones had made you super horny for half the pregnancy.

Hence why it had become a running joke.

One that really annoyed Joe. You were lucky that he loved to hear you laugh and to see you smile so much.

When the two of you were left alone again, Joe scolded you through a smile and pressed kisses to your temple, because you were being funny and entertaining even though you’d just gotten bad news. Again.

Joe lovingly touched your stomach, and pressed his cheek to yours as he looked down at it and said, “You’ve made it too nice in there. She doesn’t want to come out.”

“Remember when we were like, let’s do this as friends...” you joked, but Joe could hardly focus on your light tone of voice when you grabbed hold of his bicep with a strong grip.

“Idiots.” Joe commented, finding your hand and covering it with his.

“I think we would’ve been able to do it, but—”

“You think so?”

“Yea. I was very determined. But, this is nicer.” You smiled and made eye-contact with Joe. He was quick with a tissue, to dab at your wet eyes. He’d learnt to be ready for every and any emotion over the past few days; everything and anything could bring you to tears.

“I wouldn’t have been able to do it.” Joe said, smiling too. “I was already sort of head over heels if I’m honest. You were determined for two, I think.”

That had made you burst into actual sobs.

The last hour of giving birth, you’d cried non-stop. A weird silent steady leaking of water from your eyes as you struggled through the delivery. Joe guessed it was the pain – had to be, because, what the fuck was even going on? How the fuck had nature decided that this was meant to be normal? But then finally, when soft baby cries filled the room, one of the nurses said, “You’re there, you’re done. Relax, we’ll take it from here.” He’d realized then that it they were tears of exhaustion over anything else.

You’d been going for hours, and then your blood pressure did something funny after the placenta got removed, so now they wanted to keep you for a bit, which was scary. But going home with a newborn sounded even scarier, if he was honest... so he wasn’t going to complain about how uncomfortable his chair was.

Or how tired he felt.

He’d been going for hours too, but his tired was different from your tired. He could feel it in his bones, sure, but it was easy to keep his eyes open. Easy to keep staring at her. Easy to do jobs whenever someone asked him to do one.

“Mum’s done. Now, dad, come here. Pay attention.” 

And he has not been able to stop paying attention yet. He’s listening to your breathing, paying close attention to the rhythm because you’re the priority after all that’s happened. Yet he can’t keep his eyes off of his baby.

There’s a baby next to your bed.

The one he watched you gave birth to.

Your baby.

His baby.

He thumbs another tear from the corner of his eye before it leaves a wet trail down his face and uses his sleeve to dry both his eyes as he pushes his nose into his elbow for a second, not letting go of your ankle.

Life is ridiculous.

He still feels emotional over seeing you scream and cry, in pain and all sweaty. You’d performed a miracle, but it was no fun to witness how difficult the whole thing was on you. Had he not already convinced you to be with him, he would have started that quest today and would’ve likely never stopped.

When he blinks his eyes back into focus, it’s to you stirring in the white sheets of your hospital bed.

He freezes.

Maybe if he holds his breath and doesn’t make a single noise, you won’t wake up. He’s not sure how easy it’ll be to fall back asleep if you pull from your unconscious state completely. He wasn’t there when it happened – had gotten hauled off to help wash and dress his baby (the tiniest clothes he’d ever seen still too big on her, he was pouring tears as he tried to put the socks on and hated how you weren’t there to see it) – but he was informed that you lost a lot of blood and needed a lot of stitching.

After going through all of that, you’d needed stitching.

Your baby had been taken to get cleaned up, and you’d told Joe to go with her. To watch her. To stay with her and to not lose her out of his sight.

He’d listened.

Knew better than to tell you no.

But then you were left on your own, and you’d needed stitching.

You can’t move without wincing now, and Joe could probably jog home if he really wanted to. How is that fair?

Joe holds his breath, and watches you stretch your spine in your sleep before you relax again.

But then suddenly, your slow movements turn jumpy as you jolt awake with a gasp. It makes Joe jump almost just as much, and he narrowly avoids your knee to his face.

He watches you wince in pain, clearly uncomfortable, but then you immediately sink back into the mattress when your eyes find the clear plastic baby bed that holds your child, and you release a relieved breath.

“My God,” Joe whispers, already humoured by what just happened. “She’s still here, calm down.”

“Sorry,” you croak, curling a hand around the edge of the hard plastic and Joe watches your knuckles go white.

“You okay?” Joe’s already up on his feet, hand on your face to wipe your hair back.

With your eyes still closed and head slumped to the side, you softly answer, “Hmm. My vagina hurts.”

“Yea, of course.” Joe nods, unable to look at you without all the sympathy in the world displayed on his forehead. “Do you need anything for the pain?”

“I need to pee, but I don’t want to. It’s already burning.”

“I’ll go get someone.”

“Please.”

Joe gets a nurse in, and he helps you get out of the bed before you’re helped over to the toilet. Not before you tell Joe to watch her. Watch the baby.

“I’ll keep an eye,” Joe says, because he’s already found it’s his new favourite thing to do. To stare at her. “Go pee.”

The door to the bathroom is left open, and Joe listens to your conversation as he does as he’s told.

It’s a lot of, “Careful, mum. Careful. Slow movements.” coming from her, and a lot of hissing in between your teeth from you. A lot of, “Is this normal?” questions coming from you, and a lot of “If you feel this, it’s probably for this reason, which is totally normal.” answers from the nurse.

Joe gets the room and the fresh new little person all to himself for a second, and he leans all the way over your bed, feet still on the floor, his head resting in both hands as he slowly blinks at what you’ve created together.

He can’t get over how you’ve made this.

Two people have just gone and accidentally made a whole new person... it’s legitimately insane, Joe thinks.

The peeing takes longer than Joe thought it would take. He doesn’t blame you for taking your time, but he hopes that you figure out how to do it without being in pain or needing any help before you get to go home.

Joe hears a shocked gasp coming from you before you softly ask, “That’s a lot of blood. Is that a lot of blood?” followed by a toilet flushing and a reassuring, “Absolutely totally normal. Don’t worry.”

Baby is still asleep. Soundly and so peacefully, small tiny nose doing a perfect job at breathing, Joe’s already so proud of her it’s stupid.

“Well done, mum! First bathroom visit!” the nurse claps her hands together and laughs when you give a sarcastic yay in faux celebration.

You’re miserable, but Joe can hear your smile through everything and it makes his heart swell even more with pride. For you. For urinating. He’s proud because you peed, what the hell.

He shares his first secret smile with his daughter. “Mummy peed!”

You get helped back into your underwear and joggers, and Joe lets his view distract him enough that he almost doesn’t hear what you ask just before you step back into the room.

“Six weeks before sex, right?”

You’re joking, but Joe hears the serious confusion when the nurse asks, “Oh, have you not been talked through—”

“We have. Don’t listen to her.” Joe interrupts, and when he looks over his shoulder to see you shuffle back over to the bed, he catches the cheeky smile you’re trying to hide.

Before he can say anything else about how he’ll have you wait twelve weeks if you keep bringing it up, he catches your eyes flash in pain, just from your small shuffling steps, and he’s up in an instant. Pushes himself from your bed and turns to place both hands under your arms to make sure you’re safe and supported.

You hold onto him like a lifeline and pause in place for a moment.

God, the labour is done. Can you have a single second without any uncomfortable sharp pulling down there? Jesus.

You don’t see how Joe and the nurse share a look over your shoulder. The nurse is smiling at him, and Joe gives her a tired shake of his head as he rolls his eyes, quietly communicating that the girl he’s chosen to have a baby with is an actual menace.

“Maybe eight weeks?” Joe carefully jokes, hoping it’ll get you to laugh and forget about how sore you’re feeling for a second. Instead you just sigh and go, “Yea, maybe.”

You’re helped back into bed by four hands, shuffle slowly into position and leave enough room for Joe to join you.

You’re sore and tired and in a weird emotional state, and it’s simply much nicer to be all of those things squeezed tightly up against him. Joe knows to curl into you with his whole body and lays an arm over your pillow for you to place your head on. It gives the both of you the perfect view of your baby.

Your baby.

You feel a flash of want for her. To have her in your arms. Against your chest. To hold and hug and keep her close. But she’s asleep and you’re not quite sure what to do when she wakes up. What if she cries and you can’t get her to stop? This is safer.

You can both just watch her.

“I’ll be back in thirty minutes,” the nurse says after checking a file, and you ask, “To help me feed her?”

The nurse smiles, says, “Yea sure, that too.” and leaves.

You make a funny face, confused, and look at Joe like you think she was being rude.

“To check on you.” Joe softly says, and your face drops immediately.

“Oh. Yea. But I feel fine, now.” your focus is barely on yourself. There’s this whole other brand new human to be worried about.

“Hmm. Okay. Think you can sneak a little more sleep before she’s back?”

“Probably not.” you say, but Joe sees how you close your eyes anyway. Feels how you carefully move your hips back a little to feel more of Joe against your body. Feels how you grab onto his arm and firmly press it into your stomach that’s still big and round, but all soft and squishy now.

“Can you try?” Joe whispers, lips touching the shell of your ear.

“Will you watch her?” you’re already sinking away. Joe’s body heat is pulling you under quicker than he’d anticipated.

“Of course I will,” Joe says, but lies, and watches you for a moment instead. You’re his priority. Thinks it’s silly how you wouldn’t accept that if he told you. “I’ll watch her.” he confirms, not lying then, because he’s talking to his daughter as he says it.

Joe watches you until he feels you drop of the deep end. Feels you relax in a way he’s not felt you relax in ages.

After a while Joe repeats, “I’ll watch her.” in a barely-there whisper before he places a barely-there kiss against your cheek as you sleep.

His gaze moves back to the small baby girl in the room, and Joe’s eyes immediately well up again.

It’s stupid how even just the sight of her feels new and unexpected again. Like he’s seeing her for the first time once more.

And he simply finds that, once again, it’s so easy to stare.

Finds he can’t stop staring.

“Yea, I’ll keep an eye,” Joe whispers to himself. Thumbs another tear from his inner corner before it can run down his face and bother you.

“I’ll keep an eye.”

---

The Taglisted

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add yourself

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Just Take It | Jeon Jungkook | Part 7

Summary: Your friend "date" with Jungkook is interesting but thankfully the events from this morning don't prevent you from having a good time. Pairing: Inexperienced f!reader x Best Friend's Dad Jungkook (20 year age gap) Word Count: 3.8K (I'm sorry it's short but I wanted to get it out since it's been way too long) Warnings: No real warnings other than slightly jealous and possessive Jungkook (but we all know that's a good warning 🤭) a/n: It's been fucking four months I'm so sorry 😭 It's been so hard for me to update my series recently since my attention span literally sucks right now so one shots have been a lot easier to get out but hopefully some of you guys are still around to read this story 🥲 p.s. the last third of this isn't edited at all so please ignore any nonsense 😅

After Jungkook and I finally agree on an outfit for me to wear we head off to whatever mysterious location he's taking us to. 

"You gonna pout all the way there?" he teases, pointing out my crossed arms and legs and the fact that I haven't spoken to him since we left. "I told you I hate surprises" I grumble, the feeling of the unknown making me uncomfortable. 

"You've gotta live a little Darling" he teases and goes back to driving. He hands me his phone that's plugged into the aux as a sign for me to put on a playlist and that brings up my mood right away. He chuckles when he sees me put on my favorite song since he knows that music always lifts my spirits.

"You're never gonna get tired of this song are you?" he sighs, this being the twelfth time he's asked. "Nope" I answer, popping the 'p' at the end. "This song came out when you were two years old" he chuckles, trying to clue me in but I don't pay any mind to it. "All the more reason to like it!" I argue back and he shakes his head.

"Perfect Man by Shinhwa is a masterpiece and I will accept no arguments" I say, making my statement on the matter final. 

There's a quiet air that's hung between us for a couple moments before when both bust out laughing. "I swear we never fail to have the same conversation every time I play this song" I point out and he smiles.

"That's because I love watching you defend something with your whole being. It's cute" he says and my throat gets dry. 

This being the first semi flirty comment he's thrown at me since everything happened. Well, besides commenting on how I look because who wants to be told nothing after putting on a cute outfit, even when he's the one who's chosen it. 

His comments have been nothing but respectful so there's no harm in letting him do as he pleases but it's just making this whole friends ordeal a lot harder.

~~~~~~

As we pull up to the place he had kept a secret from me I realize why he had me wear this specific outfit since from the looks of it we've come to some sort of ropes course. 

"I've never been to one of these" I say, marveling at the zip lines, ropes, ladders and pulley systems that are strewn about this forested area.

"Do you wanna give it a try? We can always just go to the restaurant they have here but I thought I would still offer it since I told you I had something fun planned for us" he offers, leaving the choice up to me but I nod my head immediately, really wanting to try it out. 

"Yeah?" he chuckles when he sees my excitement grow. "Yes! Come on let's go!" I say, grabbing his hand and trying to drag him along.

"Wait a second Bunny" he chuckles, holding me back and I watch him as he opens the trunk and grabs a big hoodie for me to wear. "So we don't mess up that pretty little top you're wearing" he says and the playfulness around the statement making my heart skip a beat. 

"I could've brought my own" I say but he shakes his head in protest. "It's easier this way so you don't have to worry about it getting dirty, now arms up" he says and I furrow my brow. "Jungkook I can put it on myself" I laugh but he doesn't find it amusing. "I know, arms up" he orders and I do as he says, laughing at the no doubt comical sight of him struggling with it. 

"You know now that I think about it it's a lot easier to take your clothes off than it is to put them on" he casually says, making me wack him in the arm once the hoodie is on properly. "Friends Jungkook. Or I can go back to calling you Mr. Jeon" I say with an arched brow and he chuckles. "Friends" he agrees and closes the trunk.

"So can we go now?" I ask, glancing over at the course before looking back to him for approval. "Yes Bunny go ahead" he says, giving me the go ahead and following after me as I make a bee line for the equipment room. 

"Hi!" I say excitedly to the guy at the counter when it's my turn to check us in. "Hey, first time?" he chuckles, me looking around at everything with a childlike wonder in my eyes. "Yeah! I honestly didn't even know a place like this existed around here" I admit, Jungkook again taking me to a place I had never been before. 

I guess he really is determined to take all of my firsts. 

"Well I hope you'll come around more often then, there's a whole lot more to experience than just these ropes" he says and in my awestruck state I don't notice the suggestive tone behind his wording. 

"You find something you like?" he asks, my sight going past him and looking at all the harnesses. "I have a friend that's coming in a second so do you think you could get us two?" I ask while pointing at them. 

"Sure, is your friend as pretty as you are?" he asks and before I can even think of a response someone is interrupting our conversation. "I would think so" I hear a deep voice say behind me, his hand placed on my hip in a slight possessive manner making my breath hitch. 

The boy's eyes widen a bit, looking at the dynamic between the two of us and doesn't exactly know what to make of it and decides to go find harnesses for the both of us. 

"What was that?" I ask, whipping around and glaring up at him. "What? We agree to be friends for a little while and suddenly you're ready to jump ship?" Jungkook says, crossing his arms and watching as the boy not so casually glances over at us. 

"He was just being friendly" I scoff, knowing for a fact that he wasn't but playing into this oblivious act I had accidentally fallen into. "Right...friendly" he says in a monotone, not wanting to get into a senseless argument and taking the high road. I don't miss the way his hand balls into a fist for a second before relaxing it once I've decided to drag him over to look at the little souvenirs they have in the shop. 

"Alright here's a harness for you, and one for you sir." the employee says, a flirtatious tone in his voice when he addresses me and a more strict and professional voice when he addresses Jungkook. 

"Did you want some help putting that on?" the boy asks, clearly just taking it as a chance to get closer to me since Jungkook's slight display of possessiveness of me wasn't a big enough clue that we may...or may not be together. "Oh no that's okay, I'm sure you've got other things to do" I deny, stepping into it on my own and in true y/n fashion I end up tripping over one of the straps. 

"Careful Darling" Jungkook says, steadying me on my feet and when I look back over at the boy he's awkwardly frozen with his arms out, having intended to help me but decided against it since he was smart enough to realize that it might not be the smartest idea. 

I look between the boy and Jungkook and see how Jungkook hasn't stopped glaring at him no matter how uncomfortable the boy is. "Looks like you've got other customers to help" Jungkook says, nodding towards the people at the counter, clearly looking to check in just as we did. 

"Right, well let me know if you need anything" he responds, his focus completely on me as he relays his message. "I will" Jungkook jumps in and the boy nervously glances between the two of us before heading over to the counter and helping the group of four that just came in. 

"Was that really necessary?" I ask, my arms crossed over my chest as Jungkook tightens the harness on me, making sure I won't need any 'help' with it later. "He was trying way too hard and he clearly couldn't get a clue about us" he says, his glare still prevalent in his direction. 

"Jungkook there isn't an 'us' right now okay" I say and he sighs. "Keep on telling yourself that" he mumbles quite enough that I couldn't make it out when another crowd comes in. "What was that?" I ask but he quickly brushes it off and herds me out of the store before it gets even more crowded. 

As we wait for the group to now gather in the waiting area outside neither of us have spoken a word to each other, stealing glances every so often since we just can't help it. We're attracted to each other and from my point of view I don't think that's gonna change anytime soon. 

"Alright everyone can I get you all gathered over here?" that same guy from inside the shop calls out and we all do as he says with Jungkook cursing under his breath. "Fucking fantastic, he's our leader" he grumbles but I grab him by the arm and drag him so we can catch up with the group. 

"Come on I thought you said this was supposed to be fun" I say and he sighs, collecting himself and slowly changing his attitude. "Alright I'm sorry Darling" he says, not dragging his feet or sulking anymore and putting that nonsensical jealously out of his head...at least for right now. 

"Alright welcome welcome everyone to BranchBound Adventures! How's everyone doing today?" he asks and we all let out cheers of excitement but what I don't notice is the way that Jungkook looks at me with a soft smile when he realizes again how much I'm loving this already. He takes a mental note to bring me here again soon so he can watch that same childlike excitement bloom again. 

"Excellent, looks like we've got a fun group here today! Well my name is Jayson and this is Kimberly and we're gonna be your BranchBound Buddies, sound good?" he says and I can't ignore the way Jungkook snorts at the title they've been given but it's only loud enough for me to hear thankfully. 

"Behave!" I scold, not wanting to turn this into some sort of immaturity contest when he knows damn well he's a grown ass adult and he should not be acting like this. He holds his hands up in surrender when he sees my glare but can't help but smirk at the fact that Jayson as we've recently found out his name is watching our exchange. 

As the day goes by and we're close to the end of our little ropes course adventure Jayson decides it's now or never and decides to make another move. 

"You've done a great job today! Didn't know you would be so good with ropes" he says, not hiding the fact that he's probably imagining using these ropes on me in a completely different context. "Yeah I didn't know I would be either" I chuckle and look over and see Jungkook glaring daggers into Jayson's forehead while he hooks me up to the zip line.

"Did you want to go nice and slow or fast?" he asks, his eyes drinking me in but I don't pay him any mind as I just watch the way that Jungkook is reacting to our exchange. "Y/n?" Jayson asks, breaking me out of the trance I had been lost in, thinking about what Jungkook would do to me after this if we were together. 

"Sorry what?" I ask and I can tell that he's pretty much starting to get the memo at this point. "Nothing, just tuck your legs in close to you if you want to go faster" he explains and I nod my head and wait while Jungkook gets hooked up to the other line thats parallel to mine. 

"Wanna race?" I challenge him since I know he would never back down from one. "What do I get if I win?" he says with a smirk.

"Whatever you want..." I say nervously and I have a feeling I'm going to regret that. "...but I want ice cream if I win!" I say to wipe away the tension but he brings it right back with his claim if he wins.

"I want a kiss" he says and when he clearly sees the way that I'm gearing up to protest a simple cock of his brow silences that. "You said that I could have anything I want right?" he asks I sigh and nod, my energy to go back on my word dissipating. 

It's just one kiss right?

"Deal" I agree and he can't hold back the smile and vote of confidence it gives him. "Get ready to lose" he says and before I have a chance to argue back Kimberly is counting us off and in my semi scattered state Jungkook takes off before me giving him a ten second head-start. 

"No fair!" I call after him when I'm finally able to catch up and he let's out a hearty laugh. "You're the one who proposed this whole race Bunny" he says making me look away, 'his timing with that nickname is always impeccable', I think to myself as I hide my blush.

"Hurry up!" I hear him call out as he is suddenly a lot further down the line than I am. "Hey!" I laugh, deciding to put that thought away to not sour my mood and just focus on there here and now. 

Once I finally get to the end Jungkook has already gotten unhooked from the zip line and is standing victorious waiting to claim his prize. 

"You only won because you're taller than me" I grumble as if I'm actually upset that he won when in fact the thought of him putting in effort just to kiss me make my heart beat faster. "I thought smaller things were supposed to be more aerodynamic" he teases in response but I huff and stand in front of him, clearly waiting for him to claim his reward. 

"I didn't say when I was going to kiss you" he teases and walks away and back toward the shop where we had first come from since our time is up. "Hey!" I protest again, not liking the slight embarrassment he caused me. 

"Oh come on you'll be okay" he teases as he takes his harness off and then helps me out of mine after. "Whatever" I huff and something behind me catches his eye and before I'm able to turn around he's knocking me off my feet and giving me a rather over exaggerated kiss if you ask me to the point that people are whistling and hyping us up.

I hit on his chest when I'm finally running out of air and he carefully puts me back on my feet and when I catch the sight of Jayson staring at us with an unreadable expression on his face I know now why he did that. 

"You're insufferable" I huff and fix my rumbled clothes from his breathless kiss but he doesn't seem bothered in the slightest. "Interesting response after receiving a kiss that made you blush but I'll take it" he shrugs and we both head back into the gift shop for the last time so Jungkook can no doubt flaunt the fact that from Jayson's point of view we're together. 

Honestly I could care less and I won't deny that it was hot as fuck watching him get angry with the very minimal interactions Jayson and I had but I won't let him have that satisfaction. "Didn't realize you were so insecure" I taunt and make sure his eyes are on me before I look over to where Jayson is still clearly watching us and give him a flirty wave goodbye with Jungkook hurrying to usher me out. 

"I wouldn't be insecure if you were mine already so until then you'll have to be patient with me" he says through gritted teeth, a reaction I was hoping for from that little stunt I pulled. "I can manage" I say and walk off towards the only restaurant here where I'm sure he was planning on taking me and when he follows me and has a hand placed low on my waist to guide me there my suspicions are confirmed. 

"Reservation for Jeon" he says to the host at the front desk and while he looks for it Jungkook's demeanor is a little softer, that soft maturity coming back from having us in a controlled and relaxed environment. "Right this way Mr and Mrs. Jeon" the host says and I practically choke on air at that, the title mistakenly given to me sending my heart into overdrive. 

"Don't worry she's fine, come on Honey" Jungkook reassures the waiter as Jungkook encourages me along to follow him to our table. 

Once we're seated our waiter comes by immediately to bring us water since I had clearly caused enough of a spectacle to garner a hurried solution for my coughing fit. He gives us our menus as well soon after and leaves us be, allowing me some more space to compose myself. 

Jungkook can't hide the smile he's had since my reaction had started and has turn slightly smug at seeing the blush it had caused me. "Shut up" I grumble and take another gulp of water having traded his glass for mind since I had practically drank mine in one go after that. 

"I didn't say anything" he chuckles leaving me glaring at him. "But your face did" I say after having put my almost empty glass back down on the table. "Oh yeah? And what is it saying now?" he asks, leaning forward as if he was giving me a better look at it. 

"It's saying that you're enjoying the fact that I'm still squirming over the thought of being called Mrs. Jeon" I say and he sits back, proud of my intuition. "Impressive Bunny. Better get used to it though" he says cockily and I narrow my eye at him and scoff. 

"You're pretty confident for someone I technically haven't agreed to date" I say but his smirk widens before throwing out a playful 'Yet' and our waiter is back at our table before I have a chance to argue back. 

After the waiter has taken our order and a little while after is bringing out our food our conversations have gone back to what had been seen as normal for us. A slight flirty edge to his words which I not so subtly glare at in response always making him chuckle but it's getting harder and harder for me to want to do that.

Why should I scold him? It's not like I don't want him too...

As we finish up the day with the ice cream I technically did not earn we start to make our way back to his car where he opens the door for me and make it a point to put on my seatbelt so I can still enjoy the cone I'm almost finished with. 

"Thanks Dad" I tease after he's buckled me in like a child and I'm granted a sarcastic smile in return only making me smile harder. He closes the door and gets in on his side and soon we're on our way back to the house...

~~~~~

The ride back is quiet, comfortable but quiet with the only sound being the hum of my playlist coming through the speaker and the gusts of cool air coming through the vents but it's soon broken by the question he's been wanting to ask. 

"Did you have fun?" it's a simple question but I know thoughts of what had happened earlier today are coming back to him as we get closer and closer to the house. "I did, a lot actually. You're not too shabby at planning dates" I confirm and he glances over with a smirk. 

"I thought this wasn't a date?" he counters and I chuckle. "It wasn't until you kissed me" I say and he shakes his head. "A kiss equals a date, got it" he says quietly, tucking that information into his back pocket and I can't help but smile as I see a soft one still rests on his lips. 

~~~~

When we finally pull into the driveway and he turns off the engine I hold onto his arm for a second, asking him to stay in the car for a second so he does and sits back and keeps his eyes on me, waiting for what I have to say.

The thing is is that I don't know what to say, I don't even know why I asked him to stay in here but he just watches me fondly, not rushing anything and waiting patiently for me. 

"I don't think we can be friends" I say, looking down at my lap so I can't see the expression he has on his face. "What do you mean by that Bunny?" he asks, that nickname making my heart skip a beat like it does every time and I shake my head, still looking down at my lap. "I mean, I don't wanna be friends" I say hoping he'll understand and when he lifts my chin I expect him to ask me to explain what I mean but instead I'm met with his lips on mine.

They're not full of passion or lust or anything of the sort. Just pure longing and understanding, understanding of the want to go about things at my own pace, an understanding that he's okay with going slow and that's all I need. 

"We can go slow" he says after we've broken the kiss, audibly confirming what he had physically displayed and I bite back a smile and nod before placing a soft kiss on his lips. 

"Thank you" I whisper and he pulls away to get a better look at me. "Whatever for?" he asks in such a cute way I can't help but laugh. "For not forcing me or making me feel bad about my indecision" I say and he smiles and cups my face, brushing his thumb along my cheekbone, a sad smile on his face at the thought of what I might've gone through with Jared that would require that sense of relief from his actions. 

"I'm sorry about this morning" I say even softer this time and he nods, "I know" and those two words bring me comfort in ways that he couldn't understand even if I told him.

I was scared shitless that I had messed things up, that I had done something that could've damaged us beyond repair but his words and actions from today told me nothing of the sort. 

His maturity shows that he knows what he wants and I want to open up and show him that in return...but I just hope I won't regret it.

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[cosmicdahlias]

Can Bill Come Out To Play?

a ford x reader fic

MINORS DNI

warnings: smut, possession, masochism, consensual torture, knife play, blood play, blood as lube, oral, spanking, choking, bruising, fainting, slapping, dubcon impreg, putting cigarettes out on you

okay y’all this one is supremely fucked up, i know i’ve written my share of dark fics but this one takes the cake if the warnings are any indication. it was a request by @thegrovesheart but i probably went way more overboard than what the anon was asking for. i’m sorry y’all are about to see how bad my kinks are, hopefully you’ll still enjoy the ride 🤞

It was late at night, you and Ford had just finished a long day of working on the portal. You were cuddled up in bed, him pressed up against you as the big spoon. He was lazily tracing his fingers over the curves of your body. You had been about to fall asleep, but the sensation of his hands on you was too arousing. You rolled over, facing him and slipped your hand to his cock.

You stroked him and he let out a soft moan, his eyes closed in pleasure. You kissed him deeply, when you pulled back he opened his eyes, they were different, wild and yellow with reptilian slits for pupils.

“Ford?”

He laughed, even his voice was off, higher, more sinister. He smiled wide, almost like the corners of his mouth were about to split open.

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. The name’s Bill Cipher, I’m your good old boyfriend here’s muse. I figured if I’m gonna be in his mind I might as well get acquainted the little minx that occupies his thoughts when they’re not about me. That’s right, kid, the man’s absolutely obsessed with you, well, not more than me, but you’re a close second.”

“So what do you want with me?”

“Well, dollface, I’ve been taking a peek into your dreams and I gotta say, you are quite the freak. I’m honestly impressed, most humans don’t enjoy pain nearly as much as you do. Have you told Fordsy? I doubt it, honestly he’d be too much of a pussy to do any of the shit you think about. And that’s where I come in, you love fucking Ford, but he’ll never truly satisfy you in the way you want. I have no hangups about causing pain, hell I love it! If you agree, I’ll give you everything you want and more. What do you say?”

After your time researching things like demonic possession the idea of being fucked by a demon always excited you. And the fact that he’d hurt you in ways that Ford never would? Fuck the hell yes. You should have been terrified, but when you looked into those yellow eyes you only felt desire.

“Deal.”

“Ahahaha, perfect. Let’s get started.”

Ford’s hands traveled down your body, his grip rougher than normal. He put a hand to your throat and sank his teeth into your throat. You yelped as he drew blood, it seeped down your neck and Ford dragged his tongue over the crimson liquid.

“Fuck, I forgot how good that tastes.”

He got up, searching for something.

“I know sixer keeps one around here somewh- aha!” He said, pulling out a large hunting knife.

He walked back over to the bed, getting on top of you. He dragged the flat end of the blade against your skin, every so often testing the waters by poking you with the tip light enough to not slice into your flesh, not yet. Goosebumps formed from the sensation, no one had ever done anything to you like this, you were on cloud nine.

“I think you’ll like this.” He smiled.

He let the knife travel to your inner thigh and begin to cut the soft skin. You winced and moaned. Bill let out a cold laugh.

“God you’re fucked up, kid.”

He took his time carving the words “Bill’s slut” into your thigh, pearls of blood forming at the surface. Satisfied with his work he gathered your blood on his fingertips.

“Open that pretty mouth.”

You did so and his fingers entered, the metallic taste hitting your tongue. He pulled his fingers out and replaced them with his lips aggressively to yours, tongue shoving its way into your mouth, searching for the taste of blood.

He pulled away. His wide smile hadn’t left his face since he took hold of Ford. He reversed his hold of the knife, gripping the sharp blade in his hand. He teased the entrance of your pussy with the hilt. You were dripping at the idea, inching yourself closer.

He shoved the handle aggressively inside you, fucking you with it. He didn’t let up on his grip, the knife sinking into Ford’s palm, blood trickled down the knife.

“Whoops, might as well make the best of it.”

He pulled the handle out of you and covered Ford’s blood in it before resuming fucking you with the hilt.

“Bet you never used blood as lube before have you? And judging by how wet you are I’d say you’re enjoying this.”

You whimpered, bucking your hips. Blood continued to drip from Ford’s hand, staining the sheets. He pulled the knife out and dragged you headfirst to the edge of the bed, tilting your head back back. He stroked his cock and thumbed your tongue.

“I’m gonna fuck your mouth and I’m not gonna stop even when you choke and gag on Fordsy’s cock, sound good?”

You nodded.

“Good, just try not to puke on his dick, I don’t think he’d appreciate that.”

He lined the tip up with your open lips before violently forcing his way into your mouth, holding a hand to your throat the entire time.

He thrusted relentlessly and you began to gag, saliva pooling on the floor. He pinched your nipples hard, you let out a muffled moan.

“That’s right, moan on his cock.”

He carried on fucking your mouth. Savoring your desperate attempts to breathe. He debated on covering your nose just to make things harder, he loved to see you struggle.

He pulled out, you coughed and gasped for air. He picked you up and flipped you over on your stomach, shoving your face down into the pillow and raising your ass. Ford bent over and picked up his belt. He came up behind you and brought it down hard on your ass. You moaned as a welt began to form. He continued lashing you until your legs began to shake.

“Man you really can take a beating.”

He flipped you over again, this time on your back and slipped the belt around your neck then climbed on top of you, hand tugging on the leather.

“I’ve always wanted to know what pussy feels like, Fordsy makes it sound even better than pain with the way he describes it”

He didn’t waste any time preparing you, brutally shoving his full length inside you, pumping rapidly. He moaned loudly.

“Ah ahahaha, fuck, now I see why sixer fantasizes about this all the time. It feels fucking incredible.”

He pulled hard on the belt, choking you. You tightened around his cock. Capillaries in your neck started to break, you were going to be left with one hell of a bruise. He was ruthless, fucking you with cruel intensity.

He pulled the belt even tighter, you began to asphyxiate. Finding this insanely hot, but still valuing your life you tried to tell Ford to loosen his grip, but your windpipe was being crushed. All you could manage out was a guttural choking noise as you clawed at the belt.

“I’m sorry, what was that? I can’t quite make it out.” He said, ignoring your obvious attempts to breathe. He pulled as tight as he could, you couldn’t even gasp. “Oh well, must not be important.” He shrugged, continuing to fuck you.

Despite what felt like a threat to your life you found yourself incredibly turned on. Your vision started to go black. The last thing you heard was a maniacal laugh.

-

When you came to Ford was still fucking you.

“Whoa hey you’re back, thought we lost you for a second there.” He said with his twisted smile.

His hands found your hips, he gripped them, nails digging into your flesh hard enough to break the skin.

“Say my name, slut.” He demaned.

“Nnngh, Ford.” You moaned.

He backhanded you. “I SAID SAY MY NAME, YOU STUPID CUNT!” He shouted.

“B-Bill.” You whimpered.

“That’s better. Remember who’s really in control here, sixer will never fuck you like this.”

He pounded you into the mattress. He felt himself close to cumming.

“So you’re gonna find this hilarious, I’ve been having sixer switch out your birth control with sugar pills. That’s right, they do jack shit. I’ve always been fascinated by human pregnancy and I mean hey, you’re young and fertile. And it’s too late to stop me now. Ahahahaha!”

Before you could even think to push him off you he pinned you down by the wrists, cumming deep inside you. He bucked rapidly, ropes of hot cum shooting inside you. He grunted, refusing to stop even when his cock began hurt. God he loved causing Ford pain. He didn’t know how humans got anything done or why they didn’t just fuck 24/7.

Ford took your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Well this was fun, but it’s probably time for me to give old Fordsy his body back, don’t yo- oh wait, one last parting gift.”

He reached over to the bedside table and grabbed a lighter and pack of cigarettes. He took one out and lit it up, taking a long drag and puffing the smoke in your face. He grinned wildly, turning your head to expose your neck and putting it out on your skin. You screwed your eyes shut and moaned loudly. He bent down and licked the burn.

“Oooh wee, you sure are fun. I’m definitely coming back for more, but I think I’m satisfied for now. Okay byeeeeeeeee.”

Ford’s head snapped back. He shook his head, blinking rapidly, his eyes returning to normal.

“Ugh, wh- what happened? Did I black ou- “ He looked down at you and gasped in horror, backing away from you to the foot of the bed.

You were a shaking mess, you honestly looked like you’d been through a bear attack.

“Y/N! WHAT HAPPENED? WHO DID THIS TO YOU?” He started to hyperventilate.

You sat up and took his face in your hands. “Hey hey, it’s alright, I wanted this.”

“OH MY GOD ARE YOU OKAY? SHOULD I TAKE YOU TO THE HOSPITAL? SHOULD I FILE A POLICE REPORT? DID I DO THIS? WHY AREN’T YOU SAYING ANYTHI-“ he froze. “D- did you say you wanted this?”

You kissed him.

“Look, I have been having some… fantasies and Bill and I both agreed that you wouldn’t be able to do them to me on your own.”

“You met Bill?”

“He was possessing you, but yeah I met him.”

He stared at you, looking terrified before attempting to fix his face to a more neutral expression, almost like he was afraid he would be punished for showing fear.

“That’s- that’s wonderful. I always hoped he’d let you meet him someda-“ now that the adrenaline had settled he got a good look at you. “Oh baby your neck.” He looked down. “Y- your thigh.”

Blood was trickling from both wounds. He looked at you with great concern.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Like I said, I wanted this.”

Without saying a word he got off the bed and left the room, he returned with a first aid kit. He sat next to you.

“Come here.” He whispered softly.

You leaned into him as he saturated a cotton ball in disinfectant.

“Now this is going to sting quite a bit.”

He applied the soaked cotton ball to your neck wound, you drew in a sharp breath at the sensation.

“I know, I’m sorry baby.”

“No it’s okay, I like the pain.”

He gave small chuckle. “So I’ve heard.”

He took a second cotton ball, wetting it with disinfectant, pressing it to the branding that Bill had left you. You winced.

Ford kissed your cheek. “Almost done, stardust. You’re doing so good.”

He pulled gauze and medical tape out of the first aid kit. He started with the bite, lining up the gauze to cover it and securing it in place with the tape. He then turned his attention to the words carved into your thigh, doing the same.

He got up and inspected you carefully from every angle until he noticed the cigarette burn.

“Ah, hold on.”

He left the room again, coming back this time with a soapy wet rag. He sat down next to you again and gently cleaned the wound.

“You can’t use disinfectant on a burn, slows the healing.”

He then dressed the burn the same way he had for your other injuries.

He had always secretly liked treating and bandaging your wounds, he found it to be quite intimate, not even in a sexual way, just that it allowed him to be close to you.

He cupped your cheek in his hand and went to kiss you when he realized he’d gotten blood on your face. He looked down at his hand and shook his head.

“Guess Bill got me too.”

“Don’t worry, I got it.” You smiled.

You took his hand, treating and dressing it just as he had done for you. As you finished wrapping is hand in tape you kissed his knuckles.

He laid back in bed and patted the space in front of him. You crawled up next to him, returning to spooning position. He buried his nose in the crook of your neck and sighed deeply. You were seconds from falling asleep when your eyes snapped open, remembering what Bill had done to your birth control.

“Oh yeah, so uh… Bill might’ve made you knock me up.”

“WHAT???”

-

In the morning Ford would make you stay in bed, insisting you needed rest. For the next few weeks he watched you like a hawk, secretly recording any possible pregnancy symptoms. He pretended to be nonchalant about you being knocked up, only entertaining the idea if you did, but deep down the thought of you pregnant excited him.

He had always imagined continuing his legacy, teaching his child everything he knew. One day he was going to be gone and someone was going to have to continue his work, and he wanted to keep it in the family. He spent his nights after working on the portal holding you, rubbing your stomach after you fell asleep, hoping, praying even that Bill had given him a miracle.

[nmbrtobio]

sunaxreader

fluff, angst.

********•********•*********•*********•**********

you’re staring at him.

he’s across the cafeteria laughing with his friends being happy like nothing had happened ever since you guys broke up a two months ago.

you can’t get over him. you can’t get over this brown hair, his eyes, the hoodie he’s wearing right now. the one that he gave you. he’s not wearing the necklace you gave him a year ago on his birthday, he’s probably wearing some other chain around his neck.

you wish he texted you. you wished that he’ll make eye contact with you right now.

sometimes you swear you feel his eyes on you but when you try to meet his, his back is facing towards you.

the boy you loved, and that you think loved you, is acting like nothing happened.

“y/n cmon we gotta get to class!” your friend yelled at you, and you nodded not looking away from suna. as you stand up and look up at him one more time you guys make eye contact.

one second. two seconds. three seconds. four-

your friend yanked you away and atsumu got in sunas way. you felt a pain in your chest. and hate, because that’s the first time he’s looked at you since these past two months.

———————————————————————

you went to a club with your four friends, all dressed in pretty skin tight dresses, and all dolled up. you’re wearing the black dress suna loved on you. you didn’t do it on purpose, your friends picked it out for you.

tonight you just wanna drink though and feel something, anything. maybe cause of the alcohol stored here, or for the cute looking guys around here. maybe someone.

you’re currently now on the bathroom counter kissing… what was his name again? you weren’t sure, but you weren’t turned on by this, or weren’t interested, and didn’t feel anything. he’s kissing down your neck and he made it down to your collarbone, before you made an excuse to walk away, “hey we should do this another time you know? my friends are looking for me it’s an emergency.” he looked bummed out but he let you go.

you went to the bar, and had a drink after drink, and now on the dance floor with your girls, laughing and having fun. you’re head is pounding a bit but it’s no big deal, you’re still having fun. but now you have to go to the bathroom and throw up.

“hey i’ll be right back.”

your speed walking to the bathroom now, and suna just keeps popping back up in your head. when you guys would go to parties together and dance with him and the others, or you’ll be dancing and he’ll make sure no one will come your way. or like when you drank to much he’ll hold your hair when you threw up.

it’s all coming out of you as your leaned over the toilet, throwing it all up. and now your crying, because you missed suna and he acted like everything was fine today, because he’s not here to hold your hand, or watch you as you dance, and maybe because he’s not here as your date, and not the guy you make out with in the bathroom.

your balling your eyes out, and there’s snot coming out your nose. your mascara is running down and your wiping your tears that’s repeatedly going down.

and all of a sudden your phone is in your hands, and you click on sunas contact.

ring…

ring…

ri-

there’s silence.

“hello?” you sniffle and start sobbing harder, cause you missed his voice so much.

sniff, “hi rin.” it just comes out so naturally.

“you know rin, i’m at a club, and i really miss you- likeim crying- i’m crying next to a toilet, because i miss you isn’t that funny?” your words are a little slurred. “rin i miss you. i fucking haye you i don’t get it why-why did you have to leave me. i could hate you but i can’t i can’t hate you, why do you act like nothing happened to us like we were never deeply in love.”

suna on the other line is still quiet.

“you know- i miss you, i miss us. please suna i can’t do this without you suna.”

“i love you y/n.” now your crying even more and suna hears you throwing up in the back, crying again right after, “where are you baby?” he says as you hear his car keys and the sound of his front door closing.

“you still have my location.” you say as you begin wiping the tears again. “suna don’t leave me please i’m not ready. you’re still always in my mind.”

“are you in love with anyone else? cause i’m not in love with anyone else, and what’s so fucking crazy is that it’s always been you.” your words are getting more slurred and your getting tired. “i’m almost there, can you walk out to the front for me? or do you need help?”

you slowly start getting up still having tears rolling down, and say yes. you walk out of the stalls with your heels in your hands and head outside, and you sit on the steps waiting for suna. he’s speaking to you but you fell asleep as soon as you sat down and leaned against the wall.

Sunas pov

Suna reached the club and saw you lying against the wall sitting on the steps. he hangs up the phone and rushes out of the car. he missed you so much.

he walked over to your sleepy body and woke you up, “cmon just walk to the car for me. i’ll hold you up.” you slowly opened your eyes and saw suna, “hi my love” saying in a whisper. and then your crying, again. he smiles and helps you up to walk towards his car, “please don’t leave me again, i’ll be lonely.”

as much as he doesn’t want to, he has to. it hurts his heart so much, that when he’s looking at you you’re never looking back at him, how he misses your hair, your eyes, your voice. he’ll say everything he wants to tonight, because he knows you’ll forget it the next morning. “i wish i could bring you everywhere with me y/n, and i wish you could love yourself the way i do. maybe once we both learn to put away our pride and learn how to communicate, i’ll run back to you. i always will.”

“to answer your question from earlier, no. i haven’t loved someone else because i still look for you through a crowd of hundreds of people. sometimes i still even check if you come to my volleyball games, even when you are there, i think your there for me and not for sakusa.”

he puts you in the passenger seat, and drives you home.

you forget everything the next morning, and suna told sakusa what happened. what you think happened last night is that you drank too much and you called sakusa to come get you.

.•.•.•.•…•.•.•..••..•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•..•.•.•.•.•••…

i did not go over this, so there may be some spelling mistakes and bad grammar. should i make a part two?

-nmbrtobio

[pricegouge]

Alone, Together

alone x reader | on AO3

cw: male reader. dubcon/noncon/coercion. pseudo-tentacles, ghost has two (or more, depending on how you count 'em) dicks. ass eating, oral, overstimulation, anal sex, frotting/handjobs, a small smackeral of cbt, slapping, degradation, exhibitionism, breathplay. implied character death. MDNI

if you need a good visual aid for what i have in mind for the cocks situation, see my ramble here

divider by @/cafekitsune

Taglist @pricegouged

You're helping them. You have to remember you're helping them.

There's some method to it, some reason. Pseudoscience and technobabble bullshit that went far over your head even as Reynolds yammered on over the coms. It didn't matter, not really. Not when your entire team is - 

Compromised.

"And how will this help?"

Reynold's voice is croaky in your ear - probably burnt out the long string of five syllable words he'd just thrown at you. It's a struggle to hear him over all the commotion in the room next door, the deep groans of pain and frustration. Confusion. "They way he - it -."

They, you decide, trying to remember that's your team in there, somehow.

"- absorbs people… I think it's a defense mechanism. So you gotta make yourself as inoffensive as possible."

A hard feat, carrying forty kilos of weaponry and tac gear. Removing the most egregious pieces had seemed logical enough when Reynolds suggested it, plates and straps falling away with an odd sense of relief and dread. No one ever relished keeping a full kit on another minute, but to take it off when you knew the next room held a potential hostile went against everything you'd learned since your very first days in basic. Taking it off when you knew the thing in the next room was fuck off big, fuck off angry, and had access to the weaponry of four S.A.S. officers, if not also the capabilities, was downright untenable.

Still, when your boots crunch over the broken glass of the window which separates you from your target, your tread is that much lighter. And when they turn, they do not find you armed to the teeth as they had with all the people who went in before you. It's hard to tell if this pleases them, the whole team having been dressed for a ghost mission meant each head now wore an obfuscating mask. Further, the cold eyes that stare back at you are decidedly not the varied eyes of the men you'd expected to see, each head somehow having adopted Soap's pale gaze. It lends a sense of lifelessness to them, each eye matching the cataract-cloudy irises of the head on the end. They each look like corpses, but the animated way they move toward you reminds you they are something much worse.

They - Simon. The heads - cannot move independently, which renders their necks a bit obsolete. When they turn toward you, their whole, immense chest follows suit. One of the arms toward the back dangles limply, perhaps genuinely dead. You try to clock the equipment which adorns it, hoping against hope it doesn't mean one of them is dead in there. 

"Easy," you try as it barrels closer, stumbling backwards before you can even think it through. 

"Steady," Reynolds warns - must have a good view through the lab cameras - and you cringe when you see he has the right of it, your falter acting as blood in the water. 

Their steps come heavy and hard. Quicker than you'd expect them to move. The rhythm of their steps strike you as odd and when you glance down, you're shocked to find one leg is nearly double the size of the other, an extra shin and foot spliced into the side of their right leg. The boot there has movement, but doesn't quite reach the ground beside the odd tap of thick tread off the tile. Whoever's that was - is -, they're not quite as tall as Simon, it seems.

Despite your backpedaling, it doesn't take long for them to overtake you. Gloved fingers wrap around your wrist, yanking you closer and you can't help the yelp that escapes you, rubbery black tendrils which burst through the seams of your captain's glove brushing against the hair of your forearm unexpectedly. It's sticky, almost, and you can't help but think of this being the end; you've seen how quickly the stuff grows, drags bigger men than you into its collection. If they wanted you, this brief contact would likely be enough and suddenly it doesn't matter that you promised Reynolds you'd be as friendly and approachable as you could manage because this thing has you, and you're going to be taken in, lost amongst them, just another set of useless arms it can hang from its armpits like trophies -

And then the touch is gone, the tendrils with it. You inspect your skin for damage, feel premature relief flood you when you find none. It's not a guarantee that you're safe, ofcourse, but it's further than the others made. 

"Holy shit, it's working," Reynolds breathes, and then his voice is ripped unceremoniously from your ear when another gloved hand lashes out like a viper and yanks the cord that runs up your neck right out.

"Okay! Okay, sorry," you stammer, hands coming up in that oddly placating gesture you know would never work on any of them, least of all from you. "Just you and me, yeah? Is that what you want?"

You're not sure why you don't expect an answer. Perhaps it's the way the visible jaw of the middle head bleeds ominously, lined with more black growth than proper gum tissue at this point. Maybe it's because the one on the left has been eaten away to bone, hanging precariously. Or perhaps it's because the one on the right - somehow the most human of them despite the eye currently trying to escape the confines of its face - looks so twisted in pain and anguish you don't imagine it's capable of thought, much less speech. But they do speak, a low growl which sounds like none of and all of them at once, and the dread you feel when they bend to tilt toward you, talk down at you like your captain was wont to do is a cold, physical thing. 

"No," they drawl, their voice echoing in their own throat like layered vocal tracks, "just want you and us."

***

The jump from one life altering event to the next moves quickly, the way things often do in the field. You'd long ago stopped measuring events in time stamps, the markers ultimately meaningless when they flow like a river, here white water and rapid, there a slow meander. It's usually much more meaningful to chronicle missions by snap decisions - which choices led where, when things started to go pear shaped. When you decided to help your team, and when they decided what that help would look like.

It's all very concise on paper, when viewed as such. They say they need help and you say that's why you're there, sent to take them back to base where a specialized team can start the process of reversing the damage. They scoff, say you all know there will be no recovery. When they say you can help them in another way, you balk. They say they can just absorb you if you refuse and you concede, rationalizing that you are still helping them, in a way. They've already stopped screaming in pain, at least.

So it's not a very wide web of possible outcomes, all told. A concise, logical statement of events you'd feel no shame in returning to your superior at time of debrief. Even if it's landed you here, grinding your ass back onto the skeletal remains of one head's jaw while they work you open with the long, surprisingly prehensile black growth which you had originally mistaken for a vein of sorts running down their thickly corded neck. It seeped through their skin at their jaw, twined and morphed their tongue into something much longer, harder. It still leaked spit like that was its job, soaking your thoroughly in drool as it wedged itself ever deeper.

They had requested comfort, something to take their mind off the pain, but so far you're the only one being touched. Not that you're complaining. As good as the slimy appendage feels inside you, you're not exactly eager to touch them - so much melty, dead-looking flesh triggering the base parts of your lizard brain which still feared things like communicable, flesh eating diseases on a cellular level. There may be some selfish, brazen part of you that wants more of them, but it's the same part of you that can't look away from a car crash or a fallen soldier - a part that revels in the fear and revulsion, mistakes the stomach churn for an excitable swoop. It's not an instinct you want to be listening to now, considering you're riding a razor's edge of being merged forever with this thing but there's no ignoring it, and there's no stopping yourself from thrusting forward into the wet heat of the middle mouth when prompted, your own hardness surprising you when they note it, encouraging you forward with a twined hand at your back. And there's no stopping the whine of frustration when they slacken their tongue, let the base curl back into their mouth to keep you rocking on just the tip. It's no use correcting your movements to compensate, much as you try. The angle's all wrong, your thighs planted above their heads on one side and positioned firmly on their sturdy chest on the other. With your legs spread so wide, you cannot gain enough leverage to thrust properly and even when you do, the black growth moves nimbly with you, never letting you take it any deeper than a few frustrating inches. 

The far head, the only mouth unoccupied, laughs when you groan impatiently. They tell you to beg but you're not far enough gone yet to oblige so instead, a thick arm is propped up behind you, Price's gloved hand sliding up your front to palm your belly. They take over your pace, rocking you back and forth with more speed than you'd been able to manage on your own. But they keep you raised too high above them, your cock barely reaching their tongue no, and when they keep you like that, just there, it would be understimulating enough to let you flag considering the circumstances and the feeling of raw mandible rubbing up against your balls, if not for the free mouth which suddenly won't shut up, prattling on about how good you taste on their tongue, how hot and tight your hole is for them. How much they want you to take their entire length, want you to swallow them whole while they do the same to you.

You tell yourself you're being demanding when you ask why they don't, know you land somewhere closer to whiney. They don't entertain you either way.

"Told you to beg."

And so you do, quiet and shameful, until they stop altogether and suddenly you're calling for them - for their mouth, their strange hot tongue, their fingers, anything. You even beg for their cock when they order you to, a desperate little whore for the hot, wet tendril they slide back into you, so far you nearly convince yourself you can feel it in your diaphragm. This time when they tilt you forward and take you into their mouth all the way to the root, the appendage stays put, rooted deep. And when it begins to pulsate, sliding a knobby bend of itself which may have once been a hyoid bone back and forth against your prostate with a rhythmic series of contractions, the shudder that wracks you nearly knocks their hands from you. 

"Fuck," you hiss, somehow shimmying your hips even lower, reveling in the tight heat which which engulfs you. The unused mouth hums in agreement between gasps for air. When you realize it's probably breathing for all of them in that moment, you lean forward to plant your hands on the ground and fuck into the middle mouth for all you're able, aided by a hand on your hip when your legs go shaky and weak with the work the tendril is putting on you. 

And when they tell you they can feel your pulse in their throat, you cum so hard your vision whites out. They're relentless, the grip on your hip turning iron strong when you try to flinch away from them, the tongue in your hole never once stopping until you're wrung out and crying, too overstimulated to care about the noises you're making other than to worry you're being understood. Small miracle perhaps, given you're too fucked out to grasp the names they call you, or how they tease you for getting off to an abomination like them. If you were present enough to comprehend them, the shame would have overwhelmed you. Good thing your ears are still ringing too hard for that. You're still floaty when they jostle you into position, get you straddling their considerable hips. Two hands hold you high above them while the other works their belt and fly, and you come back to yourself with a cold jolt when their cock springs free, an incomprehensible meld of two genitals which makes you cringe in pain just to behold. 

At the center, Gaz's cock stands high and proud, relatively normal looking all things considered. But around it, split up the center like some kind of perverse flower, a thicker, shorter dicck wraps itself in two branches around the inner stamen, leaking trace amounts of precum from the seams where it clings. 

It makes your stomach roll.

It makes your mouth water.

"Just as ugly as the rest of us, is it?" the middle head growls. They do their best to coordinate a peak down, but the head on the right seems cemented too stiffly to account for the movement. You don't think they can see it at all, though you wonder if that's for the better. You suppose if you saw your cock split up the middle one day, you'd never be able to get it hard again.

For the better? 

"Worse." 

You're surprised when they laugh, though you suppose you shouldn't be. You know the men trapped in there, even if they don't seem very familiar anymore. But then, as if to prove you wrong, an alien hand grips your ass cheek hard while another set of fingers prod your hole to make sure you are indeed stretched enough for them. And then, when they lower you on to their cock, any sense of familiarity leaves you.

The stretch is not unmanageable at first, Kyle's pretty head notching deliciously within you. But the further you sink onto him, the more that second head prods at your hole and you hiss in warning, not trusting the quick preparation you'd received. They tell you to relax, rock you shallowly on the tip until the second head grows wet with precum and when you reach below yourself to spread it over the shaft, you're surprised to find it already slicked. 

They don't stop you when you pull back enough to get a proper look at them, inspecting the shaft and your own hand to find it covered in pre. Curiosity takes over and you drag your fingers along the shaft, ignoring their shiver in favor of tracing the slick back to its source, the seam where the two cocks splice together. The more your fingers explore, the twitchier they get beneath you until you can't help but tease them, ignoring your baseline revulsion in favor of running your thumb over the split head. "Hurt?" you ask, tone indicating you know full well it doesn't.

"Fuckin' -!" This time when they pull you onto them, they do not heed your protests.

You know tensing up will only make it worse but it's an instinct you can't fight, shrieking when they bully their way inside, the flare of the second head becoming soaked when you squeeze against the intrusion. They gasp, throats working around thick swallows while they keep you anchored to them, aborted little thrusts jostling you just enough to keep you  off balance. Keep you from adjusting properly. It fucking hurts, but the surprising amount of pre and spit helps to ease your grip on them eventually, especially when their weak little grinds begin to work the slick into you, their movements coming deeper and quicker the more you let them in.

They know when they've found your sweet spot by the embarrassingly garbled mewl you emit. 

"That's it," one of them growls, the hand on your left hip squeezing impossibly tighter. On the other side, the one in the balaklava calls you a sweetheart, tells you you're taking them so well.

You can't manage much beyond a bobble headed nod in response, but they don't seem to require one, three arms now working to keep you bouncing on their cock at a quick, deep pace which has your breath catching in your throat, embarrassing little punched out sounds bubbling up each time they bottom out. So overwhelmed, you don't even notice your cock stirring back to life until it begins bobbing uselessly, slapping against their marbled belly and leaving pathetic little dribbles of cum to catch in the thatch of hair there. Even the brief touch makes you whine, makes you grab yourself by the base to keep your twitchy length from grinding too hard against the coarse pelt. Except they don't like that, one hand from the seeming never ending supply snaking up to grab your wrist, holding  it behind your back. 

"Useless little thing, ain't you? Can't even properly take us without crying about it."

You don't think that's fair, but you suppose they don't want to hear how this wasn't what you had signed up for, nor would they likely wish to know that no human could probably take them anymore.

But they seem to realize that anyway. "Maybe we should eat you up? Take you in and make you part of something strong for once? They can't expect us to find any real satisfaction in you, can they?"

And something about the way they say it cuts through your addled thoughts, makes your blood run cold. "Reynolds. He said -?"

"Peace offering," middle head clarifies. 

"Not a very good one," righty adds.

The mix of emotions their words bring is concerning, not least because the pre-existing shame you'd felt for even being in this situation now combines with a deeply confusing feeling of being not good enough and the deep seated need to prove yourself to your superiors rears its ugly head. This time, when you work yourself back down onto them, they let you take the lead, dead eyes adopting as near an expression of smugness as they can manage. 

"Better do a good job, sweetheart. Hate to have to merge you with that backstabbing Reynolds just to get a decent play thing."

"Oh, fuck you," you hiss, wires crossing now as you try to figure out if you want their approval or their apology.

You get neither. "That's the plan."

Maybe it's a bad idea. Probably, you'll get your fingers bit off and then you'll sink so far into their chest you'll come out the other side and they'll wear you like a backpack until your cells all melt into an unrecognizable puddle. They'll call you Six despite the fact you'll never watch it for them, just waiting to die every minute.

None of it stops you from sticking your fingers into the offending mouth. "Shut the fuck up."

Your stunt earns you peace for all of three seconds before you remember which mouth you've chosen to take your frustration out on when that same dark, prehensile tongue wraps itself around your wrist, drawing your fingers down its throat eagerly. The shudder it earns isn't entirely disgusted and the other heads laugh at you, insultingly amused. 

You'd almost rather be Six. Especially when the slimy drool begins to coat your wrist, the weird tendril working itself across your skin as if it could wring more pleasure from the appendage while they groan in apparent pleasure, breaths coming slightly quicker.

"Feels so good," one of them confesses, their hips beginning to piston up into you. Sensitive, must be. Fresh new tissue despite its leathery texture. It would explain the way they stroke the skin of your hairy forearm at least. Your frustration grows when you realize that not only have you failed to shut them up, but you've also managed to give them even more satisfaction, somehow. 

Well, maybe they won't kill you at least.

But the hope dies in your chest when they grab your cock in their meaty fist, squeezing until you flinch and cry out in pain. They tut at you condescendingly, continue to work your length with far too much aggression. You're prevented from curling in on yourself by the broad hands at your waist and the hand currently being held hostage by a concerningly strong tongue. All the while they rumble about how useless you are to them, how they'll have to make you into something that suits their needs if you can't please them. It's a bad enough threat, as is, but when they start talking about alpha team like just more meat for the grinder, more limbs with which to combine you, the sob that wracks you isn't solely rooted in pain and overstimulation.

Somewhere, in some base part of your brain which still craves the approval of the men beneath you, you spare a thought for how badly you will have failed your mission if the amalgamation you'd been sent to wrangle, in an attempt to split them back up, ended with you earning the merge of your entire team. Probably, you shouldn't be worried about it right now, but the way they ramble about you being a disappointment to them has already turned you into a needy little thing, so you've just been set up for failure, really. So when they tell you you'll have to do better, you try; and when they prompt you to shove your fingers further down their throat, you do. And when they say you're much too pathetic to please them if you can't even take their smallest cock without crying, you falter, apprehensive.

"Smaller?"

They're mean, your open fear making them shutter beneath you. Their cum is so hot it nearly burns, leaking from you in a frothy ring as they continue to pump into you for a minute longer, working themselves back from the edge before pulling you off their length, Gaz's cock still hard at the center despite the way the split cock still dribbles weakly. They keep you raised high enough you can see when they reach down, one set of thick fingers working their fly looser. In retrospect, you're not entirely certain how you never felt it beneath you. Likely just assumed it was another strange black growth, like the kind that corded him all over, pulsing strangely with angry-looking veins. What he pulls out of his pants next isn't too dissimilar, a thick, angry-looking shaft which splits toward the tip, the pulsing blue vein which runs along the bottom branching into two merged heads, each of which look plenty formidable on its own. The end result is a frankly terrifying behemoth, its head the thickest part except perhaps its belly which looks swollen with whatever that blue vein carries. It leaks in some places, the familiar pearl of precum collecting at its heads and a darker, thinner substance which seems to ooze from the strange veins. It's… pretty, in its own way. At the very least, far more human than the one which now rests against their belly, too heavy to stand tall now that the outer cock is no longer hard. Still…

"That's not gonna fit."

Their laugh is slightly breathless, chest still heaving from their sudden orgasm. "You'd best make it. Told you what would happen if you couldn't please us."

For a moment, you think to call their bluff, your self-preservation instinct finally outweighing your loyalty. Your team isn't here, surely it wouldn't be as easy as they say to turn everyone? But ultimately, they do not need the rest of the team to turn you into something you do not want to be and you decide not to try your luck.

There's no easy way to take the heads all at once so you reach back to stretch yourself on your fingers, surprised at how easily three slip in among the spit and cum. A tendril of shame winds up your spine, the way you've so easily accepted them settling uneasily. Your expression must be telling because they laugh at you, swat your hand away so they can properly assess your stretch. 

"Christ, what a slag. Already dripping with it and wanting more?" The hand they're using is ungloved, but the texture of the skin is all wrong anyway, and the way it twitches and shakes makes it hard to close your eyes and just forget what's working you open on thick, probing fingers, much as you try. It's bad, uncomfortable, makes your skin crawl. Worse even than that, however, is knowing that they're right.

Slick with spend, the noise their fingers make within you is inescapable, a lewd sound you've been conditioned to appreciate since you even knew what getting your dick wet entailed. Despite yourself, it's not long before you're rocking back onto the alien fingers, your head thrown back as they tear breathy little gasps and curses from you. A proper moan when they hook the forefinger of another hand in against your rim and pull.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you pant, unable to get away from the middle finger which slides in against this new intrusion with little preamble due to the way the remaining arms hold you in place. 

"Shut up and take it," they order, fingers now holding you open like a pair of forceps as they wrangle you into position above their second cock. "Should be thankful we even bothered stretching you out."

But despite their words, sliding down onto the double heads makes it feel like they haven't bothered to at all. Their fingers keep you spread until you're notched over the flare, the stretch of their fingers and their cock bringing tears to your eyes which they quickly wipe away with that long prehensile tongue. You hadn't even noticed when your fingers had slid from their mouth, both hands now braced against their chest as you try to keep yourself from sliding down their length before you've had time to adjust. It's a worthless attempt of course, all hands now gripping your waist, hips, thighs, shoulders, and dragging you down centimeter by relentless centimeter. They chatter all the while, degrading words somehow keeping you grounded if only because it gives you something to focus on other than the unpleasant stretch of your ass.

"Ungrateful, that's what you are. Worked you open on fingers and tongue. Slicked that hole right up when we came in you, didn't we? And all you do is whine -."

The slap to your ass isn't too surprising, but the gloved hand striking hard against your cheek with the strength of the two combined arms that wield it, is.

Barely audible over the ringing in your ears, you hear them demand you thank them and you do so, stuttering. "Th-thank you!"

You're not sure if it's your cry that gets them, or their patience finally snapping. You see the cords of their neck flex beneath a ridden-up balaklava when they groan and then their hips are working up beneath you, burying themselves to the root within you. They lay there panting for a moment, collecting themselves. You take advantage of it as best you can as well, wriggling your hips against theirs in an attempt to adjust, feeling the slick leaking from your hole as you do so. 

Overflowing. Fucking slag, indeed.

They want you to ride them again but you can't, legs too far spread and sore to be much use. They roll you over with minimal complaint after a few failed attempts, their grumbling getting lost in the rush of your ears when they pin one leg to your chest and lean heavily against it. Gravity lets their first cock flop onto yours, hot length sliding against your flagging erection while you try to ignore their comments about how tiny you are beneath them.

It doesn't work, and the fact it only makes you harder makes your shame burn hotter.

"Pretty little thing, though," they mutter, one heavy hand cradling your jaw to keep you looking at them. They're the stuff of nightmares, looming over you as they are, but your cock twitches anyway because you've always been so desperate for their approval.

Another fist finds yours, wraps your hands around your frotting cocks as best it can. Combined like this, your fingers are barely able to encase even half of it, your grip not nearly tight enough to do either of you any good despite the way he tells you to give him something to fuck. He hisses in frustration when you're unable, one hand slapping the back of your thigh as he bullies it off to the side, his own hand twining with yours and squeezing much too hard as he begins to fuck up into you, his slick cock moving against yours as the other notches against your prostate when he withdraws, earning a ragged moan from you.

"There?" he asks, pistoning hard enough into you you'd go shuttling across the ground if not for the grip he still has on your hip, or the immense weight he leans on to you. You nod, throat and tongue working uselessly. One hand remains locked in his grasp but the other scrabbles up his chest, catching on some PALS webbing and holding on for dear life. 

"Fuck yeah, squeeze me just like that, love," he pants. You're unsure if he means the way your walls clamp down around him or your fist, currently gripping too tight to be comfortable. You remain tense in both anyway, suddenly desperate to hear more of his labored breaths. It's an instinct you do not want to analyze. Can't, given how suddenly your every thought is occupied by the way the heads of his cock scrapes against your sweet spot, has your mouth hanging open uselessly. 

The grip on your jaw shifts, palm laying heavy and flat against the column of your throat. They don't squeeze, waiting until you whine in want to duck closer, long tongue sliding against your lips as drool drips down on to you. The middle head hums, pale eyes heavy on your pathetic display. "Still need more, honey? Is that it? Need something to suck on too?"

"Knew 'e was a fuckin' slag," the last head mutters, and the tongue slips into your mouth before you can respond - not that you could've, brain sent skipping by the relentless pace he's set. The tendril in your mouth swells, fills the area between your teeth until your jaw aches with the stretch. It thins out some as it creeps down your throat, the very tip of it a thin little column which it eases past your gag reflex. You'd think they were trying to be nice if not for the way it immediately swelled again, your breaths coming hard through your nose as it continued, threatening to cut off your air from within. 

"Needy," the head on the end gripes, but the one in the middle is nicer. "Deep breath, sweetheart."

But nice as the sentiment is, the tongue in your throat doesn't actually give you enough time to abide, forcing its way deeper as the middle head does nothing more than tut disapprovingly. The hand around your throat flexes, all three heads groaning in unison as you tense up tighter on reflex, panic beginning to climb up your throat - only made worse by the knowledge you can't express it for the intrusion blocking your airways.

Within you, the tendril pulses once. The hand around your throat flexes with it, a pressure from within and without which feels like it might tear your delicate skin apart - and then they both relent, pulling away from you altogether until only their thick heads remain notched within you. They watch you splutter and cough, vaguely sympathetic noises cooing down at you while heavy hands trace over your body, too rough to be soothing. After a moment, one of them asks if you're ready, but again they do not wait for a response before filling you completely, hips bucking into you as they make you gag on their tongue. They stay there longer this time, cock twitching against yours when your throat works around the intrusion. 

"Again," they hiss, but you gag and cough, eyes growing swollen and leaky in your panic and they relent, panting nearly as much as you as they wait for you to collect yourself.

They don't even bother to ask if you're ready this time, their hips fucking up into yours the only warning you get before the hand around your throat tilts your face just so, the slimy tendril slipping down your raw throat nearly familiar. "Breathe," they warn, and this time they give you enough time to comply before slipping past your reflex, their fingers drumming off the column of your neck as they sigh into it, curling around you as their hips keep working. You whimper when their grip tightens around your cocks, but it just comes out as a snotty sound.

"Swallow, sweetheart," the far head whispers, breath hot against your ear even as it's filtered through the mask. You blink a few times, confused as to how you can manage that, and then the tongue in your throat pulses and it's automatic, reflex, the mouth at your ear groaning as the hand against your throat tightens. 

"Can feel ourselves," the middle head admits, flexing their grip again. "Here."

This time, when they grip your throat, their fingers dig into your pulse points and your vision tunnels, sensory input narrowing down to each place they touch you - the way they occupy your throat, control your breathing, your very pulse, the way their cock slides hot and wet against your own, grip so tight it would be painful if not for the way their twin heads keep notching against and framing that spot deep within you on each pass.

They only make it worse when you cum, tongue thickening in your throat as their grip tightens. They relent when you gag, the relief of your first breath only heightening your release until your back arches and you're cumming up to your chin. They hiss at the way you clench around them but their hips work even harder, balls slapping against your ass as they bury themselves into you until they're cumming so deep you think you can feel them in your stomach. 

Panting, you feel them pull out and the flood of cum that follows. You grimace, your leg lowering as you try to regain some semblance of pride. You have no clue how you're ever going to look any of them in the eye again, if they're ever successfully split. Despite your lethargy, your body spent after two rounds with a literal monster, your brain is finally coming back online, conveniently choosing now to remind you that Reynolds definitely saw all that from his end of the security feed. You roll onto your stomach when they pull away from you, desperate to bury your head in the ground while you collect yourself -.

But then a firm grip around each ankle makes your blood run cold, and you yelp when they pull you close again, leaning forward until they hover over you ominously, the length they slide into you slipping past your rim with ease.

The first cock. Gaz's. He still hasn't finished.

"Not going anywhere, are ya luv? Thought you could handle all of us?"

[delusion-mostly]

Regina George x Reader

Part 1/32 (yeah I know, right?)

Warnings: angst if you squint, name calling, suggestive wording

I wrote this a while ago, if you think I need to add anything else for this one, lmk!

Word count: 1,265

"What the hell are you doing on my ice, George? The hockey team already released the team list, we can't accept anyone else. Either way, we don't like drama."

"Actually, I'm not on the ice," Regina gives you a dirty look, pointing at the fact that she is right outside the ice, not on it, "and ew, this does not sound appealing. You look like a fridge wearing a knockoff dollar-store sports jersey. This also looks a bit rough." she makes a gesture at your outfit, and size.

Well, she was right. The school had a small budget for the women's team, and you tower over her. Your shoulder pads add to the size, you really are built like a fridge at the moment.

"Then what are you here for? To call me another slur?" You take your helmet off and lean your head down on your stick, smirking, "here for a good time?"

Regina fake gags, "Absolutely no. Gross. Quit speaking," she gives another dirty look, "I saw the poster that you needed a manager for the team. I can't play any sports and everything is so fucking lame. I can at least see fights here." She shrugs

"And why do you of all people want to be involved in anything  that doesn't involve pretty pink glitter and being a massive bitch?" Putting emphasis in the 'B' in bitch, you poke Regina with your stick.

"If I didn't have to I wouldn't," she shoves the stick off of her shoulder, "but my therapist is making me. I can't let last year consume me, and I have to be helpful or whatever."

You look at the clock and put your helmet back on then glide across the ground, your skates leaving gashes in the ice. Regina stands by the opening into the rink, dumbfounded that someone had just walked away from her. The clock makes a loud buzzing noise and pucks fly into the net and scatter the ice around it.

"Well, George, you gotta work up the food chain here," you get a smug look on your face, "Practice is over! We don't have to get the pucks tonight. Our lovely new manager Miss Regina George will get it for us. Won't you?" you skate up to the blonde, whose eyes sit wide.

The team leaves to the locker room before leaving the building as Regina nods. She could not believe that someone had actually spoken to her like that. You ask her shoe size, go to the locker room, and come out with a pair of skates. They are blue and gold, and old. Like, really old looking. The blade is sharp but the leather is worn and creased. You intentionally grabbed the oldest pair that would fit her. Queen Bee George wouldn't own the ice like she did the rest of the school. You drop the skates in front of Regina.

"You expect me to know how the hell to put these on?"

"Are you ACTUALLY kidding me right now George?" You don't get an answer, so you sit down in front of Regina, "wow you aren't. I will do this one time, and one time only." You hold up a one on your hand and Regina nods.

You lace the skates while Regina complains about how tight they are, then you describe why they had to be so tight, she finds some way to complain about your reasoning too. You lead her on to the ice, she isn't an awful skater, although she falls once. You teach her how to collect the pucks by scooting the net around the ice, then take her to the locker room.

"I really need to get out of these clothes, but as the captain it's my job to tell you what your jobs are. So I hope you don't mind," You start taking off your jersey, "so basically you will make sure the locker room and ice stays clean. You'll scrape the ice, make sure it's clean and pretty, get our stuff on the bus for away games, basic shit." you peel the outer layers of your gear off.

"So I don't have to drive the zimbabwe or whatever?" Regina asks, relief washing over her as she looks at you.

"No you will not be driving a whole ass country, honey," You look dumbfounded, "The custodial staff or our coach are the only ones who operate the ZAMBONI. And quit looking. I can't tell if you're jealous or you want me." You smirk over at Regina as she quickly rotates her head away from your direction.

You finish changing, she glances over at you one more time while your back muscles flex, pulling a shirt over your head. You throw on a pair of faded jeans and a red flannel. You pull your phone out and hand it to Regina on the contacts page.

"This by no means is asking you to ever speak to me outside of anything hockey related, or even hockey related, actually. Never text me," you smile and take the phone back from Regina, "this is just so I can add you to the team group chat."

Regina is left speechless, she has never ever been disrespected like that.

"You literally just met me, what the fuck is your problem? I will not let my year be ruined by your rude ass." Regina scoffs.

"My problem, Regina, is that my name was in that little book of yours. Right next to the words 'body count higher than points scored' and 'hockey lez'," you sit and stare at Regina, "I do not want to talk to you outside of this sport, and I will talk to you as little as I can here. I appreciate that you are getting better and working on your behavior after last years events, but this does not change the fact that words are mean. It didn't hurt, but I don't make company with assholes."

You walk out to your car, a 2015 Subaru Forester. You don't notice Regina's highly recognizable Jeep in the parking lot, and see her walk out of the building. She keeps walking past the parking lot, sprinkles of rain splattering the ground around her. You are an asshole, but not that big of one. You speed out of the lot and pull up next to Regina, who is walking down the side walk with her hot pink hood over her head, and roll your window down.

"Why are you walking? It's raining and you have a nice Jeep. This is ridiculous George." You shout.

"I still don't trust myself driving alone after the accident in case my back locks up, I like the rain, I'm fine." Regina keeps her head forward.

"Are you sure? As captain it is my obligation to make sure everyone get's home safe."

"Oh my God, you have already said you hate me, would you MOVE ON you fucking lesbo." Regina yells.

"Great choice of words when you are trying to better yourself Regina." You clench your jaw, roll your window up, and speed off.

This was going to be one great year, you can just feel it.

[tater-tot-jr]

Yapping time! Spoilers for DRDT C2E14

So the entire episode was great, but there’s one part I’d like to talk about most. David’s monologue towards the end. Specifically the second half, where he gets away from his logical stuff and into the more interpersonal stuff. I’ll break it down line by line.

“All I want is for Teruko to distrust others.”

Okay we are starting off interesting. Now, due to David’s nature we can’t trust him to be honest. We cannot take this as explicit confirmation of any sort of goal. With that said, his goal appears to be fucking up the class trial in some manner. We don’t know his motive, but that goal seems consistent enough to work with. So let’s work with it. Teruko is literally one half of this classes helpful trial participants. Her and Charles are the entire brain of this class. Charles can be killed, he has a glaring flaw in a debilitating fear of blood, he’s easy enough to deal with when the time comes. Teruko is stupidly resilient. To everything. The one thing she obviously struggles with is her trust issues/paranoia. If you’re looking to get under her skin that’s where you gotta go. Saying this is a clear demonstration he intends to poke at Teruko emotionally, which is an interesting thing to admit out loud. If I had to guess, it’s because he’s trying to kill two birds with one stone and make the class start to distrust Teruko as well.

“That’s why I’m doing this, telling such obvious lies.”

This is him saying he’s lying about seeing the body, I think. He’s doubling down on inciting paranoia, in both Teruko and the class. It’s interesting he would say this out loud. He’s hyper focused on fucking with Teruko and it shows. If you take out the brain, the body goes as well. It’s certainly a strategy of all time.

“There is no other proof of Eden’s innocence.”

As far as we know, this is a true statement right now. Unless I’m unaware of something that was the biggest piece of evidence meant to clear her name, and he brought it into question.

“As long as there’s a possibility that the evidence is false, as long as there’s even the slightest reason to distrust others, then Teruko cannot trust Eden.”

Oof, he’s got her dead to rights. I don’t think there’s a good faith argument for him being wrong. It’s cool to see how much he understands the cast. It’s an interesting way to show how Teruko’s thoughts process works without betraying her guarded nature. Having a character so ready to pick at her weakness is a good writing choice, and I hope they keep David around for a time. Teruko is the least trusting character I’ve ever seen in any fangan game, granted I haven’t played them all but still. There’s a chance the story doesn’t have any sort of lesson, and we’re just gonna watch Teruko suffer. The idea that she can’t bring herself to trust if there’s even a 0.001% chance of something being false is such a good character flaw. She’s clearly terrified of risk, and she doesn’t know how to get rid of her paranoia, even though I think she wants to.

“Isn’t that right, Teruko?”

Ohohoho you smug piece of shit. You fucking dick. This is more proof he’s not just saying these things in an objective way. He’s just trying to hurt her, as far as we can assume.

“…”

Yeah she’s fucking rocked. Teruko really doesn’t take things lying down. Befitting of her backstory, she’s the type to struggle and fight back against anything she can. But here she has nothing to say. David has read her for filth and they both know it. Now that I think about it, this probably also plays on her fear of being vulnerable. What could possibly be more vulnerable than someone telling you your own exact thought process?

“It’s in your nature to distrust people.”

This is a more interesting statement than it appears at first glance. Specifically because he says it’s in her nature. To him, this isn’t a choice she’s making because of the killing game. It’s not circumstance that has pushed her into this. No, this is who she is, and this is who she’ll always be. Which is a horribly insulting thing to say, because it’s within most humans nature to trust each other somewhat, and it’s life circumstances that push them away from collaboration. He’s saying that Teruko is so fucked in the head that she’s fundamentally different from the standard human baseline.

“Everyone you know has already betrayed you. There’s no one in this world who won’t hurt you. Even the people you love will turn their backs on you in the end. You know that well enough, don’t you?”

…Jesus Christ. He really is just the devil on her shoulder. These are her worst thoughts said out loud and back to her. Do you think she considers someone dying on her and leaving her alone a betrayal? Is that a part of this? Him saying “even the people you love” is interesting, does she really even have anyone she loves in the cast? Or does she just tolerate them. He’s making grand, sweeping statements about her life potentially before the killing game and hitting the nail on the head every time. An impressive feat of manipulation and perceptiveness.

“So distrust in others. Because that’s the only way you know how to live.”

Ow. Ouch. Owie. Not only is this a banger way to end the monologue but it’s just so telling. Teruko doesn’t even say anything in response she just waits for Charles to change to subject. Also, is he even really wrong? She tried to afford people trust and then she got stabbed and everyone else blamed her. She’s definitely swung too far the other way, but it’s not like she was good at knowing how much trust to afford people. This life is really the only way she knows how to live. How things are now, she’ll suffer any other way. It’s such juicy character writing. Damned if you do damned if you don’t. David has definitely been watching Teruko’s behavior, and quite frankly he has her figured out. He’s perceived her, and she hates it. I think we all know Teruko is lonely, she deeply wants people around her. But between being a danger to them and all her trust issues she shuts herself away. David is doing everything he can to keep her as far away from forming meaningful connections as possible. He’s clearly got some sort of plan.

—

There’s also a few things I want to talk about that I didn’t have the ability to put under a spoken line, so I’ll yap down here.

Firstly, Teruko extending some “trust” to Eden doesn’t prove David wrong. If anything, it strengthens his argument. Looking at the actual content of Teruko and Eden’s back and forth, it’s barely a scrap of trust and it’s completely conditional. Teruko basically said “because you helped me last trial I will trust you enough to investigate you second” which is still incredible progress for her, but it’s nothing close to genuine trust. This is not to diminish the progress Teruko made in that scene, but it’s nothing close to countering David’s claims.

Secondly, THAT VOICE ACTING HELLO?!?? David’s VA has always been great, but combined with DRDTdev’s wonderful writing and sprite design/choices he really brought this scene to life. He was perfectly smug and condescending. He had a voice that really portrayed that “I’m 100% right about you and you can’t do anything about it” vibe. Just a total piece of shit. 10/10 would listen again.

[eulaliasims]

Shep round 1, 1/2

Shep gets to be my trial-and-error sim and go first this round. As you can see, she's super thrilled about it.

She soon spots Norweni, starting off on her usual rounds from the Seax farm next-door, and rushes to say hello. Shep has only recently set up shop in Veridia, moving out on her own from her mothers' home nearby, but Norweni's travels and younger exploits are legendary in the wider area. Shep would love to hear some stories, maybe over a cup of mead sometime--

Norweni: That's all in the past. I prefer not to talk about it. Everything good here? You need anything?

Shep: Uh, no--

Norweni: Great. Let me know if that changes.

Can we all stop standing in the decorative cart???

Okay, Norweni's kinda brusque, whatever. Shep has stuff to do anyway, like trekking over to the public well to draw water--

--and, more importantly for a Popularity sim, socialize! One of her new neighbors introduces herself as Derelei. Derelei is quick to catch Shep up on everything from the newest gossip to the recent weather.

Eisu: Ahh, I remember that stage. It'll pass, heh. You just gotta let them test their independence!

Wolfric: :(

Derelei: Here's a free sample for you to mess around with!

Is it the fucking widescreen TV

Derelei: (: (:

Of course it is.

Shep has to skedaddle home before long with her illicit TV. Seeds need sowing, and she needs to check on the skep. Her mothers insisted she take a queen cell to start a hive at her new homestead. She's not looking to start making mead like them... but the honey would be nice.

I'm having to spend a lot more time managing Shep's needs than I'm used to! That will probably be easier in the multi-sim households, where the work gets spread around more, I hope.

After a hard two days of planting, Shep treats herself to a trip to the bathhouse and Veridia's mead hall. The cook at the hall makes a mean pasty, and Shep spends some time afterward introducing herself to more locals, like Fial, Norweni's sister, and Helenet the midwife. Shep heard rumors that Helenet is some sort of witch or fae, but she doesn't see any pointy ears, and Helenet seems perfectly nice, if a little shy.

The wheat is coming along nicely; the weeds are also coming along nicely. Gardening works up quite an appetite; Shep has to admit, she misses having Mama's fresh bread and cheese ready and waiting at noontime.

Shep has a much less awkward chat with Norweni at the well when Norweni inquires about how the garden is going. Apparently she just really isn't interested in talking about past things.

Also at the well is Shep's new friend, Derelei! She's so easy and fun to talk to.

[remholder]

seven helping the janeways on the farm is something that needs to be explored more

[zaidshair]

blorbo sheet

[evocatiio]

if chibnall was the one writing this season you lot would be talking VERY differently

[codacheetah]

5 for the isat ask game!

5 - What's your favorite optional event?

VERY TOUGH ONE TO ANSWER. I'm gonna go right ahead and disqualify twohats bc it's a predictable answer. If I had to choose just one though I think it'd probably be the sus event. It really got my goat on my first playthrough bc I didn't realize you had to do it in ACT 4. If I remember correctly I think sus is the only optional event locked to ACT 4??? Now that I've actually done it though I'm quite fond of it.

Sus event is one that you really have to go out of your way to do. It kind of reminds me of the True Ending in SASASAP but More and I'm sure that's intentional. Like the requirements for sus quest necessitate that you're going to do it, if not the loop before ACT 5, very soon before it. You have to know pretty much everything about Time Craft and Wish Craft already, so whatever you're doing in the loops now is basically taking out any optional stuff before you hit the end. You have to pretty thoroughly remember how the script goes just so you know all the best ways to break it. I feel like if the True Ending route is Loop going through the motions so many times that they can't deal with holding their facade together any longer, the sus route is Siffrin waving a big red flag around for help. There's just no way you're going to stumble into sus without preplanning what to do to rack up your points and make Odile aware of how Wish Craft works.

So I think it's interesting how much Siffrin pushes back against Odile trying to figure him out. It's a pattern of behavior that I am well aware of where you're desperately going "HELP ME" but you're not willing to accept it when it's offered to you.

Siffrin spends an entire loop screwing everything up, to a point that's frankly kind of egregious even by Late Stage Timeloopers standards, and then they can't reckon with the consequences of it. I don't think sus event is as intentional of a cry for help for Siffrin as it is the player, mind you. But I do think it's. Very tragic. Yeah of course "it's too late" in the sense that Siffrin's about to talk to Euphie and the whole journey will end, but moreso it's that by the time that Odile can piece together all the information necessary to figure Siffrin out, Siffrin is just far too deeply entrenched in his self hatred and fear of abandonment to be dug out. I think if Odile could somehow figure it out in, like, early ACT 3, or if Isabeau was just a bit more pushy in getting Siffrin to do a feelings talk, maybe they'd actually be able to reach Siffrin a little. But they're always just a little too late, every single time.

I think the fact that you start really getting a bunch of weird points in ACT 3 gives this event a lot of buildup. For potential dozens of loops you'll see Odile brush against the truth of the situation, and then just barely miss. By the time she figures it out, it's too late. Explodes

Expounded upon slightly more in tags bc I don't like typing in post bodies I feel like a fish on land. eek

[tenwhiteandalusians]

so no one was going to tell me if i got literally one episode further tenax drops that he’s the one who saved scorpus from his mom’s pimp AND that he’s intimately familiar with scorpus’ dick when he was younger. guys. guys.

[hydn-jpg]

i just read all the current chapters of id2 and i. i need to lie down

[kiwichaeng]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for the tags @heartstringsduet @lemonlyman-dotcom @fallout-mars @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad <33

“Are you going to hover over me the entire night? Am I going to find you looking down at me at 3 am?” Carlos’ tone is light as he finishes sits down heavily on the edge of the bed. He doesn’t hide the wince as well as he thinks. TK remains quiet in the corner.  Carlos looks up when he doesn’t get a response. He tilts his head and looks at TK curiously.  “What are you doing all the way over there? I know you don’t need to sleep but I would feel better if you didn’t stare at me from the corner the entire night.” TK knows it’s in good faith, that they’ve come leaps and bounds since they met and if nothing else else, the humour in Carlos’ eyes would give it away but tonight, all TK can do is play back the evening’s event in his mind over and over.  He knows Carlos has noticed it. He had kept on shooting glances at TK the entire time at the hospital as he was being treated to the point where the doctor had asked him if he was looking for someone.   The white bandages peaks out from under Carlos’ collar and TK’s eyes are fixed on them like a moth to a flame.  This is on him, that he got someone as good as Carlos tangled up in his mess. He should never have followed him home, never forced him into helping and should have— He should never have gotten attached.   “I have to go. You should too,” TK murmurs in the quiet room and made for the door. He doesn’t look at Carlos once as he slipped out of the room. “What— TK wait,” He can hear the confusion in Carlos’ voice turn into panic. “Where are you going?”  With a heavy heart, TK ignores the calls and keeps walking straight ahead down the empty hallway.  “TK,” Carlos whispers loudly from behind him but TK doesn’t turn back. It is only when he hears a sharp inhale and a wince does he stop.

open tag and no pressure tags under the cut <3

@liminalmemories21 @lightningboltreader @orchidscript @strandnreyes @reyesstrand @paperstorm @carlos-in-glasses @carlos-tk @ladytessa74 @three-drink-amy @chicgeekgirl89 @theghostofashton @redshirt2

[trainingdummyrabbit]

"im stealing this character actually" i say, about a character who has literally no character whatsoever