#bc mens clothing doesn’t fit right at all

[partycatty]

i am so desperate to top dark star!johnny he makes me so horny mad, like someone humble that son of a bitch. it so doesn’t fit him to be topped but 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

UGHHH UR SO ME FR!!!! LMFAOOAAO i love pathetic men!!!! i love projecting my kinks onto my fics — WHAAAT WHO SAID THAAAT????

for those unfamiliar with dark star!johnny

dark star!johnny cage > payback

you have had it up to HERE with the white man's utter nonsense.

warnings: you humble evil johnny sexually. 😀 no but fr this is nsfw, bratty johnny and he hates it, he says "stop" and "no" but we all know he's lying and he loves it (afab reader)

notes: i was so excited to write this i don't even think it's coherent i'm literally barking gnawing frothing foaming i crawled to my pc to boot up the game to make gifs of him for future use bc i know DAMN well i will come back to this clown

masterlist <3

i will microwave him.

part 1* / part 2* / part 4* / part 5* / part 6*

•lord have mercy where do i even begin.

•alright, so let's paint a picture here.

•dark star!johnny may have stupid amounts of money, but he's a fucking idiot. he didn't spend a single cent on you for christmas! he'd argue with you for hours, saying both "i am the gift!" and "i buy you enough shit the rest of the year and now you want more?"

•when you argue to the point of running out of new things to bring up, you decide to angrily drop the topic entirely and move on with life. that is, until you hear johnny's muffled voice call from you from upstairs as you begin to prep dinner several days after the holiday.

•"sweet cheeks, a hand would be nice!" he shouts, a suspiciously evident grin in his tone of voice. you roll your eyes as his persistent cocky nature, but your frown turns into a little gasp when you open the bedroom to your shared door.

•this absolute idiot is sitting face down ass up on your silk sheets, tied down nice and tight with a thick red ribbon. a bow rests on his neck and broad chest. The Coat is discarded on a chair beside the bed, but everything else is still on. he smushes his cheek against the sheets as he desperately tries and cranes his head to look at you.

•"heeeey babe," he'll meekly greet you, shimmying his shoulders. "i, uh. i was going to surprise you. but i kinda fell forward and couldn't get back up. it was supposed to be a sexy pose but i tied my arms down before anything else and i can't prop myself up."

•"you're a dumbass," you reply back with a frown, not entirely amused as much as he is. "you think this makes up for your fuckup?"

•"...yes?"

•"no! and you know what? i'm gonna fucking enjoy this whether you like it or not!" you sigh with exasperation, slapping his clothed ass pretty hard, the sound of contact echoing in your large bedroom. he lets out a whiny shout, trying to tug his hips away from you out of desperation and ending up flopping onto his back.

•"hey! not fucking funny. i hate when you do that," he'll complain with a scowl, but his protests are hard to take seriously when he flips over and reveals an angry boner throbbing against his pants.

•"yeah, that's why you have a raging hard-on," you reply with a dramatic groan, grabbing a handful of his thick shaft through his dress pants. he yelps again, twitching his hips upward as you feel his heartbeat through his cock. "i'm not helping you up, johnny. this is payback. for christmas."

•you climb on top of him, hovering your lips right above his in a sickeningly sweet way. johnny, like the needy whore he is, tries to lift his head up and capture your lips, but you cut the attempt short when you expertly undo his belt in a swift one-handed motion and squeeze his dick through his boxer briefs. his once puckered lips open to let out a deep, strained whine, and you feel a warm wetness in his pants as you milk the pre-cum from his tip with your grasp alone.

•ohhh he is in AGONY. ds!johnny literally HATES when he's not in control, and even though he feels his dick get impossibly harder, he's still writhing at the thought of not being the leader.

•"come on, dollface," he'll try to protest with furrowed brows, but you see the way he bites his bottom lip. "don't play mean. that's not how this was meant to go."

•you don't even reply to his annoyance, you just stick a finger between his neck and the ribbon around it, tugging it and sending a wave of pressure on the sides of his neck. his eyes involuntarily roll back as you temporarily choke him with his own doing.

•"you're gonna take it, aren't you? the torture?" you ask, palming him through his underwear and holding his face close to yours. his expression contorts instantly at your roughness. "how are you gonna fucking like it when i treat you like shit?"

•"you'll regret it," he groans out in an attempted threat, but it ends up sounding more breathy and gravely than intended. "you'll fucking regret crossing me like this."

•he's literally the one that had the genius idea to tie himself up. he's a Grade A idiot for putting himself in the situation to begin with. or maybe he likes it :)

•you hastily tug your own pants off, shaking your leg to throw them aside. once you're free of the fabric, you pull down johnny's pants too, since he hasn't got the ability to do it on his own. sure enough, his underwear is already definitely stained, and yours is getting there. the sight along made a wetness pool in your panties. something about such a cocky, annoying man finally being put in his place was starting to drive you a little wild as you straddle his hips.

•you shove your panties aside and settle them in the crack between you pussy and thighs, and return the gesture to your boyfriend by tugging his waistband down and unleashing his little jonathan (sorry). his pink, angry cock springs free and slaps against your tummy. you giggle.

•"ha, ha. very funny. untie me now," johnny whines again with a frustrated tone, but there's a hint of blush on his cheeks as he looks away from your body on top of his. his anger contorts into needy moans when you wrap your fingers around his dick, stroking at a medium pace and coating himself in his own precum. "ngh, fuck — stop it, i'm not fucking playing around — aah —"

•his back hopelessly arches as you lazily stroke his dick. when you decide he's hot and ready enough for the real thing after he turns into a blabbering mess, you hover above his dick and grab two fistfuls of the ribbons; one on his neck and one on his chest. his pretty lips part as he catches his breath from the sudden movement, eyes darting across your features.

•as he tries to make sense of your bold move, you sink down onto his throbbing cock and fully take him in your walls. he's unable to writhe and squirm as you hold him in place firmly. johnny's eyebrows knit together and he swiftly moves his head to the side, his sunglasses crooked and dropping on his hooked nose. when he finally gets the strength to look down at your pussy engulfing his length, he whines at the beautiful sight and involuntarily bucks up to relieve the strain. you immediately let out a little shout of discipline and pull his upper body toward you.

•"my pace or no pace," you warn through gritted teeth. "don't pull that shit again."

•"or what?" he replies with a cocky grin, his horniness absolutely dripping from his voice. "you don't scare me." as he tries to play right back, you slam yourself down on his cock again without warning, his tip kissing your cervix invitingly. his eyes widen and he yelps out pathetically before turning it into an angry groan. "you're such a fucking bitch. i hate you."

•he starts to spew more utter nonsense about hating you and you being a bitch as you start to actually ride him, for once at your own pace. he's typically fucking up into you but this time he's tied down and taking it like a good boy! you needed this, though, to let out your frustrations with him lately. it's incredibly funny that, yes, he could technically just start bucking his hips into you, but you take note that he's actually listening to your threat and allowing himself to be used. you remind yourself to ask him to top him more often. i doubt he'd say yes.

•your pace becomes a relentless combination of slamming his cock and grinding on it to stimulate your clit, and johnny has now turned into a whimpering mess. his perfect hair was sticking to his forehead and flying out in all directions, his sunglasses were just barely hanging onto the bridge of his nose. all the while, he's still sputtering complains about being used and begging you to stop, but they sound hungrier than disgusted. your deep moans drown out his whines and cries, and you frankly don't really care about how he feels.

•you've officially fucked him stupid. he can't even get a proper word out as he's now trying to literally break the ribbons and give him access to his hands, but he's so horny he can't find the strength he typically has.

•"b... stop — babe — 'm gonna cum if you — aah, oh you fucker —" johnny starts to twitch and whimper, thrashing his head side to side as he gets closer toward release. you don't really give a shit though, as you're now chasing your own orgasm as your grinding becomes increasingly uneven. you grab hold of his neck to stabilize yourself, and the coil in your core snaps, your body sending waves of blissful pleasure through your entire being. you're violently reminded of your boyfriend's impending load when he throws away all command you gave him and starts fucking up into your sensitive pussy, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he pathetically tries to get himself there, too.

•you're acutely familiar with how his cock throbs when he's about to cum, and you use this information to your advantage as you abruptly pull yourself up and away right as he shoots his load. he lets out a damn near cry for help as he makes a complete mess of himself. it shoots up high, painting his stomach and chest as his hips thrust into nothing.

•"YOU FUCKING —" he groans out, eyes clenched shut as his desperation makes him act out. "I WANTED TO CUM INSIDE. YOU KNOW THAT'S MY FAVORITE. AND YOU RUINED A PERFECTLY NICE SHIRT!"

•all you do is return to straddling his hips, sliding your panties back into place and catching your breath.

•"but you look better like this," you reply lowly, taking a flat palm and putting it on his stomach. "all tied down and fucked out. i could get used to it. besides, this was my gift, wasn't it?"

•as his head tilts back to regain his composure, you snap a quick photo of his cum-stained shirt, flushed expression, and weeping dick.

•"consider this payback," you chuckle, wiggling the photo in front of his eyes. "i might just post this everywhere if you don't get me anything for my birthday next."

•"delete that, you cunt," he hisses back, once again trying to free himself. "untie me now. fun's over."

•"nah, i'm good," you reply, your annoying boyfriend being restrained giving you a dangerous amount of confidence. "i think i'll just leave you here. not before cleaning up your cum with your coat, maybe."

•"DO NOT USE MY COAT. IT WAS EXPENSIVE."

[meowzfordayz]

gifting them a handmade sweater — hashira men

Author’s Note: tried to write these a lil silly, a tad awkward, and very sweet. 🥰

gifting them a handmade sweater — hashira men

Word Count: ~1,700

CW: explicit language, mild sexual content

Emergency Request Fulfilled: This may be a silly request. I decided to knit my boyfriend a sweater and like I tried my best but when I gave it to him he thought I bought it and went on about how I should return it because it looked awful and was laughing. I didn’t have the heart to say I did it and it shattered my heart 🥲Is it possible you could write a lil something of how the hashira men react to an f reader giving them a sweater they made for them? I feel silly requesting something so dorky. 

~faqs~

Will it fit? is Gyomei’s first concern as his fingers peruse the fuzzy material shoved shyly into his awaiting hands

—HEHEHE 😏

—Will it fit? 😏😏

—Why do I always get struck by Horny Cupid™ whenever I hc for Gyomei? 🥲

—The man’s a stud 😏😏😏

—That’s why 😌

—Anyway

He doesn’t recall you asking to take his measurements

But then he remembers how often you borrow his clothes

#you don’t need to ask

#it’s OUR closet tyvm 😃

“What’s the occasion?” he questions softly, slipping off his current shirt in favor of trying on his new sweater

—HELLO ABS 😳🫠

—Nothing wrong w/ your partner undressing in front of you, nothing at all 🫢

“Y’know you can wear it over a shirt, right?”

So sue you if you’re suddenly a tad breathless 😅

Gyomei smirks at the hitch in your voice

He’s onto us you 😵‍💫

“I thought you’d be more appreciative of my method.” 😎

—Hrr 🥵

“Does it fit?”

“You tell me,” he chuckles, “Does it look okay? I’m not bursting at the seams?”

*cue unapologetic glance downward*

“N-nope, not bursting at the seams.” 🙃

“I’ll wear it,” he promptly answers your silently hovering question, “I’m honored by the time and effort you put into this gift. Thank you.”

“How honored?” you squeak

“Extremely,” as he reaches for your face, his mouth curving into a gentle smile as you settle your jaw into his cupped palms, “You are simply the best.”

He kisses your nose knowing it’ll make you giggle ☺️

“I can’t accept this.”

Help this man

Obanai is already a tomato 🍅

Say something nice, and he might just squirt 😃

“What is that supposed to mean?” you huff, eyes narrowed at his immediate rejection of your hard work

“I don’t deserve it!” ☹️

“The hell you don’t deserve? Is my effort not worthy of your wear? Am I not worthy of you?”

You don’t mean to play dirty or harshly, but c’mon

Immediate rejection of a gift stings, yanno? 😕

“No, no, no, your effort is more than worthy! Too worthy! I just-”

Obanai shuts up, grabs the sweater, and tugs it over his head in one only slightly tangled motion

“CnIhvesumhep?” comes his garbled voice from somewhere inside the sweater

Rolling your eyes, you guide the collar around the top of his head, exasperated smile tugging at the corner of your mouth when his head finally pops through

“I graciously accept your gift,” he mumbles 😅

“Yeah?” you smirk, arms crossing, “That was so gracious of you.”

Pouting, he flicks your forehead faster than you can step back, cheeks dusted rose as he murmurs, “I’m working on it.” 🥺

You vow then and there to shower your sheepish, brilliant man in more gifts, more often

Nothing like a lil exposure therapy to quicken his progress 😇

(ofc, you don’t go too overboard, bc respecting his boundaries and comfort is foremost)

“I love it!” Kyojuro declares, dazzling grin on his face, eyes wide with delight as he hugs the sweater to his chest ❤️‍🔥

“You haven’t even tried it on!” you giggle, shoving playfully at his bicep, “If it doesn’t fit, then I can make adjustments.”

“If it is too small for me, then you are welcome to keep it for yourself, and I will commission you to make me a bigger, matching one!”

You blink once, twice

He really likes it that much?

“Is this you being generous, or sincere?” you ask, not unkindly

“I am being both!”

Damn his beautiful, brain-slowing smile 😭

What were you about to say? 🙃

“What if it’s too big?”

“Then I will be all the more cozy, and I will still commission you to make yourself a matching, oversized sweater!”

“If you’re so interested in wearing matching clothes, then you could just say so,” you snort, cheeks warming at the sight of Kyojuro’s skin peeking out from under his shirt 🫢

(bc he did the whole arms-raising-to-put-on-the-sweater-and-oop-there’s-his-sexy-midriff thing)

“I am interested in supporting you and your creative ventures!” striking a pose, “This might be the most comfortable sweater I have ever owned!” 🤗

“You’re exaggerating.” 🥴

“Perhaps,” he admits, closing the gap between your skepticism and his enthusiasm, lips planted firmly on your forehead, “But I meant it when I said I love it, and it fits perfectly fine.” 🥰

“Is this homemade?” he demands

… 😬

“Yes, Sanemi.”

“I can tell.”

Oof 🥲

But he puts it on faster than your embarrassment can react

“It fits,” in his typical gruff-w/-hint-of-pride/affection tone

—Truth be told, he didn’t expect it to fit 💀

He makes sure to wear it at least once a week 

Informs you about all the compliments it receives

(you can trust he isn’t lying bc he gets flustered and grumpy)

Doesn’t tell you about how he ~mildly threatens anyone who dares to even glance at it oddly 😃

Maybe it’s not his favorite sweater, but you’re his favorite person 💞

Sanemi’d never tell you this lest you took advantage, but: he’d swap out his entire wardrobe (and that includes his expensive items) for clothes handmade by you and only you 🥺

If you so desired to make him an entire new wardrobe, that is 😆

#he’d pay you, ofc #and he’d only miss his grey sweatpants ~a lil 😏 #emphasis on grey sweatpants 😏

—I need help

“I have a gift for you too,” Muichiro smiles, ears pink, nose crinkled happily

“Oh?”

“It’s not much,” as he wiggles into the sweater, “But it reminded me of you,” rushing off to fetch his present

“Tada!” he returns moments later, a mug cradled carefully against his chest, “I found it at a thrift shop.” 😁

Its coloring reminds you of the ocean after a storm, large and tall with a thick handle, textured sides providing dimension and uniqueness 🌊

“I thought you said we didn’t need more mugs,” you manage to mumble, cheeks already beginning to hurt from how widely you’re smiling 🥺🥰

“We don’t,” he shrugs, entirely unbothered, “But I’ll always need your happiness, and this makes you happy.”

It does 💓

—As a mug hoarder, Muichiro’s hcs are only ~very self indulgent of me 🤪

“You haven’t told me what you think about my gift to you!”

“It’s a bit tight around the shoulders, but the overall construction is phenomenal.” 👌

“I can adjust it.” 😅

“Yes please. I’ll wear it plenty if it fits properly.” 👍

Forwardness may not feel uber romantic, but well meaning honesty warms your heart all the same 😌

“It’s not holiday season,” Giyuu tilts his head, brow furrowed 🤨

“Are you calling it ugly?” you scowl, lips pursed, “Sweaters aren’t specifically for the holidays, Giyuu, they’re good for layering and style,” eyes narrowing, “Although perhaps the issue here is your overall lack of style?” 😐

“I’m not calling it ugly,” he deadpans, lump in his throat when he notices how shiny your eyes are, “Are you going to cry?” 😳

“NO.” 😖😢

“I’m not calling it ugly!” more urgent now, his expression softening as cool fingers brush gently against your cheek, “I suppose I do lack… style,” gruff tone coaxing a watery smile from you, “Will I regret asking for your expertise?” 😶🫶

“Maaaybe,” you finally crack an exuberant grin, turning your head to press a tender kiss into his palm, “There are a lot of rules.” 😃

“A lot of…” doing his best to conceal his noticeable grimace, “Rules?”

“There’re three main facets of fashion: comfort, utility, and just because.”

“Just because?” 🤔

—Confused Giyuu is my fave Giyuu teehee 😇

—Also: take my fashion ~advice w/ a grain of salt

—My main concern is color coordination

—Beyond that, I’m (almost) as oblivious/do-not-care as Giyuu 😂

“Sweatshirt and sweatpants combo? Comfort. Raincoat and rain boots when it’s raining? Utility. Athletic gear while working out? Utility. The incredible sweater I painstakingly made for you? Comfort and just because.”

Amusement flickers in his gaze as understanding slowly dawns 👀

“And what about pajamas?”

“Comfort and utility.”

“And,” his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper, “Nude?” 🫢

“All three,” you wink, “Especially if it involves both of us in bed.”

Giyuu may lack style, but he does not lack the ability to end up in bed—nude—w/ you 😵‍💫😈😉

Tengen: Does it light up? 🧐

Suma: It’s gorgeous! 😍 *squeals excitedly*

You: Excuse me? 😐

Tengen: *pondering* Can you add glitter? 🤔

Hina: Tengen… 😕

Tengen: Don’t get me wrong! I love the design, and the fit is comfortable, but-

Makio: Did you not notice the interwoven tinsel yarn?

Tengen: *huffs* Is that what’s so itchy? 😒

You: TENGEN. 😑

Tengen: *pouts* I have sensitive breasts. 😞

You: *scowling* So wear a damn shirt underneath it.

Tengen: *wistful sigh* But then your love and affection won’t directly touch my skin. 🥺

Suma: Ooh babe, could you make me one next? ☺️ *bambi eyes*

Makio: Hold up, ME next! 😁 *gripping your hand*

Hina: *patiently* I’d love one too, please and thank you. 😇

Tengen: One of you could have mine, and then I could get a new one that doesn’t irritate my br-

Everyone sans Tengen: TENGEN! 😡

Hina: Be grateful, not greedy!

Makio: Shut up about your breasts.

Suma: I’ll take yours, and give it the appreciation and attention it deserves!

Tengen: *thoroughly berated* Thank you [y/n], I apologize for my insensitivity and selfishness. 😓

You: *amused* *Makio is tucked into your left side* *Suma into your right* Is it truly that itchy?

Tengen: *quietly* No.

You: I’ll make sweaters as your birthday gifts, does that seem fair enough? 💝

Makio: *thinking hard* Fine.

Suma: *wetly smooches your cheek* Perfect! Thank you!

Hina: If you wouldn’t mind teaching me, then I’d be content to make my own. *eyeing Makio, Suma, and Tengen* You already have your hands full, after all. 😝

You: *giggling* *meanwhile, the aforementioned trio glare @ Hina* It’d be my pleasure. 🫶

Tengen: Alright, alright, group hug! 😤

You: *cooing* Aww, do you feel left o- 

Tengen: *proceeds to squish you, Hina, Makio, and Suma into a gigantic hug* *aka he most certainly does feel left out* 🙄💗

[satoruxx]

NORTHERN LIGHTS.

✧ PAIRING: kaeya alberich x fem!reader | 4.5k words

✧ SUMMARY: smut, p -> v, praise, fingering, lots of pining, angst, angsty bc it’s kaeya tbh lol, kaeya lore but it’s vague, also military themes bc sometimes we forget kaeya is a captain and i love the knights of favonius, he’s highkey got commitment issues but i think he’s valid, man is whipped tho, he's just an overthinker and traumatized, also can you tell i’m a med student?

✧ RHEYA'S NOTE: first i have to apologize bc this is SO late??? i got this request back for my 200 event, asking for kaeya with the song northern lights by kennie (which is such a good song). at first i was gonna make it a short little drabble, but the more i wrote, the more i wanted to make it a full fic, which is what ended up happening. kaeya's character has so much depth and i wanted to explore it hehe. northern lights is such a fitting song for him so i just had to go all in. but i'm so sorry that i got to your request so late, hopefully you still enjoy it lovely! (even tho it’s not the main focus in this fic, this is technically my first real smut fic so take it with a grain of salt; i don't think i write it that well LMAO)

it was rare to truly know your own weaknesses, but kaeya knew his a little too well. behind his carefree, unbothered exterior he cared a little too much. he cares a little too much when klee tugs on his fur cape and whines about a scolding she’s gotten from jean, and he ends up indulging her with whatever she’d like. he cares a little too much when rosaria spills just a tad more than usual during her drunken ramblings. he cares a little too much when he sees the discomfort in the face of certain fiery bartender as they speak, and he consistently lies awake and remembers days when that discomfort between them didn’t exist.

it’s a curse, he thinks, because he always ends up feeling too attached to people he knows he shouldn’t be attached to.

even now, his weakness is acting up as he barks orders to his soldiers. they scramble around him as they enter the city, carrying their wounded brethren to safety up at the cathedral. kaeya knows he shouldn’t blame himself but as their captain he feels like he should’ve seen this coming. new recruits wouldn’t be able to handle the hordes of monsters at daduapa gorge—he miscalculated.

“take them to the sisters at the cathedral. sister barbara and the others should be able to heal them,” kaeya commands, clasping one of the men’s shoulders and helping him up to the church. he’s ignoring the now dull throbbing in his side as blood stains his clothes—his soldiers were most important right now. like he said, he cared a little too much.

the nurses had set up a medical station at the cathedral, and in between all the commotion, kaeya’s finally able to hand over the groaning soldier to a nurse, who immediately gets to work.

he then takes a few steps back to assess the damage, grateful that all of his soldiers are getting the attention they needed. he’d hate himself if there were any losses today.

he doesn’t even realize that he’s now leaning against the wall, panting shallowly as blood continues to pour from his abdomen. oh well, he’d wait his turn—only after his soldiers were taken care of.

kaeya shuts his eyes, letting his body rest for a minute.

“you’re wounded.”

his eyes shoot open to see you standing in front of him. he assumes you’re not one of the nuns because your clothes are entirely different. you’re young, appearing to be around his age as you eye his torso critically.

“it appears so,” he answers.

“did someone take a look at you yet?”

“i’d prefer all my soldiers be taken care of first.”

your eyes flash with recognition. “so you’re captain kaeya?”

“indeed i am.” he lets his eyes roam over your concerned features.

you give him a small smile before continuing with a sigh. “i can safely tell you that all the wounded are being treated. i’m still an apprentice so i’m only here to deal with the non fatal injuries. like yours, captain.” you crouch down in front of him, fingers reaching towards his clothing with a silent question of permission. he lets his hand slacken as he gives you a nod and you attempt to peel back as many layers as you can to asses the damage before you’re motioning him towards a tent.

a few minutes later and kaeya is letting you strip his torso bare until you have a full view of his injury. your fingers brush over the wounded skin gently, and he wonders if you even touched him at all. “it’s long, but not too deep. a few stitches and you should be alright. if you’re okay with it, i’ll get started,” you tell him.

kaeya wants to tell you that he’s no stranger to the pain of injuries, but he finds something oddly refreshing about your comforting attitude, so he just says yes and lets you begin to work.

you thread through the skin with a delicate hand and despite the sting he honestly can’t even focus on it, choosing instead to analyze your features.

he realizes that you’re awfully pretty.

kaeya makes small talk with you as you work, partly to stay awake through the pain and mostly because he can’t stop his curiosity. he finds out your name, your hobbies, your goals. you may not have the most exciting life but kaeya thinks there’s something so alluring about you it makes him a little dizzy. he's not sure what it is, but he thinks about it the whole time you tend to his wound. realization hits when you finally finish, looking up at him with a smile, and kaeya realizes that your eyes hold the stars in them.

it’s hard to explain but when kaeya watches you work, nose scrunching in the dim lighting of the tent, he thinks you remind him of home.

(kaeya has chased the stars for as long as he can remember. he remembers shouting with diluc in the grass behind the winery, the two of them reaching for celestia because the stars up there were so undeniably pretty.

"we're never gonna get them!" diluc would laugh, trying hard to balance kaeya on his little shoulders. "they're too far…"

and kaeya only grins down at him toothily, raising his fists to the sky. "no way! i'll catch them one day!"

and yet his whole childhood went by without being able to capture the stars. as he grew older he started to learn that it was impossible to steal what the sky so selfishly held on to.

but even as an adult, kaeya knows to appreciate the stars when he gets the privilege to see them in the sky.

especially after he finally seems to find them in the dim glow of a medical tent.)

he hates to admit how often his eyes seek you out after that one encounter. sometimes he’ll see you at the cat's tail, giggling with your friends as you slam tcg cards down on the table triumphantly. other times he’ll catch a glimpse of you at good hunter, chewing on a quick meal as you browse through a book. almost every time he gets caught staring you only smile and offer him a little wave that sends his brain into a frenzy.

(maybe in another life kaeya would allow himself the luxury. he’d let himself go through the motions for you. let himself stress every time you threw a glance his way. work up the courage to ask you out on saturday afternoon. finally get the chance to press his lips to yours. trace your skin with nimble fingers and have the privilege to call you his.

in another life maybe.

but for now he’ll just keep you his own little secret—a guilty pleasure he’ll indulge in because it’s hard to rid an addiction, especially if you don’t have the will to rid it in the first place.)

kaeya’s messed up this summer. he knows it in his soul that he’s made the wrong decision as he watches you babble about something as you lean against his bare chest, still basking in your own afterglow.

he knows that he should have resisted the temptation. as soon as he and the troops got back and he saw you sitting in a secluded corner at angel’s share he knew that his feelings for you hadn’t dissolved.

they say absence makes the heart grow fonder and kaeya only now knows this to be true because just the sight of you sends his mind into a frenzy. you could probably feel his gaze on you because you look up from the book you’re reading and make straight eye contact with him. for a second, he wants to turn away but then you smile at kaeya like you’ve never once forgotten him, and he’s putty. before he knows it, he’s buying you a drink and walking over to your little corner to make himself comfortable.

it’s a slow descent for him because in his head he knows he shouldn’t get too attached. he’ll leave again soon with the troops, and who knows maybe he’ll leave them behind one day too. his future has always looked so clouded to him, and he knows you belong in the sun. he’d like to leave you there in the light—avoid dragging you into his darkness.

so he tries to keep it simple, occasionally meeting you for a drink or catching up around the city. but then you’re showing him your favorite place to study near starfell lake and he’s showing you his favorite stars while laying on his back on starsnatch cliff. and he knows he can’t avoid it.

soon enough he’s giving into everything he said he wouldn’t, finally finding out what you taste like. finally knowing how his name sounds when it falls from your lips.

it's more addicting than he could've predicted, the feeling of your breath against his skin as you pant out his name. kaeya can't even bring himself to pull away from you to stop and think for a second. if he did then maybe he could slap some sense into himself and draw some distance because archons above he was digging himself deeper into this hole. but he can't, not when you're gripping his shoulders as he presses you against the wall of his bedroom, whining into his lips for all that he can give you.

and kaeya is nothing if not generous.

so he indulges both you and himself—the perfect mix of selfless and selfish as he guides you to his bed, nimble fingers loosening the ties of your clothing until you're bare in front of him. he can see the bashfulness settling into your cheeks and he almost feels like goading for just a minute, but he decides he'll be nice.

you've always deserved a nice guy anyway.

he tries to push that thought away, instead distracting himself with the heat of your body, his fingers dancing along your skin eagerly. maybe, just this one night, he can let it be about you two. he can afford to forget about all the old promises he's made—all the responsibilities and duties he devoted himself to a lifetime ago.

kaeya ignores the flush of heat crawling up his neck as he hovers over you, caging your body underneath his as you squirm in anticipation. he understands—the tightness in his pants is enough for him to feel the same. but he's not worried about that, not when his fingers part your thighs eagerly, brushing over heated skin and finding slick wetness there as he dips into your cunt. he hears the sharp intake of breath, the quiet restrained moan, and he preens. kaeya revels in the sounds he pulls from your lips as his fingers curl against your slick heat, your head lolling back against his pillows.

there's a possessive streak of something that cuts through him then—something that tells him how he aches to be the only one who gets to hear those sounds.

it makes him slightly sick.

kaeya realizes then—he's been quite stupid when it comes to you. he's kept the maelstrom of feelings brewing in his soul trapped under all his bravado, arrogant and cowardly all at once. he needs to tell you, needs to be honest because this isn't something he can trick his way out of.

but all he wants to do is run. run so far away from you because he doesn't want you to to get caught up in his own ruin. you're far too good for him, too sweet and carefree to be tainted by his sin-laden hands. he needs to run.

but he does none of that, not when he's guiding his fingers to the apex of your thighs and exploring territory he knows he shouldn't claim. because then you look at him with an expression so blissful—so thankful, relieved that he's giving you a part of himself he never wanted to—and he can't even be angry about it.

kaeya presses his lips to the swell of your chest, feeling the rapid thumping of your heart under your skin, and he shuts his eyes as he breathes out your name. you answer with a resounding mewl, catching his eyes even through the dark strands of his hair.

he then chooses to focus on pumping his fingers in and out of your cunt because archons do you look heavenly when your eyes roll back like that.

but it scares him, the way you leave him open and exposed and aching even when he doesn't want to be.

in his head you're perfect, all bright and glowing under him as you chant his name like he's some kind of savior. but kaeya isn't a savior—if anything he's destruction in human form, sent by the heavens to wreak havoc on those around him. he'd destroyed enough already—he doesn't think he can do it to you too.

but archons the way you're looking at him now, from under fluttering lashes and dewy eyes that shine even brighter when they're trained on him—begging, pleading, and oh so trusting of him and every thing he wants to give you. he can't even help himself.

"i know, sweet girl," he sighs, voice strained as you buck your hips just perfect—a temptress, sent to lead him to his doom. and yet he can't stop his fingers from pushing back your hair from your sweaty skin, knowing that he should be careful because he doesn't want to destroy something as fragile as this.

"kaeya please," your breath comes out in short desperate pants, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt and sliding it off his shoulders haphazardly.

"i know," he repeats, reaching down to heft your thigh over his waist as he slots his hips against your own, biting back a groan at the sensitive brush against his cock—throbbing, aching, needy.

"ah fuck," he's almost shy at the way his voice shakes as he lines his cock up, the heat and slickness of your cunt a teasing caress against his sensitive head. he drops his forehead against your shoulder, breathing heavily even before he's inside you because something about this makes him so incredibly nervous. a single desperate whine and the soft squeeze of your fingers into his biceps and he's stilling—breath catching, heart pounding.

for a moment, he doesn't even feel like himself. he's not anything, no one.

and then he slides in and kaeya knows that there will never be anything better—another experience that would feel this right in his life.

he pulls out a little, gaze lingering at the sweat beading at your forehead, and something in his chest stutters. "okay?" he traces your face for any hint of hesitation—of the nervousness that he feels in his gut, but all he finds is a stormy mix of desire and devotion.

"uh huh," reassurance, stability—everything he isn't. his brows pinch, eyes shutting because he doesn't want you to know.

he's pulled out of the whirlwind that is his thoughts when he feels your fingers on his cheek, brushing over his skin gently. his eyes snap open, and even through the haze he can feel himself relaxing under your touch, because the way you're looking at him is so undeniably loving and it makes his stomach flip.

"you okay?" you whisper, looking up at him carefully, and kaeya feels as though you've put him between the halves of a microscope slide to analyze him.

"i'm fine," he breathes out, not a lie but not the whole truth either. "don't worry."

his words do little to quell you, but one roll of his hips has your eyes fluttering, a choked moan escaping your throat, and the sound makes his pride sing.

there's an image then—hazy and yet so obvious as his brain registers it. the implications behind it makes his stomach churn.

quiet smiles, hazy kisses, soft goodbyes—and then the inevitable distance as he crosses over the border separating your world from his. a lone figure standing in the streets of mondstadt, always waiting for him to come back. always disappointed.

you buck your hips upward, blissfully unaware of the torrent of conflicting emotions in his head. kaeya's brain short-circuits, and then he's pushing back, a steady rhythm against your gummy walls that takes the breath out of your lungs. you savor every thrust, punctuated by the sharp grunts he lets out against your throat.

your fingers rake over his back, desperate and needy and focused on one thing only—kaeya, kaeya, kaeya.

"that's it sweetheart," he doesn't have any more control—not on his mind, his body, his mouth. they've all escaped his grasp, too spurred on by you and everything you're willing to offer him.

"'s okay…ah fuck…it's okay," kaeya groans into the column of your throat, not sure whether he's telling you or himself. the clench of your walls sends him spiraling, hips picking up the pace as he pistons his cock in and out—trying to find out just how far he can go.

then he hits one spot, and his vigilant gaze catches the way your jaw slackens, eyes glazing over even as they roll back and a shaky moan escapes your throat—surprised, unexpecting. his ego jumps.

an experimental roll of his hips against the same spot and you make a sound so unhinged that he finds himself already addicted to it. and to tease is in his nature.

"yeah? right there?" he drawls, masking his anxiousness with his bravado once again.

"right there," you whimper, nodding meekly as you grip his shoulders. he huffs out a soft laugh, pressing a gentle kiss to your eyelids like he's trying to kiss away the tears that have gathered there. you preen under his ministrations—it feels a little too domestic.

he understands. it scares him, but he understands. he wonders what the point of worrying is—wonders why he's letting his paranoid brain taint this moment that he'd been waiting for. the only solution left is to ignore it. because you're here, writhing underneath him in the throes of pleasure, vulnerable and trusting and just for him. he should give you what you deserve after all.

so kaeya pushes every other thought out of his head, only focused on you and making you feel good because that's what someone like you deserves—everything you desire laid at your feet.

he presses a chaste kiss to your mouth, paired with a languid roll of his hips as he quietly groans. "okay…." his voice comes out an octave lower, pushed down by the barely concealed need for you. "okay sweet girl. i've got you."

another searing kiss as he breathes through his nose, picking up the pace again as he slams his cock into the spot that makes you see stars. your moans get louder even as they remain muffled against his lips, and kaeya can't help but dig his fingers into the meat of your thigh, leaving behind finger shaped dents in the plushy skin.

a claim—possessive, desperate, selfish.

your kisses become sloppier as kaeya leads you closer to the edge, walls clenching around the length of him, tighter with every thrust he delivers. the chants of his name have become almost reverent, and kaeya thinks his name couldn't possibly sound more beautiful than in that moment. he wonders if he could be blessed to hear it for the remainder of his life, and the thought sends pure unadulterated need through him.

his hips stutter, red hot fire coursing through his chilled veins—building, climbing, overwhelming as every sense goes fuzzy with heat. his grunts become more irregular, in time with the reckless thrusts of his cock as your cunt tightens around him greedily.

his cock twitches as you suck him in eagerly, feeling every ridge and vein as he grunts and groans and tightens his hold on you—unyielding, unrelenting, selfish.

your eyes stay locked on his even as your orgasm rips through you, and kaeya sees celestia in them—brighter than ever before. your muscles spasm, clenching almost painfully as you tremble and writhe underneath him, and he follows you to the doorstep of nirvana with a throaty groan. his hips stutter, twitching and throbbing as he pants out a broken chorus of your name and every praise that doesn't do you justice.

then he drops his forehead against yours, watching your eyelids flutter—celestial stars dim. a soft brush of your lips against his.

your muscles go lax, every guard dropped just for him—trust he realizes, trust he doesn't deserve. he doesn't know how to tell you that.

because even after everything—when you're curled up against his chest, skin warm and dewy against his own, he does not think about how he adores the feeling of your hair brushing against his arm, nor does he focus on the soft tickle of your breathing washing over him. instead he thinks about how he's ruined it all, how he's dragged you into him, and how he needs to let you go before he destroys you completely.

at the end of the summer, kaeya tells you he can’t.

“what are you talking about?” you ask him, a light chuckle escaping your lips as you barely focus on his words. your nose is buried in some medical text, and kaeya thinks that the universe is punishing him now by making him repeat himself.

“us. we shouldn’t have…” he sighs, shoulders dropping. “i mean, we should stop…seeing each other.”

he can practically feel the way his words pull your attention and when he looks up he sees the way your grip on the book has slackened. there’s panic settling in your eyes, mixed with a bit of confusion. a conflicted emotion runs across your face and kaeya’s fingers itch to touch you. “w-why?”

it’s a simple question and he should have no problem answering it, but he struggles to get the words out, his throat constricting uncomfortably. “it was fine in the summer, when i was back here with the troops. but now i’ll have to leave and-“

“so what?” you question, turning in your seat to face him completely. his eyes drop to the shirt you’re wearing, his shirt, and he feels his heart squeezing.

“so-“ he gulps, head spinning as he tries to explain himself. he doesn’t even have a proper answer—he just knows that this is his only option. because there’s no way in hell he deserves this kind of comfort, this kind of happiness. “so i cant-“

“can’t what, kaeya?” you stress, voice going slightly higher and he only then sees the real fear in your expression.

he pauses, mulling over his words and the bitter taste they’re leaving in his mouth. he can feel the sting of your pleading stare, and he swallows hard. “can’t stay,” he finally answers, and he’s shocked at how miserable he sounds.

you look at him like he’s insane, and honestly he feels like he might be. you’re confused and rightfully so, because there are so many remnants of him left in your space, so clearly evident the impact he’s left on you.

“can’t or won’t?”

kaeya’s eyes snap up to yours, because the tremor in your voice sends a jolt of fear down to his stomach, churning and roiling until it makes him sick.

he regrets looking, because he can feel himself breaking then and there.

you’re looking at him with these shining eyes and he swears that he’s glimpses them again—the brightest stars he’s ever had the privilege of seeing. for a second he thinks the light of those stars might disappear because that’s what always happens. but they remain, glowing against the backdrop of your irises and he’s captivated all over again.

his plans to leave you in tears fly out the window then and there.

he’s reaching for your cheeks in less than a second, holding them delicately as he lets his thumbs brush over your teary lashes. there’s a reasonable bit of confusion in your face at his sudden change, but when he leans down to kiss you, you don’t protest, melting into him even though he’s so undeniably cold. kaeya doesn’t even realize he’s saying he loves you, choosing to murmur it against your lips because it’s not meant for anyone else to hear—just the two of you.

he remains there, in the quiet darkness of your room for the rest of the night, because he doesn’t want to leave your side even after he told himself he would.

and yes, he dreads tomorrow. he dreads tomorrow because he knows that he will have to choose between the comfortable home he’s found in you or the dark abyss that has swallowed his past.

he’s scared that the more he allows himself to fall into you, and the more he finds that your eyes are the ones that hold the stars of celestia, then the easier his choice will become.

he’s been chasing the stars for so long after all. now that he finally has them, why in teyvat would he let them go?

[theragethatisdesire]

much ado about nothing chapter 6 - plug!eren x reader - 18+!!!

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. minors and ageless blogs, please do not read below the cut.

ummmmm HIII so sorry i know i still owe you guys a million drabbles and i haven't been posting as much but this chapter is just chock-full of drama and i'm so excited to share it bc hehehe it's a rollercoaster. also we should def stop listening to sasha. sneaky posting; have fun babies!!!! i cannot WAIT to hear your thoughts

specific cws: alcohol use, violence (like fist-fighting level not insane), mentions of drugs, swearing, incredibly awkward tension lol

-

“The course of true love never did run smooth.” A Midsummer Night’s Dream by William Shakespeare (Act I, Scene 1)

You’ve done a lot of partying in your days, but you never thought a hangover could float over your shoulders for damn near two weeks. Then again, maybe that rancid taste in your mouth is regret instead of the practical gallons of liquor you’d guzzled that night.

Historia tells you to delete the evidence, have a glass of wine with your friends, focus on your studies, put meaning back into the happy distractions that make up life. Sasha tells you to suck it up, download Tinder, do something other than wallow in your bed with nothing on but the fairy lights along your ceiling. Ymir tells you men aren’t worth embarrassing yourself for, maybe start swinging the other way, that she knows a few very pretty single ladies.

You meet all of their advice with a slow nod, sometimes a chuckle, put your head down, and go about your business, letting the shame follow you around like a little rain cloud from building to building around campus. Even your students have noticed something’s making you tick; Falco and Gabi left a package of Crumbl cookies in your office the other day, and for the first time, Zofia has begun to raise her hand in class. It’s heartwarming, really, but it doesn’t solve your problem.

Problems would be the better term for it. To start, there was your royal fuck-up with Eren. You had over-indulged and gotten a little too flirty to be “friends”, sure, it happens, but something had snapped in you when you saw Eren with that leggy blonde hanging all over him at the club.

Breeze. Even wearing naught but a skirt and some thin tights with the early winter wind whipping around your legs, just the thought of her name makes your blood boil. She was perfect, all bouncy and easygoing and cool, hippie clothes. To be fair, she was the one with the true claim on Eren; you had dug your own grave, far too confident in your ability to be just friends with someone so…so Eren.

Your friendship had been growing closer and closer by the passing day before that night, texting at nearly every minute of the day and spending time together wherever you could fit it in your full schedule. You had made plans to bake Christmas cookies together, even despite Eren’s protests that Christmas was a “capitalistic hellhole of a holiday season”, had acted out your favorite Shakespeare scenes in your pajamas, much to Eren’s amusement, and had made a habit of staying up late into the night watching and rewatching your favorite animes, heatedly debating characters. It had been butterfly-inducing, dizzying, perfect. Until you had indulged in one too many shots and humiliated yourself, that is.

Seeing Breeze all over Eren had made you realize the severity of your mistake trying to keep Eren in your life, realize the warm feeling blooming in your chest every time he grinned at you, all teeth and his little chin dimple, was decidedly much more than a platonic appreciation for a new friend. It turned out that you’d been right from the start; you weren’t his type, and to make matters worse, his actual taste in women had been thrust in your face unexpectedly.

When you had awoken the next morning, debating on whether to fall back asleep immediately or dash to the toilet, Historia had greeted you with a sorry smile, a cup of coffee, and a quiet word of advice to look through your phone. Knowing your drunken self, you pulled up your phone calls first, wanting to make sure you hadn’t accidentally Facetimed your mom to tell her how much fun you were having or something cringe-worthy of the sort. But no, of course it had to be much worse than that.

There was a phone call– to Eren. Your call log had recorded a one minute and thirty-six second phone call between you and Eren, one you obviously didn’t remember making.

“Please tell me you were with me when I called Eren,” you groan, so naive, “did I completely embarrass myself?”

Historia blushes. “Well, he didn’t answer, if it’s any consolation–”

“Oh, thank god–”

“But that didn’t exactly stop you,” Historia fiddles with the edge of her t-shirt, “you left him a voicemail.”

Even through your throbbing headache, you shoot right up out of bed at that. “What?! What did I say?”

“I don’t know,” Historia moans woefully, putting her hands over her face, “I’m sorry, I tried to stop you, but you ran off as soon as you started talking. By the time I caught up to you, you were already hanging up.”

“So, there’s a voicemail from drunk me on Eren’s phone, and neither of us have any idea what it says?”

“Correct.”

“My life fucking sucks.”

“It’s about to get a whole lot worse,” Historia says, throwing your sheets back and snuggling beside you in the bed, burrowing her face in your shoulder, “check your texts.”

And oh, had it gotten worse. Your drunken, foolish text sat in your outbox, unanswered, unread, and inexcusable. Six months later and you were right back where you started, begging a ghost of a man to explain why he couldn’t love you.

> hi luke, i’m sorta ficked up, but i misz you. why did yoi never call me???? you owe me at leasttg that. a fcking explanation,. 

Storming through campus, coat tucked around your shoulders against the biting chill, you wince at the memory. You haven’t deleted the unanswered text yet, keeping it stale in your phone as a reminder of what happens when you get too attached to people you know aren’t good for you.

You thought you’d be more heartbroken over the text to Luke and its lack of an answer, but surprisingly, you’re not. It’s Eren haunting your thoughts, Luke’s just the placeholder for all of your anger at this point. Eren isn’t to blame for all of this, you are, and that’s why you can’t bring yourself to face him, can’t bring yourself to answer any of the hesitant texts he’s sent you since that god-awful night.

You’re not in college anymore, you have to keep reminding yourself. You’re twenty-four, and you’d like to think you’re past the phase of your life where you’re handing your heart out to anyone that passes like it’s a Costco sample. You aren’t even sure if you want Luke anymore at this point, if you could even speak to him if you bumped into him these days. He had, admittedly, treated you like dirt, wrenched your heart out from your chest and left it on the sidewalk to collect dust. At least you can hate him, hate what he did to you, hate that you’re stuck on him like a broken record skipping to the same chorus every few weeks.

You can’t hate Eren, though. You can be disappointed in him for entertaining his terrible ex-girlfriend, not aloud of course because he hadn’t actually mentioned her to you himself, but you can do it internally. Even that isn’t enough to make you feel better; not only had he not trusted you, not felt safe or comfortable enough with you to share the skeletons in his closet, but he was likely zooming full-speed down a dead-end street, the way Sasha tells the story. Your heart aches for him out of a painful mixture of pining and fervent concern.

Your only solution so far has been to dive headfirst into your coursework and your students; it hasn’t done much to distract you, but with finals on the horizon, it’s not the worst method of coping you’ve come up with in your days.

Your newly invigorated dedication to your work and your courses are the cause of you dragging yourself across campus to 104, desperate for caffeine and practically a corpse after two weeks of near-constant self-shaming keeping you up at night.

The smell of the coffee shop, earthy and warm, hits you almost as hard as the blasting heat inside, and you practically slouch upon entering, the weight of the cozy atmosphere cocooning you like a warm blanket. If there’s one place that will always feel like a hug, it’s 104 Beans, your coffee shop of choice (and obligation, considering the small size of your campus) for the last six years.

Pieck, your favorite barista, greets you in her typical dreamy manner. “Hi love, same as usual?”

“Hey Pieck,” you greet her with a weary smile. As you dig around in your bag for your wallet, the extent of your exhaustion versus the amount of work you have left to do surfaces in your brain. “Actually…no, not my usual. Can I get a quad shot Americano?”

Pieck pauses where she’s scribbling onto a paper cup with a Sharpie, eyes flitting back up to you in disbelief. “A quad shot Americano?”

“A quad shot Americano.”

“Jesus,” Pieck sighs, eyes wide, “work’s that rough, huh? Black coffee not going to cut it?”

“The shakes will be worth it,” you confirm, swiping your card through the machine.

“Can I please make it a cappuccino then? You’re going to need something creamy to get all that espresso down,” Pieck looks back up at you, eyes pleading.

“Fine,” you sigh, “but–”

“Almond milk, I know,” Pieck winks at you, sliding your cup down the assembly line of baristas working amongst the hissing of the espresso machine and the pleasant, folky music floating from the speakers. “We’re a little busy, so give me five and I’ll bring it over to you.”

You smile gratefully and collect your things, turning to scout out what’s hopefully a quiet table in the corner, when a pair of arms tossed around your shoulders stops you. The familiar scent of fruity perfume tickles your nose, and you slump against the tight grip in relief.

“You made it out of the house!” Sasha’s eyes glow with pride, as if you’d just run a marathon.

“It’s not like I’m a hermit,” you roll your eyes, “I have class five days a week.”

“You don’t go anywhere besides class or your house though, so you still get participation points,” Sasha grins, shaking your shoulders, “how are you feeling?”

“Well…”

Sasha’s expression crumples. “Still that bad, huh?”

“The Luke thing was pathetic of me, but honestly, it’s not haunting me as much as I thought it would,” you admit, pausing for a moment to allow Sasha to grab her coffee from the barista when her name is called, “the one thing that’s really sticking with me is the Eren issue.”

“Like, the voicemail? Or Breeze?”

“Both. I would give anything to know what that voicemail said, but whatever was going on between us aside, I just hope he’s okay, y’know? With Breeze back in the picture and everything.”

Sasha bites into her bottom lip and glances around the coffee shop, checking every face at every table. You know that face; she’s hiding something.

“What?”

“What?” Sasha cocks her head innocently. You nearly smack her.

“You’re not telling me something.”

“Uh…okay, yeah, I’m not, but I’m not sure if I should. I mean, you’re actually out of the house–”

“I leave my house plenty!”

“You know what I mean,” Sasha scoffs, “it’s just…if you’re feeling better, I don’t want to throw you back into the deep end.”

You have no words for that, absolutely despising the way that she is completely correct. Whatever information lies behind Sasha’s bitten lip could either make you feel a hundred times better or a hundred times worse, and you’re stuck debating on whether you should gamble or not when Sasha makes the decision for you.

 “Fine, you wore me down,” she sighs.

“I didn’t even say anything,” you point out, raising an eyebrow.

“You don’t have to,” Sasha says, annoyed, “you have this, like, fucking puppy dog look. Makes me sick. Get your coffee, I’ll find a table, and we can talk.”

Like clockwork, the moment Sasha steps away, Pieck grabs your attention and hands your coffee over along with an extra hot cup half-full of steamed almond milk. You look at her questioningly, and she merely shrugs.

“That’s a lot of espresso. I know you’re in, like, your depressed writer phase right now, but I figured a little extra milk would come in handy.”

“You’re the best,” you smile at her affectionately, thinking absentmindedly that you should invite her out to Scout’s sometime. Before she can respond, Pieck’s gaze lands on something just over your shoulder. You can smell him even before you turn around, musky cologne and a little hint of weed. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Hey Pieck. Usual?” His throaty timbre cuts through the thick air, sharp as a knife. Pieck nods politely and gets to work on his coffee, forgoing a trip to the cash register. That tracks; Pieck’s hooded eyes are bloodshot more often than not.

“Excuse me,” you mutter, trying to sneak around him, but Eren’s quicker than you, side-stepping to cut you off.

“Hey stranger,” he smiles down at you, but it’s tense, nervous, “trying to run off on me?”

“Didn’t even realize that was you, sorry,” you lie, offering him a thin smile in return. You spot Sasha gaping at you across the cafe, waving her arms wildly and mouthing What the fuck?. You can’t help but feel similarly.

“It’s been awhile, how are you?”

“M’fine, just really busy with school.” God, you hate this, this awkward small talk barely parsing its way through the jungle of things left unsaid between you two. “You?”

“Fine,” Eren looks around awkwardly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Good,” you speak directly into your coffee, unable to stomach the emerald green peering down at you.

“You know,” Eren’s words come out quite like he can’t believe he’s saying them, “I kinda thought you were avoiding me.”

“Did you?” Your voice is caught in your throat, coming out in a pathetic squeak. Has he heard the voicemail? The startling turn the conversation’s taken must be visible all over your face, because Sasha’s flailing arms beckoning you over to the table grow more urgent.

“You haven’t texted me back, haven’t seen you in a couple weeks,” Eren’s incredibly focused on his shoes, kicking one Vans sneaker idly back and forth on the floor and making a squeaking sound, “so yeah, sort of.”

“I’m busy,” you deadpan, praying to any god you can remember the name of that you’ll just disintegrate right where you stand. Eren meets your eyes again, smirks disbelievingly.

“You said that.”

Something in his tone annoys you, something about his insinuation that he knows you’re blatantly lying, that he’s teasing you over your embarrassment, ignites a little flame in your chest. You scowl at him.

“I mean, you must be pretty busy too.”

“Why’s that?”

“Breeze just got back into town, didn’t she?” No going back now. Eren’s face blanches for a moment, features growing pale, but he manages to school his face back into that nonchalant pout that you want to slap right off his face.

“Historia told you?” He doesn’t sound surprised; in face, he sounds almost expectant, like he knew you’d find out at some point. It stakes the embers burning in your chest.

“She’s my best friend, so yeah.” This feels like an argument. It shouldn’t be an argument, but your clipped tone is pushing it in that direction. You’ve spent the last two weeks reminding yourself that you have no claim on Eren, no reason to be hurt or upset, but here you are, feeling that familiar rush of anger coursing through your veins.

“I mean, we haven’t been hanging out or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Who said I was worried?”

Eren’s eyebrows knit together, a little frown playing at his mouth. “I don’t know, I mean–”

“Look, Sasha’s waiting for me,” you point over Eren’s shoulder to the little two-top table, where Sasha has stilled within the blink of an eye, shooting Eren an innocent smile and a little wave. “I’d love to catch up, but maybe another time.”

“It was good seeing you.” Eren looks confused, albeit, a little bit hurt, and you hate it. Why is that so much worse, even worse than the sight of him with Breeze hanging off of his arm? His little pout puts a needle through your ballooning anger, and you deflate, sighing.

“I’ll see you around, I’m sure.”

“Yeah,” Eren takes his coffee from Pieck and ambles towards the door, sparing you one last glance over his shoulder. Unwilling to hold his eyes any longer, you scurry to your table, just having realized that Pieck forgot to put a coffee sleeve around your cup and that it’s been burning your hand for the last several minutes.

“Ow! Shit!” You practically crash land across from Sasha, dropping your cups in synchronicity and shaking your red palms around in the air to cool them down.

“What was that?” Sasha hisses, leaning across the table so viciously that your drinks nearly topple over.

“He just showed up!”

“You didn’t have to talk to him.”

“I didn’t try to. He just, like, materialized behind me and started talking. What was I supposed to do? Run away?”

“Little shit,” Sasha swears, glaring at the door as if her anger can shoot through it like a laser beam, cut Eren down where he’s surely almost a block down the street by now, “what did he say?”

“He asked if I’ve been avoiding him," you say, twirling your wooden coffee stirrer through your drink idly and trying to look as if your heart’s not still beating at what’s sure to be a dangerous rate.

“Well, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. He got all smug about it,” you scoff, the replayed scene of Eren’s self-assured smirk wiping off of his face bringing you a little bit of petty satisfaction, “until I brought up Breeze.”

Sasha’s eyes grow wide, and she looks around the coffee shop again, as if Eren or Breeze might come popping out of one of the large potted plants in the corners. “That’s actually what I wanted to tell you. What did he say about it?”

“What did you hear?” You narrow your eyes at her, and she narrows hers back.

“You first.”

“He didn’t say much, just looked really surprised that I brought her up. Said they haven’t been hanging out.”

“That’s bullshit,” Sasha snorts, rolling her eyes. Something in your chest that had begun to glimmer, something akin to hope, feels like it just got a bucket of ice-water poured over it. You cock your head, furrow your brows.

“How would you know?”

“Because Hitch and I grabbed some coffee–”

“Hitch? I thought that was a–”

“Okay, don’t crucify me, I know,” Sasha holds her hands up defensively, “it was supposed to be a one night stand, but…I don’t know. She’s cool.”

“Cool?” Even through your desperation for anything Eren-related after a two week drought, you smile knowingly at her. Sasha’s not hard to read, especially when her face goes bright red from chin to forehead.

“Yes,” she hisses, “cool. Anyway, we came by a few days ago, and Eren was here. With Breeze.”

“I mean, I expected as much.”

You’re lying, you’re so lying. The only consolation you’ve had over the last two weeks that you’re not a complete moron is the hope that maybe, just maybe, Eren’s just as forlorn as you, laying around and wishing his phone would buzz with your name on it, wishing you’d pop up at his door with a bag of popcorn ready for movie night. Instead, your worst suspicions have been confirmed, and not only is Eren very much involved with Breeze again, but he had lied straight to your face about it. Ouch.

“They weren’t like, holding hands or anything. Honestly, it looked like they were fighting.”

“Well, what did Hitch say about it?” You don’t even know if you want to know, but with your brain short-circuiting inside your skull, your mouth has free reign to seek out information that will be about as soothing as lemon juice on a papercut.

“Eren won’t talk to any of them about her,” Sasha burns her tongue on her coffee and sucks in a sharp breath, “not even Armin, apparently. She said he’s been moody lately.”

“Wonder why,” you mumble, mulling all of this new information over in your head. Breeze is bad for him, makes him crazy, you already know that. But you didn’t think it would start this soon– you feel like if anything, he should be ecstatic that his long-lost love has finally come back to him. And he can stop trying to replace her, your brain adds helpfully, only doubling the watery ache swelling in your chest.

“Who cares?” Sasha rips open a granola bar, biting into it and continuing to speak with her mouth full. “That’s why you’ve got to stop avoiding him.”

“Huh? That seems like the opposite–”

“No,” Sasha cuts you off, an air of authority in her normally chipper voice, “you’re not going to cower in the corner just because Eren’s back with his shitty ex girlfriend–”

“It’s not just because of Breeze,” you correct her, “it’s because of that voicemail. I have no idea what I said. There’s a lot that’s contributing to my self-induced isolation, trust me.”

“Regardless,” Sasha mouths around another bite of her granola bar, “the only thing that will make you feel better is being around him.”

“That sounds a little contradictory–”

“Trust me,” Sasha interrupts you again, “the best way to make a guy come around is to be up in his face, flaunting how hot and single you are, and to not give him an ounce of your attention. It’s a tried and true method, I promise.”

It turns out that you are a beacon for those with bad ideas, evidently, because later that night, you’ve ended up at Scout’s, cuddled up against the bar with Sasha despite Historia’s fervent protests. If Historia shows up later, just to “check in” (read: see what’s come of Sasha’s terrible plan), you won’t be surprised. She’s prone to being the mom friend and the harbinger of gossip, but she hasn’t shown face quite yet. It’s just you, Sasha, and a handful of regulars, sipping unreasonably cold beers and trying to act as if the early December chill hasn’t rattled you to your bones.

“This is a stupid idea,” you murmur against the lip of your bottle, trying not to seem as unnerved as you are, even after an hour of waiting and sipping. Sasha scoffs beside you, picking through your near-empty basket of peanut shells in search of a full pod.

“It’s not. He’ll be here.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you dragged me out. It only took a week for me to start missing this place,” you run a thoughtful hand along the varnished wooden bartop, “but I’m just still not sure about this whole seeing-Eren-on-purpose thing.”

Before Sasha can answer, the door swings open to reveal the man in question: Eren, accompanied by Armin and Connie, as always, and sporting his standard uniform. Black hoodie, slouchy khaki pants that are tightened around the ankles, and his beat-up Vans.

You nearly sigh into your drink at how delicious he looks, only stopping when the little voice in your head reminds you that the voicemail you’d left him exists. Friends– no, strangers now? The concept of labeling your bizarre, gray-areas-only relationship with Eren brings a chuckle up your throat, one that spills onto the bar.

You can feel him watching you, but to your simultaneous surprise and disappointment, he gives you space, sidling up to the bar a few seats down from where you and Sasha are occupying a couple of bar stools. When Connie throws up a cheerful hand in greeting to you, you tentatively wave back, only for Armin to grab Connie’s attention and turn him toward the bar.

“Ha!” Sasha says triumphantly, looking at you with her eyes glowing like you’re supposed to have reached a revelation of some sort. “See?”

“Did you plot this with Connie?” You narrow your eyes in suspicion.

“No, I’m just a genius, that’s all.”

“I feel like your theory is being proven wrong, not right. He’s not even sitting near us.”

“Because you have the upper hand!” Sasha grins.

“The upper hand?”

“Yeah, he’s giving you some space so you can make the first move, get what you want out of him.”

“And what do I want out of him?” You nearly growl in your frustration, feeling silly sitting exactly four barstools down from Eren with him running through your mind as if he isn’t close enough to just hop up and hug. It’s a genuine question more than a rhetorical one; you’re not even sure what you expect out of him anymore. Another fuck? A fancy date night? A lifetime worth of radio silence, as if Eren isn’t the person you’ve connected better with than nearly anyone else in your romantic history?

Sasha’s brows furrow. “Don’t you know?”

“No! That’s what I was trying to tell you!”

“Oh,” Sasha frowns, rubs her chin, “we should have figured that part out before we came, I guess.”

“Sasha!” You whisper-hiss, ever mindful of what you’re sure to be prying ears only a few feet away. “So you have no plan?”

Sasha stumbles, stutters, and eventually, flushes bright red with a shrug. “Okay, fine, I have no plan. But at least it’s something to break up your routine of laying in bed eating chips and moping around the library.”

“You’re such a bitch.” You roll your eyes, but you don’t mean it, not really. Regardless of how things stand, at the very least you can sneak little glances at Eren, take in how good he looks– no, you correct yourself firmly. You hopped off that train of your own accord, and you’re better for it.

With some verbal manhandling, you goad Sasha into a lull of small talk, classes, anything that comes to mind. A pair of eyes finds you, not the emerald that keeps you up at night, but a pair of hazel old-and-new eyes draw to you, and you can feel the scratch of an unwelcome gaze on your skin.

“Floch’s here,” you state the obvious, sipping your drink and giving no physical indication that you’ve noticed him, staring straight ahead as you mutter to Sasha.

“Christ, this was not a good idea,” Sasha groans, face-palming.

“Wow, I sure wish that someone had suggested this was a bad idea, wouldn’t that have been nice?”

“Shut up,” Sasha says, peeking warily over her shoulder, “I think that’s Hitch in the corner, too.”

You frown, confused at the hunched, anxious change in her posture. “Why are you being weird? Go say hey.”

“I’m not abandoning you!”

“Oh, shut it. Why are you really being weird?”

“I, uh…” Sasha twirls her beer around on the counter, blushing, “I haven’t texted her back in like, four or five days.”

“Sasha! You like her, I can tell. What’s gotten into you?”

“It was supposed to be a one-night thing,” Sasha moans, letting her face fall dramatically into her hands, “and then it was movie nights and coffee and just…way beyond casual hooking up. I like her, but…I don’t know! I panicked.”

You chew on her admission for a second, selfishly comparing Sasha’s situation to your own. Was that what you were doing with Eren? No, surely not, but was that what he was doing with you? You knew he had loved Breeze, that she had wrecked him, but maybe…just maybe some small part of you wants to hope that he’s moved on, that the coffee shop sighting was a fluke.

You shoo Sasha in Hitch’s direction, demanding she run over to apologize and make nice with Hitch, partially to save Sasha’s first shot at a real relationship in years and partially because you want to stew alone with your thoughts. Before you can get too deep into your black hole of what ifs, a familiar presence is sliding into Sasha’s seat, grinning lewdly.

You sigh; it was only a matter of time before he sought you out.

“What do you want, Forster?”

“Last name only? Ouch,” Floch places a hand over his heart, drumming the fingers of his other hand on the countertop. You recognize his demeanor immediately: pupils blown wide, buzzing to the brim with nervous energy. Floch’s always dabbled in party drugs, part of why you could only stand to be around him in small doses back when you were hooking up.

“Are you coked out right now?” Mindful of Levi’s hovering presence behind the bar, you keep your voice to a low hiss.

“So you can’t call me by my first name, but you can ask such personal questions? Jesus, you really are full of it, aren’t you?”

“Floch,” you nearly groan in frustration, “I thought I made it perfectly clear the last time I saw you that I’m not interested.”

“Why are you being so mean to me, hm?” Floch snakes a hand around your shoulders, jostling you until your face is mere inches from his. You’re more than aware of a pair of green eyes nearly boring a hole in your forehead, and you feel a pang of regret that you sent Sasha away so quickly, remembering far too late that Hitch’s table doesn’t offer a great view of where you’re seated at the bar.

“I’m not being mean,” you try to push at him, but he’s locked around you, “I’m just not interested.”

“Stop being such a bitch, Jesus Christ,” Floch finally lets you shove him away from you, but he’s far from done, “when did you get so stuck up, huh?”

“Floch. Keep your voice down, and walk away.” You try to warn him; Floch may be a pain in your ass, but you’d like to believe that he’s not a bad guy, deep down. You’re too late, however. 

Eren’s materialized between you and Floch before you can blink, before you can even get another word out. His sudden presence forces you out of your barstool, stepping around him to get a better read on what the hell he thinks he’s doing. Eren seems not to notice you trying to insert yourself between him and Floch, and the look on his face makes you step back momentarily.

He looks terrifying. Eren’s nostrils are flaring, eyes blown wide and jaw clenched tight. He’s taking full advantage of his height, glaring down at Floch with such menace that if looks could kill, Floch would already be laid out on the floor.

“Get the fuck out of here, dude. She said no.”

“What are you, her little guard dog?” Floch, infamous for never knowing what’s best for him, scoffs at Eren’s incredibly intimidating posture.

“Maybe I am,” Eren sneers, “I’m damn sure not going to sit there and let you speak to her like that.”

“Who’s this loser?” Connie’s to your right now, gesturing to Floch. You don’t miss the telltale clenching of Eren’s hands by his side, and it hits your dizzied mind what’s going on. Eren’s going to end up swinging if you don’t interfere, and Connie’s there for backup. 

“Floch, please.” You reach a feeble hand up to Floch’s chest, trying to gently push him in the other direction.

In the blink of an eye, Floch’s grabbing you by the wrist hard enough to solicit a yelp from your lips, throwing your arm away from him with a look of disgust.

“Oh, so now you want to touch me, bitch?”

No sooner has Floch’s hand released your arm than Connie’s got his arms wrapped around you, yanking you out of the crossfire. Amidst a series of gasps, Eren grabs Floch around the back of the neck, pins him face-first to the bar. 

“Jaeger!” Levi barks sharply, darting over to the scene of the commotion.

“Is that what gets you off, huh?” Eren’s nearly nose-to-nose with Floch, whose busted lip is twisted in a grimace and dribbling little bits of blood onto the varnished bartop. “Calling women bitches when they don’t want your little dick?”

“Let him go, Eren,” Armin tries to intervene, having already dashed over from his barstool. You want to back him up, but you’re frozen where you’re pinned to Connie’s chest, trembling in his arms. You know Eren’s a little rough-and-tumble, but this, seeing it in real life, is much more terrifying than you could have imagined.

“What the hell? Are you okay?” You can hear Sasha’s voice from beside you, close enough to touch but distant in comparison to where your vision is zeroed in on Eren’s grip on the back of Floch’s neck.

“Answer me!” Eren rears Floch back a few inches and slams him against the bar again. Floch curses under his breath, wriggles fruitlessly under Eren’s weight.

“Get the fuck off me, Jaeger!”

“You fucking wish,” Eren hisses, tightening his grip further, “now apologize to my girl before you make me do something I’ll regret.”

“Eren,” you find your voice again, shaking out of Connie’s grip. You fist your hands into Eren’s hoodie sleeves, tugging hard enough to get his attention. “He’s not worth it. Let him go.”

“Listen to her, Jaeger,” Levi’s already-deep voice is stained with warning.

When you pull at his sleeve a little harder, Eren turns to you, eyes still blown wide and teeth bared. It startles you, but you hold firm, setting your own jaw and shaking your head.

“Let. Him. Go. Now, Eren.” You’re not sure how you’ve managed to muster up the conviction in your voice, but you’re grateful for it, as it seems to shake Eren back into himself. Eren slowly releases Floch and in the same easy motion, he guides you behind him with one long, strong arm.

“You,” Levi points accusingly at Floch, “out.”

Floch’s jaw drops. “I didn’t even–”

“Out.” Levi’s tone leaves no room for argument, and Floch seems to understand at least that. He turns his glare back to you and Eren, scowling deeply.

“The next time I see you, Jaeger, it’s fucking over.”

“Get lost before you make me fucking embarrass you,” Eren says, voice dripping with venom. Floch shakes his head, lets his gaze land on you. A chilling smile breaks over his features.

“Next time, sweetheart.”

“Get the fuck out of here already, bro,” Connie snaps, pointing towards the exit. Floch takes his leave, sauntering towards the door with all the confidence of someone who hadn’t just been pinned against the countertop. A heavy, staticky silence falls over the bar.

“If I see you fighting in here again, it’s over.” Levi’s cold eyes fall on Eren, who nods curtly in understanding. Eren brushes his hands through his hair, rests a hand on the bun at the back of his head. Something strange is coursing through your body; something that tastes like anger, burns like heartbreak, falls bitter on your tongue like envy.

“Are you okay?” Sasha appears at your side again, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Floch’s such a psycho, I’m not even surprised he picked a fight.”

You nod numbly, eyes never leaving Eren. He finally looks back down at you, none of the heat having left his eyes.

“What the fuck was that?” It takes you a moment to realize that it’s you speaking, you throwing those words up the inches from your mouth to Eren’s. Eren’s face contorts into a frown.

“What do you mean? He was bothering you, wasn’t he?”

“So you try to fight him?” You seethe. Maybe it is anger, this bizarre, foreign emotion tingling at the tips of your fingers. No, that’s not quite it, you’re not angry you’re just…confused. Hurt that Eren’s frolicking around with Breeze, doing whatever he pleases, and yet, he’s jumping into bar fights to save you from the tangible evidence of your past.

“What do you expect me to do when someone talks to you like that?” Eren hisses back, eyes narrowed.

Sasha’s backed away from the two of you now; you’re aware of your friends staring at you, noses scrunched as they try to figure out exactly what’s happening now. You wish you had an answer to give them, but all you can muster is this heartache shooting out of your mouth in the form of daggers.

“I don’t need you,” you spit, “I don’t need your protection.”

“It didn’t exactly look like you had that handled,” Eren scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, and what are you? My knight in shining fucking armor? Don’t you have other damsels in distress waiting for you?” It’s too far, you know that as soon as the words leave your mouth, but the liquid courage Sasha had insisted upon is making your tongue sharper than you’d anticipated.

Eren rears back from where he’s hunched to meet you on your level, nostrils flaring again. Before you can utter another word, he’s got an arm thrown around your shoulders none-too-gently, practically dragging your stumbling feet towards the exit.

“Outside.”

[systastic]

Hi! Could we request a level 2 headmate based around Pufferfish? We don't mind what's used for the image, whatever you feel is best!

awwe, pufferfish are so cool!! coming up right meow ~ a catgirl like me can’t resist a fish! making it double trouble just fur u! >:3c

was a lil silly with the prompt ! if u want changes, let meow know ~

name :: acantha, loonie, loona, thorn, eve && blobby, blob, puffles, squash, mr. fish, mr. blobby

age :: 22 && 4

pronouns :: she/her, sie/hir, sea/her && he/him, it/its, blub/blubs, gill/gills

roles :: accodare, adopter, babysitter && total blocker, ceter, emotional blob

species :: human (were-pufferfish!)

gender identity :: aquarian && systemgender (due to being an amalgamate)

orientation :: lesbian && please do not the fish (aroace bc it is made of children)

source :: brainmade && factive (of sorts)

aesthetic :: vaporwave, frutiger aero

appearance description :: acantha is one of the girls you always see on the beach. seeing as how she has a darker skin color, she has to be more diligent about sunscreen. acantha opts for flowy skirts and lighter fabrics so that she doesn’t get too hot. acantha is a huge beachgoer and is always down for a dip in the nearest body of water; you can count on hir to have a swimsuit on under hir clothes in the summertime. sie loves hir more out-there looks when it gets colder: pullovers with marble busts of men’s heads overlayed on colorful squares, optical illusion pants, and as many scrunchies as she can fit on her wrist. kids love the colors & so does she!

personality description :: acantha is a woman with a large heart! she is caring, being firm yet kind to those who need a little more guidance. she loves being able to spend time with her little siblings (that’s what she calls hir system’s littles!) and playing with them! hir family means everything to hir. acantha likes to teach littles how to swim, water safety, ways to prevent drowning, and all sorts of lessons about the world that exists just below the ocean surface!

when acantha’s protective instincts are triggered, sie morphs into a slightly different form: a pufferfish!! hir pufferfish ‘form’ is a mass grouping of all the littles acantha is taking care of temporarily fused into a single being. this being, named blobby, works as a total blocker of any trauma. while the collective is functioning as blobby, any memories they make become distorted and foggy, protecting the littles from the current moment by liquefying their thoughts! blobby can be a bit confused at times — but if nothing else, gill knows when and how to protect gills charges.

drawing link: here!!

image link: here!

[possibilistfanfiction]

hi i just wanted to say thank you for writing about queerness the way that you do - it’s incredible and has been immensely helpful to me lately. like i’ve agonized over wanting a haircut and a binder and to change my pronouns and have never had the courage to do anything about it, but reading your stuff is making me want to go through with it all. i had to pause a few times as i read your most recent piece (ava’s pov of butch bea) because i was overwhelmed with relief seeing ava and bea want that stuff too. i didn’t realize wanting it could feel so freeing. like i’ve never seen queer people written like that before, and never knew i needed to see it until now. it’s helped me feel okay about wanting the aforementioned things, and also okay about not knowing what i want or how i want to be. all around your fics are so healing and enlightening as far as gender and sexuality go, and gender and sexuality aside they are also flat out masterpieces. i cannot even begin to describe how much they, as well as your other posts on the subject, mean to me. thank you so much

:) thank u!

& i will say that i have spent the better part of the last 15 or so years just vibrating around trying to figure out what makes me feel good, especially in my body & how others perceive it. which is really hard! but trying stuff rocks — i figured out i wanted top surgery but not to transition in other medical ways bc i got a binder! the peace i felt with one felt right, & then i got to explore from there. i have had … so many haircuts lol & most of them have been good! (imo everyone deserves to buzz their hair at least once & just. deal with it lmao. a rite of passage.) now i don’t give a fuck about “what side of the store” clothes are on bc i know exactly what i want clothes to fit & feel like, & i have a tailor, so i just pay more attention to fit & fabric than i do any “men’s” or “women’s” demarcations, especially when most of the places i shop are mostly just vaguely androgynous earth tones anyway lol.

(of course this is with the caveat that there’s enough safety/financial stability but) try everything! especially stuff that’s not at all permanent!

there’s no way i would know what makes me happy & peaceful now if i didn’t try stuff in the past! do i want to wear button downs & chinos & have ppl call me sir?? no i would rather pErish. but did i always know that! of course not, & i got to have the space to try how that would feel. i definitely also know that i never want people to think i’m straight (lol but ppl are stubborn); i had a weird summer bc my hair was rly long, which i loved, but then started to feel just dissonant about… occasionally a little panicked by? (in addition to some transphobic nonsense thru work, which ofc doesn’t help). but once i sat down & was like what the fuck is going on — & felt safe enough to just sit for DAYS in dysphoria to try to figure out the root of it — i was like oh ok cool, easy, i can fix this. i knew i didn’t want to cut my hair rly short again (probably never again or at least for a Long Time, i don’t like ppl thinking i’m a man), but i didn’t wanna keep it long, so i was like ok great, stupid masc bob here we come, & my hairstylist is queer & has a soft butch wife, so i was set lol. but without getting to have space for the past decade to just try things, & to learn how to sit in dysphoria thru therapy rather than just Run Away from the feeling every time, that would’ve been a lot harder to navigate. i used to be VERY adamant abt they/them pronouns but i don’t feel that way anymore, & nothing earth shattering happened or has happened, i just… don’t care. i care more abt my privacy & agency than abt disclosing identity & experience than i do a pronoun, & so i get to make that choice whenever i want, which has been rly wonderful. & getting to try things will help you learn where ur most comfortable, especially as u continue to grow & change.

& like… it’s fun! queerness is so fun! i think beas queerness is fairly ~fraught~ canonically for obvious reasons but in any universe it’s nice to just let her take a fucking breath. kiss a girl, put on a hoodie, cut your hair, take a nap by the beach. it’s not so serious, not all the time. & ava is just FUN, her queerness is so so bright. to me it’s always just seemed like she was never Not queer bc ava has so much life to live & so so much to discover abt herself & the world. she’s falling in love with everything all the time, & with Wonder! & of course that includes queerness! it’s at the center of it bc it’s who you are & who you love, but it’s also just… people, & connection. i used to write rly angsty shit abt being queer & in moments of indulgence i do still enjoy a romp ofc to flex those wow sin & hell & an orgasm being so holy muscles lol, but queerness is my everyday life, & it shows up in the soft happy places more than anywhere else.

anyway, try everything!! especially a binder (bind safely!!!!!) & pronouns, even just online or w a few of ur ppl. if there’s a word you like for your identity, try writing it somewhere or just telling a friend (i texted my best friend that i liked the word ‘dyke’ a lot after having made ‘dyke on main’ jokes abt myself for ten years … we both just laughed). & of course haircuts & clothes are so fun, & they should get to be fun!

but even beyond that (& part of why i think ppl like reading stuff i write, maybe?) is that like so much healing for me in pleasure & peace in my queerness is so tied up in those same feelings abt … everything. food! sex! moving my body! my home! small acts of service! luxury! softness! skincare! the ocean! like whew, waking up & being like this brings me quiet joy, mary oliver was RIGHT, just lets the whole world kinda shimmer. not loudly, not in any remarkable way, but eating good food & having a good beer with someone who sees you for who you are; fresh flowers in the vase; LINEN PANTS; the dog asleep at your feet — all of those things to me are both queer & holy, inextricably together in my life. my wife’s queerness is very compatible w her religion & spirituality, & that’s rly rly beautiful to get to be around. queerness is abt deep care, too, in small ways: checking up on a friend after top surgery, still masking indoors, keeping my dog on lead unless i know her recall will be perfect. it shapes every part of my life. to me the mundane is the most glorious thing, & i have figured things that i love bc, for as scary as trying stuff can be (what if people see me? what if i hate it?) — you know, the most important question: what if you love it?

[skywarpie]

Copia Headcanon time (totally not projecting on some oop)

- when Copia starts to gain a bit more weight he learns to love his love handles and thick thighs by himself. He poses in the mirror and reminds himself that his tummy means he is healthy and well fed. Eventually he stops feeling self conscious - hence the beautiful tight fitting clothes

- Trans Copia had to learn how to shave by himself through trial and error. He teaches young trans mascs/men how to shave and administer T shots at the Ministry.

- Copia is lactose intolerant 😔✊🏽 but that doesn’t stop him from snacking on some cheeses with his rats!!!

- Copia accidentally called Cumulus “Mommy” once and had to hide in his room for the rest of the day

The love handles are the grabby/kissy spot. Perfect for my grubby little hands.

Poor copia walking around the ministry with all those little bandaids on his face and while everyone he passes in the hall worries about his ability to handle a razor copia sees it as a right of passage bc he's finally got facial hair

Oh there are so many things i want to say about this.

[adoremp3]

BIG YES to the no string birthday special! Please feed us queen

your wish is my command (and no judging, it was a very rough scene i wrote randomly one day lol) (and i included two paragraphs i started to set the scene but ignored bc i just wanted to get to the good stuff but......it gives you bg info kinda)

Deciding what to buy Harry for his birthday was an absolute nightmare. I mean, what does someone buy for someone that says “hey, we’re just friends, even though I’ve seen you naked countless times and heard you moan in a way that’s magic to my ears”? There isn’t exactly a card for that either.

...

Two glasses of wine in, though, my less than sober thoughts decide to spice things up a little. Harry is in the middle of explaining a project he’s working on for the company in Bath when I decide to rest my hand on his thigh—completely innocent, of course. 

...

“Harry, are you okay?” Gemma eventually asks, thankfully not noticing the way Harry is practically biting his fist and tightly grips his spoon.

“I’m—oh, thank God,” he tries to say, but it’s in this moment that I decide to tuck him back into his trousers; Gemma’s already begun to notice something is up with him, so I don’t want to push it too far. “I think I’m just—something isn’t sitting right. I need to… Sorry, excuse me.” He pushes his chair back, skillfully holding his napkin over his crotch in a way that still looks placed and a way to prevent his clothes from getting dirty but in actual fact is a way to hide his erection. 

Gemma looks at me curiously, though I’m trying my absolute hardest not to grin at the thought of Harry rushing to wank one off in a public bathroom. “I had the same as him and feel fine… Should I be worried?”

Unless Michal starts finger banging her under the table, Gemma will absolutely be fine. Instead, I stand up from the table as well and say, “I’m just gonna go check on him. Can’t have him feeling ill on his birthday, can we?”

She doesn’t look entirely convinced, but I still excuse myself and rush off to the toilets. I brace myself as I push open the male toilets in fear of finding a group of men wondering what the fuck is happening, but instead am greeted by the sounds of jagged breaths coming from one of the stalls. Definitely worrisome had someone other than myself walked in.

“Harry?” I call out, trying to work out which stall he’s in. 

“Oh, God. It’s you,” I hear, then one of the doors unlocks and Harry tries to pull me in.

It’s a tight fit in the stall, so I’m really not sure what Harry thinks this will achieve. “I don’t think this is made for two people.” 

“Well, maybe you should have scoped out the loo situation before you decided to wank me off under the table,” he exasperates, then grabs himself in one hand. “Now, care to finish what you started? Otherwise I’ll do it myself.”

“Someone’s a little bossy,” I tease, but grab his length nonetheless. “And what’s your plan of action when we eventually return after a long term of absence?”

“Again, something you should’ve thought about before deciding to get us into this mess.” Harry sounds bitter, but I just bite down on my lip to prevent a chuckle from escaping; I’m very amused by it all. “Speaking of, what was your plan if things, uh, got messy under the table?”

I shrug, slowly beginning to pump him. “Used your napkin?”

“Hospitality staff really should get paid more.” Harry’s breath hitches towards the end of his sentence as I pick up my pace and grip a little harder, while his free arm slides around my body and uses my ass as something to squeeze. “You know, when I wished for birthday sex, this really isn’t how I pictured it.”

“Who’s to say I still don’t have big plans for you later? Maybe this was all just a warm up.”

“I don’t think I can handle as many orgasms in one night as you can, Mabel,” he says, breathing heavily as his eyes flutter shut. “Okay, I’m getting close now. Please don’t stop.”

As Harry’s hips thrust into my hand, I pick up the pace even more. “Didn’t plan on it.”

Harry has pre-come leaking from his red, swollen tip and I know his end is near, but even more so as his free hand reaches across and starts to knead my breast. I know this is all about Harry, but there’s already a wet patch in my knickers and this certainly doesn’t help one bit—maybe I will have to remind Harry about those multiple orgasms again later tonight. 

“Oh, fuck,” he curses, eyes squeezed shut as he throws his head back against the wall. “I’m so close, Mabel. Don’t stop, don’t—”

We both pause as the door to the male toilets flies open, in walking two men discussing how sticky their meals were and how their napkins just aren’t cutting it. Fuck, we’re about to get caught. However, as long as they stay near the sinks and avoid the stalls, we should be good.

I let go of Harry’s cock in a panic, but Harry grabs my hand immediately. “Keep going,” he urges quietly so only I can hear him. “Ignore them, let me come, and then we can head home so I can fuck the daylights out of you.”

“And what did you say just before about multiple orgasms?” I tease in a hushed tone.

“Oh, shush.” Harry brushes me off. “Usually have a pre-date wank before we meet up, anyway—you know, so I can last longer and all that—but didn’t get a chance today. Guess it’s happening now, though.”

There’s something about the way Harry refers to us catching up as a date that sticks out to me, but I brush that thought away until a more appropriate time to let it consume me—it is already consuming me as I think about the idea of what an actual date with Harry would entail, but again, I try and push it to the back of my mind and focus on the situation before me.

We’re both surprised as one of the men makes their way into a stall one space from ours, praying he doesn’t sense there’s two people hiding inside. Harry, however, takes my hand in his and wraps my palm around his cock; he pumps himself at first, guiding me into a comfortable rhythm, before eventually letting go and squeezing his eyes shut as pleasure begins to override him. 

I can sense he’s about to tell me he’s close, but I know this much is obvious with the way he’s impossibly hard under my touch and gripping at the skin on my hip. The man finishes up in the stall and heads back to the mirrored area to wash his hands, but he’s barely out the door as Harry finally reaches his peak; he throws his head back, knocking it against the wall, and comes in ropes half in my hand and half in the toilet. 

“And those men thought they had sticky hands,” I comment, gesturing my head towards my come laced hand. 

Harry lets out a sigh of relief that it’s all over.

[caterpillarcrypt]

Confession: I kinda like booty shorts…. I think that they’re more comfortable than knee length loose shorts. I like tank tops and crop tops. Like it’s hot out, I want to be comfortable. I am not overly concerned with “modesty” like that.

I wasn’t allowed to dress comfortably in hot weather after I started puberty bc it was “too sexy” for me not to wear baggy, too long, too hot, ill-fitting clothes according to my mother (and the church) even tho I was a literal child, and I wasn’t supposed to “tempt men to sin” or whatever. I grew up with purity culture forced on me and it’s weird to see that kind of thing being praised as feminist now? Same thing with bikinis being seen as bad. I can’t fit most one-piece bathing suits bc I’m too tall. It’s way easier for me to find a bikini that actually fits.

Knee-length shorts are itchy and I have gotten rashes from the hem of those before because it rubs my skin wrong. I used to only be allowed to wear capris and knee length shorts, and it SUCKED. It was so freeing to finally be an adult and be able to buy and wear the clothes that I wanted to wear and that I felt comfortable in, even tho it was seen as “too sexual” or “slutty” for me to have my shoulders showing and wear shorts that didn’t go past my finger tips. Why should I care if it causes a man to sin in his heart or to “stumble”? Why should I care if it makes people think I’m a brain-dead whore? I can’t control other ppl’s thoughts and they’re wrong for thinking it anyway. Nothing inappropriate is even showing. I’m fully clothed, some people just feel like it’s wrong for women to show “too much” skin. I’m not going to wear uncomfortable clothes just so other people are comfortable instead. It’s none of anyone else’s business if I’m wearing a fucking tank top.

Idc that this purity culture shit is coming out of the mouths of women. That doesn’t change anything. It’s still stupid. It’s complete bullshit. Like you wear whatever you want, I’m not going to insist that other women dress how I do. I just want to be left alone about it and I want other women to be left alone about that kind of thing too. It’s like obsessive at this point. Stop defining women by how much skin they are or are not showing jfc.

[gh0stwriting]

MY HC ON SLASHERS SEXUALITIES

I’m gonna do as many as possible and if i forget some uhh tell me and ill add them also this is my personal headcanons this has nothing to do with what you can request, you can also have your own hcs

Also for simplicity’s sake i’m only going to use terms like Gay/Bi/Pan, but you can apply any label that matches that you think fits

Michael Myers

demiromantic/demisexual

I mean ofc mans has trust issues what did you expect

He honestly never expects to find a partner bc of his trust issues and short temper but who knows

Would definitely never make the first move, or the second, or the third

FREDDY KRUEGER

He gives me homophobic vibes ngl

But besides that id probably say pan, he cares more about the,yknow, than the relationship in most cases tho

He definitely has a preference for girls but obviously is open to experimenting, and has countless times

He’s not too keen on settling down but might if he finds the right person

JASON VOORHEES

He seems hetero to me, but mostly bc he’s never had internet access so he probably doesn’t know what gay means, also bc of Pam probably thinks its wrong/weird

If he wasn’t straight he’d probably be panromantic demisexual, if anyone wants to date him he’ll probably try it out, but you aren’t getting more than that without insane trust

Has no gender preference bc he probably already thinks he’s unlovable so he’ll take almost anyone

He’d also try his best to be a good partner but wouldn’t know how

LEATHERFACE

Poor boy just wants someone to love, but also someone strong enough to handle his family

He definitely could not give less of a shit about gender, if you can handle what his family does without running screaming then you’re perfect to him

If he does have a preference it might be towards men simply bc any woman he’s seen is tiny(compared to him) and easy to hurt, and he doesn’t want to do that to his partner

But his perfect partner is literally just someone that’ll cuddle a lot and maybe give massages after a hard days work

CHUCKY/CHARLES LEE RAY

Once again my first thought is hetero, bc Charles seems lowkey homophobic, but he’s also grown a lot as chucky

Also wouldnt surprise me if he said he was bi exclusively for 3somes, but maybe he’s actually bi

Would joke about being a lesbian but only bc he loves his wife and women in general a lot

Definite preference for women, “i mean have you seen them?”, yes chucky we know you love 🍒

PINHEAD

He seems like he just wouldn’t give a shit, so maybe pan, but also poly

Half of his whole thing is pleasure, so as long as he can provide that he’s not too picky, especially bc he knows his appearance is offputting

No strong preference in gender, or appearance, man could really care less about superficial things, he has higher priorities

PENNYWISE

He seems kinda gay to me idk man

Maybe its the fact that i personally have never seen a straight man wear pantaloons, a blouse and pompoms at once

“Oh but he’s a clown” no janet he’s a homosexual

He definitely has a preference for pretty people, he’s a little shallow but give him a break, they’re thousands of years old

WOMEN

ROSE THE HAT

Ok i think rose would be bi

She’s lived several lifetimes and has had time to experience it all

I think she’s fairly neutral with a slight preference towards women due to the tenderness that seems to come more easily from them

Though she has been known to experiment even during her relationships so i think she’s also poly

TIFFANY VALENTINE

Definite bi, 100%

I mean have you seen here in the tv series, or at all? She loves women, maybe more than chucky sometimes

Strong feminine preference, regardless of gender or lack thereof, she just wants her partner to be pretty like she is

Also if her partners fem she’d definitely do their makeup and share clothes bc she obviously has the best fashion sense

AMANDA YOUNG

Listen, most people think she has a thing for John but i’d prefer to view it as a father/daughter dynamic so i’m gonna say she’s a lesbian

From her own experiences men are more aggressive and thats the last thing she needs at this point

She just wants a cute girl that can protect her and treat her right

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

The Lothbroks, aka, the European version of the Kardashians.

Summary: When Barbie Murray time travels, she finds out that pink isn’t available in Viking times. Luckily, her new besties all understand that boobs are the best and slay (literally?!) with her.

Notes: I’m finally done! This was so much fun to write to all the kings, queens and gender-neutral rulers, enjoy this crack fic. It’s my new fave.

My inspos for bimbo dearest are Karen smith, Elle woods and the lovely @chrissychlapecka on insta

The character speaks Norse bc reasons and magic, and she’s besties with Hvitty bc he’s the biggest himbo in the series. Also she’s QUEER bc queer bimbos are the best bimbos. Only platonic relationships in this one!!

Based on this request, i hope you like it!

Barbie

There are a few things to know about me, Barbara Murray. One, don’t call me Barbara, unless you want me to put you on my list of idiots and douches. Barbie or babe is fine. Two, I LOVE pink and three? Umm, well, I kinda forgot about three. We can come back to it later.

Anyways, you may be wondering, what is this thing? Technically, it’s my English notebook, but I’m in a cellar right now. And it’s weird. Plus, Annie Frank got famous for her diary, and we don’t even know if she was up to date with the tea from the forties.

The cellar is really musty, and I hope that they’ll just get me out of here and sell me back home. This sicko with brown clothes found me in the woods with a bunch of other men who all haven’t showered in at least a week and dragged me down here!

He tried to take my purse too, but there’s no way that I’m letting go of my baby, so I whacked him over the head real hard and he let it go for now. I’ve been here for what? Three days now?

Let me be honest, the food they have sucks too! And not only because it doesn’t fit my diet (I’m totally animal cruelty free by the way) but also because it’s just gross. It’ll be good for my stomach though. Like a natural detox or something.

On the first day, the castle was totally loud, and I couldn’t even sleep, but then it got kinda quiet. This old guy with a beard came down here, and he gave me Santa vibes, but in a bad way. He gave me some wine – that was good at least and then he left again. Right now, this priest (or at least I think he’s a priest, he’s been singing in Latin or so) is staring at me. Everyone stares at me here, but I know it’s just because they’re jealous of my jumpsuit.

Actually, maybe my daddy screwed them over too, and that’s why I’m here.

“Gloria Patri, et Filio, et Spiritui Sancto. Sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper, et in saecula saeculorum. Amen.” The priest suddenly said.

Gloria Patrizi? I know that girl!

“You know, I don’t understand half of what you’re saying babe, but you should know that Gloria is a total bitch. She’s a cheater and she broke my baby brother’s heart!” I tried to tell him, but he just kept going. Don’t ask me why, neither of us was getting anything out of the conversation.

And then, this priest had the audacity to throw water at me! Literally! He just splashed it on my hair. I told him some nasty words that I won’t put into my biography and then he looked terrified and left. Kinda rude of him.

Well, after that I tried to get some beauty sleep but then they had the audacity to ring church bells! Who even does that in LA?

Hvitserk

The raid had been successful of course. Who was going to stand in the way of the Heathen Army? Or him, for that matter? However, his brothers were fighting again, over what to do with the Saxon king, and he didn’t want to listen any longer.

Harald’s men were already searching for wine in the cellars, but Hvitserk was more interested in the people that had been left behind in the dungeons. Perhaps one of them would be able to tell him more about what happened to his father.

He found himself disappointed at the amount of prisoners. At first it seemed like there were none at all, but when he got to the last cell, he saw a woman sitting in one corner, wearing extremely bright clothes. Brighter than anything his mother had ever worn!

“Ragnar Lothbrok.” Hvitserk demanded, hoping that the name would ring a bell in this woman’s mind. She looked up, and Hvitserk narrowed his eyes at her make-up. She wore something that was similar to the eyeliner Yidu had once drawn on herself in Frankia and her eyes were encrusted with – were those gems?!

It was either gems or something else that was glittering while she turned her head.

“Who?” she asked. “Wait, is he famous? Or is that your name? It’s a weird name if you ask me but- “

“You speak Norse?” Hvitserk interrupted.

The woman snorted and rolled her eyes, as if Hvitserk was the biggest idiot to ever grace the Earth. “No, I’m speaking English sweetie.” She laughed.

Hvitserk found himself blushing under her open affection. She was certainly more direct than other Saxon women.

“I’m Hvitserk.” He introduced. The woman’s brows furrowed for a moment, and she laid her head to the side as if she was pondering over a difficult question.

“That sounds like a sneeze babe, no offense. I’m going to call you babe, okay?”

“I’m not a babe!” Hvitserk protested angrily, stepping towards the cell’s bars. Instead of shrinking back, the woman only rolled her eyes again.

“Fine, I’ll call you Hvitty then.”

“And you?” Hvitserk asked. If she was going to be rude about his name, he would be rude about hers.

“What about me?” the woman asked. Absentmindedly, she took a vial with a clear liquid inside out of her bag and smeared some on her lips. It made them shine nicely, and momentarily, Hvitserk was distracted before he snapped back to attention.

“Want some? It’s cherry flavored.” She offered, holding the thin stick from the vial out.

“I like cherry.” Hvitserk agreed, and stepped even nearer, unsure why. The woman put some of the liquid on his lips and a sweet smell that was much to strong immediately hit his nose, before he licked his lips to taste it.

It did not taste much like cherry.

“Why did you do that?” the woman shrieked, and she looked flabbergasted (one of Hvitserk’s favorite words).

“You said it was cherry flavored.” He shrugged. She huffed, crossing her arms.

“So what’s your name?” Hvitserk tried again.

“Oh my name! It’s Barbara.” She began, but suddenly she jutted her finger out, stabbing a brightly painted nail into his chest. “But! Don’t call me that! Call me Barbie!”

“Barbie? That’s not a real name.” Hvitserk laughed and the woman turned on her heel, grabbing a small, also very bright sack from one corner of her cell.

“Well, I exist, so it’s real.” She said, as if that was the most obvious thing. “And I don’t really know what a Lothbrok is, but maybe that’s just because you’re European.”

European? What did that mean? Was it an insult?

“I’m also a Lothbrok.” Hvitserk informed her proudly, trying to ignore the fact that she wasn’t paying much attention to him, instead staring into a small, round device. Suddenly, she snapped it closed and smiled at him brightly.

“Oh! So it’s like a last name? That’s super cool. Hvitty, do you have the key for this cell? I’ve got a mani-pedi scheduled with my girls tomorrow and I really need to get home.”

Hvitserk didn’t bother asking what a mani-pedi was supposed to be, choosing to instead grab the keys from one of the dead guardsmen. When he came back, Barbie was brushing her hair, but clapped her hands together at the sight of him.

“Bestie! You’re back!” she squealed, and Hvitserk found himself more and more confused by her by the second.

As soon as the cell door was open, the woman walked outside, immediately hooking her arm with Hvitserk’s. He would’ve made a comment about it, if he hadn’t noticed her strange shoes in that moment. They were, of course, in that bright color he had never seen before, and had stilts at the bottom. He almost wanted to shake his head.

Somehow, Barbie noticed, immediately stopping in her tracks. “Are you hating on my heels? ‘Cause I can run in them, and I’ll run after you if you make one shady comment.”

“I’ve- I’ve just never seen such shoes before.” Hvitserk stuttered.

“Men.” Barbie muttered under her breath but put her arm back in his. “So, are you like, the only Lothbrok? Or are there more Lothbroks? ‘Cause my family is like, big. You know, I have lots of siblings, and half-siblings, and stepsiblings and everything. My daddy calls it the horribly big Murray clan, but I like them all.”

“I have four brothers. One half-brother and three full brothers. They’re fighting, so I doubt- “

“Family drama? There’s no way you’re keeping me away from that.” She protested, before coming to a halt before the guardsman.

“Is he like, dead?” she whispered.

“Why are you whispering?” Hvitserk replied, also lowering his voice.

“He could be sleeping! It’s important that your sleep cycle isn’t interrupted, that’s just bad for your skin.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s dead.” Hvitserk said.

“Pretty sure?” she shrieked. “You didn’t check? Did you kill him?!”

“I did not kill him.” Hvitserk replied, trying to hold back his laughter as Barbie prodded the Saxon with her ‘heels’.

“You should totally introduce me to your brothers.” Barbie demanded, and Hvitserk almost wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose. She obviously had no idea how dangerous they all were, but she had survived the Saxons with all her bullshit, and speaking Norse, so he decided that this was all fate.

“Just to prepare you, my youngest brother Ivar has a bit of a temperament.” Hvitserk said, but as Barbie cheerfully nodded, he gave up on warning her – she’d manage somehow.

***

Ubbe was the first to notice Hvitserk and Barbie standing in the doorway, and Hvitserk quickly noticed the questioning brow his older brother gave him, quickly shaking his head in response.

“Hey guys!” Barbie began enthusiastically, “Are you Hvitty’s brothers?”

While the others stared at her, Ivar began to snigger. “Hvitty?” he asked.

“Yeah, totes!” she replied. “It’s my nickname for him. Who are you? Ivar?”

Ivar seemed a bit taken aback by her manner, just like Hvitserk, but still nodded. She listened as the other brothers introduced themselves and then nodded to the ceiling.

“Okay, but why do you guys have a guy in a cage? Are you some kind of cult?”

“That’s the man who killed our father.” Ivar replied darkly.

“We’re getting revenge for him.” Sigurd added.

“That’s like totally medieval, but I love it for you guys!” She laughed, walking over to Ivar. “Can you scooch over a bit? That cell was like, totally uncomfy and I really need to rest my knees. Walking in heels is hard work.”

Hvitserk was surprised when Ivar did move, and Barbie sat down next to him, crossing her legs and setting her bag down on her knees.

“So who are you, and what is it you do?” Ubbe asked.

“Well, I’m Barbie, and mostly,” she paused for a second, stretching out her legs and leaning onto the chair. “Well I guess I slay, most of the time.”

“You” Bjorn began, “Are a warrior?”

“Well that’s what my Pilates coach says.” Barbie shrugged. “Do you guys do Pilates too?”

“Is that a fighting style?” Ivar asked, suddenly interested.

“No! It’s a lifestyle. Of course, I don’t expect you guys to understand. You look like tough mudders, which is totally gross because my ex did it every weekend. Being the supportive girlfriend I am, I went with him and it ruined two of my handbags and three pairs of heels!”

Slowly, Ivar began nodding along. He was confused, just like the rest of them, but Hvitserk could tell that he found her just as amusing as he did. “And what did you do in response?” he asked.

“Well, I asked him to apologize, and when he went on an ego-trip because of it, I broke up with him.”

The conversation went on for a while, and Hvitserk watched as Barbie answered all of his brothers questions. He was beginning to realise that she probably wasn’t Saxon or Viking, or anything else they had ever encountered.

“Where are you from?” he asked carefully.

“LA, duh. I’m American, even though that’s gotten a little problematic nowadays, but it’s the Golden Coast, so I still slay.”

Before any of the brothers could ask her any more questions, King Harald burst in.

“Are you finally done with Ecbert? The people are getting impatient.” He announced, not noticing Barbie. Absentmindedly, Hvitserk let his hand wander down to the axe in his belt. He liked Barbie, and he considered her a sort of strange friend.

“We are not.” Ivar replied. “Tell them it’ll take some more time.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Harald said.

“Why? Because I’m the youngest or a cripple?” he asked. Hvitserk heard Barbie gasp.

“Ivar! Don’t let others define your worth like that! I think you’re amazing. You know what, you can do what Ivar says. I might only have known him for an hour or so, but he gave me a seat, so I’ll be the judge of character here. I think you suck.”

“And who are you?” Harald asked, his voice dangerously low.

“Barbie Murray. Last year’s Miss California, and the best fashion advisor you could ask for. And it looks like you are in desperate need, mister.”

To Hvitserk’s surprise, Harald did not kill Barbie on the spot, instead choosing to turn around and slam the door behind him.

“Hvitty, is he always like that?” Barbie asked, and he nodded with a sigh.

“Come on, I can’t imagine the Saxons gave you very good food while you were in there, let’s get you something to eat.”

***

After dinner, Hvitserk and Ivar made sure that Barbie got a well-protected and comfortable tent to sleep in, and Hvitserk himself was about to settle down, when he suddenly heard a shriek from Barbie’s tent.

Immediately, he sprung up and hurried to her, only to see her kneeling over her ‘handbag’.

“Hvitty, it’s broken!” she cried, holding it out to him, and Hvitserk realized that there was a large tear in the leather. He would’ve laughed at the comical horror in her eyes, but during the day, he had learned how much her handbag meant to Barbie (almost as much as her current girlfriend), so he rushed to her side to examine the tear.

“Oh this world is so cruel!” Barbie cried, and Hvitserk attempted to pat her on the back.

“Don’t worry Barbie! .” He reassured. “I’m sure one of the shieldmaidens will be able to help you.”

Barbie sniffled on his shoulder, but nodded, leaning into Hvitserk as they walked towards another part of the camp. Hvitserk had to smile to himself. His new friend might be strange, but she was one of the kindest people he had ever met, and that included Helga. He was going to get that bag fixed for her.

[kimnjss]

how sticky | kth

⇢ pairing: ot7 x reader // taehyung focus. ⇢ genre: smut. // pwp. ⇢ word count: 7.6K ⇢ theme: established relationships.  ⇢ rating: explicit. ⇢ warnings: cursing, dirty talk, poly relationship, handjobs, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), public sex, outdoor sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up lovelies), all the boys wanna kiss yn, cum inside/stuffing, slight over stimulation if you squint. ⇢ A/N: literally this idea came to me while watching the first episode and seeing tae washes the dishes sooo, here you goo!! lmao x also if it seems messy or all over the place, that’s bc i wrote this while streaming dynamite and obvi got distracted . 

Namjoon is the first to spot you, just as you're tugging your suitcase from the trunk of your car. The large grin that takes over his features as he makes his way over to you, brown hair flopping in the wind with each step he takes. A silver pot held in his hands that he must've forgotten the purpose of upon setting sights on you.

“You're here.” He says with a large smile, dimples showing while he leaning down to press a soft kiss to your waiting lips. “Did you eat?”

Just with one look around the backyard, you can tell that they just finished eating. Had hoped to arrive a bit earlier so you'd be able to eat with them. “Not yet,” He looked good, as usual, but oddly more attractive in this outdoor environment.

The blue two-piece outfit, which you had quickly realized was a favorite of his, hung loosely around his body. The muscles in his arms flexed as he kept his grip on the pot in his hand. Eyes turn to half-moons with the way he was smiling at you.

It had been a few weeks since you saw them last. What with their jam packed schedule and you keeping up with the things going on in your own life, there wasn't really time to be together the way you wanted. A constant long-distance relationship with the seven of them, even if they were only a few miles away.

Which was the biggest reason you were jumping on the chance to spend this week with them. Secluded with nothing to do but be together. It had been Jin who had suggested it, finding out that you had the same week free. What better way to spend it then with your boyfriends? Agreement coming from his younger members instantly and to your surprise, the staff was quick to agree as well. 

Most times riddled a distraction, but it seemed that you being here sort of fit the relaxation, recharging theme of this entire trip. Zero complaints from you, of course, you were packing your bags the moment you got the green light.

“I'll make you a plate, wait.”

All of a sudden remembering he had been in the middle of doing something before seeing you. Quick steps are taken into the house with the pot in hand and you're right behind him, marveling at the huge land they had rented out for this. All of the greens of the mountains and grass was a pretty contrast to the bright blue sky, the sparkling lake that you couldn't wait to try out.

And there was so much stuff! Placed all over the place from where you can see, each item matching a different member's personality so well that you could guess who asked for what. 

Joon is coming back, hands-free, but only to grab your suitcase, wheeling it into the house. He's gone talking to whoever is in the kitchen before he's returning, arm easily wrapping around your waist as he leads you down the hill.

“You came here looking refreshed,” He notes, finally saying out loud what he had been thinking since you were pulling the suitcase from the car.

Out of all of them, Namjoon seemed to pay a lot of attention to the way you looked. And no, not just the clothes you wore and how they fit – but like deeper. He paid a lot of attention to your facial expressions more than anything, reading your demeanor as if it was his latest page-turner.

A blessing and a curse, because although he knew when something was bothering you and tried his best to fix it without you saying a word. It was also really, extremely hard to hide things for him. Not that you tried to often.

“It was a nice drive and I'm excited to spend time with you guys,” The smile that takes over your features is causing a flutter in his heart, his large hand landing on your arm that you've wrapped around his torso – walking the rest of the way like that.

Jimin is whipping around at the sound of footsteps approaching, and you're eyes are widening at the sight of him. Unwrapping yourself from Joon's body, you're rushing the rest of your steps hands outstretched to touch the edge of the gat hanging from his neck.

“You actually wore it?” Speaking through a slight giggle and he's grinning, hands finding home on your torso as he playfully rolls his eyes. “Of course I wore it, so you better deliver,”

The result of a drunk game of Truth or Dare between the two of you. He spent the entire night choosing truth, but as soon as he was picking dare you were telling him to wear his new hanbok for the first day of shooting. He was agreeing with a roll of his eyes, boasting about how easy it was.

Then on your turn, he was hitting you with that sly grin of his. 'If I wear my hanbok for shooting, then you need to let me...' Words trailing off as he suggestively wiggled his eyebrows in your direction. You were quick to put two and two together of what he wanted. And you were agreeing because of course, you wanted it too.

With a distracted nod, your eyes are shifting to the moving figure behind him. “Of course, baby. Whatever you want.” Breaking from his grasp just as Namjoon is extending the full bowl in your direction.

You thank him with a wide smile, which he acknowledges with a short nod – going back to cleaning up while you take a seat at the table. Sat eating the food that you can tell was made by Jungkook as you watch your two men move around the yard until Joon is disappearing into the house again. Someone else exiting at the same time.

“I thought I heard your voice!” There's a smile in his voice that you can detect without having to listen very hard. And you're proven right as you lift your head, being met with Hoseok's bright smile. “When'd you get here?” He wonders once he's closer, taking the empty spot beside you.

“Not too long ago,” You speak through the mouthful of food in your mouth, the words you're speaking coming out a murmured mess. 

The smile on Hoseok's face only grows, his hand lifting to push his hair back on his forehead. “I missed you.” A random confession that has heat rising in your cheeks. He always did this. Knew what a few simple words did to your mind and took pleasure in making you flustered whenever possible.

This time was no different. Just three words and you were forced to put extra focus on your noodles. He missed you. Obviously, you missed him – that's a given. But the fact that he, Jung Hoseok actually missed you and was just telling you about it casually. With that smile on his face. Yeah, he knew exactly what he was doing.

“I missed you too.” A delayed reply, but he's not faltering. Doesn't even think twice about what you could have been thinking about in the time it took you to answer. Instead, he's reaching his arm to wrap around your shoulders, pulling your body into his so he's able to press a dozen chaste kisses to the top of your head.

And then just like that, he's releasing you. Not even giving you a moment to react before he's standing from his spot beside you and moving to help Jimin clean up the outside area.

After the third time, you're asked to scoot over, you're standing feeling as though you're in the way of the cleaning. So, you go to find the others that you haven't seen yet. Thanks to a FaceTime call from Jungkook while they were going through the tour, you had a pretty good understanding of the layout of this place.

Heading over the hill to the Upper House, bowl in hand. And you're grinning when you spot Jin standing out front, staring at the line of delivered groceries in front of him. “Jinnie!” You're calling with a wave of your hand, and he's turning around.

“Yn!” He calls, just as loud – waving you over with one frantic hand.

Easily speeding up your footsteps, it's not long before you're standing in front of him. Arms wrapped around his torso in a tight hug. “What are you doing?” He's out of your hold now, bending to lift the bags off the ground.

“Putting groceries away.”

Following behind him, you shovel mouthfuls of noodles into your mouth while sinking down at the island. For a little while, you're able to enjoy your meal and engage in broken chatter was Jin moves in and out of the house.

He's filling you in on all the plans he has for this trip and the things he's excited about and you listen with a smile on your face. Loving the way he looks when he's completely in his element, eyes sparkling as he talks about being able to fish with Yoongi.

Speaking of Yoongi. Sauntering out from God knows where, white tee hanging loose – revealing a bit of his chest, baggy black jeans that you've now decided is the only thing you ever want to see him in. His hair is unkempt, laying messily over his forehead and only slightly covering his eyes.

There's a smirk on his face when he notices the blatant way you're gawking at him, sinking into the seat beside you – his cold hand not hesitating to reach for your thigh. “You're here?” He speaks in the bored uninterested drawl that you've become used to. Use to read too much into it before you were realizing that just the way he talked.

Now it had the ability to have heat rushing through your veins, especially if he was using that voice when telling you just exactly he wanted to do to you. Never failed to have you basically salivating, putty for him.

“I just came...” The patterns he draws on your inner thigh stills as he lifts his eyes to look at you, a chuckle falling from his lips. “Did you?” He asks teasingly and you're too dazed to pick up on the double meaning of your words.

His hand inches further up your thigh until the tips of his fingers are just inches from reaching the hem of your mesh shorts. Without a thought, your legs are opening for him – giving him as much room as he needs to do whatever he wants.

Yoongi's grinning at your compliance, his lips are just inches for yours. He takes a moment to study your features. Lips shiny with grease, cheeks slightly flushed, eyes staring unfocused. A slow grin lifts the corners of his lips moments before he's leaning in closer.

Yoongi kisses you once as if he's testing the waters before diving in. Grip tightening on your thigh, pulling your body closer to his while he slowly moves his mouth over yours. Soft tongue slowly tracing over your lower lip and you're instantly opening up for him.

The groan that leaves his lips from the feeling of your wet muscles meeting as arousal rushing through your veins and pooling between your legs, fingers reaching to grasp the rough material of his pants for some type of grounding.

And he grins, teeth gently tugging at your lower lip as his hand slides up your thigh toward your waist. So sure he's fingers are about to sneak underneath your shirt, so you giddily wait for the contact. 

But it never comes. "Would you let the girl breathe, she just got here." Is what you hear.

Jimin, into the Upper House to change into something comfortable. And all too ready to scold his Hyung for trying something with you when it hasn't even been an hour. With a roll of those dark eyes of his, Yoongi is leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips – much different from what he had initially planned.

Moment ruined, he's standing from his spot beside you. “I'm gonna go help Jin,” He announces to no one in particular, cheeks darkened with pink from having been caught. Yoongi talked a big game, but he was the most private out of the boys. Wasn't one for an unwarranted audience and preferred to have you to himself rather than sharing you.

“Tae's washing dishes if you're done with that.” He's jutting his chin out to point at your empty bowl on the island. As he speaks, he undoes the tie of his top letting it sag at his shoulders before he's shrugging it off. And you watch his fingers carefully, allowing your mind to wander to just how skilled he was with those fingers.

Playing the same notes for the past eight years on the piano wasn't the only thing he was good at. It's a moment before you register his words enough to stand to your feet, plucking your plate up and exiting the Upper House to find Taehyung.

Back to you as he scrubs the inside of the bowl, you watch as his hips sway to whatever song he's got going in his head. No idea that you're entering the kitchen or that you've arrived – just in his own world.

Taehyung looks handsome even from the back. 

His broad shoulders were still visible underneath the brown top that was just so him. He wore a pair of olive green shorts, giving you a perfect view of his strong legs and the way they flexed with the movement of his feet. Thoroughly riled up from Yoongi's interrupted touches from before, you're struck with a very mischievous thought.

Light steps are taken in Taehyung's direction, quickly setting your bowl in the sink before reaching your arms to wrap around his waist. Palms sneaking underneath the fabric of his shirt so you're able to touch his soft belly. You feel him still against you, taking a moment to put together that it's you back hugging him like this.

He's turning just enough so he can look down at you, a large smile spread across his lips as his eyes take in your face that looks brighter for some reason. “How long have you been there?” Tae tries to hug you back but gives up because of the awkward position.

“Not long,” You answer, nose pressed in the dip of his back after he's turned. Your lips place soft kisses against his covered back, the tips of his fingers brushing over the skin of his stomach. “I missed you.”

And you had. There was just something about Taehyung that drove you crazy with little to no effort. Had to be his aura. The way he carried himself. The unreadable expression that always decorated his features. How he was able to smile with his entire face, pulling large smiles on the lips of the people around him.

All of that and the simple fact of how well the boy could fuck. Of course, all of the guys knew how you make you feel good. All in their own ways, different and unique and still good. But Taehyung. Fuck, Kim Taehyung. A living Sex God, with a thick long cock that he knew how to use. Long fingers that could bring you to climax over and over again with very little time in between. And that mouth. God, that mouth. 

Porn stars would blush at the dirty things that came out of that boy's mouth.

Taehyung's eyebrow is lifting at the mindless way your fingers are dipping lower down his body, flinching just slightly when the tips of your fingers are grazing his quickly hardening cock. “That type of missed me, huh?” He's grinning, you can tell without having to see his face.

Head nodding slightly, you continue placing gentle kisses against his back – fingers drawing teasing lines over his cock through the fabric of his shorts. “Don't be a tease,” He hisses.

His wet, glove covered hand is wrapping around your wrist – forcing more of his cock underneath your palm. A soft moan falls from your lips at the feeling of it twitching with the new friction. Tae's hips rock slowly with the movement of your hand, half of his attention still on the dishes he washes.

And you pout. Want to turn his mind to mush like he's done to you many times before. Until the only thing he can think about is you and how you're making him feel. Fuck the dishes.

Even on your tiptoes, you're only able to reach the nape of his neck. But it's the first bit of bare skin you're able to press your lips against so you settle for it. Leaving open mouth kisses on it while your fingers slowly make their way underneath the waistband of his shorts.

Pleased to find he had decided to forego underwear, you're instantly met with the warmth of his shaft. A low cruse falling from his lips when your cool palm is wrapping around him. And you hold it there. Waiting to hear the scoff that falls from his lips as he starts to rock his hips again – his cock sliding through your grip easily.

The sound of his breathy groans fills the kitchen, egging you on. You can feel him growing harder in your hand and the slow drag of his hips is quickly driving you crazy until you're giving in to the tiny game you were playing and moving your hand.

“Oh, fuck.” Tae hisses, the dish he had been holding crashing into the sink as his fists reach to grip the edge of the sink. Voice gruff and it's usual deep, it has a wash of arousal flooding your body and fueling your movements. Free hand lifting to grasp his hipbone, holding him steady as you bring your hand up toward his tip.

A simple swipe of your thumb over his bulbous has a shiver running down his spine and a grin pulling on your lips. Strokes on his shaft speeding up as the sound of his breathy groans tickled your ears. Hips stuttering underneath your grasp in an attempt to take more than what you were willing to give him.

Always so greedy.

“Does it feel good?” Voice hushed where he can just barely hear.

Taehyung is quick to nod his head, though. “Your hand feels so good on me, Yn. Faster,” He whines, something that you're not quite used to hearing from him. Especially over a simple handjob.

He must've missed you a lot more than he was willing to admit.

And because your soul purpose is to give Taehyung any and everything he asks for, you're rubbing down on him quicker, squeezing him a bit harder. His cock twitches and jumps in your hold and you're fastened by the effect you have on him that your grip on his hip is loosening – allowing him to freely roll his hips upward.

A strong arm is reaching back while his body twists, large glove covered hand tangled in your hair to hold your head steady. For the first time, you're getting a good look at his face. Eyes blown and unfocused, his cheeks flushed and lips bitten. He looks so sexy staring at you as if it's taking all his restraint not to devour you.

The way he leans in, crashing his lips into yours for a sloppy hungry kiss only validates your thoughts. Grip tightening in your hair to hold your head still while his tongue tickles the roof of your mouth.

You try, desperately, to keep your focus on the movement of your hand. Letting him lick into your mouth and kissing him just as much as you can without completely losing your mind. Taehyung, like his six other teammates, worked really well with his mouth. In all ways.

He's nibbling on your lower lip, harsh breaths exiting his nostrils as your thumb runs over the underside of his cock. So close and you can tell from the now frantic roll of his hips. And you're more than ready to bring him there, loved watching him fall apart for you, because of you.

More than ready to have him explode in your palm so you can like it up when the sharp knock on the glass behind you is stilling your movements. Head turning to peak behind you, but Taehyung does stop his head tilting so he's able to suck wet hickeys into your warm skin.

Hoseok stands on the other side of the door, looking extremely impatient. You move to pull your hand from his pants, but Taehyung is quick to grasp your wrist. “Yn, I swear to God.” He speaks through gritted teeth and you're flashing a bright smile up at him.

“It's Hobi,” There's another knock on the glass, “He can't just stand out there,” Laughing, you manage to wiggle yourself out of Taehyung's grasp. He watches you with squinted eyes as you pull the door open for his Hyung.

Cued in on what had been keeping you, a teasing smirk plays on his lips. “What? You're just in here giving Taehyungie all the attention?” Both hands knit into your hair from underneath, slowly closing the space between you two.

“He's working hard in here,” You defend with a slight pout. Upon realizing he wasn't going to be getting off any time soon, Tae turns his attention back to the dishes. Scrubbing the gunk off with much for strength than needed, quiet grumbles leaving his lips.

“I worked hard too, cleaned up outside all by myself. What do I get?” Lips a mere inches from yours, all you'd have to do was lift up onto your tiptoes to feel their softness. “I saw Jiminie helping you.”

Hoseok is rolling his eyes at the slight detail. You're teasing him, he can tell from the way you're gripping his shirt in your fists. Like you're desperate to feel him but at the same time seeing how much you can hold back.

What you failed to realize was, he was much better at teasing than you. Without a second thought, he's leaning down to press his lips against yours. Kiss much different from Taehyung's. More controlled. More intense. Strong hands reach for your thighs, easily lifting your body off of the floor and setting you to sit on the countertop.

He's taking up space between your legs, large hands set on your thighs while he sucks your lower lip into his mouth. You can feel the smirk that plays on his lips from the sound of your moan. 

Hoseok responds by reaching back to give your ass a firm squeeze, pulling your body toward his. He's hard. You can feel it through the fabric of his neon shorts, but the moment you're angling your hips to feel more of him – he's pulling back. 

“Jimin should finish up, hm?” Recalling your earlier comment with a teasing glint in his eye. Planting a soft kiss to your lips, he backs away attention now on Namjoon who had entered with a bag of groceries. As if nothing had happened.

Body buzzing and senses fogged, you're left to wonder just how many times you'd be denied the release you craved.

The two men chatted amongst each other mindlessly, surveying the contents of the fully stalked fridge in front of them. Joon is pulling a bottle of coffee from the bunch, handing it over to you with a soft smile before twisting the cap on his own. You watch as he wraps his plump lips around the edge, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows the liquid down.

Plopping down on the soft red cushion, you watch as Joon moves to offer Tae a sip of his drink. Which he's denying with a pout of his lips. From where you're sitting, you can see that his bulge has gone down a bit – but the foggy need for sexual release stays. You know the feeling. Had half the mind to get on your knees for him right then and there, not like either of them would complain.

They did share you, at times. And those were the times that you secretly hoped for each time you were being interrupted with one of them. But, all of them were so different from their interests and really liked the idea of being alone with you – it didn't happen as often as you'd like.

You could simply suggest it and no doubt they'd agree to the idea. Ready to do whatever you asked to fill your desire. But you liked the surprise of not knowing just when you'd be taking two cocks, or three, or maybe even four. All seven if the weather was right. The suspense had a great effect on you.

Jimin is entering the main house just as halfway through drinking your chilled coffee. Fully changed out of his hanbok, standing in a pair of loose-fitting black shorts and a white SAINT LAURENT tee. Dark hair floppy messily at the top of his head, evident that he's been running his fingers through it.

He looked good enough to eat and if he kept looking at you with those bedroom eyes, you were about to do just that. Beeline made in your direction, settling in the spot beside you. An innocent hand lands on your thigh and your brain short circuits, registering it as anything but.

Without a word, he's reaching for your bottle, taking a long sip from it before licking the drip from his lips. “Where's Kookie?” You ask, forcing your thoughts not to wander too much. And realizing you had yet to see that bunny smile of his, hear the cute way he say's 'Noona' as he wobbles in your direction.

The same age as Namjoon which made you older than Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook – yet Jungkook was the only one out of the three that actually referred to you as Noona. No matter how many times you'd tell him to speak comfortably with you, he'd refuse with blushed and a shake of his head.

The others believed he got off on it, the subtle reminder that you were older than him but he was still able to turn you to make you fall apart with the simple flex of his thigh. “You haven't seen him?” Hoseok speaks with his head inches deep in the fridge and you shake your head despite the fact he cannot see you.

“He’ll come running the moment he hears you're here,” Deciding that your drink is his now, Jimin stands from his spot beside you heading further into the house. Steps cut off by Jungkook turning the corner, as if on cue.

“What!?” A large grin on his lips as his sparkling eyes land on you. Soft hair bouncing as he skips over to you, leaning over the counter so you're face to face. Tattooed hand reaching forward to enclose the back of your neck, gently pulling you forward until your foreheads are touching. “You didn't tell me you were here, Noona.” Eyebrow arched and head tilted to the side.

You can barely see his face with how close you are to it, but there's no doubt that he looks attractive as hell right now in his attempt to be intimidating. Lower lip poking out in a slight plea, “I'm sorry, baby. I was asking about you, though.”

Jungkook only half listens to your words. Some space put between you and he takes advantage of that by allowing his eyes to take in your appearance greedily. Aware of the warmer temperature, you had decided a simple v-neck crop top would suffice. From this angle, he could see straight down your top. And he was doing very little to hide the fact that he was looking, respectfully.

“I'm sure you can think of some ways to make it up to me. Right, Noona?” Hand slipping from the back of your neck, the tips of his fingers brushing over the collar of your shirt. Lips suddenly dry, your tongue is jutting out to wet them. Thighs squeeze together instinctively at the promise his words held.

A contrast to his demeanor, Jungkook is placing a sweet kiss on your lips. One that lingers for a second shorter than you want, but the small smile on his lips upon pulling away is enough to make your heart melt.

All at once, he's releasing you and moving on to follow Jimin out of the kitchen. Taehyung is finishing up he dishes at the same moment, shaking his hands of the water droplets before wiping the excess onto his shorts.

Alone in the room with him again and you feel the atmosphere shift as soon as his eyes settle on you. Finally able to get a good look at you and taking in just how short your shorts are and how thin the material of your top is. But Taehyung is a gentleman when he wants to be. 

His hand rests on your back, the tips of his fingers brushing against the bare skin your shirt leaves exposed. “Want to go for a walk?” Teeth biting into his plump lower lip. Instantly, you're sliding from your seat head nodding at his words.

Taehyung's arms wrap around your waist, pulling your body into his chest and you just faintly see the grin on his face before you're being enveloped in his sweet scent. Guided steps are taken into the game room where Namjoon sits, a laugh leaving his lips at the weird way the two of you are walking.

“What are you making?”

“A boat,” Joon says with a wide smile, lifting the plastic boat to show you. Cutie. Impatient, Taehyung is pushing his hips forward into yours. Even through the layers and with the small fact that he's not exactly hard at the moment – you can still feel his bulge against your ass cheek.

But he doesn't stop there, slowly dragging his hips up so you can feel his entire length. A strangled gasp is leaving your lips that has Taehyung smirking, Namjoon too focused on whether or not he just broke his model, doesn't notice.

Arms tightening around your waist, Taehyung takes a step forward – urging you to do the same.

When Tae said he wanted to take you on a walk, he wasn't speaking in sexual innuendos. You had actually gone for a walk around the land. Hand in hand making comfortable chatter as you soaked in the nice weather.

Somehow, you managed to convince yourself that he hadn't been itching to get you alone to fuck you – but really just wanted to spend some time alone with you. It's sweet when you think about it. The gentle way he's talking to you about the nervousness that surrounds working on his new mixtape. His soft thumb brushing over your knuckles as you assure him that everything will turn out alright.

It's not until you're reaching the picnic table just a few feet from the water, is he wrapping his arm around your hips. Lifting you from the ground as if you weighed nothing and setting you down on the table.

Blunt nails lightly dragging over the back of your knees as he gently spreads your legs so he's able to stand in the middle of them. He's easily hooking your legs around his waist, ankles instantly locking to pull him closer to you. “You know what I want to do right now?” 

“What?” You humor him, even though you could probably guess. Arms lifting to wrap around his neck, head tilting to the side as a slight smirk plays on your lips. His mouth hovers over your ear, wet brushing over the shell of it as he speaks.

“Wanna taste that sweet little cunt. Bet you're already soaked from all the attention you've been getting.” To prove his point, Tae's fingers trail up between your thighs. Your body shudders as he drags a single digit over your slit through the fabric.

He wasn't wrong, had started to feel the heat pool between your legs when Yoongi first kissed you. Mind driving you insane with being able to be with them for this entire week. All of them. It was safe to say it had gotten to you in a very obvious way.

Not one to tease, Taehyung is using his long fingers to push both your shorts and panties to the side so his fingers can press against your bare skin. A surprised gasp leaving your lips with the nudge on your clit, hips bowing toward him. He grins.

“Gonna be a good girl for me?” He's a little breathless, but his fingers never falter. A single digit slipping past your folds and pushing through your walls. “Shit.” He chuckles at the enthusiastic way you nod your hand, tongue rolling over his lips before biting down. “Yeah? Gonna cum all sloppy on my tongue, baby? Let me hear you.”

At the end of his words, his thumb is pressing into your clit, rolling it around lazily as his finger moves slowly inside of you. “Y-yes-” Words breaking on a loud whine, he slows his fingers – waiting. “Wanna cum on your tongue, Tae... p-please.” Hips lifting to rock into his hand but he's pulling back, leaving you feeling empty.

It doesn't last long because he's quick with lifting your leg. Fingers wet with your arousal and wrapped around your thigh, bringing it up to his shoulder. Tae lowers himself to his knees in front of you, at the same time pushing the useless material aside before diving in.

Taehyung watches you through his long eyelashes while dragging his tongue along your folds. Always loved the way you looked when he was between your legs. The way you tried to keep your eyes open to watch him, biting your lip in an attempt to keep quiet, fingers tangling in his hair – holding him close. Hot.

Tongue dragging up to flick against your clit, Taehyung reaches for your other ankle. Lifting your leg over his shoulder so he's completely enclosed by your legs. Plush lips wrap around your bundle of nerves, sucking gently while he's pushing two fingers past your walls. 

“Oh! Tae, fuck...” Panting at this point, grip in his hair used to pull him tighter against you. His free hand reaching around to sneak underneath the hem of your shorts, palming your ass while pulling you closer. Fingers angled to brush against the sweet spot inside of you, loving the way you squirm underneath him.

Just faintly, you can see the outline of his hard cock through his shorts. Straining against the fabric begging for some attention. Having you spread out for him, hearing those pretty moans fall from your lips is enough to drive anyone mad. And it doesn't help that Tae's been waiting for this for weeks.

Sharp teeth nip at your clit just as he's pushing another finger inside of you. “Taehyung!” You're crying out, in half pleasure – but also a warning. If he continued like this you'd be cumming before even getting to feel him inside of you.

“Close, baby?” His words are delivered into your throbbing cunt, sending vibrations through your body that has your back arching. Fingers tightening in his hair as you grind your hips desperately into him.

So close you can practically taste it, no longer able to worry about not being able to feel him. Just chasing your release. A breathy chant of 'keep going' falling from your lips as you hold his head in place.

Heat spreads throughout your body, a dull ache starting in your core and spreading throughout your body. Walls clenched so tight around his fingers that it's almost hard for him to pull back, so he doesn't, instead pushes deeper – pressing all three fingers against your sweet spot. In that exact moment, his lips are wrapping around your clit, sucking harshly and you feel the band snap.

Body tightening and legs shaking as incoherent curses fall from your lips. Taehyung watches your pretty eyes roll back, head tipping too. And once he's sure you're at the peak of your climax, he's pulling his fingers from inside of you and standing to his feet. Quick with fishing his cock from inside his shorts, you just barely notice the absence before you're being filled again.

A drawn-out whine falls from your lips at the new stretch, a thick groan from his from the tight squeeze. The wetness from your release makes it easy for him to move, though and he's thankful – too eager to wait longer than a few seconds to have you.

Your fingers struggle to find something to grasp as he ruts against you in an almost brutal pace. Each snap of his hips pushing your body further up on the table, only for him to drag you back down toward him. Loud cries and incoherent sentences fall from your lips that you're sure anyone in a 50-mile radius could put together what the two of you are doing.

Taehyung loves it, though. It's like fuel to his ever-growing ego. Chants of his name falling from your pretty lips, nails clutching at the fabric of his shirt as you beg for him. Just the knowledge he's able to make someone like you, like this. Yeah, he loves it.

“Fuck. This greedy little cunt,” He nearly grunts, eyes flashing up to take in your fucked out expression. His thumb is easily finding your clit through the wet mess between your legs, rubbing it slowly. “You wanna cum again? All over my cock this time?”

A frantic bob of your head and a whiny 'please' is prompting him to reach for your hips. Easily, he's lifting your body from the table, securing your legs around his waist. His hips rut against yours with much more fervor in this standing position. And you attempt to meet his thrusts but you're so delirious that all you can manage is a lazy bounce.

Arms wrapped around his neck and face buried in the crook of his neck, your walls squeeze around him as you feel the pressure build in your stomach again. Sloppy, wet kisses sucked into his skin. Teeth scraping against the tanned flesh before you're crying out your orgasm, body shaking in his arms.

You're positive if it weren't for the rough grip he has on your ass, you'd be sprawled out on the floor from the power of it. Taehyung fucks you through the entire thing, not slowing down until he feels his own release approaching, just second after yours. Thighs tightening and thrust becoming sloppy while he pulls your body down tighter against his.

The feeling of his thick ropes of cum coating your insides has your senses waking up, that paired with the slow drag of his cock inside of you has your legs stiffening again. Hips rocking slowly against his as another tiny orgasm washes over you. So small Taehyung wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't been paying attention – but of course, he was.

“Did you just cum again?” He says with a laugh, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Lips sucked into your mouth to hide the sheepish grin that fought to take over your features. “It felt good... you cumming, inside.”

A triumphant grin takes over his features and he's leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your lips. “Let's keep it in then,” He's mumbling against your mouth and you're not sure what he means until he's pulling out – fingers quick to meet your entrance, pushing his cum back inside of you.

Body twitching with overstimulation, but you let him stuff you with his cum, not able to deny how hot it was. Especially the look of concentration on his face, careful not to miss a drop. Once he's satisfied, he's secured your shorts back in place patting his hand over your crotch playfully.

“You better keep it in there, too. Gonna fuck it out of you later,” He promises with a large grin, head tilting up to nibble at your jaw. He's got one hand resting on the curve of your ass, the other gripping your thigh. Zero plans to put you down any time soon, loving the way you're wrapped around him.

He'd stay like this with you forever if he wasn't for the distance shout he's hearing from the main house. Trying to ignore it and praying that you don't hear it, but as it grows louder your ears are perking up.

“Taehyung-ah!” It's Namjoon's voice and you're immediately pulling back when you register it. “Think Joon is looking for us,” You say through a giggle, the kisses he's leaving on your skin starting to tickle.

“He'll give up.” Tae murmurs, trailing a wet line of kisses down the length of your neck. And you almost agree with him, but you hear Namjoon call again and figure it would be best to just go see what he wants. So, despite Taehyung's reluctance, you're unwrapping your legs from around him.

“Or we can go see what's up.” Taehyung's changing his tune once he's realizing you weren't going to change yours.

His arm is easily sliding around your waist, pulling your body into his as the two of you make your way back into the main house. It's a little weird walking with his cum stuffed inside of you. Like a subtle heaviness between your legs that you just barely go without noticing. And if you moved too fast you could feel a bit of it start to trickle out, forcing you to pay much more attention to your movements than usual.

When the two of you are reaching the sliding door, it's locked. Your other six men are sat in the room, snickers falling from their lips with one look at your frazzled state and the fact that you're locked out.

“Ooh, what were you guys doing out there?” You can hear Hoseok's teasing tone through the glass. As if it weren't obvious. As if they didn't hear what you guys were doing out there.

Taehyung doesn't miss a beat, hand dropping down to grasp your ass. “Stuffed her full of my cum.” He says with a wide grin that has hollers of amusement falling from their lips. “Tae!” You're gasping, face heating up as you lift your arm to punch at his shoulder.

“What it's true?” Sparkling eyes turned to you, lips shaped in a soft pout that you'd lean up and kiss if you weren't sure it'd have a glob of his cum rolling down your leg.

Namjoon, your perfect little angel, is the one to pull the door open. And you're thanking him as you walk past, carefully taking the vacant spot beside Jungkook. “Do you really have cum in you, Noona?” He wonders. Eyes dark while a curious hand reaches to brush over the waistband of your shorts.

“Only a little bit,” Fingers lifting to just barely pinch your fingers together to show him. “Prove it,” He says with a tad bit of playfulness in his tone, tugging at your shorts just slightly. 

You have half the mind to do just that. The thought lingering in your mind long enough for both Hoseok and Yoongi to notice. Intrigued, Hobi waits to see if you'll actually do it – but Yoongi speaks up before the tension can grow any thicker.

“We're choosing rooms,” Changing the subject completely acting as if an eight-way orgy wasn't just on the table. “Oh, right!” Joon, who had been subtly watching to see if you take Kook's dare is all of a sudden the reason he had gathered everyone.

A few moments are granted for conversation to bounce around the room, choosing where they'll sleep for the next seven days. And once they've settled their arrangements, attention is back on you – but for an entirely different reason now.

“Noona can share the floating house with me,” Jungkook is saying with a wide grin, keying you in on the fact that this conversation had been going on a bit longer than you had been paying attention.

With a quick nod of your head, you're assuring the young boy that you'll share the room with him. “I figured I'd just bounce around? If you guys don't care.” Much easier that way, whoever wanted you to spend the night in the room – you would. But to keep things tidy, you'd keep your stuff in the floating house with Jungkook.

“Of course we don't care-” Jin starts, but his words are being cut off by Taehyung's haste. “My room first!” Hand raised in a cute schoolboy raised, the look that he pins you with washes all remnants of the word cute out of your mind, though. 

With a thick roll of his eyes, Namjoon's standing. “If she wants to. You choose, baby.” His attention now on you and the pet name has shivers running down your spine. There was just something about the way Joon called you 'baby' that had you keening.

He doesn't act on it, though. Not right now. And neither do you. One by one, they each break off to do their own thing until dinner time. You find yourself following Jin out to the dock after hearing he was going to fish for a little bit. You had gone on quite a few fishing trips with him, never did it but liked to keep him company when he went.

It's hard to ignore how at ease you feel here, with them. Not a single worry in mind in this secluded spot with your favorite guys. Where they're able to be themselves and be with you and be happy. Thankful that you were able to join them. And so ready to be apart of the memories this next week holds.

No matter how sticky.

- seven days in the forest spent with your seven boyfriends while they film their upcoming reality tv show. there’s no telling what the eight of you will get into when the cameras are off.

masterlist ⤐

⇝ taglist: @randomkoalablog @smoljams @dee-ehn @jaiuneamesolitaiire @hehehehahahohohuhu @sw33tnight @butterflylion @withlovestudyblr @soulstaes @bangtansonyeondayyyum @samros95 @korkanswers @houseofarmanto @marifujioka @tae165 @uxwi @jinhitwhore @preciouschimine @yeontanie21 @aa-ronpa @taefect94 @lee-karliah @codeinebelle @mochibabycakes @diminieshoe @fuddyize  @soloikeadates @0xmysticx0 @bbyjoonies @amoreguk @tricethecharm @diminieshoe @jayyayyy17 @softlyjins @bangtan-noona @fan-ati--c @fuck-expectations-people @paradisetaemin @nyamjinnie @lilacdreams-00 @vsugakookie0104 @koostime @la-evforia @betysotelo18 @chocobetterknot @simplysanha @delicategukkie @kookieswithtaeq @jeon-ggukkie @angjeon @bangtansbun @flamboyant-louie @elliemeetsevil @angiexyoung @stonyiscanon @strawberryforever25 @mipetronella @rageyoudamnednerd @hellotherehoneybee @joonies-babyy @mypurplelamp @jikooksgirl19 @sushi-date-ghost​ @bigimpression​ @kookiesjoonies​ @amour-quinn​ @diamonddia-mond​ @alterlovess​ @gemad08​ @daydreambrliever​ @acc3ssdenied​ @silentlyimpractical​ @bella-victoria002​ @ashleyjoyx​ @yoooonie​ @diamonddia-mond​ @btsbed​ @sungieshines​ @thia-aep​ @taeshuworld​ @hopiebabie​ @trynavibewhileicry​ @illwritetomorrow​ @kookoo-kachoo​ @prettxyliies​ @triviasjms​ @ratking101​ @elephantdoors​ @feel-like-gold​ @kelitt​ @itsponybeaches​ @alpaca1612​ @jeonkookiebangtan​ @rather-not-sayy​ @kimsouthjoon​ @beeeb05​ @dreamcatcherjiah​ @yoongiverse​

[lemontwst]

CAN I JUST, LIKE SHARE SOMETHING - okay, since NRC is an all boys school and bc of that all of the boys just kind of assume MC is a dude too right?? MC just wears hoodies and oversized clothing in general! Well, one day while cleaning the Heartslabyul gardens, MC takes off her shirt and is left in a tank top, and the school proceeds to have a crisis, the staff to bc AAAA SHOULDERS - 😂😂😂😂😂

mc shows a glimpse of skin and the entire school shuts down like it's a national emergency!!!! students from each and every dorm come to see you, keeping you from getting any actual work done, and Riddle almost overblots in a fit of rage.

You're here to clean the gardens and Riddle won't stand for any dilly-dallying. He tries to maintain a semblance of order as the other Heartslabyul students crowd around you, but you suspect it's more out of jealousy than an actual sense of duty. Ace pinches your shoulder and teases you for being 'shameless' with all that skin out, but despite his sarcastic remarks, his ruby eyes remain glued to the pleasant line of your upper body. Deuce tries to protect you, bless his heart, but his face glows an iridescent red as he gently pulls you away from Ace, his hand lingering on your back.

Cater is already taking pictures of you and uploading them on MagiCam. The close-up of your pretty shoulders gets a thousand likes a minute… and Cater promptly makes the post private, simmering in quiet irritation as he finds himself being possessive of a girl for the first time. Trey tries to get the first years to leave you alone… and then promptly uses his senpai status to lead you away from the others and enjoy a few moments alone with you as you two continue to clean the gardens. You completely miss the way he gazes at your sweaty skin with clouded eyes whenever you turn your back to him.

Che'nya materializes behind you and steals kisses on your shoulders from time to time. He disappears immediately after with a chuckle so no one can stop him. Ace tries to smack him with a broom but misses every time.

You're wearing a tank top? Savanaclaw can smell your scent from a mile away. You somehow find yourself sandwiched between Jack and Leona, Jack's nose bumping against your shoulder while Leona's brushes against your neck. Ruggie swoops in to save you, pulling you away as he half-assedly scolds the other two. You don't notice how his thumb brushes over your pulse point, marking you with his scent, nor the way the air seems to spark with tension between the four of you when Ruggie keeps his hands firmly on your bare shoulders.

Azul clears his throat and tries to pretend he's not affected. He's very affected. He tries to romantically caress your shoulder but he's immediately cockblocked by Floyd and Jade. The twins hover around you like two skyscrapers and actively distract you from cleaning, poking and prodding at your exposed skin like they've never seen a clavicle before. Floyd attempts to take a bite but Jade pushes his face away before he can chomp down on you.

Jamil should be used to seeing exposed skin since his country's fashion is light and breezy, but he takes one (1) glance at you and flushes. He hides his face under his hood, but he steals glances when he thinks you're not looking. Kalim just waltzes up to you and wraps an arm around your shoulders, grinning from ear to ear as he offers to help you with your chores. You don't think much of it. It's just Kalim being a sweetheart. But the way he holds you flush against his body and looks down at you with mischief in his eyes tells you he may not be as pure as you think...

What is this, a zoo? Vil clicks his tongue and swats away the greedy hands that reach for your body. He's known you were a girl this entire time, of course, and he won't stand to have your blossoming beauty tarnished by a bunch of unruly monkeys. He casually offers to wipe the sweat off your shoulders… and then smoothly moves to dry off your cleavage too, lingering a bit too long with his fingers and giving you a dazzling smirk when you blush.

You hear Rook gleefully singing your praises all the way across the garden, his words getting sweeter and sweeter the closer he gets to you. You're all sweaty and flushed with exhaustion and yet here he is, following you around with a happy smile on his face and roses blooming around him as he waxes poetry like you're Helen of Troy. Epel is about to have a mental breakdown. He has to pretend to be all princely and polite because Vil is here, but he's seconds away from beating the shit out of Ace and Floyd with his metal dustpan. He remains glued to your side and drapes himself over you, bristling like a feral cat whenever someone tries to touch you.

Idia praises and curses the gods in the same breath. He should have stayed in his room!!! … But then he would have missed out on this premium moe content of his favorite character, (y/n)—! Maybe going out into the real world from time to time is not so bad?! He squats down and brings his hands to his head as he has a mini panic attack. If you and your bare shoulders get too close to him, he will pass out.

The only good thing about having Diasomnia's attention on you is that whenever they take a step towards you, everyone else takes four steps back. Malleus sighs and lets you stand next to him under his mantle, keeping a hand on the small of your back. His gaze is dark and intense as it flickers between your neck and your shoulders. You think he might be slightly flustered at the sight of your skin. Lilia is usually an old fashioned gentleman with you, so it catches you completely off guard when he sneaks up behind you and gives your neck a little love bite. It doesn't hurt. He just... rests his fangs on your skin for a second and your heart nearly jumps out of you. He cheekily licks your sweat off his lips and grins as he tells you to be more aware of your surroundings.

Sebek refuses to look at you, covering his mouth with a hand as his cheeks glow a light shade of pink. He stubbornly keeps his eyes on the half-painted rose bushes as he pretty much orders you to hide your half-naked self behind him. You're… most definitely not half-naked, but you know Sebek is just trying to protect you in his own awkward way, so you go along with it for a bit. Silver looks like the perfect knight in shining armor as he stands next to you, keeping the others away with a steely glare, a hand resting on his baton. You actually manage to finish your chores under his watchful gaze, and relish in the way his cheeks flush a little when you smile and thank him. He reaches up to brush your hair off your sweaty shoulders, his eyes burning into yours with unspoken longing.

At the end of your chaotic day, Crewel places his fluffy coat on your small frame and reminds you to be careful around men. You don't see the smirk he sends Crowley over your shoulder, nor the way the headmaster fumes at being beaten to the punch. It's his coat you should be wearing! He places his top hat on you instead, and starts brooding very dramatically whenever you attempt to take it off.

…

You sigh and keep Crowley's hat on for the rest of the evening.

[evilwriter37]

Request: Well, semi sequel to Nothingness, it doesn’t have to be but it fits in nicely with the plot. It’s just basically Viggo trying really, really hard to hide the fact that he’s trans and Ryker doing everything in his power to expose him. Plus ✨dysmorphia✨ bc why wouldn’t my brain come up with it.

This was so interesting to write! Thank you so much!

Rated: mature

Warnings: referenced abortion, gender dysphoria, mentions of menstruation, self-harm, blood

Word Count: 1,556

"And where the Hel have you been?" Ryker asked vehemently as Viggo strode into camp. There was a cramping in his pelvis, but he did his best to ignore it.

"That's really none of your business, Ryker," Viggo said tiredly. And he was tired. Aborting a pregnancy and then promptly traveling back to his home with no rest was a lot to do. "I'm going to rest. You're going to continue doing whatever it is you were doing already."

Ryker grabbed Viggo by the shoulder as he strode by.

"You're my brother, and the chief. You have to answer for your absence." Ryker was angry, and Viggo didn't want to deal with it.

"Remember where you got your scar, brother," Viggo said quietly, dangerously. "Would you like to add another?"

Ryker felt at the scar on his cheek, then let go of Viggo, and stormed away. Sighing, Viggo made his way to his tent. Hunters tried to talk to him on the way there, but he didn't even spare them a glance. He needed rest.

He felt good when he got back to his tent. He felt at home. He began taking off his armor. He needed a bath, but he didn't want to risk it when it was still afternoon. There were too many people still up and about. He usually bathed in the middle of the night when no one would see him.

He pulled down his pants to check the cloth he'd shoved in to collect the blood. There was a lot of blood on it. He hurriedly got a new cloth and changed it out, making sure this cloth was thicker. He wasn't using the tampon, as shoving anything up there sounded extremely painful at the moment. He was in a lot of pain. He was cramping worse than his moon's blood.

Viggo pulled up his pants and groaned. He went towards the back of his tent, towards his bed. He laid down on his side, a hand to his lower abdomen, another groan leaving him. He could take something for pain, but Ryker would think him weak for doing so. No. He just had to rest.

Closing his eyes, Viggo drifted off into heavy sleep, something that was quite uncommon for him.

---

"Look! I'm telling you it's moon's blood!"

"It could be any blood."

"There are clots in it."

Viggo woke to these sounds outside his tent. For a moment, he was terribly confused.

Then dread hit him.

He'd left his bloody cloth on the ground in his tent. That was Ryker trying to say it was moon's blood. Good gods, he was trying to expose him as ergi. If that happened, he'd lose his position as chief!

Thinking fast, Viggo grabbed the knife he kept under his pillow, and slit open his right bicep, hissing, trying not to make a sound. He quickly found more cloth, bandages too, and wrapped his arm as best as he could with one hand.

Viggo came out of his tent, trying to look as prim and proper as ever, undisturbed.

"What is it you're all talking about?" Viggo asked. He saw Ryker with the bloody cloth in his hand, and he was right - there were clots in it.

"My lord, are you injured?" one of the Hunters asked, drawing his attention from Ryker.

"Yes," Viggo answered. He patted his arm above the injury, hoping no one would realize it was new. "I was injured on my recent excursion. A small thing though. It should heal in a week or two."

The men looked to Ryker, crossed their arms, put hands on their hips.

"You lie about Viggo being ergi."

"Oh, so that's what this is about," Viggo said, as if he hadn't known. He stroked his fake beard. "I see. Well. Ryker?" He turned to his brother, challenging him to say something, to try to continue with his conquest.

Ryker opened his mouth, and Viggo felt a pit in his stomach. His pelvis ached.

Ryker closed his mouth, growled, threw the cloth on the ground, and stomped away.

"What was that about?" one of the Hunters asked.

"Oh, you know Ryker." Viggo bent to pick up the cloth. That sent pain straight up from his vagina to his navel. He ignored it. "Always trying to undermine me."

And then Viggo went back into his tent. He didn't want anymore prying, anymore questions. He needed to speak with Ryker, but he would do so later.

His arm throbbed. He looked at it, at the fresh blood beginning to seep through the bandages. He sighed. He would need the sage to come look at that. He couldn't believe he'd had to hurt himself to lie, to hide his identity. It wasn't the first time, and he doubted it would be the last.

---

"Ryker," Viggo began, swirling his wine around in his cup. "I have some questions for you."

The brothers were having dinner together: a rare occurrence.

"What?" Ryker grumbled. He shoved food in his mouth. He didn't want to talk.

"Why are you trying to expose me as ergi?" Viggo asked. "Why now?"

Ryker swallowed, wiped his face with the back of his hand. Viggo frowned. He could have just as easily used a napkin.

"Because of your obsession with Hiccup," Ryker answered. He pointed accusingly. "Your thoughts are always on him, not business!"

"That is not true." Maybe... Maybe it was. He did think about Hiccup a lot. He was the one he'd gone to when he wanted to abort his pregnancy.

"It is," Ryker said. "You're lying to yourself and you know it."

"Shut up."

"You're in love with him, aren't you?" Ryker said it mockingly.

Viggo scoffed. "Love is for children." He took a sip of his wine. "I'm above it."

"Are you?"

Viggo put his goblet down, stared into it. He gave Ryker a sneer. "That is none of your concern."

"When it begins to cloud your judgment and effect your leadership decisions, it is."

"Well, it hasn't done that, so you have nothing to worry about." Viggo waved a hand at him dismissively. "Go back to doing what you do best: hunting and fucking some poor woman who only wants you for your cock."

"At least I have one."

That hurt.

Viggo stood in a rage. He didn't know what to say. So instead, he stormed out of the dining tent. No one tried to talk to him on the way back to his own personal tent. Good. He would have yelled if they had.

Ryker was, to put it bluntly, being an ass. Viggo was angry, beyond angry. Ryker was right. He didn't have that body part, and he desperately wanted it. It was something that could never be, something he could only have in his dreams when he finally closed his eyes at night.

Viggo tried to work on paperwork in his tent. His writing was cramped and rushed, not at all how he usually wrote. The people receiving these reports and letters would know that he was angry. Hopefully they wouldn't think he was angry with them. Or, maybe that would work to instill more fear, more loyalty.

When the candles were low, he went to take a bath. There was a pond used for bathing on the island. It was a rather far walk from his tent, and he didn't want to make it because of the horrible pain in his pelvis, but he desperately needed to bathe.

So he grabbed a towel, fresh clothes, and a bar of lavender soap, and made his way out of his tent. It was dark, and he hadn't brought a lantern, but he could see by the light of the stars and the moon, and he knew the path well.

Once at the pond, alone, Viggo didn't want to undress. He stood there, contemplating his body. He hated it sometimes. He really did. It wasn't the body he wanted or needed.

But it was the one he'd been given.

Sighing, resigning himself to this, Viggo undid the bandage on his arm, (the wound was now cleaned and stitched), and began to undress. He got into the water quickly, not wanting to really see his body. It was cold, and for a moment he found himself breathless. His nipples hardened almost painfully, and his pelvis protested.

He took deep breaths, getting used to the water. He bathed himself clinically, removing himself from his body. No, he didn't have large breasts, or large hips that he would conceal under armor. He didn't have a vagina that was hurting. His beard wasn't fake. His voice wasn't higher than he wanted it to be.

This was a man's body, whether people wanted it to be or not.

And yet, as Viggo bathed, he felt a void inside of himself, a deep black pit that he was being sucked into. He hurt. He hurt badly. Not from the aborted pregnancy - he had no wish for children, for bearing them himself. He did not regret his actions, did not regret going to Hiccup to help him. No, he hurt because he was stuck like this, in a body he didn't want.

But, as he bathed, he began to detach himself from his body. He became the void inside of himself, instead of falling into it.

[new-timeline-new-me]

so earlier I was talking with some friends (i’d tag them but TUMBLRS NOT LETTING ME) anyway we started talking about halloween plus the hargreeves and I couldn’t stop thinking about it so now I’m making a post :)

ok costumes. a big part of halloween. klaus drunkenly called a family meeting just to ask what everyone’s costumes would be. they all admitted they either didn’t have one yet or they just weren’t dressing up. THen someone suggests that they dress up as each other and so they end up putting all their names in a hat and drawing

luther- he gets vanya and he just wears a button up shirt as loose as he possibly can and carries a ukelele around

diego- diego draws klaus and channels his inner bisexual™ to achieve the klaus look. he wears a hawaiian shirt (all the buttons are undone) he puts on sunglasses and wears jean shorts. to add the affect he grabs a boa.

allison- allison draws diego. she borrows some of the clothes from his closet and ends up deciding on his orange button up and jeans. she parts her hair and tries to match the waviness of diego’s . she ends up keeping his clothes bc men’s clothes are more comfortable also she looks hot

klaus- so klaus gets FIVE so he goes up to his old room and pulls out one of his old uniforms that is way to small for him and its basically a crop top with a SKIN TIGHT BLAZER. the sleeves wouldnt fuckin fit him so he cut them off. to make things better- or worse, i’ll let you decide- he cuts the shorts. he claims he’s aiming for the stripper look. he achieves it 1000%. also btw he carries an axe to “complete the look”

five- five thinks this is a stupid idea, but fuck it, they’re gonna make him do it whether he likes it or not. he draws ben. he pulls a charlie brown and just puts a sheet over his head. huzzah. 

ben- ben gets allison and he puts on a fancy dress. he looks absolutely STUNNING. also he tried to do something with his hair but ended up looking like medusa.

vanya- vanya gets luther and she just goes to some store and buys one of those shirts with abs

yeah. like one of these bad boys. she also puts on a stocking hat with a monkey on it.

they decide not to tell each other who they got until halloween but if you have siblings you’ll know how shit goes down. not a single person’s costume is left a secret. 

they put klaus in charge of decorations and a conversation goes like this:

diego: i thought you were decorating for halloween 

klaus: i am 

diego: you're just hanging up pictures of five 

klaus: what? he's the scariest thing i could think of

then the phineas and ferb episode like the “he gives me the willes” lmao

on the outside five is rolling his eyes but he’s actually super touched that they think he’s scary <3

aLSo diegos in charge of picking out candy and he grabs an unholy amount of literally every candy imaginable. they eat a lot of it while waiting for trick or treaters.

luther, allison, vanya, and ben are in charge of handing out candy. 

all the kids think luther is super cool and they love him. he gives the kids like half a bag full of candy each.

they love allison and the kids parents like somewhat recognize her sometimes they do and then they start talking while the kids like mom lets move on. 

vanya compliments everyone’s costumes and lets them pick what candies they want specifically.

studies prove the kids who compliment ben’s dress and/or hair get 300 times more candy

LAst but Not LEAST klaus decides to take advantage of five’s thirteen yo look and makes him go trick or treating.

every time someone asks him what his costume is he says in the dullest, most monotone voice, “my dead brother”

if the person doesn’t respond right away he starts talking about how when he was thirteen he found his siblings dead bodies in the middle of a barren post apocolapse world and was then left to survive being the last person alive

he gives his trademark shit eating grin (yeah you know the one) and asks in the sweetest voice “may i have some candy please?”

the target™ at this point is traumatized at the words of this poor boy and fucking dumps a large amount of candy into five’s bag.

klaus is waiting right behind him nodding enthusiastically (still in the stripper outfit) with a lollipop in his mouth (also miming suprise and sadness with the dead bro story)

they do kennys mom at one point and she only gives him like two pieces

when they’re walking back five makes klaus carry him AND their fuckton of candy

[transsexualhamlet]

pushing my shameless trans agenda onto liam

Hi i just think he’s transgender have you seen the man

Ok so obviously I’m not intending to say this is canon or ever will be canon i just think it would be Neat and i can fit it within canon since well we really can’t tell and there’s honestly a lot of things that fit with it :) also it’s just my favorite characters get hit with the transgenderification beam bc i say so

The whole argument is basically:

-the Name Situation

-his appearance and mannerisms

-his Past TM 

-the Bond Situation

-and because I said so

But yeah so the main reason this came to mind is because of the whole deal with his name. I made a previous post on this but yeah, the thing about liam’s name is a big deal, and you know, as a trans person I see it and relate it to that.

The main thing is that there was no necessity to change his name. Louis never changed his first name, and there was no need to. And it’s never really gone over why william’s past life is so important to cover up, other than the fact that he did a court case where he threatened to cut a guy’s arm off when he was like eight, but that’s like... you know, that’s reasonable. He’s very very protective of his past identity, where louis kind of isn’t. 

And the fact is, William isn’t an alias, he didn’t have to take that name, he isn’t just doing it out of necessity- he truly does identify with that name, proven in many ways. He enjoys nicknames derived from it. And the thing most indicative of this is Sherlock. In chapter 53, he goes wayyyy out of his comfort zone to actually reveal his past identity and his name. Sherlock knows it, the entire point is to reveal that to him, as a way of giving up the last and most important of his secrets. And yet, even then, William signs his letter ‘William James Moriarty’, though it’s supposed to be his innermost, most vulnerable self.

This pretty much says for sure it’s the name he wants to be called, the name he identifies with, and not whatever his name used to be. It’s important to him, and that’s not a front- have you read that fucking letter? If he was going to admit himself as anything else, it would be there.

Sherlock respects that as well- if there was ever a time when Sherlock would not call him liam, it would be in chapter 55. And yet the most important thing is that he still did call him Liam. He was accepting this dude even though he used to be something else, he didn’t care and he was still willing to save him and love him. Hmmm Sherlock allegory for Trans Ally lmao. 

How the identity and name itself is treated also makes it seem even more a positive represetation of a deadname situation. They never tell us his name. And that’s like... honestly important. They’re going out of their way to say that his old name isn’t important. They’re not keeping it secret for any reason than to show that it doesn’t matter, that no matter what he used to be, William James Moriarty is what he is now.

Anyway, other than the name situation, there are still a lot of other factors that go into my thoughts about it.

A lot of his behaviors are indicative to it, especially when he is a kid there are moments where im just like “haha this is an allegory for transgenderism”. 

Like first and foremost have you seen how this man looks as a kid? That is the most androgynous motherfucker you’ve ever laid eyes on. No one would honestly be able to tell, the way he looks as a kid is in no way disproving this- kind of the opposite, in fact.

are you honestly looking at this face and telling me rn you know that’s a cisgender boy?

And honestly, the fact that Albert lends him some of his old clothes just to go around outside in, and then when he comes back the butler is like Take Those Off Right Now Those Aren’t For You is like. Hm. That’s a gender thing. It’s obviously not the case but yknow, another allegory TM.

In his own orphanage as well, he basically took the ‘eldest daughter’ role to a T. He was doing all the chores, taking care of the children, teaching them things, actually managing all the finances as a Child, and kind of thanklessly getting handed this workload he took on bc, you know, eldest daughter. This role just isn’t really given to guys, no matter if they’re Smart TM? I feel like an amab person here would be given the oooh special gifted kid treatment but he’s not, they mostly just use him there as “free extra mom and 100% adult at 12″.

Another big thing is the entire situation around bond, who is literally a canon trans character. For this time period, the way the Moriartys handled the situation seems almost comically out of place. These dudes from the 1800s really just were like “oh yeah ofc you’re a man and we’ll fight anyone who says otherwise and facilitate you in any way possible”- they accepted it without even having to come to terms with the idea that it could be a thing. Bond clarifies constantly that it isn’t about him filling a role, that this is genuinely him, there’s no doubt about it. They clearly have run across it before, and it’s a significant and important issue to them that at least one of them has to have experienced firsthand. It literally just doesn’t make any sense otherwise.

Also in this situation I think it’s kind of funny that the one name they have on hand for the transgenders is James like come on you can do better than that

The parallels between him and Bond also make the whole situation really funny, especially with Sherlock bc it’s like wow sherlock i see you have a type and it’s blond trans men. 

Plus, the man is overly secretive, he refuses to let anyone but Louis in his room and just generally doesn’t let people he doesn’t trust get close to him, obviously there are plenty of valid secrets he is keeping, it’s just another thing that points to it.

And I mean, honestly. Just look at the dude. Transgender trait: awful haircut. It’s the awful trans haircut you get from having a Gender Moment and going to a cis barber like “cut my hair short” and they give you karen hair. Somehow he owns it? But it’s an objectively terrible haircut.

My last point: because I said so. All my favorite characters get the transgenderification beam.

So you know, I refuse to believe he is cis until they decide we get to see him shirtless, come on anime team, don’t be cowards lmao