#i need to get more used to open chest binding anyways

[purpldawne]

i kinda wanna make burlesque azuma. . . the titty scares me a little but i cosplay fugo i can bind if i try hard enough

[seraphdreams]

ARE YOU AFRAID OF THE DARK? | GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — synopsis. the campus power outage gives your sly classmates a proper chance to get to know you.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — cw. fem!reader, college au, dark content, kidnapping, use of toys, one (1) mention of “you cryin?”, vibrators / dildos, fearplay, eiffel tower position, blindfolds / restrictions, dubcon, squirting, double pen if you squint. mdni <3

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — word count. 4.0k

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — dolled up! happy friday thee 13th !! i know y’all remember me saying i wouldn’t write jjk anymore but i caved! so here’s my comeback to writing them , i literally can’t get gojo out of my head. as always, comment / reblog if you like it ! i’d muchly appreciate it ♡.

“isn’t she lovely, satoru?”

“fucking beautiful.”

a pair of crystalline-like eyes followed your bare figure down from your heaving chest to your lower abdomen where they settled on your glistening folds. you were spread open, laid against the armrest of the couch you were splayed across, hands bound taut by what felt like cheap, abrasive rope.

of the softer voice you had heard, its owner pulled out a silk piece of cloth from the pocket of his sweatpants, carefully binding it over your eyes, eluding your already subdued line of sight.

their mannerisms were recognizable, the two men who’d gotten you into that pathetic situation.

they were none other than gojo satoru and geto suguru from your foreign affairs class. prior to, you hadn’t shared much of a striking moment with them for their names to be ingrained in your memory, other than the times suguru would ask for a pencil, and gojo, a copy of the notes. it wasn’t until the start of the fall semester that you had grown closer to them.

they’d invite you to the campus’s library on account of needing you, /and only you,/ to tutor them, along with accompanying them to parties held by the school’s fraternity, and back to their dorm when things got boring — they took quite a strong liking towards you, despite your persistence on rejecting each advancement they made on you.

it wasn’t like you found them unattractive, or even unbearable. they just had more rumors than they could keep up with hanging off their reputation; rumors consisting of them switching girls much like they switch clothes simultaneous with how they weren’t particularly shy about their hookups, were among the ones you’d grown familiar with.

but, as the end of the semester grew nearer, you felt a need for excitement and a change of direction; especially in the form of gojo and geto.

“y/n?”

walking back from your overtiring night classes, the call of your name from a familiar voice whipped you straight out of fatigue. it was none other than the duo that seemed to follow you step by step, like puppies with their owner, as you turned around to catch a finer glimpse of them.

“hi,” your voice came out dulcet, and slightly hoarse. “why’re you guys out so late?”

“could be asking you the same thing.” suguru retorts, strands of long, inky black hair framing his mirthful expression. he had always been handsome to you, over six foot tall with sharp facial features that involuntarily caused him to exude an intimidating presence yet, he had a tame personality to back it up. there was a reason he was popular on campus.

he was also remarkably attentive when it came to you. suguru would make it a habit to check up on you from day to day, under the guise of morning texts and showing up to your dorm with limited edition beverages from your favorite cafe.

it wasn’t considered flirting if he was constantly referring to you as a “friend,” right?

satoru quickly came up behind him, resting his arm over the shoulder of the black haired man. he was donned in his signature style of attire, tinted glasses low on the bridge of his nose despite the sun being hours away from rising, which you had presumed was just his fashion choice. he looked better like that, anyway.

“i was just coming back from my night class. it let out early,” your words flowed airily into their ears, the tone cordial as ever.

it was the thing they loved most about you — your doe eyes, plump lips, and sexy curves that they’d fantasized about tracing every inch of with their tongues. you were too perfect, and far beyond naive. The ideal victim.

“pretty girls like you shouldn’t be out so late. it’s dangerous.” gojo held an emphasis to his last vocables, the warning you should’ve taken, yet brushed off as concern. because, of course it was. your friends were only “concerned.”

you nodded your head, lips involuntarily jutting out in a soft pout. “i know, i know.”

gojo was the rather flirtatious half of the duo, often opting to remind you of his undying attraction towards you that never seemed to get through to your glitter-filled mind. you were wrapped around his finger whether you knew it or not — you were but the final reward for him when having the others back to back failed to feed his salacious desires.

“you should swing by, though. satoru and i aren’t doing much,” geto spoke, looking at the blue-eyed man hanging off his side. “right, satoru?”

gojo perked up, a sly smirk making its way to his lips while he beckoned you closer with the movement of his fingers. “yeah, it’s friday. you deserve some time off, pretty thing.”

he wasn’t wrong. most of your time was spent dealing with school in which you barely had a moment for yourself. not to mention the fact that it was convenient, the commute to their dorm held less distance than it would’ve had you walked all the way back to yours. it worked out perfectly, for both parties involved.

with the mindless nod of your head and an “okay”, you made your way towards the two, and began to stride along in the direction of their place.

things were off about the duo, though, but not quite strange enough for you to think anything of it. the route was the same, some vacant corridor that always kissed your skin with its glacial breeze, leading to their hall, and down just a few steps was the doorway to their dorm.

as you patiently wait for geto to scan his keycard, the sensation of featherlight touch ghosting along the mast of skin that your tiny cropped top allowed to be exposed, shook you from your veil of comfort. you had come to realize it was gojo who took it upon himself to rest his hand on your lower back.

the world around you felt recognizable, yet you couldn’t shake the suspicion that deep down, something’s wrong.

the latch of the door beeped, signaling that it had been unlocked successfully, and with a sturdy hand, geto opened the door to allow for you and gojo to slip past while he kept his distance, treading leisurely behind.

satoru flipped up a light, the whole place illuminating immediately after. it looked different from the last time you came over, posters that littered every wall in the living space seemingly replaced by minute frames of artwork, all cohesive with the neutral nature of their dorm.

lit at the coffee table across from the couch where you decided to settle yourself at, was a single-wick candle that filled their air with its hints of fresh sage and amber musk.

“lemme take care of your bag,” suguru extended his arm out to you with a soft smile on his face. gojo sat down beside you, ridding himself of his glasses while you gave geto your tote. “i need to get something from my room so i’ll just put it on the bed that way you won’t have to worry.” he continued.

“thanks, sugu.” you returned his warm smile with a beam of your own.

gojo’s tongue clicked as he rolled his head back against the headrest of the couch. “marry her while you’re at it too, huh?” his tone is painted in vexation that wasn’t clear enough to distinguish between mirth or solemnity.

you heard geto chuckle as he made his way to the bedroom, waving off satoru’s comment. “wouldn’t hurt you to be nice every now and again.”

“you jealous, ‘toru?” you taunted to the ivory-haired man, relaxing further into the couch as his arm took purchase around your shoulder, pulling you in closer. “and if i am, baby? what’ll you do t’me?”

it wasn’t hard to get lost in his eyes, especially when they seemed to draw you in with that playful expression of his and kept you craving more of his attention. he’s so annoying.

you brushed off his query with an eye roll, turning your focus back to geto as he sat on the other side of you, a small box taut in his grip.

oddly enough, the soft whirring of mechanics died down along with the luminescence that filled the dorm shutting off, leaving the three of you in pitch black darkness, with only the faintest sliver of light emitted coming from the candle.

it painted an eerie picture, one that caused the pace of your heart to quicken as your body involuntarily tensed.

“oh?” suguru was the first to voice his mystification. he set the box aside, taking a haste look at gojo; which was more of a silent cue to the latter, reminding him of their true intentions.

what you assumed was geto’s hand over your thigh, diligently ran along the expanse of your lower half until its fingers curled at the hem of your bottoms. “aren’t we lucky?”

his touch was unfamiliar, nonsynonymous to you as the chivalrous suguru you knew. the sensation was weighty with lust, hungry against your skin, enough so to cause you to wonder.

“suguru, your—“

just as you were about to question the man before you, his eccentric best friend cut in.

gojo created the slightest gap of distance between your bodies, mainly to take advantage of the sight before him — geto working diligently to rid you of your garments, stripping you bare, safe for the thigh high socks struggling to contain the spill of your plush thighs.

“what? you afraid of the dark?” satoru’s teasing aided in affirming your suspicions. and the fact that you were utterly helpless, only sprung on his arousal as well. “we’ll take good care of ya.”

geto’s left hand found its place back on your thigh, more-so to spread your legs for the two. “you trust me, don’t you?” he smiled, that same smile that was painted over by an ulterior motive. he stood up, finding his knee in between your thighs, centimeters from your heat. “satoru, the rope?” he held his hand out for gojo, feeling satisfied once his request was fulfilled by his best friend, handing him the cord from the opposite end of the couch.

the words you wanted to say struggled to bubble up in your throat, rendering you speechless and anticipating. in one hand, suguru took both your wrists, tying them taut by the cable and stepping back to get a better view of your helplessness, specifically the way it leaked from your cunt and soaked into the cushions.

all the same events that explained the predicament previously mentioned.

after the unfortunate affair of being blindfolded, you felt lithe fingers drum at your clit. it was a teasing, rhythmic sensation that made it clear to you in the strongest way it could, that gojo was the one with reigns over your body now.

“our feelings are so hurt, babe,” his voice feigns offense, and although you couldn’t see him, you sensed that his signature smirk was etched over his features. and that, it was.

he toyed with your heat, running his index and middle fingers along your slit, collecting as much of your arousal as he could before sinking them into your hole. “you kept rejecting us in the past, but,” as his words trailed off, the pace at which his fingers pumped inside of you quickened. “we’re treating you fucking good, right?”

even though it was just two of his digits, the stretch that they’d allot to your hole was delicious, the tips of his fingers deliberately curling against your gummy walls, right at your g-spot which only made the shaking of your thighs worse.

“god—” you rasped, nodding your head. your heat made no effort in slowing the way it greedily sucked in his fingers. it was almost as if you were waiting for this, fantasizing how it’d be like to be one of their girls.

with every foolish thought came foolish actions.

satoru awaited your answer, speeding up to an impossible pace when you didn’t respond within his time bracket. “wanna hear you say it, baby. tell me how good I'm making you feel,” he demanded.

it felt as though your mind was going to break, the pleasurable mixture of sensations causing your head to spin and orgasm to build within you. you only allotted the fortitude for soft babbles, trying your hardest to conjure up something coherent. “f-fucking good! ‘s so fucking good!”

the pad of his thumb finds your clit, rubbing vigorous circles over the bundle of nerves. “attagirl,”

wet squelches were sonorous in the air, so much so, that the students inhabiting the dorms just across the hall could probably hear the filth taking place at that very moment. not that it was something new to them — it was just another satosugu friday night.

you couldn’t take anymore, your thighs threatening to close around his arm, yet his free hand kept you spread.

“i think she’s gonna cum, satoru,” geto coos, leaning down beside you while watching as gojo edges you closer and closer to sweet release. “can you squirt for us, princess? make a mess?”

before you could retort, your release rippled within you, sending shocks of pleasure throughout your body. evidently, geto’s questions were answered instantaneously the moment you soaked satoru’s fingers with your essence. your chest heaved, your breath growing ragged just moments after.

if only you had the reins to see them — touch them.

gojo slipped his soiled fingers into his mouth, moaning at the saccharine flavor you left him with. if he could live off the taste of you alone, he’d know for sure that he’d die happily.

“are you really that sensitive?” suguru queried. in his hand was the concealed box, filled with toys; some that could vibrate, along with others that were clearly meant to stretch you out. he pulled out one of the thicker dildos, running it along your slit in paintstroke motions.

“do you think this could make her squirt just as fast?” his inquiry to gojo made it undoubtedly clear that they’d been plotting against you from the very start; it wasn’t just some spontaneous idea.

gojo’s focus was unwavering on the dampness seeping through his sweats, his palm rested atop his hard-on as he watched the pleasant sight of geto sinking the silicone into your hole. amidst satoru, he was concerningly gentle. he had kept one hand at your thigh, draw soft patterns while he kneeled between your legs to give himself a better view at how hungrily your cunt sucked him in. “‘toru’s always so rough, isn’t he?” suguru cooed,

you mindlessly nodded your head; it wasn’t like you agreed, but you were stuck between heaven and bliss, not knowing which felt better. whereas gojo was, albeit, impatient and loved to get the good parts, suguru was refreshing, like a cold glass of lemonade on a warm summer’s day. suguru started up a thrusting motion with the toy, building it up to a speed that had your back arching and thighs quivering under his hold.

“you’re so tight, darling. you a virgin?” his soft voice speaks out.

as you were about to respond, gojo’s large hands found themselves at your tits, kneading the flesh while his fingers tweaked at your stiffened nipples. “this virgin’s pretty hot,” satoru commented.

“n-not a virgin!” your reaction came in the form of a cry, seemingly at the increase of stimulation within your gummy walls, the tip of the silicone cock nudging so sweetly against your gspot that the nothingness of your sight morphed into white hot pleasure.

you had fallen perfectly into their trap — what would’ve taken a considerable amount of effort, and even thinking, was handed to them easily though the power of the gods; they’d be sure to thank them later for their service .. or maybe you will.

suguru removed one hand from your thigh, relocating it to dig aimlessly through the box. he was satisfied when he pulled out a tiny bullet vibrator, switching it on to the most mild level and gently circling it against your clit. “mm, i don’t think i believe you,” an amused smile etched on his features watching you squirm in his hold.

with pleasure stemming from the most sensitive parts of your body, it’s difficult to chase away the feeling of yet another, messy, mindnumbing orgasm. “geto..!” your whines fell to deaf ears, suguru hyper-focused on the way your puffy clit twitches underneath the toy. he knew you were close; anyone within a mile’s radius could tell that, and perhaps he was covertly evil, because the loss of stimulation that came soon after he pulled the toys from your heat was pure work of the devil.

he spoke up just as he switched his attention from your aching cunt to your heaving chest. “if you’re not a virgin you shouldn’t have any trouble taking us both, right?”

oh?

they were like that. you should’ve known — the two did everything together, it’d be foolish to deny the possibility of them fucking together.

your obstructed vision was finally restored when gojo took off your blindfold. he figured it’d be much better if you saw how you were about to be obliterated — and obliterated you were.

he took your hand in his, standing you both upwards.

you wobbled beside him, your legs feeling like jello from the insane amount of stimulation your cunt had to endure. “look at her, suguru. she can barely stand,” gojo teases. “and we haven’t even got to the good part yet.”

he wastes no time in freeing his hard cock from the prison that was his boxer briefs. his length was long, bulbous head flushing a soft pink as beads of pre-cum dribbled down his shaft. he gave himself a few experimental pumps before turning you around and bending you over.

without the stability to keep yourself bent completely, you crashed into geto, who was no more than an inch away from your face. you looked up, sheepishly as he rid himself of his hoodie, faced with his toned abdomen.

“we haven’t done this position in a while, huh?” there’s a cocky smirk on geto’s face. one that was his own, yet it wasn’t the suguru you’d known.

since when was he the conniving type? did all his time with gojo finally rot his brain? or were you staring at a man you truly never knew?

suguru’s hand slipped just under the waistband of his sweats to free his cock. the tip tapped harshly against your lips before he took a firmer grip at the base to smear pre-cum over your already saliva drenched lips. “open up, pretty baby.”

instinctively, you slid your tongue around the head of his cock before suckling the sensitive area, only gradually taking in more. on the other end, gojo pushed himself into your core, letting out a low hiss at how eagerly your needy cunt took him in.

“she’s fucking tight,” he groans, squeezing at the plush fat of your hips while rocking his own into you.

“don’t get greedy now, ‘toru,” geto’s voice is soft as his hand in your hair gently guides you to take him deeper, up and down his cock. it’s evident you’re pretty damn good at giving head from the adoration in his eyes when he looks down at you, silvery orbs with hearts for pupils locked onto your vacant ones.

“what a well trained whore you are.” he praised, beginning to buck his hips up into your mouth, not rigorously, but enough to prod at the back of your throat and scatter tears to your waterline.

gojo slipped his thumb into your puckered hole while his thrusts became harder, with fervor. he wasn’t one to be patient nor hold back, especially when it came to someone like you, with a pussy so tight and moans so sweet, he’d have to break you just a bit. where’s the fun in that if he doesn’t?

his balls slammed against your clit, creating a potent string of pleasure to course through your body. throbbing was pertinent within your walls, each drag of his cock along the ridges inside you posing you weak from the shocks of euphoria. a hard slap came crashing down at your ass, gojo’s sizeable hand repeated the motion occasionally to watch the way the flesh rippled.

your moans were muffled by the intrusion of cock getting fucked into your mouth. the room reverberated in an array of messy skin slapping in tandem with groans and whimpers. it was music to their ears, a song they’d want on repeat if it were possible.

“shit.. ‘m gonna cum,” geto’s dulcet tone alerted. you watched in pride at how the muscles of his lower abdomen flexed in the onset of his orgasm. his rhythmic thrusts faltered, morphing into a resonance of scattered heavy thrusts that led him closer to his orgasm until he eventually jettisoned his seed into your mouth. the taste wasn’t as bitter as you were used to, it was almost pleasant and you swallowed every drop before he pulled out ever so slowly, his chest rising and falling while his cheeks were dusted in a soft rose flush.

“you were so much better than i imagined,” his fingers wrapped around your jaw, gripping ever so gently as he bent down to messily kiss at your lips, groaning at the taste of his orgasm on your tongue.

“yeah, yeah. good for you,” gojo started up in his usual bratty tone, sounding more guttural than his typical self. “can finally cum in her without you messin’ me up.”

suguru was used to gojo’s sharp tongue, his complaint not seering as deep as it would’ve had it been their younger years.

whorish moans slipped past your lips, your balance wavering as gojo picked up speed. he was far deeper inside your plush cavern, hitting at the spongey spot with precision that had your whimpers turning into babbles. “s-sho good .. you fuck me sooo good,” gojo took amusement in your slurred speech, pulling you up by the waist until you were completely upright.

it felt as though he couldn’t reach any deeper, yet he did, the feeling spreading all over your body, you were almost 100% certain that you could feel it in your ears. tears had filled your waterline and came cascading down your cheeks before you could even establish what it was. satoru held you close, your bare back pressed against his chest. it was an overwhelming feeling, one that made you lax enough to rest your head on his shoulder.

he smirked, gripping your chin with his fingers to get a better look at you.

“you cryin’?”

that familiar sensation bubbled up within you, what had felt like your nth orgasm had come in blissful surges, his cock coated in the translucent milky essence of your release.

with haste, you were fucked through aftershocks and overstimulation as satoru chased his high.

he had stamina for days, having built it up through multiple one night stands, and yet, he wasn’t quick to pull out like his counterpart, no. there was something of love that came with cumming inside you.

the skin of your thighs clung together with a mixture of your cum and his as he pulled out of your twitching hole. you stumbled a bit, getting back grounded on your feet, the two men tucking their third legs back into their garments.

a flickering noise was sounded from the building, different from the soft flickering of the candle that was beside you. quickly, the surgance of electricity illuminated the dorm, bringing much needed light to the situation at hand. you looked down at your bound wrists before the rush of embarrassment washed over your being once you had taken your naked, used body into account.

gojo carefully whisked you both back onto the couch with you sitting on his lap. “guess our fun’s over, huh?” he pouted, unbinding the rope that rubbed uncomfortably against your wrists. you weren’t exactly sure of who his rhetorical query was aimed to, and you would’ve spoken up had your throat not have been aching from the constant whining or even the pounding of a thick cock fucking bruises in the cavern.

geto was now situated behind the couch, leaning over the both of your figures.

“over? she’s spending the night.”

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — @valentinevampyr @oneofthesevensins @ryukatters @dabibreeder

[separatetheyolk]

hey so i kinda stalked your account after ur intro stumbled onto my feed....if you're taking requests right now could you write something for one of the papaya boys with trans!driver!reader? I'm not picky in terms of plot <33

also i lovelovelove your writing

Feel Better In Your Skin | Lando Norris X Trans!Driver!Reader

ʚɞ featuring: Lando Norris

Oscar Piastri, Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz (platonic )

ʚɞ it’s winter break, you’ve just gotten your top surgery and it’s up to Lando to take care of you

ʚɞ I got you!! I’m glad you’re liking my writing so far aha I’ve written on different platforms like ao3 before but I found that wasn’t really tailored to “__ x readers” as well as “__ x __” so here I am.

I read the ask wrong at first lol and started writing trans Lando so ended up having to change that all half way through. I wasn’t sure if you were wanting more focus for like paddock stuff so if you do just lmk I’d be happy to write another with more focus on that or just a part 2 to this one

Anyway hope you enjoy this one too!

ʚɞ warnings: mentions of dried blood and incisions obviously, very brief mention high from pain meds, surgery mentioned obvs, y/n used, not proofread

ʚɞ wordcount: 2.4K

ʚɞ requests are open!

Lando heard you groan as he helped the you into bed. Carefully lying you down, setting a pregnancy pillow under you arms and tucked you in. “Arms in or out, baby?” He asked softly, hand running through your hair, brushing it away from your forehead.

You couldn’t stop the whine that slipped past chapped lips. Still a smidge high on the pain killers they’d given before you’d been discharged from your double mastectomy. “Messin’ up my hair..” you grumbled, pout set on your face. “Out please.” You answered Lando after a moment of realisation that he’d asked you a question.

Nodding softly with a small chuckle, he set the blanket under your arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Anything you need, handsome?” The man spoke, moving to carefully sit beside you on his empty side of the bed. Lando would be taking the sofa in the main room of your B&B while you slept, not wanting to hurt his boyfriend anymore than he’d already been. You had tried to insist the day before surgery that you’d take it. He insisted that you rest in a comfortable setting.

You hummed slightly when you felt a soft hand rest on your cheek, turning into the palm and closed your eyes. Heat warming the skin that had been nipped by a winter breeze. Having traveled from Monaco back to the UK for your surgery. Lando knew you’d had you heart set on a particular surgeon since you were eighteen. And now, at twenty three he’d managed pay to get you surgery putting you on his last ever waiting list just before the surgeon was to go into retirement. He’d given you the news as a birthday present. Of which you were immensely grateful for.

He hadn’t been too keen on the idea of flying back with you after quite an invasive surgery. But he knew this was your body. You’d have to live with the scars. And Lando wanted nothing more than for you to feel confident. For once in your life feel confident in who you were. In your skin. Wear clothes you wanted to wear when you wanted them. Not in accordance of whether it hid your binder or not. Not have to worry about cameras getting side on shots of your body, chest visible unable to bind while racing.

“Hurts..” Lando heard you speak, clearly wanting more for the pain. Snapping him from the immense surge of proudness that welled in his chest. You watched your boyfriend carefully. How he pulled out his phone, how a frown settled on his oh so perfect face, how he sighed. That sigh really didn’t sound good.

“I’m sorry baby..” he spoke softly, adjusting a few pillows behind you and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I can’t give you any ibuprofen just yet.. gotta wait another hour first. Okay?”

Reluctantly, you nodded. With a smile, Lando rose from the bed, fixing the covers and set the remote for the TV into your hand. “Put on whatever you’d like, my love. I’m gonna order us some food.”

yourusername

Liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, 206k others

yourusername

Left with less of myself but felt more complete.

Thank you baby. Thank you for coming with me, supporting me and taking care of me. I love you so much <3

And thank you for the icecream

Tagged: @/landonorris

Comments

landonorris I love you too baby. So proud of you <3

user1 STOP IT THIS IS ACTUALLY ADORABLE

user2 GOING TO SCREAM

oscarpiastri So proud of you mate!

user3 “left with less of myself but felt more complete” IM GOING TO SOB

mercedesamgf1 Looking forward to working with you this season! Wishing you a speedy recovery!

———————————

“Oh my god this fucking sucks” you groaned out, eyes screwed shut. It felt like the drains were cutting into your sides. They hurt more than the fucking incisions stretched across your chest.

“I know baby..” Lando frowned softly, moving to sit beside you again and pressed a kiss to your temple. He didn’t really know. Not truly. He knew that. He didn’t know how the pain was, he just knew you were in pain. And if he could do something about that, he would. “Not long now though.. hopefully get them out tomorrow.”

The two of you were cutting it fine in regards to the 2025 season. You were both due at Bahrain for the three days of pre-season testing (although you weren’t exactly excited about their twisted laws for LGBT individuals). Due there the 25th of February, testing starting the 26th and finishing on the 28th. At that point you would be four and a half weeks healed. You’d practically have to beg the surgeon tomorrow to give you a letter saying you could take part.

Then, a two week break. Season opening in Australia on the 16th March. At which you’d be six and a half weeks. In theory, fully healed. But it could take anywhere from 6-8.

“What you thinkin’ about, love?” Lando looked to you, arm wrapping carefully around your shoulders.

“Who said I was thinking about anything?” You shot back with a smile, meeting his gaze and carefully placed your head to his shoulder.

“You were sticking your tongue out.”

“Traitor..” you muttered to it.

———————————

You were sat in the surgeons office the next day, leg bouncing against the floor, hand holding onto the inside of Lando’s thigh for comfort. Your head was spinning. You were drowning. Drowning in endless possibilities and all bad. What if you didn’t like it? What if you decided you preferred yourself before? What if you weren’t really trans? What if you’d picked the wrong surgeon and ultimately it looked awful? What if your nipples had fallen off? What if-

“Y/n, breathe..” Lando spoke softly, one hand moving to rest on top of yours that was holding his thigh and the other moving to rub your own. “You’re panicking, love.”

You turned to face him caught like a deer in headlights. Your tongue fell flat in your mouth as your mind scrambled to find words. Piece together some remnants of a sentence. Lando didn’t rush you, didn’t disrespect you, didn’t roll his eyes or get angry. Instead, he let you take your time. Let you organise your mind. Removing your hand from his thigh just for a moment to place a kiss to the back of it before letting you set it back down wherever you chose. You decided to just leave it in the same spot.

Eventually, you spoke up. “What if I regret it..” you whispered, voice cracking slightly.

You watched as Lando opened his mouth to speak. Cut off by the surgeon that entered. “Right! Let’s get this show on the road.” The man spoke, heading to the chair in the middle of the room. “Come sit on this chair for me.”

You didn’t move at first, watching as he went to wash his hands. Only as the surgeon started to slip his gloves on did you stand, Lando helping you to undo the buttons on your shirt and slipped it from your back. Leaving you looking to a bare stomach and bandaged chest.

With hesitant feet, you silently moved to the chair, sitting on it with your eyes fixed to Lando. Refusing to look to your chest or the mirror in the corner of the room as the surgeon got to work unraveling bandages.

You caught glimpses of dried blood as he began to pull gauze away, swallowing thickly as he removed the ones covering your nipples only to find that they weren’t on the fabric. You let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, shoulders relaxing some.

Then came the drains. They weren’t so bad, a slight nip to begin with as the surgeon pulled out stitches holding them in place. But other than that it just felt weird. Like how you’d imagine sucking a noodle through a lip piercing would feel like when a video came up on your for you page once. You’d quickly blocked that user for the sake of your own sanity. Not malicious intent, it just freaked you out and you did not want to risk them coming back onto your fyp again.

“Alright, we’re all done.” The man spoke, stepping back to take a look at his work. Your own eyes gaze still fixed to Lando. “I’ll leave you two alone to look. But it all looks good and healthy to me.” You heard the snap of gloves coming off, the squeak and then clatter of a bin opening and closing. The surgeon walking into your view to leave the room.

Lando frowned when you didn’t turn to look. Standing, he moved to lock the door, then made his way to you. Crouching beside you. “You look gorgeous, baby..” Lando whispered as he took your hand and held it to his own cheek pressing a kiss to the palm of it. “Do you want a photo of it first, babe?” He asked softly, seemingly able to read you like an open book as you nodded slowly.

As Lando stood, he set your hand back into your lap. He stopped the recording, taking a few steps back at the front of the chair and took a photo. After making sure it wasn’t blurry, he headed back to you reassuming his crouched position and turned the screen to you. “Here..”

With both hands, you carefully took the device. Eyes scanning the photo meticulously looking for any mistakes. Any dog ears, any infections, anything that didn’t look like it should be there. But instead all you found was some light bruising and scabs along your incisions. All perfectly normal. All.. perfect.

“You want to look in the mirror?” He asked softly, watching you nod. With a smile, Lando helped you to stand so you wouldn’t stretch the incisions. Hanging back as you moved to the mirror. Setting the phone up where you’d just sat to continue recording.

Like the photo, your eyes scanned the reflection in the mirror. Left to right, down, right to left, down, left to right. Finding nothing again. You felt emotions bubbling in your chest, but it was when you turned to the side that your works burst. You were flat. A bit swollen and bruised. But you were flat. Holy shit.

You looked to Lando in the mirror. The man holding the biggest grin he could and you were sure he didn’t even realise it. Slowly, you turned to him as a sob was pulled from your throat, moving to hide in your boyfriend’s shoulder while he wrapped his arms around you. The feeling of his arms wrapped against your bare skin, his chest flush against yours without anything in the way caused you to cry harder. Legs weak and shaky but you remained standing.

Lando had a feeling he’d be getting a lot more hugs from you.

After the surgeon showed both you and Lando how to properly tape the sutures and cover your nipples, he gave you scar cream and you were under strict instructions to keep your chest dry. Only rinse after the testing sessions to get rid of any sweat and pat dry with paper towels. He then handed you a letter which you’d take a photo of and send to Toto when you got home. Basically stating you had the all clear.

The drive home was a slow one. Purposefully. After a week in bed you wanted to get outside. So, despite not having showered in a week that was exactly what the two of you done. You broke your strict diet, had Tim Hortons, coffee, a donut and just drove around town taking the long route back to the air B&B.

Once back, Lando ran you a bath, helping you inside and began to was you carefully. You made sure to keep the waterline below your surgery. Letting Lando press kisses to your face, head, shoulder, neck, hands. Wherever he could. Making sure you knew he loved you. He was here. He wasn’t leaving. He wanted to help. Then came the difficult part, washing your hair. Lando helped you to dry off and change first into some comfortable joggers and one of his button ups. Then, wrapped a towel around your neck and over your shoulders. You crouched down, head over the edge of the tub as Lando started the shower. Making sure the water was at the right temperature before beginning to wash away the grease and grime of the past week. Chuckling as you melted into his hand.

Once your hair was adequately soaked, he turned the shower off, let the head fall into the bath and grabbed the shampoo. He lathered, rinsed, then done the same with conditioner. He then squeezed some of the water out your hair before you sat up, drying it for you and chuckled when he pulled the towel away. Hair sticking up every which way. “My handsome man..” he mumbled, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips which you happily accepted. Hand dropping to his waist.

———————————

mercedesamgf1

Liked by yourusername, lewishamilton, and 127k others

mercedesamgf1

The 2025 season is officially underway!

Y/N and George at day 1 of pre-season testing

Tagged: @/yourusername @/georgerussell

Comments

user1 y/n’s hands 🤤🤤

user2 You guys always have to ruin it huh?

landonorris no touchy

yourusername down boy

yourusername good to be back! So excited to work with you guys this season!

You turned to the door when it opened, smiling wide when you saw Lando poke his head round it. “There you are!” The man grinned, stepping inside. Pausing when he spotted, well, nothing. Just a flat chest under that black jumpsuit.

You smiled wide. “Here I am.” You spoke walking over to him. Turning in a circle as you went. “You like?”

“Oh baby I love..” the other whispered, blushing when a kiss was pressed to his cheek. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he nuzzled into your neck. Now your turn to hold him. And you certainly wouldn’t complain. “Love you..” you heard a mutter into your shoulder.

You smiled back, pressing a gentle kiss to his shoulder with a “Love you most..”

———————————

Bonus - Boys on the beach

yourusername

Liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 204k others

yourusername

beach days with my boys

Tagged: @/landonorris @/oscarpiastri @/charles_leclerc @/carlossainz55

Comments

user1 not Charles having a better photo then his own boyfriend

yourusername “if you’re gonna post a photo of me it could be a good one at least”

carlossainz55 alright that’s just mean now

charles_leclerc We aren’t your boys

landonorris yes we are

oscarpiastri Yes we are

yourusername yes you are

ʚɞ I don’t know how to do endiiiiings. sorry if the second half’s a little rushed. Half of it got deleted since my tumblr crashed and I hadn’t saved so had to retype it all. This took way longer than I thought it would. Enjoy!!

WHY DIDNT ANYONE TELL ME I SAID MCLARENAMGF1 AND NOT MERCEDES THIS POST HAS BEEN UP FOR FIVE HOURS IN GOING TO SCREAM

I’m in McLaren brain rot rn

[lorelune]

hell is a hound without a chain

|| blade x gn!reader || M || yandere wolf hybrid blade || wc: 3.8k  || ao3 ||

A bite is quite a burden.

minors, antis, and ageless blogs dni

a/n: folds hands man ... hybrid blade is sure something. i chewed on this au for a minute because truly hybrid blade is such a flavor. a toothy one. enjoy loves!!

CW: dark content, hybrid AU, wolf hybrid blade, yandere blade, reader is not a hybrid, biting, claiming bites, caretaking, victim blaming, injured reader, references to reader drinking casually

You ache.

Your neck hurts.

It’s hurt for the past few days, and you imagine it will continue to hurt for the next several weeks, considering that Blade is not allowing you to heal in any meaningful capacity.

You sit on the bathroom counter, a bit teary-eyed, with Blade standing between your legs. A scented candle sputters on a small shift. Blade’s tail swishes. Annoyed. Ears twitching and jaw locked. There’s a first aid kit open beside you and it's running low on gauze and antibiotic ointment.

You sniffle as Blade pats at the wound on your neck. He’s being… gentle. For him anyway. The contact and disinfectant still sting and you hiss at the sensation and jerk away.  

Blade stills.  

"I’ll bind you again." His hand cups your jaw— too tightly. "Would you like to force my hand?"

"No, n-not really.” You sound pathetic. You want to cry. You probably will. "It hurts. I'm sorry."

Blade sighs but doesn't press you. He trades the disinfectant for a slather of ointment and prepares a gauze pad. The piece he cuts is larger than normal. It’s the size of his palm. You suppress the urge to feel for the wound on your neck and check its size and depth. You haven't gotten a good look at it yet. Judging by the red stain soaking down the front of your shirt, it’s a worse wound than normal. 

Blade has made it a routine to freshen the bite mark on your neck at least once a week. He always sinks his teeth into the same spot while other, less severe marks decorate your throat and shoulders (and chest and stomach and thighs, but those are easier to dismiss.) The mark he worries the most, the one that you know he associates with some animalistic claim, is on your side, broken flesh splitting where your neck meets your shoulder.

...

You first... 'earned' it after leaving Blade to his own devices for a weekend. 

It was just a beach trip with a few friends. Kafka encouraged it— you needed to stretch your legs. ‘Bladie’ as she so affectionately referred to your hybrid, was more than capable of taking care of himself. He was doing so long before you came into the picture and formally offered your home up to him. Besides, he’d had several months to settle into your home, hadn’t he? Kafka goaded you into accepting a “well-deserved” break. Himeko seemed... hesitant about the arrangement at the time. She warned that hybrids can get a bit prickly about being left alone, even if they are independent. 

("They tend to hold grudges.")

The trip was a mistake. 

It had been a lovely weekend. Kafka had thrown her card down for a beachside cabana at a resort. Drinking sweet fruity cocktails, lounging in the sun, and generally relaxing. It was... nice to be out and not worried about Blade. He knew where you were. He had a phone with an internet connection that he knew he could use, and he didn't bother to contact you. You figured he was enjoying the break from his typical vigilance. Perhaps he was enjoying not having an owner to stalk around and guard.

You were wrong. Wildly.

The moment you arrived home (you hadn't even set your bags down—), Blade was on you. Pressed into your own door, he growled and spat that you smelled “wrong”. You asked him what he meant— you nervously joked you could take a quick shower and make dinner. Whatever he wanted. Your voice had trembled, and your breath had started coming too quickly. 

His gaze pierced you a moment later, a growl ripping from his mouth, lips curling back. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the way he grabbed your jaw, jerked your head to the side, and buried his teeth in your neck. He covered your mouth with his palm when you screamed. Muffled any shout or cry for help. You knew Blade was strong, but you hadn't ever realized how strong. You were immobilized between him and his teeth and the door.

By the time he withdrew and lapped at the wound he'd made, you were sobbing, scrambling to get away, run, shut yourself in your room, and try to figure out how the fuck to handle this situation—   but Blade hadn't let you far. He cleaned the wound first with his tongue, then a damp rag, then dressed it properly as has become routine. He carried you to bed and curled around you. Arms locked around your waist, legs tangled. It would’ve been sweet if he was your lover.

(But, he is not. He is a wolf you foolishly allowed into your home.)

The reality of your situation began to sink in then. Slowly. Bit by bit. 

Blade freshens the bite about once a week, give or take. If he's feeling antsy, it's less. If you're more compliant, more tethered to home, or dare to take him in public with you, he leaves it alone. Allows it to almost heal before digging his canines into the rapidly thickening layers of scar tissue.

It's awful of him, but you don’t think he'll ever stop now that he's intent on marking you. You had been stupid to think of yourself as anything other than a claim to him, hadn't you?

A few tears drip down your cheeks as Blade secures the dressings. He dabs them away with the side of his finger, careful not to scratch you with his blackened claws. He brackets you in on your sides. He tips his forehead against yours and deflates.

"Bed," he says. It's something akin to a request. He'll take you there, anyway, but being given a warning feels like a luxury.

"Okay." Your voice is quiet. Scratchy from shrieking against his palm less than an hour before.

Blade scoops you up and ferries you to bed. He pauses to throw an extra blanket onto his... nest (even if it's on your bed). It’s a quilt he favors, worn through but soft. His preference for it would be endearing under different circumstances. 

He runs a hand through your hair, trailing his touch down to the wet collar of your shirt, “You need to change. You’re dirty.”

As is routine, he pulls your shirt off as you squirm. You lightly shove at his chest, if only to make yourself feel better. Resist a little for your own pride, despite knowing it’s useless. Your modesty doesn’t matter to Blade (not if it’s just him and you in the room. He’s permitted himself to your skin in the most non-traditional ways.) Regardless, you aren’t bare for long. He replaces your shirt with his own. It’s warm and too big. His frame is almost inhuman, and it gapes around your shoulders.

Blade cajoles you to the headboard and lets you fuss a bit along the way. He sits behind 

you and settles you between his thighs. The knit blanket is pulled over your lap and his arms wind around your waist, unyielding. Locking you there. Blade tucks his face into your neck on the... less injured side. He scents you there with a half-there growl. 

You rub at your puffy eyes. Your chest hurts.

"You need to rest." Blade tells you. He tells you this often. He's more in tune with your physical state than you are these days, so you appreciate the reminders. You feel half out of your body. 

"... Oh yeah?" you laugh, voice wobbly. "I should, huh? Don't I need to make dinner?"

"Unnecessary." Blade replies. He squeezes you. "You need to rest, first. I will prepare a meal."

"... Sure." Blade doesn’t do particularly well in the kitchen. "I can rest, then cook, okay? If you can wait that long? Otherwise, I can cook then rest later too—"

Then Blade really growls. It’s the kind that you feel between your ribs and makes you go stiff. His mouth opens, too hot against the fragile skin near your neck, and the points of his canines rest. Idle. You start to shake. 

"You will rest." Blade tells you. "I... went too harshly on you. You are weak. You need to rest. I will cook so you do not need to. I cannot guarantee that it will be any good, but you should not be on your feet."

You laugh. something rotten curls in your belly.

There’s care in the way that Blade speaks about you. He rarely speaks in such a forward way— it’s hard for him. You can hear how he struggles between certain words. How the sentences are harder for him to construct. The sentiment of care is not easy for him. This makes sense— as he is a wolf that has you in his jaws. There is not care in slaughter. An animal’s claim is just that. A claim. Baseless. Primal. A twitch that follows an instinct, maybe. 

Hearing him say things that could be kind makes you want to vomit.

You dig your nails into Blade's forearms. His hold constricts.

"Why would you care?" You snap. "Don't act like you give a shit about my wellbeing, as if you didn't just take a fucking chunk out of me."

It's the wrong thing to say. You know this. It’s better to not anger him. But it's hard to care when you’re this tired and worn down. Self-preservation is an afterthought. You feel spiteful, terrified tears burn your eyes. You wait for a wolf’s violence as Blade tenses and goes still behind you.

Preparing for the kill, you presume.

Instead, however, his mouth closes, and soft lips press into your throat. No teeth. No apparent ire. No mouthy attitude. And he stays quiet. Somehow drags you closer into the solid, warm line of his front. He is solid, maybe a little softer than when he first moved in with you. 

"My mark on you is protection, even if you do not realize it." Blade tells you. You figured as much, but it doesn't justify it. "Anyone who smells or sees you knows that you are claimed."

"Yeah, so everyone knows I've got some bully of a wolf at home, ready to tear my throat out?"

(You've read his file, you know he's capable of it.)

"I wouldn't." Blade's voice grates, low and angry. “I... I wouldn't. Not to you."

"If you say so."

"I mean it." He punctuates it with a kiss. He's half-hard against your lower back and you swallow. "I... I do not know how else to convey to you that you are cared for. That you are mine."

(You’re not sure you believe him. There are other, crueler ways he could. On your more anxiety-ridden nights, you’re grateful that Blade’s touch hasn’t strayed there. Never. He hasn’t ever touched you like that, with that part of him. Anything below your neckline is all teeth and tongue. Violence is his language of physicality, you've found. Pleasure he seems foreign to.)

"I'm yours?" You dig your nails in and his tail slaps the bed. good. You'll bear the consequences later. Best to get it all out of your system. "When did I agree to this?"

Blade thinks, for a moment. You doubt he'll be able to find when you did agree because you haven't.

"You allowed me into your home. Bed. I wear a collar with your name on it when I must leave this place." Blade tells you. His hand cups your chin, turning your face toward his, and his nails tease over your cheeks. "What did you think all of that meant?"

Your stomach drops. 

"... A kindness?"

“An offering." He corrects. He noses into your jaw, scenting again. His touch drifts under your soft shirt, resting over your tummy. "One that was accepted."

"Oh."

It hits you. All of it. Awareness is like being dunked in ice water, suffocating on it, and throwing it back up. Kafka had once warned you that hybrids think so differently from humans. You figured the differences would be... obvious. Easy to sort through.

You were, once again, so wrong.

You want to tell Blade that that's not what you meant. That you opened your home and heart because he was a beaten down stray who clearly needed a home— one where he was the only one of his kind. Where he had the attention he needed to thrive, and the space to do so too. That you signed your name on the necessary paperwork not as a proposition but as a gesture of care. 

In the same moment, you realize that even if you do tell all of this to Blade, it wouldn’t matter. This misunderstanding has been steeping for months beyond your control. You feel stupid. Foolish. So naive it hurts. There’s a bite mark dug into the flesh of your neck that will never really scar. If Blade can help it, it will never fully heal. You’ll bear it bloody... forever. 

“You smell wrong.” Blade huffs against your neck. He squeezes over your hips, rubbing little circles into the soft flesh.

Can he smell when you’re upset?

Probably. Blade always got particularly cagey when you would return home from the rare trip into the office. You were always exhausted, on edge, and overstimulated from a full day of endless everything. Blade would follow you around on those days, never letting you out of his sight. He’d wrap you up in blankets from his bed. Shove you in his clothes. Hand-fed you in his lap despite the fact his hands were too big and arthritic. 

Was that care? 

(So, so clearly.)

You don't realize you're on the verge of tears until you open your mouth to speak and nothing comes out but a wounded, awful cry. Like you're the pained animal and not Blade. 

"Hush." Blade tells you. He smooths your shirt— his shirt over your front, over your chest in a way that makes your breath hitch and squirm uncomfortably. He’s burning hot against your back. "You are safe. You can rest now."

Is that care?

Tears slip from the corners of your eyes. They’re angry, tired, and sad all at once. You try to suck them down the best you can.

Blade pulls you at you, sinking you into the sheets. He spoons you, flush against your back, hot and soft in all the ways that matter. You bury your face into your pillow when he runs a soothing, clawed hand up and down the back of your neck.

For a moment, you consider your options. It’s immediately overwhelming. Defeating. 

You know that there is nothing you can do about your position. You could rear up, slap Blade, and scramble for the door. There are organizations. Sections of government that handle situations like this. You might be able to get to your phone. At least text someone that things have gotten out of hand.

You also know that Blade would not allow this. He'd not allow you out of bed, let alone this room. He'd have you pinned, belly to the bed with a hand dug into your hair to brace you there. He'd let you squirm and kick and scream. He'd bruise you in return— leave his own marks. another set of molted hickeys across your shoulders.

He'd probably push at the freshly bloodied claim on your neck too. Never mind that he just patched you up. 

It's hopeless, and the knowledge hits you so hard that you feel winded. You scramble against the bed to grab onto the sheets, and you cry. It’s in your chest. You sob and cry so hard it hurts. The sounds you are making are ugly and broken. The feeling between your eyes is burgeoning into an acidic headache, and your mouth is somehow dry even as you get spit on the soft sheets. 

Despair is not beautiful. It’s toxic and infecting. 

Despite this, Blade does not move away. He is steadfast, and curls overtop of you. He hushes you with his simple, curt words and a low rumble in his chest that's hard to identify. It soothes something in your hindbrain you wish you could kill. His lips press into your hair. His touch is solid, bruising, but not maiming

Violence... shouldn't be comforting.

And yet— yet it is. When the tears come slower, and morph into hiccups as you desperately try and catch your breath, Blade... helps, you realize. His mane of hair spills over your face, like a curtain to darken the room. His hand slips to your front, under your shirt once more so it's his palm against the clammy skin of your chest.

"Breathe." He tells you. It's a command. "Like this."

His hand strokes up and down, in time with his own slow, deep breaths. There's the terrifying edge of his claws, blackened and sharpened, but they never cut in enough to gore. Only enough to remind you that they’re sharp— to maim, to protect— (what’s the difference to a wolf like him?) You're drained, and you can only follow his lead, sucking in breaths that become more steady with each one.

There's nothing left in you by the time you settle. You're wrung out, emptied and so tired. It's clarifying, maybe. As Blade pets you into sleep, you shakily bring a hand to press over the covered, weeping wound in your neck. A full moon of teeth marks. Even the light touch aches.

Blade nips at your hand, nosing it away. 

(How terrible, really. To be cared for by a beast who believes love and violence are one in the same. How terribly idiotic of you to not notice. How... cruel of Kafka for never connecting the dots for you. You’re sure she must’ve taken note, at some point, of Blade’s claim on you and its implications. She was once in your position, but knowing her own disposition, Blade never took her like he’s taken you.)

(Himeko probably noticed as well. But, she’s the type to only step in if she thinks she can make a difference. She has her own self-preservation in mind, and you can respect that. Mostly. Perhaps she saw Blade’s claim taking shape and realized that a Wolf’s bite is not something she had the claws to interfere with. She has her own hybrids to take care of. You ignored her words of caution in the beginning when she first offered them.)

(It’s hard to fault her.)

(And how can you fault Blade for his instincts? Perhaps you were too kind. You lacked caution— self-preservation— whatever you wish to call it. You put your own soft throat in the line of Blade’s bite. In retrospect, it’s frighteningly clear. It guts you. Over and over. The only thing that tethers you is Blade’s touch and breath against your neck. A reminder.)

(A reminder that you are his to tug and push and pull as he pleases. That he’ll leave bite marks where he desires, never to gore, but to show that you’re... protected.)

Isn’t there something alluring about that? 

It makes you shake all over again. It makes you muffle a fresh sob into your pillow and you beat your fists against the mattress. Blade lets out a growly word or two you can’t make out as he pins your wrists to the mattress.

It makes sense, now, why Blade always wanted to accompany you out on errands, if only to growl and bark at anyone who looked at you too long. You had thought he was just poorly socialized (partially true) — but he was snapping at strangers to make sure no one even thought of looking at you for too long. Let alone touch. Pursue. 

You have a hazy memory of a night at the cocktail bar. Kafka had asked you to come alone— ‘girls night’ again. Blade had given you the cold shoulder when you told him sheepishly that you’d be leaving him at home. Whatever alcohol dulls the memory, but you can recall Blade had thrown you over his shoulder the moment you had come home. You swayed and slurred your words and Blade looked ready to gut you. He threw you in bed, tore off the pretty dress that he had said was “far too revealing” and shoved you into one of his sleepshirts without listening to a single one of your protests. Your fighting and punching didn’t deter him— it didn’t make him any more aggravated. 

(“You’re stupid.” Blade had told you, roughly wiping a soft cloth over your face. Makeup smears on the fabric. “Why are you out in the dark? How did you get home?”

“... You’re silly. I took a cab.” You tell him with a frown. You bat at his ears and Blade grabs your arms with such force you’re scared they’ll break. 

“You’re reckless.” Blade had growled in your ear. “Do you know what you invite when you’re in this state?” 

“... A hangover?” 

Blade had stared at you, fuming. The next moment, his teeth were embedded in your neck and a pillow was shoved over your face as you wailed. Your vision swam as he pulled away, lips and chin smeared red. 

Blood stains his teeth as he drags you up by the collar, and spits— “Do you know how many men would eat you alive like this?”)

You realize now that there was an implicit— “And I’m not there to keep it from happening.”

There’s comfort in it. You feel disgusting, but the roiling behind your eyes is cut by how warm Blade is behind you. That he’s good at patching the wound on your neck, and attentive when you let him be. 

If you really can't escape Blade and your mutual incidental claim... maybe it could be okay. There’s some assurance that Blade will not gore you, only tenderly hurt for the sake of some instinct you will never feel, but are coming to understand. He is honest too. His words are solid. He is too straightforward to mince his words. They are never a riddle. There's safety in being underneath him as you are now. 

There's safety in him. You almost cry again. He'll hurt you but never rend apart into pulp as you know he could. He'll sink his teeth in but as a claim. His slaughter is accompanied by care— for you. Slaughter inflicted on others is instinctual violence born from different baser needs. It hits you, like a blow to the chest, that whatever brutality he could inflict on you, is only a fraction of what he would inflict for you.

"Oh," you say, so softly, as you realize. You feel foolish all over again. 

Blade makes a contented sound against your nape. Mouthing at you. His palm is settled at the base of your throat. "Your kind can be so slow. Now rest."

You laugh, blurting it out into your buttery sheets. There are specks of blood dotting the cream fabric, new and old. Fresh and faded. 

You'll have to restock your first-aid kit.

[squiddy-god]

Task force T4T

Jhonny "soap" McTavish

Ok so apparently this needs to be a series (: anyway some people are really weird about trans!Soap and really fetishize it. So I would like to re-state that I AM A TRANS MAN. Also if you fetishize trans!Soap or any other trans people you are weird and I wish you the worst <3 also this is meant for trans men specifically, I don't care who interacts but keep in mind this is for trans men. I will probably make a x transfem version! 

Tw : dysphoria, nsfw under cut, tooth rotting fluff, transphobia, t4t, mlm, trans soap x trans masc reader, periods, pre bottom surgery implied, period sex. 

God gives the fattest tits to his most trans masc of soldiers 

Soap has recently gotten top surgery and he loves it 

His scars aren't very noticeable but he really doesn't care, he's just glad to have them gone. 

Soap still wears his binders sometimes tho they don't really bind any more for him it's more to feel connected to that part of himself

Soap isn't concerned about passing as Cis, he's very proud that he's trans 

Has a Scottish🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 flag over his right peck and has a slightly smaller trans flag over his ribs on the left side 

It's on his ribs so he has a excuse to show off his abbs smh

A lot like ghost there are so many ways that you could meet but I'll give you a few that I really like

One is the basics, he saw you at the bar across the way, drinking or not, your hanging out with friends having a grand time and soap is just smitten

He's confident and he'll be damned if he lets such a handsome man pass him by. So he walks up and asks to buy you a drink, “can a buy ye’ a drink” you assumed that the handsome Scott was asking one of your friends till he looked right at you, beaming blue eyes locked in and laser focused “cannae let a braw man like yer’self get away” 

Johnny comes on strong and playful, just enough to make you laugh and let him buy you a pint while he sweet talks you. 

He honestly hadn't noticed your pride pin but once he does he's all smiley and pulling up his shirt to show his tattoo 

Alright number two is your his neighbor! He's not home super often but he's always really nice when he is home, and he won't like he has a bit of a puppy crush on you, talk a bunch about his handsome neighbor. Well one day he's on medical leave for a while, almost blew himself up on a mission and has a bit of nerve damage that needs to heal up. You saw him come home early in the morning when you're leaving for work and decided to do something nice! Made him some bloody good cookies 

The second he opened his door you see you, his good looking neighbor with a batch of cookies in hand he thought he'd died and gone to heaven. 

Meanwhile he was in his binder and a pair of shorts

 You knock on the door, a bit on the nervous side considering this would be the first real time you've talked to your neighbor outside of a few polite conversations checking the mail. Yet here you are with fresh cookies in your plastic tupperware container. True be told it didn't take Johnny long to Answer, undoing the latch and opening the door wide to be met with you, the guy he'd been (not so) subtly pinning after. Johnny was casual, mohawk cropped a bit lower than normal since he'd only just gotten back, and his chest covered by an ever so slightly loose fitting binder. It was plain black, coming just down his ribs almost like a crop top and showing off the hair of his stomach just below his navel. 

Soap is a hairy guy, the T really does wonders for his hair, he's also been on T for a while 

Has never liked needles and prefers to use gel or patches if he can help it. 

He also eats a diet with a lot of trace testosterone in it and that helps 

Thighs like a fur carpet smh 

He owns a few binders, a plain black one, a black tank top binder that looks more like a compression shirt, and of course, his favorite Scottish flag binder. He also has custom binders that match the tartans of the kilts he has. 

Absolutely has gotten into a bar fight with a transphobe and it will absolutely happen again. 

All of his sisters were definitely his biggest supporters growing up. 

“What're yer pronouns so I ken how to cuss ye out” type behavior 

The two of you have matching silly binders with fun patterns on them 

Soap is an irregular period haver, that shit has a schedule no man could figure out. He tries to track it, but it just happens whenever it wants and feels like it. 

Has had two periods in a month. 

Luckily they tend to be short. Unluckily they are heavy. Not really painful but just heavy. 

Gets super exhausted during his period. 

Military grade pain killers hit different 

Loves hand rubs because he has a bit of nerve damage after being a demolition expert for so long

He also has a significant amount of hearing loss on his left side so he always turns right when you're talking so he can hear better. 

Works out at the gym because he doesn't give a flying fuck. Definitely likes to be at home to work out tho because he can do pushups where your under him and he gets a lil kiss when he comes down. Sit ups get kisses too<3 

Had a transphobic bully in highschool and basically dedicated his free time to the gym. By the end of the second year he absolutely clocked the guy.

No one messed with him since. 

Soap who loves to draw you, has a notebook basically dedicated to you and every single way he could draw you (wink wonk)

Likes when you ruffle his mohawk 

Likes it more when it's after you squeeze his arms

He's a show off 💪:3💪

Soap deals with his dysphoria pretty well for the most part, although when he is dysphoric he works out a lot- and he seeks out your comfort. 

Those silly pairs of boxers make him less dysphoric, they make him feel more like the teenage boy he never really saw himself as. Has a pair that say choking hazard and he wiggles his eye brows every time he puts them on 

Literally one of the best hype men when your dysphoric he talks you up with the same energy of a frat boy psyching up his best pall

Gets oddly possessive when you wear his boxers (please do he loves it) like yeah that's right, that his man 

Nsfw//

Going off of the boxers thing it also makes his really horny 

Soap gets hard pretty easy tho, and the more comfortable he is with you the higher his sex drive. 

Absolutely worships you, especially when you're dysphoric, he loves nothing more than haveing you ride his thigh while he calls you his handsome man, his good boy. 

Soap loves to fuck you, soap “always strapped up” mactavish 

But he also likes period sex, he's kinda nasty, likes when it's messy regardless but period sex is extra messy. 

Absolutely finger blasts you till the towel looks like a war zone 💀 

Really likes to be fucked on his period too, he Letts you have a bit more control then normal but don't be fooled he's a power bottom at best. 

Likes to put his finger in your mouth and really loves when you bite em a little 

Soap dose not care about hair, he is pretty hairy himself although he is well groomed, but he honestly doesn't care. 

Will absolutely man handle you regardless of size, soap is a big man and he trains hard for those 💪💪

Really goes wild with the dirty talk

“Cannae even take my fingers? How'er ye supposed to take mah cock ey?”

The accent definitely gets thicker the more horny he gets 

Loves when you give his T-dick head because he also is shoving his fingers down your throat for the effect™

[fatuifvcker]

dottore receiving a handjob and getting edged. he's an absolute wreck, never having been at anyones mercy like that, but now he's making all these desperate whiny noises he's so embarrassed of that if he could poof out of existence - he would, but it also feels so good when he thinks he's about to cum </3 but really he isn't, not for now at least. he'd definitely contemplate wiping your memory off of this event because it's so unbearably embarrassing to him, poor guy

i think about him.

AAAH My first request thank you! I hope you enjoy this short but spicy little fic!!

A/N: Reader is gender neutral! This is my first time writing Dottore ever, and also first time positng my Genshin writing so I hope you enjoy! My requests are open for anyone curious!

Word count: 0.5k

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, Handjob, dottore's hands are bound, slight/brief thigh riding (let me know if anything else needs to be tagged)!

Soft, desperate whimpers filled Dottore’s chambers. Normally they were your whimpers and whines, but this time they were his.

His hips bucked upwards in your hand and you clicked your tongue at him. “Not yet,” Your voice was soft and reassuring. Giving him hope that he would soon find release. That wasn’t completely true.

Dottore was putty in your hands. You had bound his hands behind him and he was sitting on the edge of his bed. You were completely clothed and he was beneath you, naked. Dottore sat with his legs spread and you sat on one of his knees, facing him. Your hand was wrapped around his cock and your lips were pressed against his collarbone, forming a smile.

You moved, looking up at him with innocent eyes. “What’s wrong, dear?” Dottore scowled at you as you moved your hand away from his aching cock. He was twitching and panting. “Use your words,” You hit him with what he had always told you.

His red eyes hit your eyes and his teeth were bared. “When this is over-”

You pressed your lips to his neck and wrapped your hand around his dick once more. Dottore gasped and his hips rolled again. You grinded against his thigh briefly and Dottore struggled against the bindings briefly.

“You aren’t getting out of those, not until I say so, my love~”

Dottore exhaled shakily and accepted his fate. You continued to work on him. He would get close, so close to coming and you were quick to edge him out further. Your pace would slow, sometimes stopping completely.

Dottore was red, from embarrassment and heat. He had never once let you try anything like this. After having a bad day, he had said he’d help you anyway he could, and helping you he was… At the expense of feeling too vulnerable.

“We can stop any time, love…” You trailed kisses down to his bare chest and pulled back looking at him.

“No.” He grunted at you. “But I can’t promise you’ll remember this later…”

“Baby…” You frowned at him. “I think you’re forgetting who’s in control right now.”

Dottore inhaled sharply and you smirked at him. You began to nip and suck on the soft flesh of his neck and your hand slipped from his cock and to his balls. Dottore let out a soft whimper and you involuntarily grinded into his thigh again.

Your face was becoming warmer and you were struggling to not fuck him then and there. But you really were curious how much he could take. He would constantly test you, why not test him?

When your hand brushed against his cock and he let out another desperate noise, you muffled a soft laugh against his skin.

Dottore jerked one more time, one final time. You heard the bondage break and your eyes widened. With one swift motion, you were lying on the bed, Dottore on top of you. His eyes were full of lust and something primal.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” He laughed down at you. “You’ve had your fun… Now, why don’t we put your smart mouth to good use? Hm?”

[phantompanties]

Another one!!!

LUCIUS'S SFW ALPHABET!

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

This boy is the most doting partner it is unreal. His love language is gifts and physical touch. He’ll kiss your hands, cheeks, lips, forehead, neck, anywhere he can get his hands on. He calls you any and all pet names under the sun (even the super cringy ones like sweetie-honey-pookie-bear but that’s mostly for laughs) and he’ll try his best to spend as much time with you as he possibly can. This boy is so clingy.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

If you manage to have a strictly platonic relationship with an incubus like him, he’s the type of queer bestie to be a total bitch but it's all loving. He’ll be your best wingman, trying to play matchmaker with anyone you even slightly gaze at too long. But if that isn’t your thing, he’ll spend most of your friendship trying to indoctrinate you into alt fashion. This boy likes to match with his lovers/breasties.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

LOVER of cuddling. GOLD MEDAL OLYMPIC CHAMPION of cuddling. When he’s in love, he’ll try to cuddle you ALL THE DAMN TIME he cannot keep his hands off of you! His favourite way to cuddle is skin-to-skin with his head on your chest, listening to your soothing heartbeat. To him, it’s like being wrapped in a fluffy safety blanket with a big soft pillow and a sweet lullaby. 

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

This man is a total malewife when he’s in love. He’ll use his prowess of his ancient knowledge to cook with you and teach you how to make things he learned in his multi millennia-long life. He’s great at cleaning too, often doing it while you’re asleep. To demons like him, a pact is like marriage. At least until his master passes away and he absorbs their soul. After that, it's like having them within him at all times, so to him, they’re never truly gone.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Like I said, a pact is like a marriage but more extreme. It can’t be solved with divorce because it’s soul-binding. If there were some kind of problem with your relationship that had to end with the two of you splitting, he’d just return to his normal life of feeding off of random humans, taking your soul when your time inevitably comes anyway. It’s too sad to think about though, so let’s just say the two of you are madly in love forever

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Again, a pact is like marriage, and when he has a pact with a human, it’s the happiest point of his life for as long as that human lives. When he falls, he falls hard. When that human passes, of course, he’ll be devastated. He’ll miss you so much, but having your soul dwelling within him gives him comfort knowing that he gave you a happy life and that he was able to be with someone so lovely.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

I write him as a soft dom for a reason, lol. This boy is like Ferdinand the Bull. he has big scary horns and fangs and he’s super tall with all these demonic tattoos and stuff but in reality, he treats you like glass unless you say otherwise. Emotionally, due to him being mostly used for his body because of his nature, he doesn’t really open up unless he really loves you. Of course, he loves the sexual stuff, he needs it to live after all, but those times when you braid his hair while the two of you watch a movie or when you bake desserts together and wipe icing on each other’s faces are the moments he cherishes the most.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

The sweetest softest hugs when he’s the most vulnerable. Like I always say, his head will be on your chest and his tail will always be around your waist so he can be as close as humanly demonically? Possible. He will hug you every chance he gets. If you don’t want to be hugged, he will admittedly sulk a little but will find another way to dote on you.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

If you’re just another “meal”, he won’t say it at all. There’s not enough time between the two of you to really build a relationship when it’s just gonna end with him taking what he’s owed. However, if you enter a pact, he will open up to you little by little until he falls faster than his lord Lucifer did from heaven for you. As for how fast he drops an L bomb, he usually waits for you to do it first to avoid you being uncomfortable. He prefers your comfort above his own, after all.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

As an incubus, he really has no place in judging his master if they want to sleep with others. He’s 100% willing to share! However, if it’s a situation where a person is clearly not letting up and making you uncomfortable, he’ll wrap his arm around your hip, pulling you close and intimidating the person until they run away. He won’t be jealous because of you, but because some lowly human deciding to harass HIS master? Not on his watch. 

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Soft, sweet. Passionate, and a little awkward bc of the lip ring tbh. If you don’t like it, he’ll take it out whenever you kiss. He’ll kiss literally anywhere he can reach this boy is SMITTEN

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

I feel like he wouldn’t go out of his way to be around children due to his promiscuity, but if he were to be around or entertain little ones, he’d be like the fun uncle. He’s giving them shoulder rides and playing finger paints and dolls with them. He’d be the kind of guy to have full-on insightful conversations with a baby who can only babble and eat their toes. Be warned: you may get baby fever…

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Since Lucius rarely sleeps, he’s always waking you up with breakfast, kisses, and other acts of love. Sometimes if he’s picked up a hobby he’d be so excited to show you what he’s made. 

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Aside from sex, they’re relaxing. If you come home from work stressed, sore and not in the mood, he’ll give you massages and kiss it all better while you watch something or do an activity together. If his master is upset, it’s his duty to make them feel better! (his words, not mine)

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

I feel like he’d reveal more and more about his immortal life piece by piece later in the relationship. As a denizen of hell, he’s seen things that would make humans go insane, so he doesn’t want to scare you.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

This man has the patience of a saint (ironic lmao). If you have troubles of any kind, he’ll work them out with you no matter what they are. He has eons of knowledge, so he knows quite a bit. It takes A LOT to anger this sweetheart.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Admittedly, he’s a little forgetful sometimes. He’ll remember anniversaries and birthdays no problem, but when it comes to really small things like your coffee shop order, he might stand there like a deer in the headlights. As the relationship progresses he’ll get better, but for a while, he’s gonna have a constantly spinning bowl of lukewarm oatmeal for a brain.

R = Remember (What is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

Probably when you celebrate something that pertains to him, like his birthday. As a demon, he doesn’t really require birthday celebrations because, to be honest, he doesn’t even remember his own age. So when he mentions in passing his estimated birth date, and you surprise him with his favourite chocolate cake with “Happy gazillionth birthday, Lucius” written in sloppy icing, he tears up a little, because he knows that birthday celebrations are important to humans. It makes him feel so special

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

This boy is a worrywart fr. if you get into a situation that’s frightening and dangerous, he’s by your side for protection. As a demon with supernatural abilities, he’s good at intimidation. If someone is threatening your safety, he isn’t above torture and murder. As sweet as he is, the man IS a demon, and will not tolerate his master being harmed.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Oh honey, he puts his whole pussy into it. It’s almost overwhelming how crazy he goes for you. He’ll ask you questions the whole year, subtly getting you to talk about things you’d like to do or things you want to have, writing it all down in his secret little notebook titled “to-do list for my darling” to surprise you with on the day of.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Being a demon who lives off lust, if you’re to be in a pact with him you have to understand that if you’re not in the mood for a period of time, he will have to go out and consume from others. While he can eat human food, it’s as if a human lived off of chicken soup for the rest of their life. He’ll waste away without his energy source. It may not be optimal for some, but it’s kind of how he stays alive.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Boy is VAIIINNNNNNN ok. He has a skincare routine, a haircare routine, a workout routine, maintains his horns and tail to keep them glossy and smooth, constantly files his nails sharp enough to cut steel, etc etc. if he can’t maintain his routine for even one day he gets pouty. Please pamper this man lmao

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Lucius has been through many pacts, and of course, many heartbreaks. When his master passes, he has a hole in his heart for a long long time. But when he absorbs their soul, he feels a sense of joy in knowing they’re a part of him for eternity, keeping them in his heart. He probably keeps photos of all of his masters over the years so he doesn’t forget their faces. 

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

His least favourite food is lemons. He has a massive sweet tooth and cannot stand sour flavours. He makes the funniest pucker face too.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

If his master didn’t treat him back with at least a little bit of the kindness and love he gives, he’ll be turned off and truthfully, a little saddened. He puts so much into his relationships with his masters out of a deep-rooted need to be loved for more than his body, that if he was treated as nothing but an object while he’s in a pact, he’ll be distant. 

Z = Zzz (What are their sleep habits?)

As stated before, he doesn’t typically sleep. However, when he does, he’s a cuddler. He has to snuggle the closest warm thing available. He’s a heat-seeking snuggle machine. If he’s having a particularly good dream, his tail will whip around and he’ll actually purr. It's very rare to see this, like a shiny pokemon. Record it or he won’t believe you.

[rotting-clowns]

could you share your rosekiller head canons with us pls

Omg id love to!!

(Beware, some of these are NSFW)

- okay so, I think they both kinda fell for each other around the same time, but it took Barty way longer to realize what he was feeling was love, so ig you could say Evan fell first but Barty fell harder? Except they fell together

- Barty smokes like a chimney, that man will have a cigarette for breakfast and see nothing wrong with it. Evan doesn’t, he can’t stand the taste of it, but he’ll smoke weed on occasion (he’s Pandora’s twin after all). This however means Barty must keep his mouth minty fresh or he will be denied kisses

- Evan collects trinkets, many of them Barty gave to him bc he thought of him when he saw them. This ranges from cool rocks to animal skulls and a dead bugs, and a really cool flower he saw on the road, and a rat king carcass that Evan had the time of his life dissecting

- Barty is a genius, that much is known, but he hides that sometimes so people keep their guards down around him, but not with Evan. With Evan he can be as freakishly smart and quick witted as he wants and he loves how quickly they both fall into deep dives of random knowledges—each researching their own thing ofc, parallel play style

- in fact parallel play is a big thing for them. They just love doing things and being near each other as they do it

- Evan was the first person Barty opened up to about his issues with his father and the pressure he put on him. How he wanted Barty to be the perfect successor to a lineage he wanted nothing to do with because that wasn’t him, how his father saw him as an echo of himself, another limb, an extension of what he couldn’t be and how Barty hated that, but how he desperately wanted to please him nonetheless. Evan didn’t get it, his family issues were far different from Barty’s, but he did get it at the same time. He got that Barty needed a place to be who he was and figure himself out on his own, and Evan wanted to be that place to him

- Evan took a little longer but he also opened up about his family life, how his parents had fallen off the wagon and left the entire house and the responsibilities as heirs to him and Pandora, and how they were cruel and selfish and unbecoming to both of them, but especially her, and Evan hated it. Barty offered to kill them, and Evan fell a little bit more in love

- Evan is obsessed with having little parts of Barty—a vile of his blood, a tooth, locks of his hair. He loves having physical mementos of the boy he loves. Barty is the same way and proudly display his necklace with Evan’s blood vile dangling from it

- they practice dueling together and come up with their own curses and spells

- Barty lets Evan test potions and experiments on him because he loves seeing how he gets when he’s in the zone, and he trusts him

- I got more than one hc for what their first time was like, so here’s one: in the middle of the potions lab after Evan successfully brewed a new invention, infused with his and Barty’s blood—the ultimate binding potion, that would link them to one another forever

- their first kiss was after Barty got a week’s detention for cursing some kid who said Evan was weird and probably a psycho. Evan stared at Barty for a long time after that, unsure what the feelings growing in his chest were—possessiveness, pride, smugness, the feeling of being cared for and protected, obsession, belonging and owning and—until they were all but consuming him and he just needed to kiss Barty right then and there, even as slughorn shouted at them about melting people’s skin off

- Barty helped him study for the owls bc Evan sucks at astronomy

- they’re kinky. They’re into stuff that would put a nun into a coma she’d never wake up from

- yes a lot (most) of their kinks are not exactly safe. Some are not even legal (forbidden curses, anyone?). They like dangerous things, technical things, and they know the risks and do it anyway because it’s hot and they trust each other

- Also they switch but Barty mostly tops! He likes to bottom though, especially when he feels like he needs more contact, and to feel closer and closer to Evan

- They have each other’s initials tattooed

- their patronus match each other

- they took the mark together, in the same day, and for them it was like a vow—another sign that they’d be together forever

- when Barty found out what Moody did, he swore to have his revenge, in a way that Evan would want it. So he dragged out Moody’s suffering, took his place, and did the dark lord’s bidding to bring him back, because he knows Evan would love that plan

- oh they also bring regulus is as a third in their sexual endeavors sometimes. Regulus is half traumatized half horny as fuck every time

[apricotbuncakes]

I Need Top Surgery ASAP

My dysphoria is off the charts. I've been doing literally anything I can to reduce the dysphoria around my chest but it is way too costly for me to buy trans tape that doesn't work well for me and chest binders that stretch out even with proper washing. Binding regularly makes it near impossible to breath and with my job as a lifeguard it's really unsafe to bind because of how hot the pool room is and the physical demand of the job. I end up having to bind anyway though because daily dysphoria is more crippling than milder dysphoria and some breathing troubles.

I've wanted top surgery since I was 14. For years I've had dreams of getting top surgery and crying when I wake up because it wasn't real. Now at 20 the possibility is finally here to make my dreams come true, for me to resolve my chest dysphoria and back pain, to make me feel more comfortable as myself. I've needed top surgery for YEARS but am just now reasonably able to get it.

If you donate ANY amount of money (a few cents, a dollar, five, ten, twenty, whatever!!) to this gofundme you will get your name personally written on a trans flag that I will share online! Anonymous donors will have their own section of the flag so you can still get recognition without your name being displayed publicly! So far the GoFundMe has raised $255! Through my own savings, the total money saved is a bit past $310.

Can't donate? Reblog, repost this GoFundMe to other platforms. Share with friends who may be able to financially contribute. Just share it around (and be sure to link the GoFundMe too!!).

More Info:

I realize some people are hesitant to just donate money to those they don't know so my ask box is open for any questions you might have about the GoFundMe, but I'll go over the broad strokes here too!

"Do you have someone willing to perform the surgery on you?"

I already have a surgeon willing to perform top surgery on me AND a therapist willing to write a letter to said surgeon to also verify that this surgery is appropriate for me!

"Why is it so expensive?"

The surgeon I chose has told me the price for the surgery itself is $8,500 BUT! My goal is $10,000 because of other costs associated with the surgery! Things like aftercare supplies (things to help with scarring, comfort items, etc), bills (car, phone, pet supplies, student loans) that I won't be able to earn the money for during recovery, and after surgery visits. There are other smaller expenses to take into account as well that I haven't listed. All of those things cost A LOT. I likely won't be able to work for a few months after surgery due to not only recovery time but also my line of work, which is why I'm including them in the surgery cost. All of these things have to be taken into account for the pricing, hence why my goal is $10,000.

"Why can't you just go through your insurance?"

The fuckers gave me an out of date list of surgeons in my area, most of which don't specialize in top surgery or related procedures, and SEVERAL of the surgeons on there are actually deceased. They have been of no further help on this. Of the surgeons eligible on the list, ONE responded (and he was an absolute dick who told me I had to lose weight before he would even consider performing it on me). They also have a load of requirements like being a whole year on HRT (I'm only 7 months at the end of April 2024), having a certain BMI (a bullshit requirement for ANYTHING), and a handful of other factors that I wouldn't be able to meet reasonably soon Truly, out of pocket is the safest and best option for me.

"Why can't you just get a breast reduction?"

What's the point of a reduction if I'm going to bind what's left anyway? I don't want my breasts. They distress me and make me dysphoric. Top Surgery is the best option for me.

"What happens if you don't need all the money you raised?"

In the unlikely event that I don't need all the money I'm asking for, I will likely use it for other important things in my life or donate the money to someone else who needs top surgery. I'll likely donate through GoFundMe, but I'll look around locally too in case there's someone who needs money in my community.

My ask box is open if you have any other questions not addressed here.

[beechersnope]

For kink writing meme: boot licking. Any fandom

went crazy, went stupid with this. and surprise! i picked true detective. hopefully all of this is satisfactory as i have never written either this pairing or this kink & i wrote about half of this on the side of the road on my phone.

warnings for period-typical transphobia/misgendering, dubious consent, undernegotiated kink, and general unsanitary-ness.

***

The alley smells like piss. Marty doesn’t even know what they’re doing here, why they need to have some big discussion about what happened back in the club. It’s not important. It doesn’t matter. They should both just forget it. Marty was drunk anyways.

"I always thought you was a—" Marty stops, swallows hard, unsure of the current politically correct terminology. Not even really confident that Rust would find that acceptable, even if Marty did know.

"Spit it out, Marty." Rust’s gaze is blank, impassive, like it always is.

"Like, a lesbian, or something."

Marty doesn’t pretend to know anything Rust hadn’t told him firsthand, but the guys at the precinct talked. Even Rust knew they talked. It was something they both chose to ignore, and Marty tries to be accommodating, he does, even when Rust monologues about gender as a transcendent facet of the eternal universe or whatever the fuck— He even tries to be delicate about how he speaks about Rust with the others when Rust isn’t in the room, talking in circles so he doesn’t have to use anything but ‘Cohle’. It makes Marty sick somehow to hear the other guys referring to Rust as a woman, even if the reality of Rust is wholly at odds with the concept of the soft, pretty wives they go home to at the end of the night. But he’s obviously not a man, either, so.

"Or something,” Rust replies, oblivious to the acidic thoughts putting holes in Marty’s alcohol-soaked brain. “Are you a lesbian, Marty?" For some reason, the question doesn't feel like a joke.

"No." Marty can't help but feel as though his answer is being taken for some kind of binding contract, the terms to which he has not been made privy.

"Get on your knees."

Marty kneels. He's surprised how much it hurts, the gravel in the alley behind the strip club digging into his knees through the fabric of his slacks.

“You spilled your beer on my boots,” Rust says in an oddly calm tone. His expression still hasn’t changed, the strange taut planes of his face relaxed in way that has Marty feeling even more ill at ease. “I think you should clean them up.”

Marty stares down at Rust’s beer-splattered combat boots. He’d gotten dressed up before they met at the club, the nearly flat planes of his chest all-too visible under the ribbed tank-top and leather jacket. That had been what set Marty off in the first place. He hadn’t even noticed the boots. Now he can’t take his eyes off them.

When Marty lifts his hands to his collar to undo his tie, Rust tuts. “No, Marty,” he scolds. “Use your mouth.”

Marty hesitates this time. They’re outside between the dumpsters. It’s not exactly private. If someone walks out of the club and sees them like this—with Marty licking Rust’s boots—he doesn’t think they’re going to stop to ask questions.

Then he thinks, what the hell. They both have firearms.

Marty presses his palms into the gravel, savoring the bite of it against bare skin, and leans down to press his mouth against Rust’s boot.

Marty doesn’t just taste leather and stale beer as he licks over each boot in turn. His tongue feels hypersensitive, the feeling shooting straight to his dick as he drags it over the texture of the laces going up past Rust’s ankle, the cold metal rivets, the thick bands of tight stitching holding everything in place.

When Rust finally opens his mouth to utter another order, Marty feels dazed in a way that can’t be explained by the alcohol. He doesn’t know how long he was hunched over on his knees like a dog, licking beer and god-only-knows what else from Rust’s grimy combat boots.

"Now lean back,” Rust says, taking a step backwards, away from Marty. “Against the wall."

Again, Marty obeys. Without question. Marty isn't sure what to expect when Rust reaches down to unbuckle his own belt before unzipping his jeans as well, but he's pretty sure there's not going to be a cock in his face in the next five seconds. Marginally sure, anyway. Who fucking knows, with Rust.

When Rust places the thick rubber sole of his boot in the cradle of Marty's thighs without moving his hands from his belt, Marty lets out a pathetic little cry that is quickly drowned out by the gritty rock emanating from within the club. He can feel the bass through the wall, pulsing through him. It feels like it's inside him on an atomic level. That's some shit Rust would say, he immediately thinks to himself. Maybe Rust is rubbing off on him in more ways than one.

The pressure of Rust's spit-shiny boot increases steadily, pressing along the length of Marty's cock where it's straining against his slacks. The feeling produces a dull ache in his balls, even though Rust hasn't applied any force there. Yet.

"Do you think you could come like this?" Rust asks.

Marty shakes his head. He doesn't like pain. He doesn't like--whatever Rust is. Doesn't matter if he's hiding a cunt between his legs, he tells himself, like a reminder, a plea. Marty doesn't want this. Doesn't want him.

Rust presses the boot down a little harder, grinding the toe just beneath the head of Marty's cock. "Try," he says.

Marty watches open-mouthed and panting as Rust spreads his own legs a little wider, shoves a hand down the front of his jeans, and closes his eyes.

Rust comes first, the grunt that pours out of his throat surprisingly deep, a perfect foil for the reedy whimpers that stream from Marty’s lips as Rust continues to frot his boot against Marty’s cock. Then Marty comes, too, unexpectedly, warmth spilling out onto the inside of his briefs, soaking through them so quickly that for a brief moment he wonders if something’s wrong, if Rust broke his dick somehow. Then he doesn’t think much of anything, Rust’s hand tangled in what hair he has left, pulling his face in close to the apex of Rust’s thighs until Marty loses himself entirely in the acrid, salty-sweet smell of Rust’s cunt.

[cherryxblossxms]

Ikemen you say? Mind if I be a little greepy and ask for c, d, h, k, r, t, and x with Clavis?

Sure! I have to admit im not sure I have a great grasp on Clavis' character so I hope these are alright!

[GN reader, but one mention of femdom]

Clavis

C for Cuddling (How do they cuddle after sex?

Honestly I think Clavis is very clingy after sex. In general, he just loves keeping you close in his arms, he likes physical displays of affection very much. But especially when the oxytocin is running high, the need to hold you close is even greater than usual, his heart full to bursting with love and affection for you. Even if you're sweaty and in need of cleaning up from lovemaking, he can be found pressed up against you spooning (big spoon or little spoon, he sees the advantages to both). Other times, he's lying on top of you with his head resting over your belly or chest, his mischievous fingers and hands roaming the length of your thighs lazily, sometimes reaching up to squeeze your rear. If he accidentally incites your passion again, he's happy to indulge his lover, especially since he is to blame for it.

D for Dirty (How do they dirty talk? What do they say?)

He loves using his pet names for you, first and foremost. Anytime that he's addressing you, it's typically involving "my sweet bunny", as well as "my sweet lover", "my darling", or some iteration thereof. He's a gentleman, after all, and he makes sure that his dirty talk is still (somewhat) sweet and romantic.

But overall, he will definitely make use of pointing out your reactions during sex, telling you about how loudly you moan for him when he does a certain action, or pointing out the way your body quivers when his fingers stroke your arousal. It's partly a little ego boost for him, knowing that it's him that's making you feel good like this, but he does also kind of enjoy flustering you just to see your reaction.

H for Hands (What do they do with their hands during sex?)

His troublesome hands are all over the place during sex. Obviously, he enjoys caressing your thighs and butt with them, as a known leg man, sometimes gripping your ankles as an anchor as he pounds into you. If he's using his mouth on you, they're gripping your thighs or hips to keep them wide open for him, thumbs caressing your skin as he does it. And if he's feeling particularly naughty, he may be up to using handcuffs, rope, or ribbon, to bind hands together; either yours or his, or perhaps even binding his to yours.

But when you two are deep into things, at the height of your passion, he's either entwining his fingers with yours or cupping your face with his hands as he sweetly kisses you.

K for Kink (What’s their secret kink?)

We all know the man has a kink for legs, so I'm not sure it's very secret. But honorable mention anyway, 'cause boy does he go nuts for his lover's legs, especially the thighs. When he asks to lay his head on your thighs, its a 50/50 chance it'll lead to him burying his face between them.

I also like to think Clavis has a praise kink. It's a little hard to find out because he's so used to being a troublemaker, that it's hard to get direct words of praise from even his lover (not for lack of love; he's just too much of a tease). But when the words come out of your mouth during intimacy, whether accidental or intentional, be prepared for his loving to turn up to 200%. It really gives him a burst of energy and stamina, knowing that he's pleasing you so well, and it makes him eager to do more. He'll never admit it directly about the power your words have over him, but it's eventually pretty easy to tell, given the sudden pink in his cheeks and glowing in his golden eyes.

I also feel like Clavis may be into femdom. I can't really elaborate, and it feels rather self-explanatory, it's just a feeling lol.

R for Role Play (What is their role-playing fantasy?)

Instructor and student. I think he'd just love the idea of "teaching" you how to please him, not to mention being called "professor" or something would really get his rocks off. Letting you work towards earning "extra credit" with him. Same thing with being caller Master and doing like a Master and servant scenario.

Also, spinning off of his referring to himself as a gentleman, he'd like knight+royal roleplay too, "saving" you from a danger and you repaying him/showing your gratitude through your body. He just might be a little bit of a shit and let you stumble upon something actually dangerous, but only if he knows that it's something he can handle by himself.

Lastly, going the opposite direction of the gentleman shtick, I think Clavis would love roleplaying that you two are having a secret love affair. We know he hates boring things, and what way to spice things up than to pretend there's a forbidden romance going on? He'll really pull all his best moves at sweet-talking you and courting you, approaching you at an unusual place and pretending you're not supposed to see each other. He makes sure to point out how indecent this all is, what a minx you are for accepting his advances. It's a very passionate roleplay, but hard to pull off when practically everyone in your country knows what he looks like lol.

T for Trust (How would they implement rough sex or kinks?)

Honestly, Clavis isn't the best with verbal discussions about implementing a kink beforehand. He may bring it up, but it's rather like an off-handed comments instead of sitting down and discussing it; we know he kind of dances around discussions with his flowery and frustrating language.

However, with that being said, if you ever express discomfort or disinterest with what he is doing, he will stop things immediately. He's not an asshole, he still wants you to enjoy yourself and what he's doing, and he never wants to scare you away, despite what his insecurities say. He's also fairly good at picking up on what you may like, such as similar interests, so the things he introduces in the bedroom are only ever things that he believes you'll enjoy already based on prior conversations. If he's not at least mostly certain you'll enjoy it, he's unlikely to bring it up at all.

X for X-Rated (What kind of porn do they watch or read?)

Stemming from his dislike of books, I don't think he'd read any porn, he'd find it too boring. But if he could watch porn, he'd love to watch porn involving face-sitting and intercrural/thigh sex. Also mutual masturbation.

I also believe he'd love watching homemade porn, stuff that you can just feel the love and trust between the individuals as they're filmed in their moment of passion. (If we were talking modern AU, I also believe Clavis would be into making sex videos with you too; probably not to post, but just for you two to watch).

[xxx-inhibitionless-xxx]

Chapter 38 : Night Two ( Matt part 2 )

 What, Alex paused to ask Matt, you’ve got one too you know, wait, you’re not perving on me are you ?

 No man, Matt answered still in awe at what he was seeing, it’s just huge ! I mean, damn, how do you keep that thing in your pants ? I’ll bet you could pole-vault with that thing when you’re boned.

 Seriously dude, Alex commented awkwardly with both pride and frustration, less penis envy and more focus up here. I still can’t get these to budge. I need something to cut with, no wait, Alex began to get excited, I think I may have it. Yes, Alex exclaimed exuberantly, beaming with enthusiasm at his success, I’ve got it, well this one anyway.

 Yes, Alex confirmed as he managed to get one of Matt’s arms free from its capture, sweet, now you see if you can work on your other arm while I see if I can get your legs free.

 Right, Matt agreed as he went to work on the knot binding his other arm, we need to hurry, it’s nearly closing time, everyone is going to be closing up and coming out here anytime now.

 I’ve got this one, Alex said as he got one leg untied and started working on the other, how are you doing up there ?

 I think I’ve almost got it, Matt replied, those bastards sure know how to tie knots.

 Yeah, these are going to be a problem, Alex commented as he paused with the knot he was working on at Matt’s foot and tugged on one of the knots which tied the underwear Matt was wearing, which happened to belong to Alex, to the same railing Matt’s arms and legs were tied to. They look too tight and caught up in the material.

 Yeah, Matt agreed, but worry about those after, let’s get these other ones first.

 After a few minutes of struggle, they managed to get all of Matt’s limbs free from their bondage, then set about working on the knots securing Matt’s only clothing.  This is going to take forever, Alex said with annoyance, we don’t have time for this.

 Well, it’s not like we have much choice here, Matt replied, we’ve got to get them undone so we can get out of here before anyone comes. Almost as if on cue, as soon as Matt finished his sentence, they heard the unmistakable sound of a door opening in the distance followed by several voices echoing down the hall.

 Shit, Matt exclaimed wide-eyed in terror as he met Alex’s gaze, hurry, come on, someone’s coming. Get me down, hurry Alex, hurry, Matt continued to say, nearly in a panic as he struggled with one knot as Alex worked the other. Oh my god, hurry Alex, please hurry.

 Seeing the pure terror in Matt’s eyes, Alex realized what he would have to do for them to get out of there without being seen by whoever was coming down the hall. Knowing he could not rip Matt out the underwear he was trapped in without giving him a massive wedgie or some serious rug burn, despite momentarily contemplating that idea to get back at Matt for getting him into this mess, Alex decided he had only one option.

 Acting as quickly as he could, Alex grabbed Matt around the chest and hoisted him up and out of the underwear completely. What the f*ck, Matt exclaimed more out of surprise than anything else, what are you doing ?

 Getting out of here, Alex replied as he took off still carrying Matt like a rag-doll, unless you’d rather I just leave you there because there is no way I’m sticking around. In case you hadn’t noticed, and I know you did, Alex continued as he ran down the hall in the opposite direction from the voices, I’m naked and you’re a little kid so I’m not getting caught and arrested as some pedophile.

  Okay, okay, put me down at least, Matt admitted, thanks, but now what, now were both naked. We can’t exactly just go walk around the mall, Matt continued, what’s your plan now ?

 Now, Alex replied, we get out of here and out to my car, I may have some clothes in there we can use, or at least we can drive back to the frat house and get some clothes.

Okay, Matt agreed, but we still have to be able to do all that without getting caught and this place is going to be crawling with people leaving for the night.

 We’ll have to find a place to hide until everyone’s left so we can sneak out and get to the parking lot and my car. I’m not too far from the entrance by your store.

 Oh, well then, Matt began sarcastically, is that all ? Only one problem with your brilliant plan, Matt added, you do realize that we’re on the totally wrong side of the mall right ?

[aria-i-adagio]

WIP Whenever

Tagged by @atypicalacademic Tagging: @motherofqups, @hoochieblues

Been using my snow days to play Baldur's Gate, but maybe I should work a bit on the ol'WIPs.

Anyway, here's part of a scene I wrote this week.

---

Sindre scanned the shelves of books. Evyn didn't seem to mind his interest in the collection, even if the book of maps had disappeared after he had paged through it.. Presumably, anything else he didn't want Sindre to find had been hidden away at the same time. There was just enough light to find one with a title stamped on the binding in a language Sindre thought he could read: Legends and Romances of [geographic region]. He pulled it from the shelf with care and sat down in the chair nearest the window.

Sindre whispered the sounds of the letters as quietly as he could while still hearing the words they formed. He'd never picked up the knack for reading silently. Everyone he knew was content enough to listen to him reading aloud the latest book which he’d acquired before he got it to his ama, or anything Asdi had let his son borrow from his ever growing collection. When Sindre was fifteen, he'd built Asdi a case of shelves, with decoratively carved doors as a solstice gift. He’d made a matching one six years later over a winter when Synnove allowed him to remain at home, and it was overflowing now. Who knew when he'd manage to make him a third.

“You read?”

Sindre shut the book reflexively as he looked up. Evyn leaned on the doorframe of his bedchamber, yawning. The rubber wrapped around him was loosely tied, falling open enough to reveal his smooth chest and a thin chain around his neck with several charms. Surprisingly, Sindre recognized his own amulet of carved bone among them.

Evyn twisted his arms behind his back stretching his shoulders. “Sorry. That sounded rude. I think.” Another yawn interrupted the apology. “I just didn't realize.”

“It's... Not common on the islands.”

Humming sleepily, Evyn ran his hands through his hair, which only served to make the loose curls wilder. “Should still get better about making assumptions. About you anyway.”

Evyn's limp was more pronounced from the lingering stiffness of sleep. He took a chair near Sindre. For a moment he just let the sunlight bathe his face, then with a sigh, he bent over and pushed aside the fold of his robe to rub his left calf. There was a gnarled scar, pink and new, about a hand below his knee where the bone had torn through the flesh. With a frown, he lifted his foot, stretched his ankles, and wiggled his toes. “How much shorter did it heal back?”

“I'm sorry?”

“I can tell it's a bit off, even if Brida didn't say anything. I can't imagine she missed it though. And I expect she told you.”

Sindre held up his hand and indicated the length Brida had reported. A little over half his thumb. Evyn nodded grimly, then yawned and flopped back in the chair. The pose exposed his neck and hid his face. “Well, that isn't so bad, I guess. And I still have a leg.”

“You’re alright?”

“One of my teachers in [city] ran a public hospital and kept up with all the data. He wouldn't have hesitated to amputate a complex fracture like that one.” Evyn's passionless tone didn't match the statement. “The survival rate was nearly twice as high. The amputation wound is easier to manage than splintered bone. And waiting for infection to set in before amputating resulted in losing more of the limb. Assuming they didn't go septic. Can't remember the exact numbers right now, but I have them written down somewhere.”

Sindre hadn’t the damnedest idea how to respond to him. “Um, I trust you.”

“Anyway, tell Brida she doesn't need to hide things like that from me.”

[flutteringfable]

post shouki no kami comfort

finally. FINALLY. ITS DONEEEE -<3

enjoy 2841 words of cael and scara being sweet and in love. it’s 12:19 am so i’m too eepy to proofread this anymore, i’m just happy it’s done, so ignore any mistakes. it should be fine for the most part though!

no warnings aside from a brief blood mention, scara’s arm is broken but it’s more of a large crack in his arm bc doll anatomy, and i guess nudity? in a nonsexual context of course (they take a bath together <3)

moonlight spilled dimly through the trees, barely illuminating the paths through the city. scaramouche didn’t need much light, anyway; he had every route to cael’s house memorized. he coughed, cursing under his breath. why had he been given lungs? they seemed to do nothing but weaken when they were filled with debris. being able to breathe used to be one of his favorite things, because it made him feel more human, but once he discovered how fragile his lungs truly were it was less appealing.

he held one piece of his left arm up to a crack in his elbow to keep it from falling off completely. he was amazed that only one of his limbs had broken, though the rest of his body was covered in sizable cracks and bruises.

if this was anything close to the human experience, maybe scaramouche didn’t really want it after all.

he gingerly lowered his broken arm and wiped synthetic blood from his face, trying to make himself look somewhat presentable and less like the broken mess he was. after taking a deep breath (which ended up dissolving into a coughing fit), he raised his good arm to the door and knocked.

a few moments passed. scaramouche considered leaving before the door opened, and he was greeted by a familiar sleepy face.

“ah— kuni?” cael was rubbing one eye behind his glasses. “what brings you here so la—“

cael paused, and scaramouche watched as the taller man’s face fell. almost immediately, cael was leading him inside.

“what happened?” he exclaimed, a mrrp of panic rising in his throat. “are you okay?”

as scaramouche carefully took a seat on cael’s sofa, he took another breath (carefully this time) before speaking again.

“do… do you remember… the project i showed you?” he despised how weak his voice sounded. “i was… i was so close, cael. i was going to be a god…”

an unfamiliar lump built in his throat, causing his voice to falter. had he not been so exhausted and broken, scaramouche would have made more of an effort to keep the tears from spilling onto his cheeks. every effort to calm himself down only made it worse, and within moments he was a sobbing, hiccuping mess.

almost as soon as the first whimper left his mouth, he was pulled gently against cael’s chest. his head rested perfectly above the taller man’s heart.

“hey, shh, i’ve got you,” cael whispered, cradling scaramouche’s head with one hand. “you’re home now, you’re safe.”

“i’m sorry,” scaramouche mumbled. “i don’t know why i can’t control my tears… i’m sure it’s probably annoying…”

cael shook his head, picking up a roll of bandages from the coffee table. he had brought them in his hurry to get scaramouche inside, presumably.

“there’s no need to be sorry, kuni,” he spoke gently, adjusting scaramouche’s broken arm to bind it temporarily with the bandages. “this is a normal reaction, especially after all the stress of the past few months. you’re not a bother. you can lean against me and cry for as long as you need.”

after cael carefully bandaged scaramouche’s broken arm, he held him close.

“cael…” scaramouche mumbled. “why do you still care so much for me? i’m nothing anymore, i’m pathetic…”

the taller man hummed shortly, puzzled.

“what do you mean, darling?” he asked, stroking scaramouche’s hair. “i don’t think you’re pathetic at all.”

“what good am i to you anymore? i’m not a god; i’m not even a harbinger. i’m just… a puppet now. not even human. what worth do you see in me?”

“i didn’t fall in love with you because you were a god, kuni. hell, i didn’t fall in love with you because you were a harbinger. you are so much more than just your power to me, darling. i love seeing you every morning when you come into the cafe for tea. i love listening to you snark about your coworkers, and about the akademiya. i love seeing you curled up beside me every evening, even if you don’t need to sleep. kuni, you mean the world to me, and it has nothing to do with how powerful or important you are to others. i love you because you’re you.”

there was a brief pause, and scaramouche inhaled. his exhale felt shaky as he balled his fists into the back of cael’s sweater. he didn’t deserve someone this kind to him. every time he thought someone truly cared for him, they would turn and betray him sooner or later. it had been that way his whole life. yet, as he pressed his face against cael’s chest, he felt… safe. the gentle rumbling of a purr overpowered the sound of cael’s heartbeat, but the sound was just as comforting to scara.

“i’m so glad you’re alright,” cael sighed, and the crack in his voice caused scaramouche to glance upwards. “i was… really worried…”

“i can’t understand how you still see worth in me…” scaramouche mumbled. “but i appreciate it, i guess. when… when the traveler and buer brought me down, i —“

“the TRAVELER did this to you?!” cael exclaimed. “the next time i see them—“

“don’t bother.” scara reassured him. “you’ll be getting yourself into more trouble than me if you do something rash, especially to the newly appointed ‘first sage of buer’.”

cael sighed, a discontent mrow rumbling in his throat.

“i want to talk to them, at least. but if they lay a finger on you again, they may not be so lucky.”

“how very bold of you,” scara laughed. “you would really take on the world-renowned traveler for me?”

“you underestimate how dedicated i am to protecting you and your happiness. even if i had to explore to the ends of teyvat or take on the abyss, i would do so if if it ensured your safety.”

cael eased out of the hug, leaning back with a sigh. he reached up to pat scara’s head, gazing quietly at him.

“do you want to take a bath? it might help you relax a little,” he suggested. “if not, we can just go straight to bed, i don’t mind either way.”

scara leaned against cael’s hand. “a bath sounds really nice…”

he smiled as cael kissed his forehead and gently scooped him up.

“a bath it is, then.”

he carried scara upstairs, humming to himself as he nudged open the bathroom door with his hip. cael set scara on the edge of the tub, giving him one last kiss on the nose before drawing the bath.

“do you want me to get in with you? i’d be happy to wash your hair for you,” he offered.

scara glanced quizzically at cael. “i get that you’re trying to take care of me and all, but i can wash myself perfectly fine.”

“that wasn’t the question,” cael chuckled, reaching over to gently nudge the shorter man’s leg. “if you don’t want me to, that’s fine, but if you don’t mind, i want to stick around and talk with you, at the very least.”

there was a pause as cael shut off the water.

“mm, alright,” scaramouche sighed. “you can get in with me… and i guess you can wash my hair if you want.”

he chuckled, reaching over to pat the space between cael’s ears. cael faltered a little, leaning into the touch and purring. he fought back a disappointed whine as scara moved away to undress.

“i should’ve never let you know i liked being pet there,” cael huffed, pulling off his sweater. “it seems like all you do is tease me for it now.”

scara laughed, working awkwardly at his hakama with his bound arm. “well, if your reactions weren’t adorable, maybe i wouldn’t tease you so much.”

“fair enough,” cael shrugged. “do you want some help? sorry, i would’ve tied the bandages a little looser if i wasn’t trying to literally hold your arm together.”

after a moment or two more of struggling from scara, he gave in and nodded. cael moved closer and untied scara’s obi, gently setting it and the attached armor on the floor.

“if you want, you can borrow some of my clothes to wear to bed,” cael offered as he continued.

scara laughed, holding out his arms as cael pulled off his gloves. “they’ll probably swallow me up, since you’re so stupidly tall.”

“yeah, but that’s the best part! i don’t get to experience it as often as others do, because like you said, i’m “stupidly tall,” but oversized clothes are so comfy.”

scara rolled his eyes before cael pulled his shirt up over his head. “whatever. we can sort that out after the bath.”

cael nodded. “alright,” he chuckled. “you can go ahead and get in, i’m gonna get some towe-“

scara flinched as he heard cael abruptly gasp.

“what—?”

“your chest!” cael beamed, purring.

“hm..? oh. yeah, before i went in to pilot the shouki no kami, i had dottore modify my body.”

cael blinked owlishly. “really? dottore did this? i can’t believe that archons-forsaken doctor did something right for once.”

scara laughed. “you and me both.”

“regardless, i’m so happy for you!” cael traced the scars on scaramouche’s chest. he paused, snorting.

“it must be a huge weight off your chest.”

“gods, have you been hanging around the general mahamatra again?” scara groaned, leaning away and scowling. “that’s the worst joke i think i’ve ever heard.”

cael laughed. “okay, okay, i’m sorry! it was just too good an opportunity to pass up!”

“i think i’m starting to understand how that botanist fox feels,” he remarked with a huff.

“nooo! i’m sorry, darling!” cael laughed.

he pouted as scara turned away, and inched closer with a pout.

“c’monnn, don’t tell me you hate me for that,” cael leaned down to put his head on scara’s shoulder. “be thankful you aren’t actually stuck with cyno. i dunno how tighnari puts up with him enough to be his husband.”

scara sighed and reached behind him to pat cael’s head reluctantly. “whatever. you’re stupid.”

“says the one who decided to ask dottore of all people to give him top surgery.”

“weren’t you just saying how proud of me you were?”

cael laughed and nuzzled against scara’s hair.

“i am. i’m so happy for you, my dear.” he softened, reaching around to hold the shorter man by the waist.

scara leaned back against cael in return. they stood there quietly for a moment, enjoying each other’s presence before cael stood back up.

“alright, i guess i should go get the towels now. be right back.”

he kissed scara and headed out, humming to himself.

scara sighed as he sank down into the tub, immediately feeling more at ease as the warm water surrounded him. the bathroom door creaked open as cael returned, setting the towels just outside the tub. he took off his glasses and set them on the counter before he finished undressing and stretched.

“mmh, okay, make room.” he carefully stepped in, easing down into the water.

after a moment of adjustment, cael had scara in front of him, resting against his chest. he gazed down at the ex-balladeer as they relaxed in each other’s arms, earning a scoff from scara after a moment.

“you sure do like to stare,” he remarked, crossing his arms.

cael playfully poked scara’s cheek with a grin. “not my fault you’re so handsome.”

he laughed as scara nuzzled back against his chest. he scooped up a handful of water, pouring it gently over the shorter man’s hair. cael repeated this a few times to make sure scara’s hair was completely wet before he washed it.

“so… what now? i don’t mind living with you, but i imagine lord kusanali will want to have a word with you eventually.”

scara sighed, shrugging as cael worked shampoo through his hair.

“i don’t know. the harbingers probably won’t want me back after i failed such a large-scale mission, and frankly, i have no other business with them besides getting revenge on dottore, so i don’t have much of a choice. she probably knows where i am now, if i’m being honest. i don’t know what she wants with me… she didn’t kill me after the battle, so presumably she sees some use for me. i don’t want to think about it right now.”

“fair enough,” cael replied. “hmm… what do you want for breakfast tomorrow? i know you don’t technically have to eat, but i like cooking for both of us.”

scara pondered for a moment, shutting his eyes briefly as cael rinsed his hair. “i like the way you make eggs, i guess.”

“i think i could arrange that,” cael smiled. “oh— do you want to wash my hair? i can lean down for you if you need since it’s hard to move your arm.”

“…sure,” scara replied.

cael lowered his head, as promised, and scara reached up to rinse his hair. he was careful to keep the water out of cael’s ears as he poured it gently over his hair.

the two spent a while longer in the bath once cael’s hair was washed. cael traced circles on scara’s shoulder with his finger, humming quietly.

“mm, i’m gonna fall asleep if you do that,” scara muttered, pouting up at cael from his place against the taller man’s chest.

cael laughed, sitting up a little. “i guess that means it’s time to get out and dry off.”

scara leaned back, stretching with a soft groan. he stood up, getting out carefully. he picked up one of the towels and bundled himself in it after rubbing his hair dry. cael wasn’t far behind, and yawned softly.

“mmh, let’s go find you something to wear to bed,” he mumbled. “if we take much longer i might fall asleep standing up.”

scara shrugged. “i could carry you if i needed to.”

“with one arm?” cael raised a brow, chuckling.

scara shot him a look, but sighed as he muttered “probably not, i guess.”

cael decided not to tease him further, and led him to the bedroom. the shorter man finally looked tired again as he sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for cael. the creak of a dresser drawer and soft shuffling were the only noises in the room as cael searched through his clothing for something for scara to wear to bed.

“do you want to wear one of my sweaters?” he offered, holding up a pink one with a white cat on the front.

“leave it to you to have something so sickeningly cute,” scara remarked with an amused huff. “but sure. thanks.”

he raised his arms, letting cael gently pull the sweater over his head. just as scara had predicted, it reached well past his waist, and the sleeve ends flopped over his hands. regardless, he snuggled into the plush fabric, sighing softly. he must have shut his eyes a moment too long, because he was startled awake by cael laughing softly at him.

“one more thing, and then i’ll let you go ahead and sleep,” he remarked. “i brought your clothes back from the bathroom; they’re on the chair by the window.”

cael crouched down to help scara back into his underwear, and then brushed his still-damp bangs aside to kiss him on the forehead.

“okay, that’s everything. you can go ahead and get comfy while you wait on me if you want.”

despite his exhaustion, scara managed to wait until cael had changed and was curled up beside him to even think about letting himself fall asleep. once cael was settled in, scara snuggled close and shut his eyes.

“i don’t deserve you, cael,” he mumbled, sighing as he carefully draped his injured arm over cael’s side. “but i’m so happy you care for me.”

cael looked down as he rubbed gentle circles on scaramouche’s back. “on the contrary, kuni. i think you’ve needed someone to care about you for a while now, and i’m more than honored to be that person for you.”

scara yawned, feeling his exhaustion slowly overtake him as he curled up against cael. soon enough, the two were sound asleep in each other’s arms.

[ghoulangerlee]

if i could ask without it being rude. . .

what/when did you realize you were nonbinary?

lately i've been wondering if the gender binary fits for me and i was just hoping you might have some answers or guidance or something

anon this is not rude at all! i am always open to talk about my experiences with gender identity! thank you so much for feeling safe enough to come to me, I do hope my answer sheds some light on things for you.

please excuse any spelling errors bc I am currently typing with one eye open haha. (also under a read more bc i got wordy sorry I hope this helps!! I'm here for you anon!!)

So, I was about 19 when I realized that 'girl' didn't really fit me? Looking back I think it might have always been like this, but I grew up in a small southern town where the only out gay person was bullied so relentlessly that he left town and we never saw him again.

So, 19, I come across this tumblr account that centered heavily on genderfluidity, and for a while that identity felt safe to me? I've always been more masculine leaning in general, from a very young age and at the time (this was 2011) genderfluid seemed right. I would fluidly slip between masc and fem and it all felt comfortable and safe and nothing like I'd ever experienced before. Small town me finding out there was more than just gay, lesbian, bi and trans? (trans here in the sense of transgender like, trans man or trans woman).

So yeah, I think at that point for me though, I just lost my mom, I was dealing with a lot of stuff and I didn't have the bandwidth to look too far into anything beyond something that finally made sense in my brain. So while I do still stand by me ID'ing as genderfluid for a few years, it never actually felt right. And you know? That's okay. It was sort of a stepping stone for me, I think. To look more into other gender identities. Because at that time, beyond genderfluid I only knew of trans men and trans women, in like I guess the binary gender sense?

To preface this, I know that definitions of transgender has changed over the years, this is just my personal experience with all of this, which is why some of it may come off as idk outdated?

Anyway, while I ID'd as genderfluid, I went by a masculine nickname and still used she/her pronouns just because I didn't really consider using anything else. Someone once referred to me using he and that sorta felt okay? But also not...right? At the same time. Like it felt better than she, but in the sense that it was a little off to the left of better. Not a perfect fit, but an okay one.

Honestly I could probably dig deep enough on my blog and maybe find some ramblings from that time if I tried hard enough, though I can't for the life of me figure out what I'd have tagged it haha.

So, I don't exactly remember what finally brought on nonbinary other than once I told someone that I didn't really feel like a person? I felt more like a genderless blob so to speak, and that she/her and he/him didn't really feel right to me.

And that friend was like 'well what about they?'

And then someone referred to me using they and everything sort of clicked into place right after that.

My experiences with gender have been quite turbulent, in the past I've dealt with heavy gender dysphoria because I had this idea in my mind that I needed to look androgynous in order to identify as nonbinary. That I wasn't nonbinary enough if I had tits. I binded for several years and fucked my ribs up with it because I am also fat. So, in I would say 2013 is when I finally started using nonbinary? So internet culture led me to believe I needed to be thin and have a flat chest in order to be the right kind of nonbinary, because otherwise I was just a woman.

I still get called she/her in my real life, other than my husband and our friend who both use they/them when referring to me. But, I've learned these past several years that nonbinary doesn't look a certain way? That I don't have to be more masculine leaning in order to ID that way. It feels right, when people use they/them and when they call me Lee, which is why I typically introduce myself that way, other than doctor's offices, and other official places use my birth name.

It took a lot of growing for me, because I had so many negative ideas about femininity and how I could also navigate that while being nonbinary. I refused to wear makeup for the longest time because I thought that that meant I was just faking it, and being a woman.

I've always wanted to be feminine but in the same way that like, a masculine person can be feminine, I guess? So like, in a 'cis man wears a dress and makeup' sort of way if that makes sense.

And I had this idea that I couldn't do that, otherwise I was just a fake nonbinary person?

What ultimately helped me was in 2016/2017 when I worked for Home Depot, my head cashier actually lead a local lgbt+ group and she immediately latched onto me not being straight or cis. Again, this was the south so there was a little bit of growing pains, we all ended up sitting down and talking about gender identity, I talked with some older people who were nonbinary and it opened my mind to start viewing things in a way that like, helped me, I guess?

Like, yeah, makeup is traditionally worn by a woman, but because I am not a woman, wearing makeup does not make me a woman. Just as wearing traditionally masculine clothing, does not make me a man. It just makes me a person wearing make up or a person wearing clothing.

I think overall, if I would have stayed on the internet and kept listening to those people who say that you have to look/be a certain way in order to be nonbinary, I wouldn't have probably reconciled my own issues with how I perceived myself vs nonbinary.

Overall, I'd say start small, the first thing I did was use neutral pronouns, this isn't to say you can't use neopronouns if those feel right to you, or use something like he/they or she/they bc a lot of nonbinary people do that too.

It's okay to experiment with gender. It's okay to tell your friends that you want to be referred to using only neutral pronouns, or a set neopronouns, or what have you. See how that feels.

Take a step back and look at how you perceive certain things, when I was finally able to let go of the idea that things had to be gendered, and that those gendered things only fit one particular gender, it made things so much easier for me.

I stopped hating my chest. Like I'd said earlier, I binded for a while, and it was so uncomfortable, but I Felt like I had to just because of what I'd heard the uh "gatekeepers of gender" say. But now? finding a bra that fits nicely and accentuates my chest? Euphoric.

None of that makes me a woman. I am just a person, and I like things.

Living in the south, good luck with me trying to ever explain this to people around here. So I'm out, but I'm not explicitly out I guess. If people clock it? Good for them. If not? Oh well. I don't really correct people on my pronouns, just because I've finally reached a point where I'm okay with it. My sister and brother in law still call me by my birth name and that's fine too. Because in my head, my name is Lee and my birth name is just a nickname that they have for me.

And again, all of this came with time. With several years. I started this when I was 19 and I'm 31 now, so it took a decent chunk. It's important that you've got a good support system too. And honestly, I'm here for you anon. If you ever need to talk, or vent or anything, my askbox is open. If you wanna come off anon and dm me? Sure.

I can even give you my discord if you'd prefer that.

Navigating gender can be scary, but, it'll be okay. <3

[funnel-webbed-au]

The Fools/The Family

Syntax dropped his pencil as the robot that carried his claws attached itself to his back. A soft, guttural hiss escaped the half-spider as he bore his fangs, then wiped a bead of sweat off of his cheek. The pain from when the needles slid in never ceased to catch him off guard, no matter how many times he endured it. As the scientist sighed, he couldn't help but remember the first time those needles had slid in and penetrated his spinal column, binding and readjusting part of it so violently that it knocked him out for a few minutes.

The ironic part was that it was his machine. Perhaps he should have seen the signs, her megalomania being the largest red flag. He was too trusting, even now as the cynical, walled-off individual he'd become over the years. Syntax hissed.

He'd been a fool. Her fool.

That thought alone had him pacing in his laboratory before he barked an order at the AI to scramble the passwords of his blast doors. The sigh of relief that came to him afterwards would have been audible to anyone within a car's length of him.

Syntax leaned against one of his walls, then slid down it until he landed in a small heap, legs pulled against his chest ever so gently. He couldn't aggravate the scars there, after all. That sting wasn't something he could forget.

It felt like his mind was full of static. For all he knew, it likely was. The buzz in his ears reminded him of flies that hadn't been caught yet, of ambient voices who said too much for him to parse what they were saying, what they meant.

Why had he trusted her? He should have known she would use him, like they always do. It's always his talent that's important and never him. He was sick of it, but it wasn't like there was anything he could do, or so he thought. His claws curled around himself, ready for a cocoon. He needed a nap anyway, and maybe he could sleep off this dread, sleep off this grief.

He was interrupted by Maratus's monotone voice as the artificial intelligence spoke, penetrating the silence and giving him much needed reprieve from his own demons. Right, yes, he had more important things to worry about than anyone else's opinions. They didn't matter, they shouldn't matter.

"Huntsman has deposited a bowl of pho on the gift table outside." Maratus announced, and the thought of a hot meal brought Syntax to his feet. As he unlocked the blast door that separated his lab from the rest of the nest, and the world at large, the scent of beef hit him like a ton of bricks... and he couldn't help but smile.

[Flashback.] Huntsman knocked on the blast door to Syntax's lab. The spider hadn't come out for dinner, which had the stronger spider antsy. Syntax almost never missed dinner. When the door opened, the larger spider entered slowly, carefully. He didn't want to mess up anything that the scientist had left out; he knew he'd get an earful for that at best.

Huntsman paused. Why was Mac lying there like that? He was curled up and uncomfortable, and those tears looked like they'd recently started. Hunter sighed and went to kneel in front of his sibling, then chose his words carefully. Sure, he did care... but he didn't want the other spider to know that. He'd never believe in his sincerity. Both of them were closed off, and justifiably so.

"What do you want for dinner, Mac?" Hunter spoke softly, his voice barely above a whisper in the quiet of Syntax's lab. He'd seen the signs. The other spider had been shivering ever so slightly, goggles over his eyes in case any bright lights came on unannounced. Hunter knew how Mac reacted to too much going on at once.

The younger spider sighed softly, then reached for his tablet so he could pull up an old photo. A dinner long past, but something Hunter could definitely make if he decided to. He likely would, for the other's sake.

"Pho. Got it. You just sit tight here, Mac. I'll return with food in the next hour... it's lucky I saved so much spare broth, eh?" Huntsman chucked gently as he ruffled Mac's hair.

[End of flashback.]

"Send one of the robots to deliver one of the stuffed toys I sewed last week. Make sure to leave a note on it, Maratus." Syntax instructed the AI of his workshop lab, and soon enough, the letter and the plush were sent to Huntsman.

A soft smile distorted the former lumberjack's face as he read the note attached to the small plush. It was a sweet note, truly, but the colors of the plush spider were what really got him: Jade, amethyst, gray, and black. Both of their colors.

"Syntax, you sap." Hunter chuckled as he took the plush to bed with him... one of his most closely guarded secrets. He had several similar plushies in his room, and never went to bed without one of them. The last words he spoke before he fell asleep were almost too quiet for himself to hear... and yet...

"...you're a good kid, Mac."