#Not single character in there is straight and/or cis
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fictosolaic · 2 days ago
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In response to the current rise of transphobia, I, a cis ally, have begun to headcanon every character I enjoy as trans. Why? Because it gets me as close as I can to understanding the experience.
In light of that, here’s the current list of characters I headcanon as trans—maybe you’ll find a few you like! 🏳️‍⚧️
• Jax (TADC) as transmasc he/him. Why? Because of his aversion to wearing the dress, alongside his comments about being masculine. He clearly doesn’t have faith in his own masculinity, which can apply to cis guys, but I just like thinking of him as trans. Especially with the whole concept of the Digital Circus putting everyone in unfamiliar bodies they didn’t choose.
• Link (TLoZ) as transmasc they/he (AFAB). Why? Ffs look at them. But also because in the original Zelda, Link was designed to be relatable visually for anyone of any gender to play. The creator stated that if the player sees Link as a woman, Link would be a masc woman; if the player sees Link as a man, they would be a fem man. Also, in BotW, he has no nipples, and I feel like that’s very non binary of him.
• Zelda (TLoZ) as transfem she/her. Why? Because t4t zelink 🥺🥺🥺 Canonically, the goddess Hylia passes her powers down to the firstborn daughter iirc, which does insinuate cis Zelda. But I like trans Zelda more so Hylia can shut up. T4T Zelink is my forever headcanon and I will likely never interpret them as cis
• Mettaton (Undertale) as. Whatever you want them to be (any/all pronouns). Why? SHE’S A QUEER ICON, why ELSE!? He’s a drag queen no matter their gender. Also she’s a robot so they don’t really have an assigned gender. But I know a lot of transmasc Mettaton enjoyers and honestly, I just love every iteration of their gender (aside from cis lmfao). Off topic but aspec Mettaton for life
• Light AND Ryuzaki/L (Death Note) both transmasc he/him (but honestly they/them for L also eats). Again, t4t is my favorite but I also LOVE the idea of spoiled rich genius cop’s son god complex Light Yagami with his high reputation secretly being a trans man, while L is just a gremlin bisexual communist who does not fucking care about his gender. I also think a closeted trans woman Light Yagami AU would be really fun, considering her reputation and her father’s reputation. For a show about mass murder Death Note is really LGBTQIA+ coded
• Every Pokémon character (specifically every SV character because oh my god)
• Steven (Steven Universe) genderfluid he/she/they/any. I love their relationship with gender and SU was just great queer rep overall. Steven is my favorite character and although it’s a popular hc that he’s not cis, it’s one of my favorites.
• Sam Winchester (Supernatural) transfem she/her. Y’ALL. Do not get me started on transbian asexual Sam Winchester. Spn was one of my early on special interests and Sam’s relationship with gender was only hindered by the straight white men script writers. There was so much trans coding there. Dean is also very transmasc to me but Samantha Winchester I love you very much
• Scaramouche (Genshin Impact) transmasc he/they. Why? Why would you ask me why. He is literally a sentient puppet modeled after a woman, was thrown away after he wasn’t what said woman expected (I know she didn’t mean to hurt them but the mommy issues remain), and I’m pretty sure he changed their name like. Four times. Or something. Kunikuzushi, Scaramouche, Wanderer, whatever the player comes up with, Hat Man(?). A lot of the Genshin characters are very trans coded and I don’t think a single one of them is NOT a member of the alphabet mafia but Scara takes the cake imo.
• Nia (Xenoblade Chronicles 2 & 3) transfem she/her. She is such a trans allegory. I don’t want to spoil her story at all for anyone who hasn’t played XBC. It’s a popular series but many people still haven’t heard of it. She isn’t canonically trans but let’s just say her story is very very trans coded.
Anyway I could probably come up with a gazillion more but I want to hear from the people of Tumblr. Specifically the trans people of Tumblr, which is most of you. WHAT ARE YOUR TRANS HEADCANONS?!
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standfucker · 1 year ago
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Rotation
Characters: Kid, Killer, Heat, Wire
Reader: cis fem
Word Count: 24k
CW: explicit NSF.W content, recreation drug use, aphrodisiac, gangbang, oral (giving and receiving), double penetration, triple penetration, anal, voyeurism
Summary: After finally opening up to the crew, a recent personal victory has you all sailing to your home island to celebrate. However, you accidentally smoke the wrong strain, one thing leads to another, and you become the next object in the rotation.
Ao3 Link
Mesiba Island was famous far and wide for being a party island. Casinos, clubs, bars, brothels, even a natural hot spring–there was something for everyone. Liquor flowed like water, and drug laws were the laxest in all of the Grand Line. As your homeplace, you were used to the chaos and violence. Crimes of passion were commonplace, and death was regular news. 
Still, somehow you never expected it to happen to you.
A visiting pirate killed a close friend of yours, and by the time you’d heard about it, he’d fled the island. You were able to find out two vital things: He was heading further into the Grand Line, and he had a crew.
You were going to kill him. Of that, you were certain. But you also knew you couldn’t do it on your own. So, only hours after you’d learned of your friend’s death, you’d looked over the pirate crews that had currently docked on the island and approached the strongest one there.
“I want to join your crew.” You spoke firmly, standing tall, trying to show how serious you were.
“Oh?” Eustass “Captain” Kid looked down his nose at you. “Why should I let you?”
You gritted your teeth. “I want to kill someone who’s traversing the Grand Line. He’s got a crew. So I need to travel with one, too. And it needs to be a crew who’s not afraid to get dirty. The meaner the better.”
Kid wasn’t impressed. “And what makes you think you can handle sailing with us, pipsqueak?”
“I’m strong.”
“You’re puny,” Kid scoffed. He did have over a foot of height on you, but it didn’t scare you. Size difference was rarely an issue for you in fights. “And you use knives,” he continued, gaze falling to the rows of short blades strapped to your hips, “meaning you have to get in close range to your opponent, where you’ll get torn apart.”
“If they can keep up,” you argued. What you lacked in brute force, you well made up for in speed. “I can fight, Kid.”
The man cast a shadow as he leaned over you, narrowed eyes taking in your determined expression, assessing something–you didn’t know what. Then he smirked and stood up straight.
“Tell you what,” Kid jerked his thumb over his shoulder, toward a man in blue who was almost as big as he was. A blue and white mask entirely concealed his face, thick blond hair spilling behind it that reached the back of his knees. Large hands curled around heavy metal gauntlets that were attached to wicked-looking scythes, currently folded back out of the way.
“If you can survive three minutes with Killer, I’ll let you join,” Kid said, looking smug. Like he thought you would be intimidated.
“Masquerade Rapunzel over there?” You glanced at the masked man. He was built a little leaner than Kid, but still impressive. Nothing you couldn’t handle, though. And if you couldn’t do this much, then how could you avenge your friend? You raised your chin confidently. “Bet.”
Killer ended up surprising you with his speed, but you were more agile. As a bigger target, he had to block your strikes while you needed to dodge his. The swings of those scythes packed a lot of force behind them, it was too risky to attempt to block. You were certain it would only take a single, direct hit to mortally injure you. But you were very good with your knives, and you were efficient above all else: your knowledge of anatomy taught you the best points to aim for on the human body.
Three minutes later, you’d stabbed Killer right below the chest. He almost decapitated you afterward, though, suddenly moving far more quickly than before. You jerked back at the last moment, and his blade tore you open to the bone, from your clavicle to your shoulder. Now second-guessing your chances of survival, you nonetheless prepared to strike back–and Kid called time. You and Killer were both hurting, but you were alive.
You expected them to be angry, but neither Kid nor Killer seemed bothered about either of the frankly concerning injuries. Moreover, Kid was impressed enough by the fight to honor his word. Their ship’s doctor patched you both up, and that night, you became the newest member of the Kid Pirates.
You didn’t open up for months.
You didn’t talk, much less hold conversations, and you mostly kept to yourself. Part of it was the fresh grief of losing your friend. Part of it was difficulty adjusting to the new lifestyle, having never sailed before. But mostly, you figured there was no point–after you got your revenge, you’d be parting ways with the Kid Pirates. It stayed in the back of your mind the entire time: This is temporary.
“Hey, Y/n, watcha doin’?” House paused by where you sat against the mast, your weapons laid out on your lap.
“Sharpening my knives,” you responded without looking at her.
“Didn’t you do that yesterday?”
“I like knowing they’re sharp.”
House glanced to the side, fiddling with her fingers. “...Oookay. I’ll leave you to it, I guess…”
And so it went. But months slipped by and turned to years, and living and fighting with the same people for that long had an effect that even your stubborn self couldn’t resist. It was in the way Wire dropped his coat onto you when you were shivering from an unexpected cold front, the garment gigantic and more like a blanket in comparison to you. It was in the way Killer found out your favorite food and served it for dinner after catching you crying one afternoon in the crow’s nest. It was in the way the girls in the crew drew you into their group (“us pirate girls gotta stick together!”) and let you jam with them on your off hours. Slowly, like a flower growing after the last winter, you opened up to the others’ warmth.
And heaven help them when you did, because once you got comfortable, you stopped censoring yourself. As you became friendly with the crew and got past your grief, your original personality started to shine through, and whatever thought came to mind was fair game. You started talking to the crew like you did to your friends back home–which, for Mesiba Island natives, typically meant being crass and lewd. You couldn’t help it, it was just in your nature. Maybe your original friend group took it too far, though.
Case in point: Heat looked over your shoulder at a letter you were writing one day, and commented on your (admittedly awful) handwriting.
“Can your friends back home even read what you send them, or do you all write like that?”
You replied without thinking. “Don’t bully me, Heat, I’ll cum.” 
Heat’s entire body flinched like he was hit, and he blushed all the way down to his neck, contrasting brilliantly with his tattoos. Completely disarmed, he opened his mouth to reply, but couldn’t find the words.
Oops, that might have been a bit much for him. For all that his appearance might suggest, Heat was one of the most reserved members of the crew. You just returned to your letter, adding the exchange to the list of things you were writing about. You’d leave out how cute the blush looked on Heat, though, saving that thought for yourself to enjoy privately.
Then there was the time Kid was having drunken arm wrestling matches with some of the guys. You slid into the seat across from him and propped your elbow on the table, equally inebriated and mostly joking–his arm was three times as thick as yours, after all.
Kid shot you a lazy smirk. “Don’t even bother. You’ll just be a disappointment.”
“You sound like my father,” you joked. “Careful there, Captain. I might develop a complex.”
Brow raising, he grabbed your outstretched hand, dwarfing it in his. “Sounds like you already have one.”
“It is what it is.” Your gaze dropped to his arm, to the flexing of the thick muscle rippling underneath the skin, a little too intoxicated to catch yourself checking him out. Kid didn’t miss it, looking smug.
He squeezed your hand, the strength behind his grip setting butterflies free in your stomach. “Give it your best shot, then, pipsqueak.”
You pushed with all your might, straining and struggling, even leaning your body weight into his arm like you weren’t supposed to. You barely made any headway, Kid’s arm only moving back a little bit. He just watched you through half-lidded eyes, unbothered, a small smirk showing his amusement at your feeble attempt.
Maybe it was just the alcohol warming your blood, but the struggle seemed to affect you a little more than it should have. You could have chalked up the pounding of your heart to the physical exertion of the attempt, and not the stark power difference so obviously displayed between you and Kid, but it would have been a lie. The way your gaze kept ending up on his massive arms was proof enough of that.
“Hmph.” Kid waited another minute, then slowly and easily pushed your hand down until it pressed into the table. He did not let go. “Weak.”
“Bleh,” you stuck out your tongue, even though you had fully expected the result. “Well, you don’t need a lot of force behind your attacks if your knives are sharp.” You patted the knives at your hip and smirked. “Flesh parts easily for the sturdy blade.”
Kid’s grip on your hand tightened a little, and you went rigid at the way his voice dipped low. “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Y/n?”
“Intimately so,” you shot back, feeling your cheeks getting warm, the sensation of his hand over yours suddenly overwhelming. Unused to feeling shy, you quickly covered it up with banter. “While I also enjoy holding your hand, Captain, I’ll be needing mine back.”
Kid’s eyes widened before he let go, drawing his arm back a bit too fast. Got him.
You stood, deciding tactfully not to point out his reaction, instead offering him a sheepish grin. “Thanks for indulging me, anyway. G’night, Captain.”
Maybe you had imagined the faint dusting of red on his cheeks, but as you walked away, you were determined not to think about it. Teasing was fine with you, so long as it stayed strictly verbal–you had no business getting close in that sort of way with anyone, no matter how drawn you felt to them. There were a few people in the crew that you liked being around a little more than you should have. It probably wasn’t a coincidence that they were the only ones who could kick your ass, your brain immediately going to unsavory places whenever they bested you while sparring.
Technically it made sense, given that they were the strongest four: Kid, Killer, Wire, and Heat. You ranked fifth in terms of combat ability (though other crewmates had seniority over you due to experience,) earned one day after a long, exhausting match with Gig. You had barely come out on top, literally, by perching on his back and strangling him with his own necklace. You were certain you could at least handle Heat after that, but when you later challenged the fire-breather, it only took a short while before he had you pinned to the floor with a hand wrapped around your neck, your knives knocked out of reach.
Heat opened his mouth, curls of smoke rising out in threat, and you tapped out, trying not to think about the feel of his fingers around your throat.
“Okay, okay, you win,” you sighed in defeat. “Hurry up and let go before you awaken something in me.”
Heat pulled away quickly, blushing, though it could have also been from exertion. It looked good on him either way, even combined with the annoyed look he gave you. 
“You don’t even need to fight your opponents. You could just run that colorful mouth of yours, and they would run away,” he grumbled, offering you a hand.
You took it, and Heat pulled you easily to your feet. He must have still felt flustered, though, because he pulled a little too hard, making you stumble into him. He caught you, steadying you by the arms, and when your gazes met, you both froze, realizing how close you were.
Heat’s eyes flickered back and forth across your face, his blush deepening when he glanced at your lips. Suddenly the pounding of your heart had nothing to do with exercise. Caught off guard and anxious, you played it off the only way you knew how. “You gotta at least buy me dinner before talking about my mouth, sir.” 
Really, you weren’t trying to make it worse. You just couldn’t help yourself, always talking too much whenever you got nervous. The words only served to thicken the tension, the feeling of his hands on your arms exceedingly hot all of a sudden. His entire body seemed to give off heat, more so than usual, and your stupid mouth kept going, revealing every stray thought in your brain. “Oh, wow, you’re really warm. You’d make an excellent bedmate on a cold night.”
“I…” Heat found himself at a loss for words. He let go of your arms but otherwise remained frozen, and you wondered if he was picturing the same thing you were–the two of you curled up together, bodies pressed close, lazily breathing in each other’s scent. Maybe your hands would start to wander…
“Sorry. Forget I said anything.” You looked away, unable to harbor the thought while also meeting his eye, nervously rubbing your arm where he had been touching you. “Um, good fight, yeah? Maybe I’ll pin you next time. That would be an exciting change.”
Again with unintentionally making things worse. The sight of Heat’s Adam's apple bobbing with his swallow finally spurred you to leave, not wanting to twist yourself up in unnecessary desire any further if you could help it.
You were, to be honest, caught off guard by your attraction. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise–you knew what you liked, and they all fit the bill in their own way–but you had joined the crew during a grieving period. At the time, and for a long while after, you had felt nothing toward the crew, much less interest. The feelings snuck up on you as you came out of your shell, and they were getting increasingly harder to ignore.
The Victoria Punk anchored in a secluded cove one hot day, and most of the crew opted to go for a swim. You kicked off your shoes carelessly in your eagerness to join, each one landing on a different spot on the pile the crew left behind. Killer went to retrieve them, going to line them up neatly with the rest–one of his odd, compulsive habits–and the rare sound of his huff of suppressed laughter made you pause, his deep voice speaking up a second later. 
“What the hell is this?”
You turned around to see him holding up one of your shoes. Killer had bulked up significantly in the time since you’d set sail with the Kid Pirates, and the sight of the comparatively small item in the palm of his hand was, to be fair, a little ridiculous.
“My shoes?” You narrowed your eyes, having a feeling you knew where this was going and not caring for it at all.
“No way your feet are this small.” His head turned to you, mask tilting down, and you knew he was looking at your feet. You felt a strong urge to cover them, which was dumb–why should you feel shy about your feet, of all things? But Killer had inadvertently found something you were self-conscious about.
“Whatever! Stop looking, you weirdo.”
Killer was usually hard to read, even after knowing him that long. But right then, you couldn’t help but feel like he was enjoying getting a rise out of you, because he continued. “These are shoes for ants.”
“Shut up, Killer!!” You snapped, face flushing warm. “They are proportionate to my height, thank you very much! F–” You stopped yourself before a ‘fuck off’ slipped out, mindful of your rank. He wouldn’t appreciate the disrespect.
Killer noticed, though, as astute as ever. “What was that?”
From the tone of his voice, you could tell he was only messing with you, not actually upset. That only made it worse, though, your chest getting tight in response.
“Nothing! You didn’t hear anything.” You crossed your arms in a subconscious attempt to cover yourself, feeling exposed even though your swimsuit wasn’t revealing.
Another brief huff was audible from under his mask, and then Killer set down your shoe and approached you. He didn’t stop until he was fairly close, only a few inches separating your bodies, and you resisted the urge to step back, heart thumping in your chest as you looked up at him.
Killer rested a hand flat on top of your head, like he was measuring your height. You barely reached the top of his chest. In fact, you were at the perfect height to shove your face between his giant pecs, a thought that your brain took off with at an alarming speed before you could hope to suppress it. 
You made a face at him, trying very hard to look annoyed rather than affected.
“I suppose it makes sense,” Killer hummed, “given you’re so tiny.”
“I am not! I’m not even the shortest one on the crew!” you protested. “Of course everything would seem small to you! You’re stupidly huge.”
“Stupidly huge?” Killer repeated, that edge of amusement never leaving his voice.
“Yes,” you grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand off your head, and paused at the sight of it. It was as big as Kid’s. Without thinking, you raised your other hand to press against his, comparing the size directly. “S-See? Look at these–these flippers of yours.”
Killer huffed again. You wondered why he never laughed outright, but it still made your heart pick up speed. Your hand looked like a child’s compared to his, each of his fingers an inch longer and far thicker–do NOT think about that right now, you thought sternly, desperate to keep your imagination under control. You could not ignore how the rough skin of his palm was pleasantly warm, though, nor how he curled his fingers over yours, calloused fingertips covering your nails.
There was a heat on your skin now that had nothing to do with the weather. You were quite literally in the process of losing your cool, which naturally meant running your mouth further. “I can’t believe the oven mitts in the galley even fit you,” you jabbed, drawing your hand away. “Were they custom-made?”
“You sound jealous,” Killer retorted, lowering his hand. “I think you just hate being short.”
You looked him up and down, and–heaven help you–before you could stop yourself, your gaze settled between his legs as you audibly stated, “Not always.”
Killer went quiet. You went quiet. The silence hung between you awkwardly, while you felt like your brain was coming to a rapid boil.
It was suddenly far too hot.
You opened your mouth. Closed it. And then turned, bolting straight for the port side of the ship and flinging yourself into the ocean, nearly taking out a crewmate because you didn’t look first.
Even with Killer’s face perpetually concealed, you couldn’t look at him for a week straight after that.
Your filter never really returned, which wasn’t usually a problem for you. The Kid Pirates were as crass a crew as any. You didn’t care about being suggestive, normally finding it funny more than anything else–but when it happened around those four, you would get uncharacteristically flustered, and attempting to hide it often led you to digging the hole deeper. Alcohol only made it worse, and there was enough of it going around each night to keep leading you to compromise your plans of keeping your distance.
When a party on the deck threatened to overstimulate you, you retreated to the crow’s nest, ascending carefully to minimize the loss of rum from your mug. Some still spilled out, but by the time you made it inside, you were pretty satisfied with your achievement, especially considering your current inebriation.
Unfortunately, the crow’s nest was already occupied. Fortunately, it was only Wire–one of the more preferable people to run into at the moment, considering his laid-back attitude and soft-spoken manner. He was bent over slightly where he sat in order to fit into the small room, his head grazing the ceiling, the horns of his hood folded down cutely.
“Ey, Wire,” you greeted. “How’s it going?”
“Good.” Wire looked at the mug in your hand and chuckled. “You know, climbing the mast drunk, while clinging to your booze, and not falling off–that, more than anything, really brands you as a pirate.”
“Who says I’m drunk?” You crossed the room, only swaying a little bit, and plopped onto the bench next to Wire. 
Wire paused. “Actually, you always speak so freely that I can never tell. Most of the time, anyway.”
“Hm. Probably not a good thing,” you mused.
“Is it? I kind of envy the way you so openly speak your mind.”
“Don’t. It’s a curse.” You grinned despite yourself. “But, for the record, I’m good and sloshed right now.”
“As am I,” Wire said, lifting up his own mug from where it rested on his other side. It was proportionate to him, the size of your head, large enough to hold over a gallon of liquid. “What brings you up here?”
“I could ask the same, what with you drinking alone.” You nudged his leg with your foot. “Things were getting a bit loud, so I needed a break, that’s all.”
“But you jam with the girls all the time?” Wire asked.
“Music noise and crowd noise are different,” you explained. “I don’t really know how to describe it.”
“Fair enough.”
“I usually don’t mind a little overstimulation,” you said thoughtfully, completely oblivious both to what you implied and to the way Wire subtly leaned toward you in interest, “but it’s worse when I’m drunk or high, so.”
Wire peered into your mug to gauge its contents, an easy task from his vantage point. “Are you that drunk?”
“Triple basted, as my friends back home would say,” you swirled the rum in your mug idly, “but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I’m a Mesiban native, after all. Chaos is in our blood. We call ourselves ‘Messy’ for good reason.’”
Wire reflected your wry smile. “Do you miss them?”
“Of course! I think about them all the time.” You paused, smile fading as your fingers tapped on your mug. “When my friend was killed… I probably should have stayed home and grieved together with all of the rest. Have their support and support them in turn. And not, you know, impulsively join a pirate crew and wallow alone in misery for months.” 
Wire watched you stare into your mug for a moment, and then your smile returned full force as you looked up at him.
“But that’s okay!” you said cheerfully, “I would have never met all of you otherwise, so things worked out just fine in the end. I really feel like–and don’t laugh–I really feel like every person on this crew’s my friend, too.”
Wire’s smile widened. You certainly had come a long way over the last few years. He held his mug out to you. “To good friends.”
“Old and new,” you added, knocking your mug against his.
“Aye.” 
The thunk of the wooden mugs hitting each other was satisfying, and the deep drink you both took was even more so. You drained the rest of your drink in one go, then chucked the empty mug across the room.
“Ah, that’s good stuff. I feel fucking great,” you sighed, “now I just need a great fucking.”
Wire nearly choked on his drink, managing to get it down safely before he laughed. “Yeah?”
“Mm. Perfect way to wrap up the night. Drunk sex isn’t as good as high sex, but it’s better than no sex. Words of wisdom!” You waved a hand nonchalantly as your words slurred. “But I’m used to not getting any. Haven’t fucked anyone since I became a pirate. At this point, I’d be satisfied with the simple pleasures of a comfy blanket.”
Wire took in that information slowly, realizing that, for all your lewd dialogue, he had never actually seen you go hunting for flings when they were docked. He perked up at your last sentence. “Oh, are you cold?”
“Yeah.” Despite the alcohol in your system, you tended to run cold, and now that you had settled, you could feel the light chill in the air even from within the crow’s nest.
Wire wordlessly held open the side of his cloak, offering to share in his warmth.
Ordinarily, you would have hesitated, double-checking with him if it was okay. With your current blood-alcohol content level, however, there was no shame nor shyness to be had. You scooted over until you were sitting right up next to him, thighs touching, and he closed the cloak around you, enveloping you in the comfort of both his warmth and his scent.
“Better?” He asked.
“Much,” you leaned against him. “Thanks.”
His arm around your shoulders was solid and soothing, and you felt yourself melt into his body heat. He had a lot of it to go around, given his size. Your drunken thoughts began to charge away from you now that you were snuggled close to his body. As the tallest member of the Kid Pirates, he made even the biggest guys on the ship look tiny, much less yourself. Wire absolutely towered over you, easily twice your height. When you were both standing, you were at eye level with his crotch. You could have sucked him off while standing, a thought that occurred regularly, even after all this time. You never got used to it. But, god, would it even fit in your mouth? Was he proportionate? What if–
“You’re staring,” Wire noted, though he didn’t sound bothered.
You realized you had been staring at his crotch for a solid minute now. However, once again, all traces of shame had been replaced by booze.
“Women get objectified all the time. Now you know what it feels like,” you joked. “I’m evening the playing field.”
You could feel the rumble of Wire’s chuckle through his torso.
“Also, I bet it looks nice,” you continued. “I bet you got a job-hunting dick.”
Wire paused. “Job-hunting?” 
You pulled your gaze away from his crotch to meet his eye, a mischievous spark in yours. “Yeah. You know… Because you fill someone out, like an application.”
Wire laughed, accidentally hitting his head against the ceiling with how he threw his head back. He winced, still giggling, rubbing the top of his head while you apologized.
“Don’t apologize. I like that. ‘Like an application…’ Is that something your friends back home say?”
“Actually, House said it,” you grinned at his look of surprise, “and it’s stowed away in my head ever since.”
As Wire finished his drink, he wondered if he knew less about his crewmates than he previously thought. Setting the mug down on his other side, he looked down to see that you were watching him, focused on his eyes this time. 
“Have you really been celibate this whole time?” he asked.
“Yeah. I don’t like hooking up with strangers.” You shifted, settling further into him. “It was easier back on Mesiba. Had a small network of fuckbuddies, and people could vouch for their acquaintances. Mesibans have a reputation for promiscuity for good reason, but we took care of each other.”
“Sounds like a good time.”
“It wasn’t perfect, but I had my needs met,” you shrugged. “There are downsides to a culture like that, though. I lost my virginity earlier than I probably should have. And I might be a little too used to going out of my comfort zone in bed. But it’s fine, no big deal. Most of the memories are good ones.”
Wire hummed, but didn’t respond. His gaze shifted upwards in thought, and didn’t come back down until you nudged him again.
“What about you?” You asked. “I mean, a guy like you? Mr. Tall, dark and handsome? I bet you were rolling in bitches on your home island.”
“Rolling in ‘em?” Wire smirked to himself, and you wondered if he was also thinking about past dalliances. “I guess I’ve had my fair share of encounters. Enough so to consider myself experienced.”
This time, you went quiet in thought, and the silence that stretched between you was relaxed and cozy. Despite the myriad of unholy scenarios now running through your head, you still could have fallen asleep right there, wrapped in his coat and cuddled up close. A minute later, his deep voice broke through, something you could feel as much as hear with your head resting on his torso.
“You think I’m handsome?”
The question had an immediate effect on your body, your stomach doing a funny little flip while your heart picked up speed. It skipped a beat entirely when you peered up at him and saw the way he was looking at you now, eyes somehow both dark and burning.
Would you have lied if you were sober? You weren’t sure. You were never the shy type–until those damned four–but you were trying not to get too close. Alas, you were currently as drunk as a fish swimming in a lake of booze, and could be nothing but honest. 
“Yeah, I do,” you admitted.
Wire glanced away for a moment, smiling. “What a coincidence.”
“Hm?” You relaxed somewhat when his eyes left you, only to tense up when they met yours again.
“I think you’re cute.”
The heat that flushed through your body could have been blamed on the alcohol, but the force with which your heart was suddenly hammering against your ribs could not. You were almost afraid that he’d be able to feel it. Not that it mattered–you were sure your face was an open book. His thigh, as big as your entire torso, pressed lightly against yours. For a second, you didn’t know what to say. Then you returned his smile, though yours wasn’t nearly as confident.
“That’s a relief. I get self-conscious sometimes.” You looked away, now shy even in spite of the alcohol–he just had that effect on you. “Hopefully I’ll remember that in the morning.”
With one massive finger under your chin, Wire gently turned your head to look back up at him.
Your breath caught in your throat. Wire leaned over you, filling your vision, probably not intending to block out the rest of the room, but unable to help it with his size. It meant you could see nothing but him now. Smell nothing but him, with his cloak wrapped around you. He bent further, getting closer, and you vaguely wondered if it hurt his back given the distance between the two of you, but if it did, he didn’t complain. He just kept getting closer.
“Really cute,” Wire murmured, his face now inches away.
You could barely hear him over the sound of blood roaring in your ears. Wire’s other arm was still slung around your shoulders, and he rubbed your arm slowly, leaving goosebumps. His finger never left your chin as he closed the distance.
Wire’s lips pressed against yours softly. Your entire body seemed to ignite, every cell alight and buzzing all at once. His lips were as warm as the rest of him, but what struck you was how gentle he was, kissing you so delicately it made you dizzy. Overwhelmed, your eyelids fluttered shut, and when you felt him start to pull away, you followed. Now certain you wanted it, Wire found your lips again.
Your hands came up to hold his face, just in case he was thinking of pulling away again, your thumbs tracing the markings on his cheeks. Wire sighed into your mouth, and the tiniest moan escaped yours. He hadn’t even used his tongue, but you were suddenly aware of the growing wetness between your legs–something that never happened to you from just a dry kiss.
The realization was sobering, a voice screaming in the back of your head now: Stop! You’re too close! This is all temporary, remember?!
You broke away from the kiss, eyes opening to see that Wire had never closed his. Had he watched you the whole time? There was a slight panic in your mind now, along with two certainties now made clear: 1. It was too late to deny it–you had feelings for your superiors, and 2. If you stayed there, you were absolutely going to fuck him.
That was a line you couldn’t let yourself cross. It was in the interest of protecting yourself: Getting too close only to have to leave would have hurt, simple as that. But, god, the way he was looking at you now, with a slight sense of awe and pupils blown wide. He wanted you, maybe as badly as you wanted him.
Before you made a decision you’d regret, you stood up, taking a step back. Now away from the cover of his cloak and the warmth of his body, the coolness of the air only contributed to the prickle of goosebumps on your skin. Your hand came to touch your lips, still tingling with the sensation of his.
“Um,” you said dumbly, then tried again, “Wire... Thanks for the chat. I have to, uh. Go to the bathroom...”
It was with the willpower of a thousand Buddhist monks that you forced yourself to leave, not looking back, afraid to see his expression.
You could only pray that he had drunk enough that he would forget about it the next morning. You certainly didn’t, the memory of the kiss fresh in your mind when you next opened your eyes. But Wire never brought it up again, nor did he treat you any differently, leading you to think that he must have. You tried to ignore the disappointment that arose–it was for the best, you told yourself.
You put more effort into staying emotionally distant after that, but it was difficult. Staying in an enclosed space for weeks at a time meant there was no avoiding those four. And aside from them, there was no doubt that the rest of the crew considered you a friend as much as you did them. Vicious battles with other pirate crews or Marines, perilous weather, long hours of work–nothing was able to drag down your mood for long, because at the end of the day, you had fun. It was just fun to sail with them, simple as that. 
You were enjoying yourself enough that you almost forgot about your revenge, your reason for joining Kid the first place, until the day came when it stared you in the face. You heard from the natives of the island you had docked at about the other crews currently there, and the name spoken of that pirate, your friend’s killer, was like ice on your skin and in your heart. Finally, after all those years, you would have your opportunity.
You found him. Both crews were there, but this was personal–you wanted to face him one-on-one. He agreed, the cocky look on his face a familiar indicator that he was underestimating you. That was fine. It would only make things easier. You didn’t need an epic battle, you just needed him to die.
With your trusty knives sharp and ready, and your heart crying out for blood, you fought him. You were far stronger and faster than you had been when you first left your home island, a result of the frequent training with the Kid Pirates. The pirate was strong, but not nearly strong enough. When it became obvious he was going to lose, he cowardly called out for his crew. For a moment, seeing the swarm of pirates rush to his aid, you thought you would die there. Then, to your surprise, the Kid Pirates surged forth to intercept them, letting you finish your fight without interruptions.
You slayed the man who killed your friend. Those of his crew that were still standing, now demotivated at the sight of their dead captain, made a hasty retreat. And as you stood there, panting, blood dripping from your knives, you realized that the mission was finally complete. You no longer needed the Kid Pirates. It was over.
Kid approached you. And you? You cried like a bitch, tears streaming down your cheeks at the thought of finally saying goodbye. It was the first time you’d ever cried in front of them like that, and it was not a pretty cry, either.
Kid leaned over you, like he did when you first met. But this time, he was wearing his unique look of annoyed concern. “You got what you wanted after all this time,” he said gruffly. “Why the hell are you crying?”
“I… I…” You fought to keep your voice steady. “I don’t want to leave! I want to keep sailing with you and the crew. I really,” you sniffed, “really enjoyed spending time with everyone!”
“Then stay, you big fucking crybaby.”
You wiped your face on your sleeve and peered up at him. “...I can stay?”
“Did you think you were getting kicked off?” Kid scowled. “You’ll always have a place onboard the Victoria Punk.”
That only made it worse, a fresh wave of tears pouring out, and you couldn’t find the words to respond, only a pathetic sob.
“So quit blubbering and pull yourself together, alright? This is embarrassing,” Kid said. “You’re a Kid Pirate, aren’t you? Act like it.”
Warmth spread through your chest, light and bubbly, a sense of camaraderie so strong it was almost euphoric. You smiled through the tears, the cry turning into a laugh of pure joy.
“Yeah,” you said, standing up straighter, “I am a Kid Pirate.”
The crew threw a party that night in celebration of your achievement. Seeing the reverie, them all having fun for your sake, made you emotional, and when they toasted to you, you cried again, earning their teasing. It didn’t bother you one bit. This was your life and these were your people now, and you wouldn’t change it for anything. You asked Hip, a former tattoo artist, for a certain tattoo later, once you were all sober, and she eagerly agreed.
As soon as the following day, you bore new ink. Situated in the middle of your upper back, right between your shoulder blades, was the Kid Pirates’ secondary jolly roger: Four inches across, a perfect circle of glittering black ink with a row of spikes, and a skull in the center. It wasn’t visible when you were dressed, as you liked to be able to blend in with the general population, but you couldn’t help smiling like an idiot whenever you looked at it in the mirror. Kid made it obvious that you had been one of them since the beginning, but this made it feel official.
The energy on the ship seemed different after that, but it might have been your imagination. You felt closer to everyone than ever before, after all. Maybe it was the symbol you now carried on your back. Maybe it was the memory of the whole crew rushing in to fight for you. Or maybe it was the fact that there was no more reason to keep your distance from those four, a thought that reared up with increasing frequency nowadays. Still, you kept it in your pants, so to speak, mostly because you were afraid of what you would do if you crossed that line. You weren’t sure if you wanted them to find out just how far your craving went, not wanting to appear desperate.
After circling the first half of the Grand Line, Kid decided a break was in order, and so the Victoria Punk headed for your home island to kick back. You were excited, naturally, eager to show the crew the very best Mesiba Island had to offer, local digs and spots that weren’t as well-known to outsiders. You were also planning something else, something you didn’t get to partake in much since you left home.
“I’ve been in contact with one of my buddies. I’m gonna hook up the whole crew,” you told Kid.
“What makes you think I’d smoke your hometown’s mid-tier garbage?” Kid griped.
You weren’t phased in the slightest, well-used to his attitude. “Oh Captain, dearest Captain. You have no idea what you’re in for,” you smirked. “My friend’s a Devil Fruit user! Some ability affecting plants, I don’t know the specifics. Produces nothing but gold, though.”
“Bullshit,” Kid said. “I bet he says that to drive up business.”
“She actually keeps that part quiet, to avoid trouble. But we’re close. So don’t tell anyone I told you that, okay?” You patted his shoulder.
Kid glared at your hand, but you didn’t move it until he replied. “Fine. I’ll judge it for myself, then.”
“We haven't gotten to smoke in a while,” you withdrew your hand, “same with most of the crew. If you’re not careful…”
“I know what I can handle, pipsqueak. Don’t worry about me.”
“Sure, of course. Whatever you say.”
Kid turned his glare to you, but you were already leaving, needing to write another letter to your dealer friend to get the goods prepared.
The first two days on Mesiba Island were less eventful, you taking the time to visit friends and family while the crew relaxed. On the third day, you had met up with your Devil Fruit-using buddy, and, as promised, returned with copious amounts of the highest-quality weed for everyone to enjoy. The crew stayed at one of your friend’s taverns, and you pulled aside Kid, Killer, Heat, and Wire.
“Listen. There wasn’t enough of this particular strain for everyone, but I wanted to share it. Don’t tell the others, okay?”
You had gotten a nice deal on rooms from your friend, and the crew had splintered into various groups to partake in the drugs. It didn’t take much convincing for the four to join you in a separate room, curious about the special strain. You pushed the bed to the side and dragged out extra chairs, arranging them in a circle.
Almost everything had been set up ahead of time. Bottles of water and snacks lined the small table in the middle of the room, along with a rolling tray, an ashtray, and all the papers and tips you could possibly need. You put on gloves before grinding up the bud, chatting while you worked.
“It’s okay to smoke in here?” Heat asked.
“Remember what island you’re on,” you said, sprinkling the herb on the blunt wrap you were currently working with. “Not only is it okay, but we’re going to hotbox the room.”
Kid eyed the row of perfectly rolled blunts that you had already finished preparing. “You were a regular stoner, huh?”
“Have you considered that maybe I’m just good with my hands?” You glanced at him while licking the blunt wrap, which might have been a mistake, because he stared in a way that made your heart skip. You folded the blunt wrap closed. “But, yeah, I used to smoke all the time.”
“What’s so special about this strain?” Wire asked.
“It’s my favorite! Best of the best out of what my friend grows,” you smiled proudly as you dried the blunt with your lighter. “A well-balanced hybrid with a good flavor. Really nice, lofty high without knocking you out too much to enjoy it. Not that the crew got anything mid! This stuff is just even better, but she only grows it in small batches. I bet it’ll even chill you out, Kid.”
Kid shot you a look that you ignored while Wire nodded, saying, “I see. What’s it called?”
“Magenta Mountain.” You set the finished blunt at the end of the row to finish drying. The first ones were ready by now.
You plopped into your chair, lit the first blunt, and made sure it was burning evenly before taking a small hit to start with, to adjust to the feeling of smoking again. It didn’t take long, the hot smoke in your throat and lungs pleasant rather than irritating, and your second hit was deeper. You exhaled slowly, watching the milky smoke curl and expand, then coughed a few times before passing the blunt to your right, where Killer sat. Next to him was Kid, then Heat, and completing the circle, on your left, was Wire.
You expected Killer to lift his mask an inch, like you’d seen him do occasionally for certain foods. Instead, he stuck the blunt in one of the lower holes of his mask to take the hit, and when he exhaled, smoke came out of all the holes in the mask.
“Once the blunt’s gone around a few times,” you said, “that’s gonna be hilarious.”
“It’s hilarious now,” Heat grinned.
“You’ll get over it,” Killer said, passing the blunt to Kid.
“Just don’t get mad if I laugh,” you said.
“I won’t.”
You debated lighting a second blunt and having two going around at once, but ultimately decided against it. There was no rush, as the rooms were rented out for the entire night. Conversation started to flow, interspersed with the occasional fit of coughs, and by the third time the blunt passed your hands, you were starting to feel its effects. The first thing you noticed was the warmth around your eyes, gradually spreading to the rest of your face, and then to your entire body.
“How’s my hometown treating everyone?” you asked, shrugging off your jacket and tossing it onto the bed behind you.
“No complaints here,” Heat said before taking a large hit off the blunt, and you watched with some fascination. Every hit he took was a huge one, and he never coughed once. It must have had something to do with his fire-breathing ability, being used to smoke.
“I liked the restaurant from yesterday,” Killer remarked.
“Oh, you mean Papa’s? I thought you would. Their pasta rules.” You paused, remembering something, then snickered.
“What?” Kid asked, his tone already far less harsh than usual.
“It’s fucking stupid,” you grinned, “but, growing up, my friends and I would call it ‘Daddy’s’ as a joke. Someone would order spaghetti and meatballs, and we’d immediately pile on about them having ‘daddy’s balls’ and whatnot.”
Kid must have been feeling it now, too, because instead of rolling his eyes like he usually would, he cracked a smile.
“Told you it was dumb.” You leaned back in your chair–no, you melted into it. There was a haze in the air now, thick smoke hanging around the room as you hotboxed it further and further. There was also a haze in your head. Different from the kind you would get from alcohol, this one made you feel light and floaty.
The weed was well established in your system now. There was a slight head rush at first that had since settled, leaving you with a gentle sort of drifting feeling. Your heart rate picked up slightly, even as your breathing slowed. A sense of calm settled over you, both in your head and in your body. Muscles loosening up, you relaxed further, everything seeming to move a little bit more slowly. Your senses seemed to heighten, particularly your sense of touch. You could feel the air itself wrapped around your skin, like you were underwater without the water. A faint, soothing pressure.
You didn’t feel the world around you. You experienced it.
Along with the physical sensitivity came an almost spiritual one. Not in the religious sense, or even in the out-of-body sense, but in the way you felt connected to your surroundings. The pressure of your feet against the floor was grounding, and when you closed your eyes, you felt like you were a part of the entire island. When the others talked, you felt connected with them too, like you were locking onto their energy. That closeness was one reason you loved smoking with friends, so it was nice to share it with them, but it wasn’t your favorite thing about being high.
The best thing, you thought, was the way your negativity seemed to dissolve. Fears and doubts subsided, making way for a simple appreciation of existence. It seemed more important to focus on enjoying things in life rather than lamenting the broken state of the world.
You looked around the room and took in the state of your companions. Everyone except Killer had settled back into their chairs, the latter instead leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. But you could tell that even Killer was unwinding. Your gaze slid over to look at Heat, and when the two of you made eye contact, his eyes widened.
“Your eyes are really red,” Heat said.
“Everyone’s eyes are red, my guy,” you replied, then glanced at Killer. “Well, Killer’s might not be. We’ll never know.”
You and Heat giggled.
“And I’ll never tell,” Killer said solemnly.
That got everyone laughing, you covering your mouth until the fit calmed.
“When I first joined the crew,” you nodded at Killer, “I was dying to know what you looked like under the mask, but I’m over it now.”
“No, you’re not,” Wire accused.
You were a bit taken aback that he read you so easily. “No, I’m not,” you agreed.
Kid waved his right hand vaguely. “You’re not missing out on anything. He’s an ugly motherfucker.”
You gawked at Kid in shock, but Killer burst out laughing, the first time you’d ever heard him do so, head hanging down and shoulders shaking. It was a weird but adorable laugh, and you calmed down–it seemed that sort of thing was fine if it was coming from Kid.
“No way,” you said, relaxing once more. “I bet he’s cute.”
Alcohol made you honest due to a lack of judgment. Weed made you honest because you didn’t care otherwise. You knew what you were saying and it was okay because the world was good, and your friends liked you and all that mattered was being in the moment.
“You sound so certain,” Killer said once he caught his breath, a playful lilt to his tone lingering from his laugh.
“I can feel it in my gut,” you said assuredly.
“I could have a facial scar.”
“Kid has a facial scar, and he’s cute.”
Kid looked at you in surprise, and where you would normally smile back with your high confidence, you now deftly avoided eye contact as you were rapidly becoming aware of a new effect of the weed on your body.
Sometimes weed had the effect of raising your libido, and Magenta Mountain had occasionally done so in the past. Maybe it was the increased circulation, you didn’t know. You had considered that it might happen, but it was never enough to be distracting, so you hadn’t been worried. The rest of the effects of the weed were so nice, it was well worth the discomfort of possibly being a bit aroused in the presence of others, you had figured.
But you were not a ‘bit’ aroused. You were burning up, slowly but surely, tingling and hypersensitive all over until there was a growing dampness between your legs. And the others around you were all men you had a raging, years-long crush on. Beneath the carefree optimism of the high was the dawning sense that something was off.
“This shit is amazing. What did you call this strain?” Heat asked, plucking the weed container from the table to look at the label.
“Magenta Mountain.”
“Huh…” His squinty eyes narrowed further. “This says something else.”
“What?”
Heat tossed the container to you. You fumbled it in your intoxication, bouncing it between your hands until it clattered to the floor. The others laughed, and you did too as you reached down to pick it up. Your laughter died as you read the label.
‘Red Sky At Night.’
A weight settled heavily in your stomach as you realized what’s been happening: your friend gave you the wrong strain. Not only that, but you were very, very familiar with what you–and the others–had been smoking all this time.
‘R-SAN,’ as you and your friend had dubbed it, was specifically designed to increase arousal, focusing on blood flow and sensitivity far more than other strains. You knew this because you were the one your friend used as a lab rat when developing it. The information sank in slowly as it dawned on you–you’d unintentionally given you and your superiors a mild aphrodisiac. And you, as the one it was tested on, would be affected by it the most heavily.
“Y/n?”
Your head snapped up. The others were looking at you with some concern.
“You good, or did we just smoke the wrong weed?”
“We’re good!” You replied a little too quickly, voice a little too high-pitched. “She gave me the wrong strain, but it’s fine. I mean, I feel fine. Do you feel fine?”
Heat and Killer shrugged, Kid grunted an affirmative, and Wire nodded.
“I will admit,” Kid said, “whatever this is, it’s some pretty good shit.”
You lifted your chin. “T-Told you so. My friend grows good herb.”
The others lounged in their seats quietly, soaking in the high. Meanwhile, you wanted to scream. The current blunt in rotation was the third one of the night, and you had already smoked too much to be able to come down anytime soon. Not to mention there were four more blunts left that the others would likely want to go through. That meant a lot of time stuck in your worked-up state. If you rejected any more, would it be suspicious? Especially after you went to the trouble to set all this up? You weren’t sure how much more you could tolerate. Already, you wanted to run off and touch yourself until you had sated the blazing urge inside you.
It was imperative, for the sake of your sanity, that you did not let your imagination run away with you.
You tried to think about tame things, and not how you could feel your pulse between your legs, or how wet you were already, or how attractive the men you were sharing space with were. At the least, it was easy to be introspective when high, so you were able to force your thoughts into the sentimental, rather than the physical. You thought about the warmth of your friends–not that kind of warmth, damn it–but how the way they treated you changed since you first met them. Yes, focus on that. Focus on the beginnings, how initially standoffish everyone was. You considered the time when you first met the crew. There had been something odd about your battle with the First Mate…
“Killer,” you said, “remember when we first met? How we fought?” You pulled the neckline of your shirt to the side, exposing your shoulder to show the scar that ran from there to your clavicle. At 6 inches long, it was your biggest scar, but you didn’t hold it against him. Focused on Killer, you missed the gazes of the other three settling on your bare skin.
“Yeah,” Killer replied.
“You were going easy on me, weren’t you?”
“Yeah. Until you stabbed me.”
That was what you had suspected. The sudden increase in his speed during the fight didn’t make sense otherwise. You tried not to sound smug. “Why is that? Why didn’t you try to kill me, Killer?”
“I almost took your head off,” Killer said plainly.
“No, I’m talking about before I stabbed you. You held back,” you pressed.
Killer paused. “...You want the truth?”
“Yes?” You sat forward, intrigued.
“When you approached us years ago,” Killer interlaced his fingers and rested his chin on them, “your eyes were all swollen like you’d been crying for hours. I assumed it was over the friend you wanted revenge for–I realized you came straight to us not long after you’d found out. That kind of determination, that kind of love for a friend, it’s something I value in an ally. That’s why I hesitated.” 
“Oh,” you said softly, unexpectedly touched. That was honestly very sweet, so much so that it was making you self-conscious, so you added a playful, “guess that all went out the window after my knife slotted between your ribs, eh?”
“Mostly,” Killer said. “I was kind of into it, though.”
Your eyes widened, and you grinned nervously. “Shut the hell up. No you were not.”
Wire chuckled, a deep sound that practically gave you goosebumps in your current state. “Well, knives are sexy, and Killer has a ridiculously high pain tolerance, so I can see it.”
No matter what you did, it seemed that the conversation kept circling back to indecent places. You mentally floundered for a moment before quickly spouting, “Too bad for you guys. Killer got soft, and now you’re stuck with me.”
Killer’s head snapped to you at the accusation, and even though you couldn’t see his face, you could feel the weight of his glare. You met it (kind of) in challenge. Despite the slight sense of warning you were getting, you continued to run your mouth.
“You could have killed me if you really tried, you know–back then, you completely outclassed me.”
“I still completely outclass you,” Killer stated.
Your look of indignant shock sent the other three into a laughing fit, and your face burned in embarrassment. Even high, you still had your pride as a fighter, which was now thoroughly bruised. “Excuse me?” you fumed. “I’m way stronger than I was years ago! I can fucking take you!”
Killer stood up suddenly, the warning in your head becoming a full-on alarm when he stalked over to you. You scrambled to your feet, but the weed slowed your reaction speed, and before you could do anything about it, Killer grabbed you.
Maneuvering you as easily as a child would a doll, Killer pulled you toward him so your back was against his chest, snaked one beefy arm under yours and around the back of your neck, and locked you into a half-Nelson, all in the span of a second. Then he stood up straight, and you were brought off your feet. With your head being pushed down, you couldn’t gain any leverage, kicking and struggling to no avail. He was a solid wall of muscle, and with only one arm, he had you completely helpless. After another fruitless minute, you gave up, going slack in defeat.
“Okay, okay, I get it,” you mumbled, making the other three laugh again.
Point now proven, Killer set you on the ground. It took everything in you to keep your legs from shaking. Arm wrestling with Kid that one time had been bad enough. Being locked against Killer, totally unable to fight back? Feeling the firmness of his torso against your back, the power in his arm? You weren’t just wet anymore–you were completely soaked. You only prayed it wouldn’t get bad enough to show through your pants.
Sinking into your seat, you tuned out the others for a minute, all comments fading into the background. You tried to focus on breathing slowly, to ease the frantic pounding of your heart, to ignore the aching need between your legs. Zoning out was impossible with the raging sensitivity of your body, but you could at least ground yourself enough to make it through the evening. After this session, you would duck into a private room and take care of yourself. Just hold out that much longer, you thought.
They must have moved on from ribbing you by the time you focused once more. You hadn’t heard any of it, though you were sure they had. At least, Kid would have. Now he was talking about something else, finishing a story you had entirely missed.
“It was a pain in the ass,” Kid paused to take a hit, exhaling before he continued, “but right now? I don’t give a shit anymore.”
Hearing that, it was hard not to feel smug. That was the exact reason you had brought weed for everyone (and why you were in your current predicament.) All for the opportunity for your friends to relax.
“See, I knew it’d mellow you out, Kid,” you said, coming off a little too pleased with yourself and making him glower.
“You didn’t know shit. Mind your tongue,” he said, though the effect of his words was ruined by how tranquil he sounded. “You aren’t getting any free passes because of this.”
You hid a grin. He may have said that, but you knew him better. One of Kid’s better traits was to pay back what he was given, good or bad. You knew for a fact that he would go easier on you for a while for having set everyone up for the night.
“You don’t scare me, Kid. I know you care. Mr. You-will-always-have-a-place-onboard-the-Victoria-Punk.”
“Shut the hell up, Y/n,” he said with no real venom, although you did not miss the faint tinting of red on his cheeks. “Don’t make me put your valuables on the top shelf.”
“Go ahead,” you shrugged. “Wire will get it for me.” You turned your gaze onto Wire, batting your eyelashes cartoonishly. “Won’t you, Wire?”
It looked ridiculous coming from you, and had the desired effect of making him giggle, his face lighting up in a way that tugged at your heart. He smiled down at you fondly. “Sure.”
“Are you whipped?” Kid grumbled. “Don’t tell me you two fucked.”
“We did not,” you interjected before anyone made a dumb comment. Unfortunately, you thought to yourself.
“You did kiss me, though,” Wire said casually.
Oh–so he hadn’t forgotten. The man had no idea what kind of bomb that was to drop on you now, of all times.
“Wire!” you shouted. “That’s–”
“What?!” The other three yelled in unison.
“–not how it happened! You kissed me!” You tried to shout, but no one was listening because the other three, even Killer, had rounded on Wire for some reason.
“You kissed her?”
“I thought we had a deal, you scumbag!”
“When the hell was this?”
“Wait, hold on!” you cried. “What did you say?!”
They were not listening.
“With tongue?”
“You’re a fucking traitor, Wire.”
“Here I thought you were the one with self-control.”
“Will you morons shut the fuck up!” you roared.
They finally went quiet, all staring owlishly at you now.
“Did you–did you say you had a deal? What the fuck does that mean?” You said hotly, glaring at each of them in turn, awaiting an explanation.
Kid gave nothing away, but Wire was blushing, Heat looked guilty, and who knew what Killer was thinking.
“Don’t worry about it, Y/n,” Kid said lightly, waving it off like it was nothing.
“I’m supposed to pretend like I didn’t hear that?” You were feeling distinctly less chill now, trying not to get swept up by the implications. There was no way. They couldn’t be…
“You’re better off not knowing,” Kid proclaimed. “You couldn’t handle it.”
That kind of pissed you off. He didn’t know what your life was like before you joined his crew, nor all that you had gone through to make it as far as you did. What you had to endure. Even what you were currently enduring. 
You licked your lips, thoughts slipping into the red again. “You have no idea what I can handle, Captain.”
Kid was stunned for a moment, not responding right away, and you could audibly hear the slow breath he sucked in. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
You swallowed and looked away quickly, heart pounding a dent inside your chest. “F-Fine. Whatever. Keep it to yourself. Like I care.”
Kid kept watching you, but you didn’t notice, your eyes fixed on the ground now as your imagination spiraled, thoughts racing a mile a minute. What the fuck had they been talking about? There was no way. No possible way they were all interested. Wire, maybe. He had kissed you, though he had also been drunk, so there was no guarantee he was even attracted. But all of them? All four? It couldn’t be. You had to be reading into it. Right? 
Right?
You pushed your feet into the ground, anxious for a sense of stability, trying and failing to tune the others out this time. Weed affected everyone a bit differently, but there were some constants. How much of what you were feeling was also being felt by them? If you felt a sense of connection, were they experiencing it as well? Could they sense your energy? 
Did they know? 
For a brief, terrifying moment, you had the paranoid thought that they could read your mind. Then you pushed it aside. It was impossible. All in your head. Just make it through tonight, and don’t think about it. Don't think about it.
But the universe was a cruel place, or maybe some god above was playing tricks on you. You were certain some higher being was laughing at your expense, because the conversation turned into a discussion of the mens’ past encounters. You could only sit there as Kid and Wire offhandedly commented on particular dalliances while the more reserved two opted to listen. They weren’t detailed, keeping things vague, but it didn’t matter. Your brain grabbed the barest descriptions and drew out a whole movie in your head, filling in the blanks and imagining the events in graphic detail. At first you pictured a random person as their partner, but then it immediately switched to putting yourself in their place, visualizing yourself getting dicked down by your crushes.
You dug your fingers into your thighs, trying to stay cool. It was a mental chess game to function at this point. You analyzed your every action with militaristic scrutiny, frantic not to give anything away, to not appear like the smoldering ball of lust you were. Was your posture too tense? Were you avoiding eye contact too much? Don’t act off. Don’t stay silent. Say something, join in the conversation.
“You guys don’t know how good you have it,” you said carefully, fighting to keep your tone neutral. “I can’t fuck strangers. I just can’t.”
Kid gave you a look of disbelief, which was fair, considering where you were from. “Wait. Have you really not had any since you joined us?”
“She hasn’t,” Wire answered for you, “she told me.” He shot you a devilish smirk. “Right before devouring my mouth.”
“Not how it happened!” You said brusquely, wanting to throttle him right then. “Shut up, Wire!”
“Why don’t you come over here and shut me up?” He challenged coolly, and the slight drop of his eyes when he looked at you told you he had glanced at your lips.
A fresh wave of heat flared under your skin, and you mentally cursed him. Why did he have to be like that? Why now? You scrambled to come up with a retort, but only managed a lame, “Like I could even reach…”
Wire simply bent over in response, hunching down until he was at your level, cheek resting on his fist and a mischievous sparkle in his eye.
Kid clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Knock it off.”
“What?” you snapped at him, not meaning to lash out but feeling like you were rapidly losing control–of the situation, of yourself, of everything. “Are you jealous or something? You want a kiss, too?”
“Oh, please, Y/n,” Kid said, unbothered. “If I wanted a kiss from you, I would have just taken it for myself by now.”
A shiver ran down your spine at the image his words conjured, and you gaped at him for a moment, for once in your life getting a taste of your own medicine as you were rendered speechless. Losing the mental battle of wills, you found yourself unable to maintain eye contact, giving away your timidity by looking away.
Kid studied your reaction, but by some grace, elected not to comment on it. Not that his choice of words was any better, because he asked, “You haven’t cum at all? For years?”
“Of course I have,” you huffed, “given the shared sleeping quarters, I have to take care of it in the shower like everyone else.”
“Is that why your showers take so long?” Heat stated more so than asked.
It was.
“No, it’s not!” you yelled, further revealing how flustered you were by the conversation. The others dissolved into laughter. Heat was grinning, pleased to see you on the receiving end for once. 
“Besides,” you muttered, “it only helps so much. Even with toys.”
“You have toys on the ship?” Kid asked, surprised for some reason.
“Half the crew does, Kid,” you said. “I bet you do, too, so don’t say stupid shit about it.”
Kid smirked, caught. “And it’s still not enough for you, huh?”
This had to be some kind of torture, because every time you thought you were in the clear, things continued to escalate. You would have fled the room if you could live it down, but alas, the others would never let you forget about it. Stuck in a mess of your own making, all you could do was continue the conversation.
“A toy can’t hold you or kiss you,” you said, ignoring the weight of their gazes. “Can’t talk you through it, can’t bite or suck on anything–oh, god damn it.” You dropped your head into your hands, fire billowing in your body as your thoughts surged into overdrive once again. Your fingers curled in your hair and you pulled lightly, seeking any sort of counter-stimulation to bring down the heat. “Ughhh.”
They all watched as you groused, lifting your head with a hopeless sigh. “Fuck, I need to get laid.”
“Dibs,” said all four of them at once. They all looked at each other in surprise, then burst out laughing, curling over themselves.
You experienced the unique sensation of being stunned silent while also wanting to scream, the burning of your flesh now that of embarrassment as well as need. Their laughs would actually be very nice if it wasn’t at your expense, and everything felt so crushingly unfair right then that you growled at them. “Really, guys? That was not an invitation.”
All bullshit, of course. You would have slept with any of them even without the influence of the weed. And now the pace of your heart kicked up, because they had confirmed what you had suspected, but couldn’t quite believe–they were interested. All of them. It wasn’t your imagination.
“Well then, Y/n,” Kid said, “consider this an invitation.”
Your heart skipped a beat as you stared at him. “What?”
“You heard me.” Kid took a hit off the blunt, then leaned forward and exhaled the smoke in your face, the rude action only riling you up worse. “You want a big dick to ride? All you gotta do is ask.”
The fire inside you blazed larger and hotter, and you were aware of your breath coming out shorter. You dropped your gaze to the floor, gritting your teeth. After everything–all the years getting to know them, all the suggestive conversations, all the times you had craved them–after all the longing you pretended wasn’t there–now Kid was laying it out on the table, a clear offer to sate your desires. You could have what you wanted. All you had to do was accept.
Every cell in your body yearned for it, and yet a part of you still resisted, the part that still wanted not to appear desperate. You fought not to stay composed, masking your nervousness with attitude. “Who’s got the big dick, though?”
Kid scowled. “Watch it, little girl.”
The words had an immediate reaction deep in your gut, because Kid had never called you that before. He looked you in the eye while he said it, too, and you knew you failed to hide the momentary panic in your eyes. You ripped your gaze away, hands balling into fists.
At that point, you were so worked up and so wet that you couldn’t move without feeling it. The lightest shift in your seat had your lower lips sliding against each other slickly, the hypersensitivity from the high meaning you felt it like sparks. Even the fabric of your bra against your nipples was overwhelming.
“Are you okay?” Heat asked, and you realized you were trembling.
“All good,” you bit out.
“You’re sweating,” Wire said.
“And you were worried about me overdoing it.” Kid tsk’d. “Handle your shit, Y/n.”
“It’s handled,” you insisted. “I’m fine.”
“You sure about that, princess?”
He knows! You thought in a panic. If Kid’s words didn’t make that obvious, the curl of his lip certainly did. Your thoughts descended into near-hysteria, like a beehive had been upended in your head. Through the chaos was also the bemoaning thought that he was such an asshole, messing with you like this.
“Poor little Y/n,” Kid continued, smirking. “So pent-up. So many years without getting fucked.”
“Kid…” You nearly whined, voice quivering as much as your body was.
Movement in your peripheral vision made you glance to the side, just in time to see Killer reaching out to touch your arm, the contact like pure electricity on your skin. You jerked your arm away and grabbed his wrist, fingers unable to wrap all the way around, tightening your grip in warning.
“Do not–do not fucking touch me right now. Don’t tease me,” you hissed.
“You’re a real idiot sometimes, you know that?” Kid griped. Your resulting glare was offset by how you bit your lip, and Kid rolled his eyes. “I know you want it. That you’ve been wanting it. And yet you always hold yourself back. You’ll say the nastiest things while looking us dead in the eye and then just disappear. I don’t know if it’s some sort of pride you’re clinging to, or if you’re secretly shy underneath it all. But for fuck’s sake, Y/n, it’s getting hard to watch. Why don’t you do yourself a favor and just indulge? Let yourself have something nice, for once.”
Your jaw dropped further and further as he spoke, gawking at how he mercilessly called you out. Then you shut your mouth, swallowed a lump in your throat, and dropped your head, covering your face.
“You want to get fucked tonight, don’t you?” You heard Kid say.
“...Yes,” you mumbled into your hands, but the room was so quiet now that you were sure everyone heard.
“Then get over yourself, pick a guy, and go to another room.”
He made it sound so simple. 
Maybe he was right. Why were you making it more complex than it needed to be? Why couldn’t you just let yourself have this? But even if you succumbed to your desires, there was another problem.
“But… But, um,” you stammered. “How could I possibly choose? I lov–I like all of you!...”
A humiliating slip-up, one you expected them to tease you about, but there was only silence. You braved a peek at them from between your fingers. All eyes were on you–the pointing of Killer’s mask in your direction left no doubt–and then the guys glanced at each other, exchanging looks you couldn’t quite decipher, but that made something curl in your stomach anyway.
“Maybe,” Kid said slowly, gauging your reaction, “you don’t have to.”
You felt something change in the room. Like the air got heavier, though it could have been the smoke–although the group’s pace had slowed, the blunts never stopped their rotation. You weren’t sure which one you were on anymore, only that there was something else drifting alongside the undulating smoke, something that tingled like the air before a storm.
You lowered your hands so you could look at Kid clearly, keeping your mouth covered. There was no playfulness in his expression, only an ardent luster to the black of his eyes, the gold of his irises constricted into a thin band.
“Kid?” You only said his name, but the full question was implied. Are you saying what I think you’re saying?
“I’m serious. You could strip down right here, and we’ll figure something out,” Kid said, “if you really think you can handle it, like you so claimed.”
The challenge went over your head. You were too distracted by how your fervent body roused at the notion, every aching cell screaming at you to accept, any opposing thought quickly drowned out by sheer, unbearable need. You had been gradually wound more and more taught throughout the night, and the last threads of resistance were beginning to snap. 
You lowered your hands, so your consent would be fully comprehensible, but you were cut off before you had the chance to respond.
“Wait,” Wire said, the concern in his tone grabbing everyone’s attention. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”
The swell of disappointment within you threatened to be crushing. You couldn’t keep it out of your voice. “Oh… You don’t want to?”
“Of course I want to, dummy,” Wire said, “but, Y/n. You’ve never slept with any of us before. To jump into doing something intense like this? While we’re all under the influence? There are risks.”
“I really don’t care at the moment.”
Kid smirked at your eagerness, but Wire wasn’t amused. “Have you ever been with multiple partners?”
“I’ve been in a threesome!” you said quickly. “I can handle it, Wire!”
“Mm… I dunno,” Wire considered. Heat passed the blunt to him right then, and the pause in which you had to wait for him to take his hit was agonizing. Wire watched the smoke he exhaled rise before meeting your eye again. “There should at least be a discussion first. About limits and stuff.”
“Please, I can’t wait anymore!” Keeping your voice down was its own trial. You could have cried from frustration. “I fucked up, okay? I got the wrong strain, and it’s driving me insane. I’ve been practically edging on the spot, and you four are just sitting there, all relaxed and having fun and unfairly hot…” You resisted the urge to cover your face again, but couldn’t help avoiding eye contact while admitting it. It surprised you, then, to hear who spoke up next.
“We could start slow,” Heat suggested, a blush coloring his face, “one person at a time. Discuss anything else as we go.”
You glanced at Wire hopefully, and found that everyone else was doing the same. In the back of your mind, you vaguely wondered why the decision seemed to hinge on Wire rather than Kid, but you didn’t question it in the moment.
Wire passed you the blunt, the mere slide of his giant fingers past yours as he did enough to make you shiver. He watched your reaction, then assessed the other three in the circle, one at a time. By the time he looked back at you, you had taken your hit, and your eyes met as the smoke flowed from your parted lips.
“Tch,” Wire’s shoulders drooped slightly in defeat. “Alright. If you’re gonna look at me like that. But at least choose a safeword.”
“I don’t care,” you said.
“I do,” he snapped, the stern rebuke going straight between your legs, “pick something.”
“Fine...” It was a struggle to come up with anything with the prospect of having them so close by, and you raced to think of something. The reason for your current state flashed through your head. “Red Sky?”
“Works for me. Everyone hear that?” Wire questioned, waiting for verbal confirmation from the other three before he nodded his approval.
You passed the blunt to Killer, pressing your thighs together in anticipation. “Um… How are we going to do this?”
Kid’s smirk widened, as fiendish as you’d ever seen it. “I think we should pass her around like a blunt.”
Once more, you found yourself gaping at Kid, slack-jawed at the lecherous idea. It was depraved, it was objectifying, and you were, truth be told, not the least bit opposed–you would have had them any way they offered at that point. Anything to ease the fever.
“Y/n,” Killer said firmly, making you tense, “come here.”
He had said it like a command, tone no different than if he were giving orders on the ship. You responded instinctively, drawn to Killer like a magnet, feeling as if your body wasn’t yours to control anymore. His mask dipped as you stood before him, looking you up and down.
“Sit.” Killer patted his lap. “Facing them.”
You swallowed and turned, perching on Killer’s knee. He grabbed your hips, making you gasp, and dragged you back until your back touched his chest, situating you directly over his crotch.
Killer’s hands never left your hips, your skin buzzing where he made contact, even through your clothes. His chin rested on your shoulder, deep voice murmuring into your ear. “Can I touch you?”
“Yes,” you breathed. The other three leaned forward in their seats, making you realize rather belatedly that everything that was about to happen would have an audience. You had never been watched before, and you didn’t know how you’d feel about it. But that thought, and any others, promptly flew out the window when Killer’s hands started their slow slide up your body, curving to the front and cupping your breasts.
You pressed yourself back against his chest, breaths coming out shaky. He was only squeezing and massaging gently, but after everything you had to endure so far, as roiled as you were, it was enough to send pleasant little shocks throughout your entire body.
Little shocks immediately turned into powerful bolts as Killer started teasing your nipples, your body jerking in response. You were sensitive enough there without the weed factoring in–as high as you currently were, it was overwhelming.
“Ah! K-Killer!” You pulled at his hands. “Please, slow down! I’m extra sensitive there, and the weed makes it ten times worse, so you gotta go slow…”
“You are, huh?” Killer hummed, flicking a nipple just to make you yelp.
“I thought you could handle this, Y/n,” Kid taunted.
“Whatever, Kid! You can watch, but I don’t need your lip,” your snarl didn’t sound nearly as threatening when it came between breathy pants. “Wait your turn and–nhh!”
Killer chose to resume touching you right then, rubbing your nipples at an appropriately slower pace. The tingling went straight to your cunt, and you threw your head back onto his shoulder, whimpering.
“Better?” Killer asked softly, and at your hasty nodding, you felt his chuckle against your back.
As incredible as it felt, it only made the need worse, the burning of your flesh intensifying under Killer’s touch. You writhed in his lap, desperate for stimulation between your legs, but you weren’t at the right angle to grind your clit against anything, and Killer was pressing your torso to his to keep you in place. Held against him and unable to escape, you could only take it, able to feel the calluses on his fingertips even through a shirt and bra. Killer let out a pleased growl at the sensation of you squirming over his growing bulge, the sound making you clench around nothing.
“Damn,” Wire muttered. “Look at her writhe.”
The other three were now sporting obvious erections, Wire and Kid idly palming at themselves while Heat elected to just watch.
“It’s the weed,” Kid responded, smirking. “I’ve been half hard ever since the first blunt, but I didn’t think much of it until she got all cagey about the strain.”
“The name is obvious enough,” Heat agreed.
So Kid had you figured out all along. Go figure. You weren’t paying much attention to that right then, though, not under Killer’s cruel assault.
“Please, Killer,” you whined, “stop teasing!”
“Gotta make sure you’re ready, first,” Killer said. “None of us are average, Y/n. I hope you know what you’ve gotten yourself into.”
“I’m ready!” You almost sobbed. “I–ah!–I promise, I’m wet!”
Killer paused, mask tipping down over your shoulder. “You don’t say.”
You followed his gaze (so to speak) to see a damp spot on your pants–you had soaked through both layers. “See? I told you, I’m ready!”
“Soon,” Killer assured, resuming his slow teasing of your chest.
Every time you thought you had adjusted enough to keep from making noise, Killer would switch it up, circling or skimming over the pert buds, drawing more whimpers out of you. He played you like an instrument, a steady chorus of your soft cries in time with his fingers, and the other three were as enraptured as if it was a song. All your nerves ablaze and still being denied what you needed, you looked to your audience for help. Kid and Wire weren’t moved by your plight, but as soon as you locked gazes with Heat, he rose to his feet as if you had called out to him.
Heat crossed the short distance and sank to his knees in front of you and Killer, resting his hands on your thighs.
“What happened to one person at a time?” Kid grumbled.
Heat ignored him, leaning in to kiss you but pausing before he made contact. “Can I–” he started to ask, but you grabbed his face and pulled him in the rest of the way, crushing your lips against his to really get across the kind of state you were in. Just to make sure he understood, you shoved your tongue past his lips. Heat’s small moan of surprise was muffled, but then he eagerly reciprocated.
Heat matched your pace, returning everything you gave him with equal passion, and you quivered in anticipation as his hands slid up your thighs. Instead of going between your legs, though, they went to the hem of your shirt, and as Heat moved to kiss your neck, you realized he hadn’t come to help anyone but himself.
“Heat?” you inquired.
“Lift your arms,” he instructed, ignoring your question.
“But–”
“Lift your arms.”
You clenched at the command, not expecting it from the normally laid-back man. He was still blushing, but there was an intensity in his tone that had you complying right away, though not without an irritated huff. Heat nipped at your neck as a reward for listening before he pulled your shirt off.
Killer’s mask touched the back of your neck like he was kissing it. “Kid’s gonna like that tattoo,” he whispered as he unfastened the clasp of your bra. You barely paid attention to the comment, helping him remove it and tossing it onto the nearby bed.
Heat stared, transfixed, at your breasts. When no one made a move to continue, you started to consider violence. “Heat…”
“You have cute tits,” Heat said.
“Whatever!” You were about to strangle him, and not in a sexy way. “Would you just hurry and–”
Heat cut you off by kissing your nipple, making you gasp, and when he took it into his mouth, your back arched into him. “H-Heat!”
Killer’s prior touches might as well have been through a heavy blanket. It didn’t compare to the wet warmth of Heat’s mouth directly on your sensitive bud, nor the velvety texture of his tongue running over it. You reached to bury your fingers in his hair, but then Killer grabbed your wrists and forced them behind your back. The ache between your legs magnified at the restraint, and you didn’t think it was physically possible to be any more worked up, but then Heat proved you wrong by starting to suck.
You twitched and writhed, pulling weakly against Killer’s iron-like grip, helpless under Heat’s assault. He switched from one nipple to the other, bringing his hand to play with whichever his mouth wasn’t currently on. It felt like live wires had been laid through your body, running straight to your cunt, making you want to cry with how empty you were. You clenched and flexed your pelvic floor muscles, desperate for sensation, and somehow, you felt something start to build, as steadily as if you had been playing with yourself. You had never come without touching your clit before, but now you understood how it was possible, your cunt so sensitive that clenching alone brought sufficient stimulation. But right when you thought you could see the peak, right when you were certain you could make it, the build stopped, leveling off and leaving you stuck. Even the scrape of Heat’s teeth against your nipple, though maddening, wasn’t enough to get you there.
“Please!” You cried out in frustration, on the verge of tears. “Please touch me, Heat, Killer, anybody! Please!”
“You’ve endured it for so long, haven’t you?” Killer said huskily, moving your wrists to one hand, resting the other on your hip and squeezing hard. “That’s okay. We’re gonna take care of you…”
You were about to snap at him that no one was taking care of shit, but your remark caught in your throat when Killer’s hand slipped under your pants and underwear, inching forward until he was finally, finally reaching where you needed it. His wide hand parted your thighs, going straight for your slit, the brush of him over your clit along the way making you buck.
“Wow,” Killer said as he felt the evidence of your need, everything between your skin and clothes down there a thick, slippery film. “I thought you were exaggerating about how riled up you were. But the weed’s really done a number on you, hasn’t it?”
There was no resistance when he penetrated you with a thick finger, and you bucked your hips again with a sharp cry. “Oh! Oh, fuck! Killer!”
“Never seen anyone this wet before,” Killer mused, stroking a few times before inserting a second finger. His thumb found your clit, rubbing in little circles.
Heat’s messy slurps combined with the squelches of Killer’s fingering only amplified the experience. After everything you had gone through, it didn’t take very long, especially with the two of them working together. Killer added a third finger and curled them insistently as he went, and you came hard a few seconds later.
You shut your eyes from the intensity, hips grinding furiously into Killer’s hand as you rode it out, whimpering with every wave that rocked your body. He never stopped probing his fingers against that spot, working you deftly through it until the fluttering of your walls finally stopped and you slumped against his chest, panting.
Heat kept on sucking on your nipple, the stimulation rapidly becoming overwhelming in the wake of your orgasm. “Heat–Heat, Heat!” With your head fuzzy with dopamine, you couldn’t form a better sentence, higher functions temporarily absent.
Luckily, Killer had been able to feel everything. He let go of your wrists to push Heat back by the shoulder, the pop of his lips disconnecting making you twitch. You twitched again when Killer pulled his fingers out.
The residual throbbing of your clit lasted longer than it ever had, aftershocks of an orgasm while high spreading through your body like lightning branching through your nerves. You didn’t open your eyes for a minute, chest heaving. When you did, the first thing you saw was Heat’s look of adoration. Behind him, Kid and Wire were burning holes through you with their gazes, both of them red-faced and awestruck. It dawned on you that you’ve cum in front of four guys. In front of your superiors. Your friends. And yet, instead of shame, instead of self-consciousness, the pulsing within you subsided and left behind a fervent hunger in its place.
Again. You needed it again.
Killer brought his hand to your mouth, fingers glistening with your slick. You parted your lips without hesitation, letting him in. The tang of your fluid on your tongue reawakened spent nerves, making you sensitive all over again. Killer let out a soft curse when you sucked, tongue sliding between his fingers to get every drop. Your eyes fell closed again, focused wholly on the act of cleaning up your own mess.
Killer peered down at your face and hummed. “Open your eyes. I want you to look at them.”
You obeyed, making eye contact with each of the other three while you sucked your slick off Killer’s fingers, fresh heat searing through your body at how they marveled at you. Kid had started stroking himself through his clothes with his flesh hand, his expression in particular full of dark intent.
“There’s a good girl,” Killer praised, “see what you do to them…”
You pulled Killer’s hand out of your mouth. “Killer,” you whined, grinding your ass against him in a clear signal to go further.
Cumming in Killer’s lap and sucking on his fingers had its effect on him, because he was harder than before, pressing stiffly into your ass cheek and breathing heavily by your ear. So it came as a shock when he raised his head and said, “Kid. You can go first.”
“Nah, Killer, you go ahead,” Kid said, waving his metal hand. “According to the sounds she just made, you earned it.”
“You go first. I know you’ve wanted this for a while,” Killer insisted.
“I don’t care who goes first!” you yelled, the revelation of Kid’s interest fading into the background in your desire. “For fuck’s sake, just whip it out!”
They all laughed at that, which only pissed you off further. Then Kid’s voice echoed across the room, sending a pleasant chill down your spine.
“Pass her here.”
Killer scooped you up and leaned over, holding you out to Kid like you weren’t a whole adult. The chairs were close enough together that Kid could reach you without getting up, merely holding out his metal arm and letting Killer drop you onto his palm. His arm didn’t even dip with your weight.
Kid tipped his hand suddenly so you fell into his lap, momentum throwing you against his chest and making you instinctively grab him for support.
“I get it, Y/n. You’re desperate. But you don’t have to grab me over it,” he jeered, and not for the first time in your life, you seriously contemplated striking your captain.
“Hold on,” Wire said, patting his pockets and frowning. “Does anyone have condoms?”
“Not an issue,” you said abruptly, “I’m set on birth control.”
“I thought you didn’t get any,” Heat asked, now back in his chair.
“There are other reasons to take birth control. It makes your menstrual symptoms less severe.”
“I knew that,” Wire said, sounding proud of himself.
”No one cares! Get on with it!”
Kid looked thoughtful, smile faltering as he deliberated over something. “...Wire may be right, actually.”
“What?” You stared at him.
“I mean, four guys, after you haven’t had a partner in years? It’s far too much. You could end up hurt.”
You searched his eyes, trying to figure out where this sudden change of heart came from. It was so unlike Kid that you didn’t even protest at first, bewildered.
“I wouldn’t want you to walk away from this with regrets, Y/n,” Kid said gravely. “You’ve come once already, so that should be adequate. End the night on a good note.”
“No! No, I can keep going! Please, please!” you bid urgently.
Kid’s somber look broke at your plea, his lip curling like he was trying not to smile, and you realized that he was messing with you. Arousal flipped into anger in an instant.
“You’re such a dick!” you cried. “I can’t believe you! I know you want it too, so stop fucking with me and start fucking me already!”
Kid’s infuriating smirk grew wider. “Beg for my cock.”
“Ugh! Fine, you jerk!” You ground your hips into his bulge to help make your point, face flushed hot as you glared at him. “Please, Kid! I–I need you. I need to be violated in the way that only a ruthless pirate captain can.”
It was kind of stupid, but Kid was vain enough that the words got to him anyway, his nostrils flaring with the steep breath he took. “That easy, huh? I always knew deep down, you were a slut.”
You slapped him, hard. The slap echoed as the room fell quiet, and though Kid was momentarily stunned, you felt his dick twitch through his pants.
“You’re the one making me beg–” you started to say, but Kid grabbed you by the neck and pulled you in for a rough, possessive kiss. He wasted no time in claiming your mouth with his tongue, probing it deep to wrap around yours. You moaned into his mouth, grinding on him for some much-needed friction. Kid pulled back, but you followed, straining forward to kiss him again.
The fingers of his flesh hand curled into your hair, gripping tight and forcing you back off of him. The slight pain pulled another little moan out of you, and Kid grinned.
“One more time. Tell me how bad you need it,” he said huskily.
“I think I’m gonna die if you don’t,” you whined.
“Good girl.”
He prompted you to lift your hips so he could reach his pants, undoing them and finally, finally pulling out his cock. You pulled your own pants and underwear down before Kid could think to rip them, not keen on doing a bottomless walk of shame in front of the crew later. Kicking off the garments, you repositioned yourself over Kid. He groaned when you wrapped your hand around his thickness to line yourself up.
“Fuck,” he husked. “If your pussy’s as small as your hands…”
“Wait, Kid,” Killer interjected. “Make her face us.”
“Why?” Kid asked, but you had already started to turn around in his lap to comply with Killer’s wishes. Kid’s voice suddenly dropped low, heavy with interest. “Oh.”
“What?” You glanced over your shoulder, where Kid’s eyes were boring into the spot right below the back of your neck. You realized he had never seen your tattoo before. “Oh, my ta–ahh!”
Kid slid two fingers up through your slit, finishing with a little circle around your clit that made your legs weaken. “Now when did you go and get that done?” he murmured.
“Fewmonthsago,” you slurred. “Kid…”
He grabbed your hips, positioning you over his cock. “I wouldn’t have made you wait so long if I had known. You’ve been dedicated all this time, haven’t you?” He guided you down slowly, thick cock parting you gradually.
You bit your lip and nodded, that aching within you finally eased. Kid’s grip tightened as your hips met, digging into your skin.
“Shit,” he cursed. “You’re really wet. Killer wasn’t joking. Now, face forward.”
You turned your head back to look at the other three. Everyone else had taken their dicks out at that point and were stroking themselves, Heat’s free hand holding a still-burning blunt. You glanced between them–all eyes were on you, making you burn up even hotter. Their gazes felt like a physical sensation on your skin. Your own gaze faltered, though, when a harsh smack landed on your ass.
“Ah!” you yelped, the sting both grounding you and riling you up worse.
“Captain, at least ask if she likes it first,” Wire admonished.
“She got tighter, Wire,” Kid responded, groping your ass cheeks. “I think she likes it just fine.”
“It’s okay,” you mumbled, starting to move. With your feet unable to touch the floor, you had to use your thighs to squeeze Kid’s lap and lift yourself up and down, but you had plenty of stamina to go at that point and a monstrous, intoxicated desire spurring you on. You set a quick, needy pace, fucking yourself on his rigid cock so he hit all the right spots, making whimpers slip out between your panting breaths. You rolled your hips whenever they met Kid’s, grinding him into your g-spot deliciously.
“Fuck,” Kid groaned, and smacked your other ass cheek, making you moan. “Look at you go, princess. I’m gonna cum soon if you don’t calm down.” He grabbed your hips and dug his fingers in tightly, forcing you to stop. You cried out in protest, your pleasure mercilessly cut off. “Kid!”
Kid leaned in and kissed your tattoo, moving your hips up and down at a cruelly slow pace and ignoring your cries.
“Kid, go faster! Please!” you begged.
“No,” he said, and even without facing him you could hear the grin in his voice. “You have to earn it.”
“How?!”
“By being honest, for once.” He kissed your tattoo again, and this time let his tongue drag over the inked skin, making a shiver run down your spine. “Did I hear you correctly earlier, Y/n? You haven’t just been flirting with us for fun…” He pulled you down on his cock, holding your hips down and rolling his up into you. “You’ve caught some feelings as well, so say it again.”
“What do I say?” you whined, too needy to remember.
“You said you love us,” Wire said smugly, now in possession of the blunt.
“Oh!” you said, both in surprise and because Kid was fucking you slowly and deeply now. “I…b-but…”
“Shy now?” Heat chuckled.
“That’s so embarrassing, come on,” you protested, “just hurry up and go faster, Kid!”
Kid’s lips pressed to your tattoo again, and you could feel his lips curl into a smirk. “No.”
“I don’t think that pace is gonna change until you say it,” Killer mused.
“Fine!” you huffed, then lowered your voice. “I… I love you…”
“What was that?” Kid asked.
“I didn’t hear anything,” Killer said.
Wire grinned, and Heat shook his head. “Me neither.”
Your face burned. “I love you,” you said again, though it was still a bit quiet in your embarrassment.
“Louder,” Kid commanded, slowing his pace even further until tears pricked the corners of your eyes.
“Kid, please. I love you.”
“You can do better than that. Tell us how you really feel.”
“I love you!” you whined. Kid picked up his pace ever so slightly.
“And Killer?”
“Y-Yes! I love him too!”
“And W–”
“And Wire and Heat! All of you!”
“Say it again!” Kid smacked your ass.
“Ah-! I love you!” you cried it out, again and again, and Kid did not fuck you properly until you were screaming it. Only then did he give you what you needed, bouncing you on his cock fervently with his metal hand. Everyone watched, enraptured, three pairs of eyes on you, on your bouncing breasts, on the point where your body met Kid’s.
“My loyal girl,” Kid praised, tongue on your tattoo again, “you like getting fucked by your captain?”
“Yes!”
“Wanna be shared by everyone?”
“Yes! I’m, I’m gonna cum-!”
“Who do you belong to?”
“The Kid Pirates!” you cried.
“Good girl. Now, cum on my cock for everyone to see.”
You came hard, orgasm hitting you like a battering ram, making your body tighten and lock up. Kid held you down as you pulsed around him, cursing as he tried to keep himself from tipping over the edge along with you.
For a minute, there was nothing but the soft sound of slapping around you as the other three jacked off to the sight of your bliss. You went limp against Kid, panting.
“Shit, I’m gonna cum,” Heat muttered. “So fucking hot.”
“Have some discipline, Heat,” Kid said above you, “you’re next anyway.”
“Ugh, I hate edging.” Heat let go of himself, holding his hand away.
“It’ll be worth it,” Wire said. “Don’t let the weed make you finish early.”
“Easy for you to say, Wire. You do this kind of thing all the time.”
As your fuzzy brain started to grasp cognitive thought once more, you wondered if that was why Wire seemed to be in charge here. You always knew he was kinky, but never realized just how much experience he had.
Killer, who’d been holding onto the blunt while Kid was occupied, now passed it to Kid, who took a deep hit before offering it to you. You held up your hand in refusal, needing to catch up on oxygen first.
“How you holding up, Y/n?” Wire asked.
“Fucking fantastic,” you said earnestly, making them all laugh.
“Who’s great idea was this, again?” Kid asked, and you rolled your eyes.
“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” you said, shifting and dismounting off him, making him grunt from the stimulation. You pecked him on the lips, silently grateful that he had pushed you past your nervousness. “Thanks, Captain.”
Kid smirked proudly as you started to slide off his lap, and he grabbed your wrist to stop you from walking away. “Where do you think you’re going? We’re passing you around, remember?” With that, he pulled you back into him and picked you up, making you squeak in surprise, before stepping over to Heat and setting you down onto his lap.
Heat’s blush deepened as you immediately recovered and hooked your arms around his neck. He parted his lips when you leaned in to kiss him, his tongue sliding over yours, gently stroking and intertwining, making you moan sweetly. He started touching himself again, which you noticed once Heat started to gasp into your mouth.
“Heat, wait,” you said. “Let me.”
Heat moved his hand away, and you replaced it with your own. The feeling of something metallic and hard against your palm made you pause, pulling your hand away to look. Heat had his dick pierced, a frenum ladder–a set of parallel barbells going up the underside and stopping at the frenum.
“Oh, wow,” you said, running your thumb down the underside of his cock to feel the metal underneath. Heat groaned, his dick twitching. “Is it sensitive?”
“Yes,” he hissed, closing his hand around yours and making you start to jerk him off. “Don’t be a tease.”
“Says you! You were the one who tormented me earlier!”
“You look good when you’re needy,” Heat bit out, thrusting up into your hand. “I couldn’t help it. Now squeeze harder.”
“No, I wanna try something else,” you said, stopping. “I want to know what it feels like in my mouth.”
“Nope, sorry. I’ll come too quickly and have to sit out the rest of the session.”
You frowned. “Fiiiine. You’d better make up for it, then.”
Heat’s brows raised, then his eyes narrowed, and suddenly you felt as if you possibly made a mistake in your choice of words.
“Uh oh,” Wire said, but you could hear the grin in his voice.
“Make up for it?” Heat sneered down at you. “Do you think I don’t know what I’m doing?”
“I didn’t mean it like that, Heat,” you tried to placate him, but his tight grip on your hips told you that you were in trouble.
“Come here,” he snapped, pulling you to hover over his dick. “I don’t have a metal arm like Kid to toss you around with–so instead, you’re going to do what I say.”
It was so unlike Heat that you found yourself complying right away, resting your hands on his shoulders. “Or what?” you teased.
“Or we’ll find out your limits the hard way, regardless of what Wire says,” Heat lined himself up with your entrance, “I get the feeling you’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you?”
“How should I know? I’ve never tried–oh…” You lost your words as Heat guided you to sink down onto his length. He was thicker toward the base, letting you feel each one of his piercings slide along your sensitive insides. “Oh, fuck, that’s–that’s good...”
Heat smirked. “Like the piercings?”
“Yes!” You rolled your hips to feel them move inside you, your eyelids fluttering shut. “Fuck.”
“Eyes on me, babe.” Heat instructed, and you snapped your eyes open to see him looking at you intensely, the hunger in his gaze sending prickles all over your skin. He slid his hands up your sides to your front, groping your breasts, pulling a moan out of you when he rubbed your nipples with his thumbs. You look down to watch him do it, contracting around him at the sight, and Heat corrected you with a harsh slap to your ass.
“Ah!”
“She does tighten up,” Heat grinned, his arm muscles flexing as he delivered a second firm smack.
“Heat!”
“Eyes up.”
You kept your eyes on him this time, even as he teased and tugged at your nipples. Gripping him tight, you rolled your hips again, the combination of the piercings and your chest being played with nearly making your eyes roll back. “Oh, fuck. Spank me again.”
Heat grinned. “Ask nicely.”
“Please!”
“Attagirl.” Heat smacked your other ass cheek, making you cry out. “What do you say?”
“T-Thank you!”
He chuckled. “You’re cute, you know that?” One of his hands snaked its way up your chest and around your throat, fingers wrapping around your neck.
Wire spoke up, his voice a firm admonishment. “Heat.”
“M’not squeezin’,” Heat said, pulling you in for another greedy kiss. You eagerly reciprocated, sucking on his tongue and making him groan. “Fuck…Come on, ride me.”
He didn’t have to ask twice. You planted your feet on the floor and started to lift yourself up and down on his cock, whimpering at the unique sensation of riding a pierced dick. Heat was already filling you up, to feel the barbells stimulating you on top of it was almost overwhelming in your intoxicated state.
“There’s a good girl,” Heat moaned. “Oh, fuck. Look at you.”
Heat fondled your chest as you rode him at a brisk, even pace, rolling your hips to grind your clit into him. You felt yourself rapidly approach the edge, until he pinched your nipple a little too hard, and the pain brought you out of it with a yelp.
“Ah-! Too hard, Heat,” you whimpered.
“See?” Wire said. “This is why you have to discuss these things. We really should have started by now.”
“Isn’t it too late?” Kid asked.
“No.”
“Where do we start, then?” Killer wondered.
“With what she wants out of this,” Wire said. “If she can even focus right now.”
You could not, especially when Heat chose right then to smack your ass again, which brought you right back to the edge. “Fuck, Heat!”
“Gonna cum, pretty girl?” Heat whispered huskily.
“Yes! I’m close!”
“That’s too bad–I want you to slow down.”
“W-What?”
“You heard me.” Heat lifted his legs so you could no longer reach the floor, your riding stopped in an instant.
“Ahh, no no no, Heat! Don’t stop!” you protested, trying to stretch your legs to reach the floor again, but he was much taller than you were.
“Only if you agree to slow down.” Heat said, massaging your breasts. “Can you do that for me?”
“I’ll do anything, just let me keep going, please!”
“Then ride me, slowly, and pay attention to what we’re talking about.” Heat lowered his legs again, graciously letting you reach the floor. “Otherwise I’ll just stop again when you’re about to cum.”
You nodded, slowly working yourself up and down his shaft. It was torturous to go at that pace after all you had been treated to, but the moment you sped up, he would just stop you anyway.
The blunt was passed to Heat at that moment, and he took a deep hit. With his other hand, he pulled you closer to him by the neck, sealing his lips around yours. You followed his lead, inhaling as he exhaled, filling your lungs with smoke.
Heat didn’t force you to take his entire hit, knowing he could handle bigger lungfuls than you could, and you both exhaled at the same time. He passed the blunt to Wire and placed both hands on your face, pulling you in again for a kiss that tasted of smoke.
“You listenin’?” Heat asked. He was looking at you with adoration now, and you nodded, wanting nothing more than to please him. “Wire asked you what you want out of this.”
He went back to massaging your chest the way you liked, playing with your nipples more gently while you rolled your hips and whimpered, trying to think while being teased. Your brain was already high on weed and dick–what more could you want? If you could do absolutely anything more than this, what would you do?
A mental image suddenly came into your mind. Of course. The only thing better than being used by all of them would be being used by all of them at the same time. You pictured it vividly, taking them in all three of your holes at once, and the thought turned you on so much that suddenly you were at the edge again. It only took one more roll of your hips before your orgasm snuck up on you, making you tremble all over as you choked on a gasp.
“She’s cumming,” Heat announced as you fluttered around him. “Fuuuck.”
“From that pace?” Killer asked. “Is she reaching her limit?”
“I don’t think that’s it,” Kid said.
“I’m with Kid. It’s something else,” Wire said. “Come on, Y/n, use your words.”
You sagged against Heat as your orgasm pulsed through your insides, muttering against his chest. Heat laughed. “She said she knows what she wants,” he said. “I think she just had a nice little mental image to get off to.”
Heat rubbed your back as you came down, then had you dismount him. He picked you up and tossed you over his shoulder, stepping over and letting you fall into Wire’s big arms.
“Well?” Wire said, repositioning you so you were sitting and facing the group. He rubbed your hips fondly. “Tell us what you want, and we’ll make it happen.”
You turned to look at Wire’s dick up close. He was proportional to his height, twice as big as the others at least. There was a single frenum piercing that you immediately went to touch.
“Pay attention,” Wire said, though he made no move to stop you.
 At that point, you had not an ounce of reservation or shame left to be found. “I want everyone at the same time,” you said. “All holes.”
“Ohh?” Wire said. Kid whistled, and Heat chuckled in surprise while Killer leaned forward in interest.
“I’ve…I’ve always wanted to try something like that,” you admitted. “I can handle it.”
Wire bent down to kiss the top of your head. “Alright. We’ll work up to it, but first things first. Sorry to ask, but when was the last time you went to the bathroom?” After you told him, he nodded. “Then we should be fine for anal.”
“And in the meantime…” you said, lifting up on your knees and going to straddle his cock, but Wire turned you back around to face the group, pressing down on your shoulders so you were forced to sit further up on his lap. “Wire?”
“You’re not ready for me yet,” Wire said. “Maybe after another rotation.”
“What?! Come on!”
“Hush.” Wire pulled you back by the hips so you could feel his big cock nestled against your ass, an unfair tease of what you could potentially have had he not been so damn concerned for your well-being.
Before you could protest, Wire ran his huge hands down your body, one of them spreading your legs. Two thick fingers burrowed their way down and penetrated you, the length of them making it easy for him to reach your g-spot with a slight curling motion.
“Oh, fuck!” you gasped, squeezing around his fingers.
“Let’s get this started. For your sake, I’ll condense what we need to go through as much as possible without you getting hurt. Okay?”
“Okay!”
“There’s my good girl.” Wire rewarded you by rubbing your clit with his thumb, making your toes curl. He stopped far too soon as he began his questioning. “Now, what are your hard limits? The things you will absolutely not do?”
“Mm, fuck…Hard limits?” you echoed, trying to think while he had two fingers massaging your g-spot. “Um, um… No watersports. And, no calling me really mean things? ‘Slut’ and ‘whore’ and stuff are fine, though, but I don’t want to be actually insulted.”
“You prefer being teased about what you like, right? Rather than being told you’re only good for sex, that sort of thing.”
“Yeah, you understand. I don’t like being called stupid or useless.”
“Fair enough,” said Killer, one hand on his dick while the other held the blunt to a hole in his mask. “I don’t like that kind of thing either.”
“You can call me a dumb slut any day,” Heat muttered, surprising you and making Kid laugh, “but I get it.”
“And I don’t want to be throat-fucked really hard,” you said. “I want you to use my mouth, but only go into my throat at the end to cum. Actually, I’d rather you came in my mouth than on my face–hhn!”
Wire resumed rubbing your clit again as a reward for your honesty, short-circuiting your brain until he stopped. “Deepthroating once is okay, only at the end. No finishing on your face. What else?”
You continued that way, detailing your limits while getting fingered, with Wire teasing your clit every time you finished answering a question. Wire added a third finger inside you once he moved on to asking you about positions, and by the time the safety discussion was done, he didn’t let up playing with your clit, either. His fingers curled and rubbed against your g-spot in perfect rhythm with his thumb, his other hand teased your chest, and, legs shaking, you came hard into his hand a few blissful minutes later.
“Aw, my sweet little girl can’t stop cumming for her superiors,” Wire praised, turning your head to kiss you. “Love how you use that crazy stamina of yours for us.”
“I’d do anything for you,” you said earnestly, a little drunk on the rush of your orgasm.
Wire blinked for a moment in surprise, then smiled, running his other hand over your head adoringly. “All the more reason you deserve this. Now, clean up this mess you made,” he said, holding his slick-coated fingers to your lips, “and I’ll pass you to Killer.”
You held Wire’s hand in your smaller ones as you licked and sucked on his fingers. He probed inside your mouth teasingly, rubbing your tongue and feeling around, working you back up so you’d be nice and needy for Killer. As if that would be an issue–with the Red Sky in your blood, you knew you could go all night. You wanted to go all night.
“Don’t miss a single spot,” Wire muttered in your ear, and you complied, tongue weaving in-between his fingers obediently. “Do you like how you taste?”
“Uh-huh,” you said honestly, sending a noticeable wave of excitement through the group.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” Heat groaned, letting his tongue loll out as he stroked himself.
“She sure makes it look good, doesn’t she, Killer?” Kid grinned. “Why don’t you eat her out later?”
“Yeah,” Killer replied, a breathiness to his voice, fisting himself faster. “I intend to.”
Letting you cool down this way gave you the chance to really focus on watching the others, and you never realized how tantalizing it was to watch the three men you crushed on jack off at the sight of you. Thrilled and impatient, you pulled Wire’s hand away. “I want Killer now.”
Killer growled in excitement at your words, sending a shiver up your spine. Wire took mercy on the both of you, deciding you had done a good enough job. He scooped you up, carrying you bridal-style, and handed you off to the masked man.
Killer, eager to have you to himself for a little while, opted to have you facing him. 
“What the hell, man? Face her forward,” Kid complained.
“No,” Killer said, “I want to see her face when I make her cum.”
He didn’t miss how you squirmed on his lap at the statement, a rumble in his chest. You didn’t know which you preferred–both watching the others and having one-on-one attention was elating, but it would have been better if you could see Killer’s expression. You supposed him wanting you this way would have to be enough for now, though you still longed to kiss him. It couldn’t hurt to ask, right?
“Killer,” your purr was just on the edge of a pouty whine, “won’t you kiss me? Please?”
Killer hesitated just a moment, prompting the others to speak up.
“She’s been so good, Kill, don’t you think?” Wire said.
“Go on, we won’t look,” said Heat.
“No pressure,” Kid added.
Killer’s mask tilted down, and you knew he was looking right at you. “If that’s what you really want.”
“I’ve wanted that for a long time,” you told him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance.”
“Can’t say I ever thought I’d get to either.” His large hands rubbed up and down your sides. “Didn’t think any of this would ever happen. You were so…”
“Yeah?”
“Awkward.”
The other three barked out laughs, and you pouted. “Okay, that’s fair.”
“But even before that…” Killer said, one hand tracing the scar on your clavicle, “you were quiet… lonely.” He brought both hands to cradle your face.
Though only faced with the mask, you felt like you could see through it to his eyes. “I’m not lonely anymore,” you whispered.
One of his hands shifted to cover your eyes, and you held your breath in anticipation. A moment later, you felt the soft, smooth warmth of his lips pressing to yours. The kiss was hesitant, uncertain, but heavy with wanting; you parted your lips slightly to give him silent permission to go further. When he didn’t, you poked your tongue out to trace his bottom lip, testing, and Killer responded with a soft groan. He pulled you closer with his free hand, deepening the kiss and finally tasting you, his tongue meeting yours. The touch of the wet muscles released some sort of floodgate within him; suddenly he was kissing you fervently, all that wanting let loose onto you. You felt him pull away, only to press a kiss to your jaw, then your neck, working his way down to your scar, which he dragged his tongue across.
You whimpered, reaching up to dig your fingers into his hair and hold on, core aching with need as he kissed down to your breasts.
Suddenly you felt yourself tipping down, yelping as Killer flipped you lengthwise, your chest in his lap and your legs in the air on either side of his neck. He wrapped his arms around your lower half, firmly holding you in place. There was no warning before he pressed his face into your cunt.
“Ah, K-Killer!” you moaned as he lapped and slurped at the sensitive flesh, tonguing between your folds and into your center. He ate you out with all the fervor of a man starved, his goatee rubbing into your clit as he went.
“That’s one way to cure cottonmouth,” Heat said, prompting Kid to lean over to high-five him.
“Don’t be lazy, Y/n,” Wire tutted, “suck him off.”
“Yeah, suck his dick!” Kid encouraged, tongue sticking out.
“Fuck, o-okay,” you breathed, bracing yourself against his muscular thighs with one hand and wrapping your fingers around his cock with the other. You guided his leaking tip into your mouth. It was warm and smooth on your tongue, the salty tang of pre-cum leaving your head spinning. You couldn’t really bob your head from that position, but you did your best to try and please him, though you felt too distracted by the way he plunged his tongue inside you. Killer, on the other hand, didn’t seem thrown off by the added stimulation, merely moaning into your cunt and continuing his assault on your senses.
“Attagirl,” Heat praised. “Take him deeper.”
“Watch us while you do it,” Wire commanded.
Killer had a slight upward curve to his dick, so from that angle, you found that taking him further into your mouth wasn’t so difficult. As long as you braced yourself, you could handle it without choking. You strained forward, letting him deeper into your mouth, eyes flicking up to meet the others’ gazes as you did. The eye contact tightened the building tension within you even tighter, and your moan was muffled when Killer started sucking on your clit.
“Fuck, there you go, princess,” Kid said.
“Mmff-!” you pulled off of Killer’s dick, gasping. “Gonna cum! Killer!”
Just like that, Killer manhandled you to flip you back the right way up, pulling you down onto his cock all the way to the base. He had his mask tilted partway up, beautiful blue eyes cast in shadow barely visible, but fixated on you. He started bouncing you on his cock like you weighed nothing, fingers sinking into your hips, the muscles of his arms and abs flexing. Killer gritting his teeth, too lost in the euphoria of fucking you to worry about his face being visible.
“Killer!” you moaned, holding on for dear life, his handsome face in view as you felt yourself climbing to yet another dizzying orgasm. You trembled as it washed over you, and Killer growled when he felt your walls spasming.
“You cumming on my cock, pretty girl?” he said huskily, holding you down and thrusting up into your g-spot.
“Yes, yes, fuck,” you whimpered–somehow, even being the fifth time, it was just as strong as the first. You slumped against Killer, resting your hands on his chest and catching your breath. He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before lowering his mask. 
You were still feeling the waves of it by the time Killer lifted you off of him, a rope of slick connecting your cunt to the tip of his dick.
“Do you need a break?” Killer asked, rubbing your back.
“I don’t know? Maybe?” you said. “I’m a bit tired, but it’s weird. No matter how hard I cum, I still want more.”
“At least drink something,” Wire suggested.
“Like cum?”
That earned you a few giggles from Heat and Kid. Wire picked up one of the water bottles on the table and tossed it at Killer, who caught it one-handed and offered it to you.
After rehydrating, you were passed to Kid. Despite his earlier protests to Killer, he faced you toward himself this time. At first you thought this was to torment you more, as he seemed eager to make you say embarrassing things so he could commit the look on your face to memory.
“Who’s your captain?” Kid demanded as he fucked up into you.
“You are!” you cried.
“And who’s your daddy?”
“Ah! Y-You are!”
Afterward, you realized he just wanted to make out while you rode him. Or maybe it was both things, but you weren’t about to complain. It was hard to tell which of you was more greedy; him for offering up this situation in the first place, or you for accepting it enthusiastically.
Heat opted to take you on the ground for his turn in the rotation, pushing you onto your hands and knees and giving backshots that had your toes curling. Finally, Wire agreed to let you ride him, facing you toward the group and letting you lower yourself onto his cock at your own pace. It was a tight fit, he was the biggest you had ever taken, but you had been fucked so thoroughly and came so many times at that point that you didn’t need any extra preparation. It only took a little bit of working yourself down to take him all.
“Theeere you go,” Wire praised as he bottomed out. You shivered at the sensation of being filled so full. He was pressed firmly against your g-spot without even needing to move or angle himself, all it took was you clenching down on him to feel bliss. He chuckled when he felt you doing so repeatedly, bending down to whisper into your ear. “How’s that big dick feel?”
“So good, Wire,” you sighed, resting your hands over his on your hips. The final blunt in the rotation was passed to Wire, and after taking his hit, he held it to your lips so you could take a hit, too.
Wire passed the blunt, then moved your hands to your lower stomach, making you feel the pronounced bulge that was there. You clenched up again at the feel of it. “You know,” he murmured, “I always had a feeling you could take all of me. That you were made for taking cock.”
“Let me see,” Kid said. 
Wire moved your hands away to show off your belly bulge. “You guys wanna take a closer look?” he asked with a lazy smirk.
Before you knew it, the other three had come over to see the spectacle up close, whistling and cooing. You flushed hotter as they felt it for themselves.
“It’s like you were made for us, babe,” Heat said. He stepped even closer so he was right in front of you, then took his cock and rubbed the tip against your clit, making you gasp. It was smooth and slick against the sensitive nub.
“Fuck, Heat!” you moaned, hands twitching, but Wire held them firmly at your sides, not letting you move.
“What?” Heat said. “After everything, you can’t take this?”
“S-Sensitive! It’s–oh god, fuck…”
“Her hands are free,” Wire pointed out to the other two, holding your hands out. Kid and Killer didn’t hesitate, positioning themselves at your sides. Wire guided your hands around their cocks, helping you jerk them off. The group forced you to stay trapped in that position, Wire rocking his hips all the while. Your eyes rolled back; the build was steep and intense, causing tears to form at the corners of your eyes. The others praised you while you whimpered.
“Did you think about us? When you were alone in the shower?” Wire muttered into your ear.
“Yes! I’m, I’m cumming,” you whined. None of them let up, pushing you over the edge yet again.
“How many times is this?” Kid grinned as you gasped and shuddered.
“That makes six,” Killer said.
“About to be seven,” Wire said, reaching around to rub your clit in expert circles. 
“Wire!” You immediately twitched and writhed, but couldn’t get away. “It’s too soon, it’s too soon!”
“You can take it,” he assured, thrusting up harder. Before he was mostly still, this time his massive cock slid in and out of your cunt at a slow pace. You didn’t think you could cum again so soon, but the overstimulation soon went from maddening to euphoric under his experienced touches. Only another minute of you keening, and then you came again.
“Told you,” Wire said as he finally released your hands. “Seven.”
You fell back against Wire, feeling a bit light-headed. Heat patted your cheek and Killer ruffled your hair.
“Still good to keep going?” Wire asked, grinding his hips against yours to draw out your orgasm. You didn’t respond, too fucked-out, still riding the sensation of the little pulses shooting through your core. “I’m gonna need a response if you want this to continue, sweetheart.”
Your voice was small and shaky. “Don’t stop.”
“You heard her,” Kid grinned.
“What do you think, then, Y/n?” Wire asked. “You ready for all of us?”
“Y-Yeah…” you said. “Just…gimme a minute.”
“And everyone else? You all still in?”
The rest of the group gave eager agreements. Wire helped you dismount from him and let you rest against his broad chest. In the meantime, he started directing the others to set up. There wasn’t much to do, just taking the blanket from the nearby bed and putting it onto the floor for some extra cushioning. Everyone took a drink break, and the last blunt was stubbed out on the now-full ashtray. You went to sit in the center of the blanket, and the others followed. There was a brief discussion on how to make the positions work, you were given another check-in to ensure you were okay with the setup, and anyone who hadn’t fully disrobed did so.
Killer laid down on his back, taking your hand as you crawled over him. You mounted his cock eagerly; despite all the prior attention, you were finally getting to try acting out one of your fantasies, and had perked right back up at the chance.
“Nervous?” Killer asked as Kid took up position behind you.
You shook your head. “You know I trust you guys with my life, right?”
“That’s right,” Kid said, pressing a kiss to the tattoo on your back. Then he placed a hand on your back and pushed you forward to expose your cunt to him. He positioned his cock right up against Killer’s, pushing against it and forward to stretch your cunt until it gave way to his, too. You bit your lip as you were filled by both men simultaneously–the stretch was just like taking Wire.
“Who fills you more?” Wire questioned as he took place at your side, taking your hand and putting it on his cock. “Our captain and first mate, or me?”
“I can’t really tell,” you answered honestly, wrapping your hand around the base of him.
“I guess we’ll just have to give you more practice, then,” he grinned.
Heat stepped over Killer, standing in front of you. “Open wide, babygirl,” he purred, and you did so, tongue sticking out like a landing strip for his cock. He eased himself into your mouth gently, cursing when you started to suck on him. The feeling of his piercings on your tongue was fun, a little sensory treat for you to play with.
Kid started to thrust first, Killer waiting a bit to pick up on Kid’s rhythm before he joined him. He timed himself so you were never left empty; if Kid was pulling back, Killer was thrusting in, and vice versa. The two of them were in perfect sync like they’d done this before, and you wouldn’t have been surprised if they had. Between Kid’s grip on your hips and Killer’s hands on your waist, you were held steady so you didn’t rock too far forward, keeping you feeling the full brunt of their combined attack.
“God, I’ve wanted to do this for a while.” Heat said, placing a hand on the back of your head and starting to thrust shallowly into your mouth. Now that you had been pushed to make eye contact so much during the rotations, there was no more hesitation from you as you looked up through your eyelashes at Heat, who cursed at the sight.
“Oh, fuck, you look good like that,” he muttered, “sucking my cock while getting railed. You feel so fucking good, shit.”
“Isn’t she just perfect?” Wire cooed, guiding your hand to pump his cock. “Servicing us all with those slutty little holes of hers, and doing such a good job of it, too.”
Your moans were muffled by Heat’s cock, but the sound made the others’ grip on you tighten, their thrusts increasing in force. It was almost everything you had wanted, their cocks a drug to you as much as the weed was–you didn’t think you could feel any better. But even then, with three of them inside you pounding you into oblivion, you still wanted more. During the discussion, Wire made you agree to show you could take double penetration before trying triple. You had no choice but to comply, but like you had told Kid earlier, they had no idea just what you could handle. 
You gave the safety signal with your trembling free hand, holding up three fingers. Wire immediately barked at the other three to stop, and when they pulled out of you, you felt emptier than when before you had started.
“You okay? What’s wrong?” Wire asked. The whole group was alert and focused on you now.
“I took two, like you said!” you cried out. “I don’t want to jerk you off, Wire, I want you all at once, like you promised!”
Wire started to laugh while the others relaxed.
“That’s all?” Killer huffed. “I was worried for a second.”
Kid smacked your ass. “That’s my girl! A true Kid pirate.” He pulled you up by the neck so your chest was flush with his back, growling into your ear. “You’re just a greedy little thing, aren’t you? Need us all right this second, hmm?”
“Fuck, yes, just hurry up,” you whined.
Kid held his hand in front of your face. “Spit,” he commanded.
You spat into his palm, and he stroked his cock with that hand. “Alright, boys, let’s rearrange. Wire? What do you think?”
“I’ll take her mouth,” Wire said. “Too big for triple. Otherwise, first choice of ‘loot’ goes to the captain.”
“Her ass is mine.”
“I’m good here,” Killer said.
Heat joined Kid and Killer behind you while Wire took his place in front. He had to sit up on his legs for his cock to be at the right height to line up with your head.
“First Killer and Heat start, then Kid, so I can keep an eye on her. Once I think she’s good, I’ll take her mouth,” Wire directed.
Killer and Heat penetrated your cunt at the same time, hilting themselves before Kid pressed the head of his cock against your ass. The weed had relaxed your muscles enough so that there was little resistance, but you still closed your eyes at the unique feeling of him entering you there. It had been a while since you played with yourself anally, so adding it to the mix of sensations was a thrill. As Kid filled you up, Heat and Killer noticeably tensed in pleasure, the space inside you growing even smaller with the third addition.
“Tight,” Kid muttered, pulling out slightly before pushing in even further, making you moan as you were stuffed to the brim.
“But she did it,” Wire noted, looking proud. He stroked your cheek. “Sorry to have underestimated you.” You responded by opening your mouth, and Wire grinned. “Little slut. Alright, here I come.”
You could only really take the first two inches of Wire in your mouth, but that was enough, you swirled your tongue over his frenum piercing as you sucked him off. The other three took that as a signal to start. Kid went at his own brutal pace, steady but harsh, while the other two were more gentle as they figured out a good rhythm. At first it was disorganized and more uncomfortable than you had expected, until Wire directed Kid to slow down, and suddenly the other three fell into the perfect pace. At that point, you feared you had no rational thought left, every bit of cognition fucked out of your body. A warm, thick haze fell over your mind as they ravaged you, some part of you finally feeling relief from being used so thoroughly by your superiors. It was the satisfaction of your deepest fantasies coming true. Every nerve in your body was attuned to the feeling of their skin on you, against you, inside you. 
Their desire for you was evident in their desperation, in their hands all over your body, in their praises and groans and whines of your name. At the center of their carnal affection, you finally felt whole.
Wire dug his fingers into your hair, grunting that he was close. You were, too, but you couldn’t tell them as you were. The other three figured it out when they felt your walls flutter around their cocks.
“She came.”
“Fuck, she came again.”
“Good girl, good girl.”
You could barely tell who said what, but the following curse of “f-fuck!” came from Wire, and a moment later, a salty, slightly bitter taste coated the back of your tongue. You swallowed it down without a second thought, fully in subspace and never happier.
Heat came next; you couldn’t really feel it, only noticing once he pulled out and you were suddenly, tragically emptier.
“Just you and me, Kill,” Kid said.
Wire pulled out of your mouth, and you collapsed forward onto Killer, fingers scraping against the curly fuzz of his chest hair.
“Easy, just–mm–relax,” Killer grunted, hands traveling up your sides. “Fuck, you don’t know how good you feel.”
“I’m okay, I’m okay,” you panted. “Keep g-going.”
You rested your head on Killer’s chest as they double-teamed you, content to lay there and be used. It came as a surprise when you felt fingers rubbing your clit–Kid had reached around to tease you.
“One last one, princess,” he said.
“Ah, Kid! I don’t think–” you started, but Kid smacked your ass hard and made your words end in a yelp.
“Trust your captain.”
“Y-Yes, sir.” You hung your head down, breaths coming out short, putting all your focus on your lower half.
“Just a bit more,” Killer urged. “Just a bit–fuck, I’m at my limit.”
Killer emptied inside you with a low groan. Kid didn’t let up, rubbing your clit between his thumb and forefinger, pushing you to the edge with that sheer, brutal determination that he approached everything in life with.
“I’m almost there,” Kid promised. “Cum for me, Y/n, cum for your captain.”
“Kid!” you cried, “Kid, Kid, Kid–!”
You both hit your peak at the same time, you with a tired whimper, Kid with a throaty groan. You felt like you had dissolved into a billion little sparks, unable to do anything but pulse and twitch. Then you went limp, all energy seeming to drain out of your body at once.
“Y/n? Are you alright?” Wire asked, and you responded with a weak grunt of confirmation.
Kid and Killer pulled out, the latter sitting up and supporting you against him.
“Just rest,” Killer said. “We’ll take care of everything.”
“Wait. One last thing,” Kid said. He spread your ass cheeks, a smirk etching itself across his face when he saw the cum leaking out of your holes. “Yeah, that’s good. Nicely done, princess.”
You just pressed your face into Killer’s chest and grunted again. The four men chuckled.
“Let’s get her cleaned up,” Kid said, holding his hands out to you. Killer picked you up for one final pass to Kid, who stood you on your feet and pressed a kiss to your temple. “You look like a fucking mess.”
“Mm,” was the only noise you made, though it still managed to sound sarcastic, and Kid laughed. He detached his metal arm, setting it on the ground, then supported you with his remaining arm as you walked on trembling legs to the bathroom.
Kid started the shower, stepping inside it with you to make sure you wouldn’t collapse. You leaned against him, sighing as the hot water soothed your tired muscles.
“I guess I lived up to my hometown’s reputation after all,” you mumbled into his chest.
“No one gives a shit,” Kid said. “You should be happy you got to do this.”
“I am,” you grabbed the soap and started scrubbing your front. “I just think it’s funny. After all that time, you know?”
“Yeah.” He spun you around so the water hit your front. “After all that time. You were so cold before. I always figured you’d leave after your business was done.”
“I thought so, too,” you said, reminiscing. It felt like a lifetime ago. 
Kid helped you lather soap on your back, then spun you around to let it rinse off. You looked up at him. He was standing over you not unlike that day all those years ago, when you had marched up to him and demanded to join his crew. Except instead of a sneer on his face, there was only a soft look.
You felt yourself tear up. Kid’s expression changed to one of alarm. “Woah, what’s wrong?”
You shook your head. “Nothing. I’m just happy.”
“You sure? You don’t regret this, right?”
“No. It was exactly what I wanted.” You smiled up at him to show you were fine, even as you sniffled.
“Okay. Good,” he said, looking relieved. “It was what I wanted, too.”
You hugged him tight. “I do have a question, though.”
“What?”
“What was the ‘deal’ you guys were talking about earlier?”
Kid snorted. “Ages ago, we talked about which crewmates we hadn’t fucked yet, and all of us agreed that we would have smashed you if we had the chance. So we decided that none of us would make a move until you did.”
“Is that all? Then why did you get mad at Wire?”
“Because we all know that he’s a huge flirt. None of us believed that you made the first move.”
You thought back to when you kissed him. “We were both drunk, but–yeah, he kissed me first. Despite what he says.”
You and Kid chuckled. After getting cleaned up, you wrapped yourself in a towel and went back out. The others had all redressed by then. You were about to flop into your chair until Wire held his arms out to you. You drifted over and let him pull you into his embrace, resting against him while he massaged your thighs.
“If you want to talk about any of it, just say so,” he said. “Questions, comments, concerns.”
“I just want to eat something that’s not cock,” you said.
The others laughed, except for Heat, who shouted, “Fuck!”
“What?”
“I wasn’t hungry until you said something, damn it.”
You and the other three laughed again, this time at Heat’s expense.
“I could eat all of Whole Cake Island,” you said.
Heat started rummaging around the cabinets in the dresser. “There’s gotta be a list of nearby places to eat–huh?” There was a pause, and then Heat turned around. “Why are there a bunch of condoms in here?”
“Amenities, obviously. Remember what island you’re on,” you said. 
Wire’s hands froze where they were on your hips. “Y/n?” he said, the tone making you nervous.
“Now, listen, Wire–” you started.
“Don’t ‘listen’ me,” he said thinly. “You knew there were condoms and didn’t tell me?”
“Well, you know, I’m still good on birth control, and, uh,”
“It still matters–” Wire realized something, then grabbed your shoulders. “Did you fucking lie so you’d get creampied, you fucking slut?”
The other three howled, and you shrank in his lap, even as you squeaked out, “I’m not sorry.”
“I guess you’ll have to punish her, Wire,” Kid grinned.
“Just let us watch when you do,” Killer added.
“What did you have in mind?” Heat asked.
“Oh, I’ll come up with something.” Wire said. He tickled your sides, making you flail in his lap until you begged for mercy.
“That settles it, then,” Kid said. “Y/n? Before we leave this island, make sure you go get a big bundle of Red Sky for us to take with us.”
“Aye aye, captain,” you said, heart already leaping at what the future would hold.
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sacred-algae · 2 years ago
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One of my favorite things about BG3 is that the main 7 so perfectly encapsulate how the average DnD party interacts with each other.
And not only that but you can tell a lot about what their players would be like!
Shadowheart was made by the edgy bisexual “good Christian girl” who’s discovering herself in college for the first time away from her family. She’s falling out of her faith and her friends are waiting for her to crack. She thinks playing DnD is so rebellious of her. She WILL become emo after this is over
Halsin was made by the secret nudist in attempts to live vicariously through his character but has now revealed ✨things✨ about himself, and is totally unaware of it but everybody else knows it and just love that he’s having a good time
Lae’zel was made by a dude (probably straight and cis) who just wants to play as a hot fantasy chick
Gale was made by the most nerdy autistic boy who just wants somebody to date. Anybody. He’s really not picky.
Wyll was probably made by a trans man with. Idk why but he was. He doesn’t even have trans vibes to me but his player does
Karlach was made by a lesbian with mommy issues who’s never played DnD before, didn’t know if she’d like it, but got dragged into it by her friends who “know she’ll like it” and they were 100% right (and she and Shadowheart’s player WILL end up dating)
And Astarion was made by a gay person who is infamous for torturing every single character they create. They kept his character under wraps during creation but then announced on the first day of the campaign that this would be their, quote, “magnum opus of fruity traumatized characters”
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Going Green
"Microtransactions!"
Charles looked around the board members.
"Micro. Transactions. Have you ever heard of that? Anyone?"
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Slowly, heads nodded.
"Oh, good! So, you *have* heard of them. Does anyone care to explain to me then why our games barely have any? In fact, I have yet to see *any* microtransaction revenue from our latest release."
"But Sir, 'Orcs and Morcs' is a single player game - and not for a mobile platform, too. It doesn't even have an online connection. It would be highly unusual."
Charles M. Anderson cut the engineer up with a gesture. He didn't even know the other man's name, which wasn't too unusual. Even though he was the CEO of GreenGames for six months now, he didn't bother to learn his subordinates names until they proved useful. And this unnamed engineer could be happy if he still had a job after this meeting.
"I don't care about your techno-babble. Microtransactions is where the money is, so I want them in our products. *All* our products. And make sure to make them mandatory for any progress, too."
Charles usually talked about "Releases" and "Products". To him, video games were just a product like any other. Of course *he* didn't play any of those silly games, games were for children and losers. He only cared for the numbers, the graphs and revenues.
"What about the backlash? I mean, I understand that you want to generate more revenue, but GreenGames is known for providing high quality games that *don't* try to rip their customers off."
"So?"
"So, this could be bad publicity for us. Really bad."
Charles looked around the table and noticed most of the other board members nodding.
"Listen up, everyone. I think there is some misunderstanding here. You think that I care about our customers. I really don't, as long as they continue to buy our products. There is no such thing as bad publicity. So, I don't tell you how to draw your silly ogres and you don't try to meddle in the business aspect of the company, okay?"
Even though the inflection suggested a question, it was perfectly clear that it was neither a question nor a request. Again, heads nodded and tried to avoid eye contact. Good. Respect was very important for a leader.
One woman spoke up. Charles suspected her to be some lead writer or something.
"It's orcs, Sir."
Charles blinked. "What are you trying to say?"
"You said ogres, but our games are about orcs. That is our thing, we make games about orcs."
"There is no difference between orcs, ogres, unicorns and all that whimsy stuff. Leave me alone with your fantasy crap."
"But there is another thing. You are responsible for the story of our products?"
The woman agreed with a careful: "Yes, Sir?"
Charles looked her straight in the eye. "It has come to my attention that there are certain woke elements in our products. As a story writer, I expect you to take care of that."
"What... do you mean by woke? And by taking care of that?"
Charles sighed. Why was everyone so incompetent?
"Apparently, there is same-sex smut in our products, some even have pronouns. That crap needs to disappear asap. It is 'go woke go broke', after all."
The writer woman looked at Charles incredulously. "But Sir! Same-Sex romances are a well-accepted part of the industry for *decades* now. And it's not like the player has to engage in that, too. It's just an option - an option we actually received much praise for in the past. And about the pronouns... It's just a setting that influences some dialogues on how the player character is referred to. Again, it is perfectly possible to play as a straight green cis male if that's what you want to do."
Charles shook his head, his voice now dangerously low. "One more word of that, miss, and you can start looking for a new job. 84% of our customer base is male, and male customers want to see boobs, that's a fact. I won't tolerate wasting company resources on pacifying some noisy minority and alienating our main audience."
"But sir!" the writer woman objected.
Charles' look silenced her.
"One more word and you're out. We'll find another writer. Someone who does the job and keeps their mouth shut. This meeting is over. I expect results end of next week."
Nobody dared to speak up when everybody left the meeting room, and Charles returned to his office. What a productive meeting.
Just as he turned to his computer to check today's KPIs, he noticed a new email.
From: Employee Council
To: Charles M. Anderson
Subject: Going Green
Body:
Dear Mr. Anderson,
we here at GreenGames would like to take the opportunity to point out some concerns about your leadership role.
We have noticed a disturbing development since your takeover and would like to remind you of the values we stand for at GreenGames. We like creating games, and we identify with the work we do. Our players are important to us, and we strife to be open and accessible for everyone. Just like the protagonists in our games, we have honor and use our strengths to better the world. You in particular should be the living embodiment of this ideal. Please take this chance to re-think your methods and decisions and "go green" for real.
Sincerely,
The Employee Council.
Charles was outraged. How dared those subordinates criticizing him? He reached for his phone, ready to phone his secretary to find out who this "Employee Council" was but was interrupted by a ripping sound.
The right arm of his expensive suit jacket had ripped at the shoulder, which was unusual. He would have to have a stern talk with the tailor. Charles stood up and took off his jacket - or at least, he tried to. It was like the piece of clothing was way too small all of a sudden. He finally managed to get out of it, but only with several more rips in the fabric. Charles loosened his tie. He was sweating like mad, and when he looked down on himself, he was in utter disarray. His shirt looked like it was several numbers too small and as he was watching, one button after the other flew off with an audible "pling", exposing his torso underneath.
But was it really his torso? Not only was it *bigger*, it also looked way *hairier*. Charles had never been a man with much body hair, but now, he looked down on a stomach that was showing visible abs covered with a dense treasure trail of dark hairs. They continued upwards where they met with a true forest of curly dark hair that covered the slabs of pecs that were still growing as Charles watched.
He had to loosen his tie again before taking it off entirely. All of his clothes felt constricting, so, he peeled himself out of his shirt, too. His expensive watch was interrupting his growth painfully, but Charles was too occupied to notice, let alone care. With a dull cracking noise, the leather strap broke, and the watch flew across the room, hitting the opposite wall.
As Charles continued to grow, the chair underneath him creaked, but, again, he had other things to worry about. His lower body was still covered by his dress pants and shoes, but that was getting tight, too. His shoes especially were getting painful, and it was a relief when the front broke, exposing large muscular feet and toes. His pants were filled to the brim with heavy, muscled legs now, but there was another region where the capacity had been reached. His groin formed an obscene bulge. That alone would have probably fit - barely - but it was accompanied by an unusual feeling. Charles didn't *mind* his extreme change. In fact, the hyper masculine body turned him on, even. He watched as a dick print became clearly visible outlined against his groin, as his cock grew hard. It pulsed, once, and Charles felt a spurt of precum soak into his boxer shorts. A wet patch became apparent as the liquid seeped through his pants - all from a single spurt. His dick pulsed again, and Charles' head began to swim. The air in the room was thick with sweat and testosterone by now, and Charles groaned from arousal. Man, what would he give for a nice firm manly ass right now, giving him a lap dance.
Wait, what? Manly ass?
But it was true! Every time, Charles tried to think about sexy girls, but all that came to mind were men. Burly, hairy men, twinkish shaved men, green-skinned ogre-man. No, not ogres, he corrected himself. Orcs.
As he thought this word, his dick pulsed again and made Charles almost cry out from arousal. He couldn't restrain himself anymore. He *ripped* apart his dress pants and lowered his boxer shorts that looked like a pair of briefs on his massive body now, releasing a gigantic stiff rod and a matching set of heavy balls - along with a whole cloud of manly, musky smell that made Charles even hornier than before.
He closed his gigantic hand around his shaft and moved it up and down, in a slow, barely constrained motion. He had almost come by that one stroke, so horny was his mind. Fascinatedly, he watched as his cock and balls took on a deep, green color. It looked almost like a cucumber, or the penis of the incredible hulk. Or... an orc. As he moved his strong hand up and down again, the green started to spread in all directions.
Yes! There was no doubt: He was becoming a big, strong, sexy orc! Charles let all restraints fall away and started pumping in earnest now. With each stroke, the green spread, until his entire torso was of a rich green color. His head felt a pressure as his facial structure reformed, and his ears grew long and pointy. His hair lost darkened and grew out into a wild mohawk-like hairstyle. At the same time, a black beard sprouted around his entire jaw, underlining his masculinity.
Meanwhile, the green had swept across his arms and legs, quickly eliminating any leftover pink spots. The green color looked incredibly hot under the coat of dense, manly hair, and Charles felt himself getting closer. He grunted with each stroke like an animal and where his muscular green body touched the furniture or his executive chair, it left a film of manly sweat. Finally, he felt a short bit of pain on his ears and nipples, as small metal piercings appeared there: Short studs in his ears and small rings in his nipples.
That sent him over the edge. With a final bellow, he came, mightily. His large green balls contracted and his massive cock spew cum everywhere: All over his stomach, his chest, his furniture, even his face!
Charr panted in the afterglow of his orgasm. He was the epitome of virility and although he had just cummed all over his office, his mind kept creeping back to sexy guys again. He would be able to go again, soon - but that had to wait a bit. He used the remains of his suit to clean up a bit (although it was still clearly visible and smellable what happened here), stuffed his mighty tool into the cum-stained underwear and reached for the phone.
"Please send the board to my office, I want to issue an honorable apology, and announce our new strategy." He rumbled with his new, low voice. After a moment of consideration, he added: "And please send someone to install our games on my PC."
He rubbed his hands. This would usher in a whole new era for GreenGames - with the greenest possible CEO.
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I have the feeling that a lot of companies could benefit greatly from a bit of a greener leadership!
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irrevocablecondition · 1 month ago
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i posted a tiktok about ralph fiennes (an avid jkr supporter) being hyped up by the marauders fandom and the responses were,,, intense. and it got me thinking about how Different your engagement is in this space if you're from a community that jkr has harmed.
and i don't just mean in terms of the things you read or write, or even really the conversations that you have (though there is definitely a Lot to say about the expectation to be an educator rather than an enjoyer) but more so just,,, every tiny action?
take fiennes for example: in my mind, it's common information. if you simply search his name you find articles, it's on his wikipedia page, it takes one quick "ralph fiennes jkr" search to find out. to me, that's common information, right? but the responses i got - very aggressive ones wow - show that actually it,,, isn't.
and it isn't that you should know off of the top of your head every single person who has defended her or not (although, yes, before you unnecessarily attach people to this fandom space and fics within it - don't do that. but if you're Going To - then dare i say the bare minimum is ensuring they aren't bigots before bringing them to a space with people harmed by said bigots?) but it really does put into perspective how different engagement is for those of us that have been harmed because,,, we Have to do that research.
to some, a "fuck jkr" in a bio is a staple, something that's simply Needed to "justify" engagement here so they chuck it in. for me? well, it's a big safety thing isn't it? lest i follow someone who doesn't actually detest her and her views. but then the issue arises where that isn't a good enough qualifier anymore because those with it in their bios can and do still have videos of themselves at the studios or doing merch hauls or talking about the reboot
to some, a "i hate fem sirius" is a headcanon preference and a lot of the time it simply IS a headcanon preference. but then you see how adamantly *some* people detest the idea of a fictional character presenting fem. you see the posts and the arts mocking it, you see people say things like "this man escaped AZKABAN! he would never wear a skirt" as though the clothing on his fictional body dictates his fictional strength. you see how people say it makes wolfstar "straight" and you, as a trans man, will look towards your cis boyfriend and wonder if people think the same about you. am i queer enough? am i in a straight relationship? do people think he's straight for being with me? because i wear makeup? because i'm not manly enough? Do They Really See Me As A Man?
to some, a celebrities comment sections filled with marauders references is a funny haha but to those of us that have been harmed? it's Terrifying to see this fandom space become so public without any education or understanding whatsoever, just "well, why not!" and then you watch as someone like ben barnes who is so renowned in this space says that he would take part in the HP reboot because "it would be a disservice to the millions of fans that have messaged [him]"
and so on and so forth. you have to suss out everything and everyone and every small comment and you have to wonder if the person you're interacting with is With you or Against you or, the secret third option, 'with' you for the badge and the tshirt that says they're an ally but they're unwilling to actually unpack what that means.
and yeah, if i learnt one thing from having all of these conversations on tiktok and trying to make it all make sense to people, it's that it just... doesn't. it just doesn't make sense. and to some extent i get that! because a lot of the time (and really, the times it matters because my discussions aren't aimed to fully fledged bigots) it's people who DO support trans rights and i understand how frustrating it must be to think you're getting called something you're not when someone points out another hidden way you Could Potentially be supporting jkr or spreading her rhetoric without realising.
so i get it. i do really get it. i get it so much and i wish people Got It the other way around because it's never people being nitpicky or overbearing. it's never being over the top or dramatic or making a mountain out of a mole hill. it's just,,, trained survival i guess. years of assessing threats and years of being an Educator and years of knowing the warning signs of harm.
it's not over the top to point out things that harm us, you simply don't see the harm that those who jkr has targetted in every aspect do. and that's okay, that's why we talk and why we persist and why we post about it.
i just wish that being educated and understanding came from a place of care rather than frustration.
i think the best way i've been able to put this is "the trans discussions in this space are built around us, not for us". people build a fence around trans people within this space and call us protected, but when we point out holes in the perimeter or ask them to monitor the fence gate a little bit more? well, how dramatic of us. how overbearing. how aggressive of us.
you have Got to become accustomed to having conversations without feeling called out or shamed. you have Got to get used to being told that maybe something you're doing isn't the best without taking that as "so you think i'm a massive transphobe?!". you have GOT to get okay about listening to POCs, asexuals, trans people, people with disabilities etc etc etc when we tell you what is not supporting and how you can do better because otherwise,,, what's the point? what's the point of any of it.
like genuinely, what's the point of any of this if you aren't willing to listening and protect those this space claims to??? it's okay to Listen. it doesn't mean you were explicitly wrong, it just means you need a bit more education of the subtler ways you could be causing harm, and that's SO understandable if you do not live as someone that she has harmed and therefore don't have to assess risk in this space in the same ways that we do. it just means you might need another perspective sometimes, and is fandom not all about other people's perspectives??
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marmaladelesbian · 3 months ago
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This will probably be controversial, but I feel like it needs to be talked about. (Marauders fandom edition part 1?)
Before I say anything else, I want to preface this by saying that everyone can have their ideas and headcanons about characters, you do you. So what I think we need to talk about is things like this:
“Omg no, the Marauders are definetly all straight, wydm??” “In canon they’re all cishet, can we keep that?” “Why is every single character some form of gay?”
In canon, little is known about them, but that’s not my point. This fandom is made up by 90% queer people that are making representation for themselves in media, because in said media, most of the “representation” is just one stereotypical queer person so the production team can claim they’re not homophobic. So when you take representation made by queer people for queer people and start packing it back into the same cishet boxes in was in before, you’re taking something that wasn’t made for you, and altering it to fit in a way you like. This sub-fandom wasn’t made by queer people so that straight people could take it and rewire it to fit them. Some *specific* instances of this are asexual Evan Rosier, trans Regulus Black, pansexual James Potter, and aroace Peter Pettigrew. While I’m not sure if this was representation some in this fandom made for themselves or others, it’s still important. What I’m really trying to say (it’s 12:36 at night, please) is that this fandom wasn’t made for straight people.
Marlene McKinnon isn’t headcanoned to be a lesbian so a weird uncle named Fred could fetishize her, she’s headcanoned to be a lesbian so that a 14 year old girl could see a character like her and feel seen. Sirius Black is not headcanoned to be gay/bi so a lonely wine mom could sexualize him. He’s headcanoned to be gay/bi so that a teenaged boy doesn’t feel so weird anymore.
Again, it’s okay to headcanon whoever to want to be this that or the other, that’s not what I’m addressing. It’s making everyone the same carbon copies of straight, white, and cis.
I’m done yapping now, go drink some water.
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stormsbourne · 2 years ago
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alright listen
I know we're all having an evaluation of how eagerly we believe people who present with even the slightest air of authority and frankly good! we all need to be less credulous of people on the internet who tell lies.
but I think there are also other lessons to learn from james somerton. namely about his raging and blatant misogyny, which I've often seen similar forms of in fandom and on this specific site. to paraphrase bombs himself in the ctrl alt del video, if you see shitty behavior within your sphere, it's important to recognize it and try to fix it instead of rejecting it and asserting that no REAL members of the ingroup are like that. and nerds have a misogyny problem. including tumblr. so let's reckon with it.
do you append "white" or "straight" to your comments about women even when those things have little to do with the topic being discussed, just to make your comments seem more legit? (and no, m/m shipping discourse does not give you a ticket to say it's all straight women -- it's fictional characters, james.) do you often theorize about how (hurriedly appended "straight/white/cis") women are responsible for a problem in fandom, nay, all problems in fandom? have you made up a guy based on a single post that annoyed you and extrapolated to say that all (appended signifier to make it ok) women in fandom are like that? do you see women as uniquely fetishizing, uniquely stupid about politics or social issues, uniquely annoying to talk to? do you assume when there's an issue, even a real one and not the fake ones james made up, that a woman is probably at the root of it?
all of this still applies to you if you're a woman. it also applies if you're gay or a person of color or trans. being an oppressed group doesn't mean you are immune from sexism, and sexism is still rampant in everyday life for pretty much everyone.
your shipping and fandom discourse isn't immune from this. no, I'm not talking about how not enough people like yuri. I'm talking about how women who like "bad" ships like r*ylo or whatever are seen as open targets for harassment. how women who are into "bad/problematic" fandoms are seen as idiots and enablers who deserve what they get. how there's an attitude that women who like shitty bad porn must think it's good, must be too stupid to know better, and must need to be handheld and taught about good, acceptable fiction. I've already talked a lot about tumblr's complete refusal to admit that fujoshi wasn't a term coined by delicate japanese mlm to complain about evil women (and I wonder if james contributed to that idiotic concept), but the way I've seen people assert that women into m/m must be straight, must be stupid, must be lying about their identities, must be hurting gay men in real life in addition to wanting some anime boys to kiss ...
I've seen how some of you people talk about amb*r h*ard, is all I'm saying, and I've seen what you've tried to do to dozens of female creatives that, for some reason, you've decided deserve to be taken down or taught a lesson. I've seen the descriptions you use. shrieking, bitchy, whiny, uppity, shrewish, karen (don't get me started on how karen has been turned into an easy excuse for misogyny). you're not bystanders to what james did and is doing, you're a part of it. sure, you might not have the nazi fetish, but you've said things about women that put somerton to shame.
just a thing to keep in mind while the plagiarism discourse is ongoing. somerton is a shithead for many reasons but this is one that's important to remember because I think people often treat misogyny like a lesser crime, a smaller concern, and it's not. just think of what laws are passing and what views popular movements have of women and then, for one moment, consider that maybe your reflexive need to blame women or pick them apart might have been influenced by the Society In Which We Live.
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immortal-if · 10 months ago
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It was supposed to be... well, maybe not a simple job, but it wasn't your first time being hired to track down a teenage runaway. But this one... you had a weird feeling about this one from the start.
As the dreams you've suffered from your whole life start getting more intense, and your missing persons case becomes a murder case, you begin to realise you've bitten off far more than you can chew. Now the only person who seems to have the answers you seek is a professor on a culture that has been extinct for centuries - and all you know about them is that they're hiding something.
Find the meaning behind your mysterious dreams. Will they lead you to catch your mysterious killer? Or lead you straight into their clutches?
Immortal is an 18+ interactive fiction novel created in Twine using Sugarcube. Content warnings will include death and murder, animal death in the context of religious sacrifice (looking at around chapter 7 - skippable) and sexual content (skippable). List will be updated in the future.
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Play as a male, female or nonbinary private investigator - cis or trans. Customise your appearance and personality, and choose how you wish to proceed with your case
You're not you when you dream. Who are you? Customise your mysterious dream figure, including gender (male or female, cis or trans) and appearance.
A single gender-selectable RO. Get to know the secrets they keep hidden and enter into a deeper relationship - or spend time together as friends.
Find the answers to the dreams that plague you. Repeat the mistakes of the past - or make whole new ones.
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Rue - gender selectable he/him or she/her. RO.
An expert on Rosutan culture spending a semester teaching at Crescent Hill University - half an hour from the site of the murder. They claim to be willing to help you - and they did save your life. So why do you feel like they're not being honest with you?
Officer Frankie Vega - they/them (nonbinary)
You know them well enough. An officer at the Crescent Hill police department. You've been in contact a few times when your job has overlapped with theirs, but this is your first time actually getting to know them.
Detective Celia Brand - she/her (cis)
The detective working the murder case you've inadvertently stumbled onto - and she does not like you. Less, now that you're interfering in her case.
Liam Veere - he/him (ftm trans)
He works as a teaching assistant at the university. Pleasant and cheery, you've never seen him without a smile on his face - though that's not hard, you've only met him twice.
Abigail Cayde - she/her (cis)
All of this started with her disappearance and murder. What was she doing?
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Demo (Chapter 1 - updated 29/09/24) | Characters
This is my first attempt at an interactive fiction game, I have no experience in this. Please be gentle with me.
Other WIPs: From the Depths
Avatar Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash
Banner Photo by Niccolo' Candelise on Unsplash
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salarta · 1 month ago
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I hate Havok/Alex Summers now. Havolaris is now very clearly a completely unsalvageable relationship that always, ALWAYS has an element of sexism (usually subtle, sometimes blatant). And it all comes down to Jordan White, Tom Brevoort, Beau DeMayo, and a majority of Havok fans demonstrating why I should by how poorly they treat and view Polaris/Lorna Dane to promote him.
I’ve been a Polaris fan since 2009. Over a decade and a half. In that time, I used to say one very clear and definitive thing. I used to say that if they kept the Havolaris relationship apart for a decade, focused on Polaris and Havok as their own characters and did enough meaningful with Polaris in that time, they could come back together as a good couple.
This is what happened instead.
Jordan White forced Havok into EVERY depiction of Lorna under his control except Duggan’s run, ONLY because she won the X-Men vote. Something he found distasteful enough to try and dismiss her win as happening only because she was on Gifted. And every time Havok got forced into Lorna’s affairs, it was to frame Lorna as incompetent, weak, or incapable of having any identity outside of being his (ex-)girlfriend.
Beau DeMayo told the Genoshan genocide story without Polaris anywhere in sight, even though she was one of the core survivors in the comics. She had fucking PTSD because of it for an entire X-Men run! She had an issue, New X-Men 132, almost entirely dedicated to finding her in the rubble and her broadcasting Genosha’s final moments! But no. Not even in the fucking background. Instead, Lorna’s only appearances were two reminders of her as Havok’s girlfriend on 90s X-Factor, and a split second animation of her as a future slave.
And we have Tom Brevoort. Who among so many other things I could say, most recently had Polaris repeatedly treated like a weak damsel on the just ended X-Factor with a clear goal of fucking her over just after her great showing in Fall of the House of X all so he could force her back into relationship with Havok.
And then there’s the Havok fans. I know not all Havok fans are the same. But the ones I saw the most of, who I had the most interaction with? They ALWAYS insisted that Lorna “needs” to be in relationship with him. They ALWAYS insisted that any bad treatment of Lorna in any of this came down to Havok being treated poorly instead. That if their woobie perfect cis straight blonde white man just got a little more of the endless opportunities they keep giving him but never Polaris in her own right, it would trickle down to Lorna.
Cause we know trickle down economics works for fiction even though it doesn’t in real life economics, right?
The Havok fans I’ve seen and talked to never want Lorna to be her own fucking character with her own thoughts, feelings, experiences. Her own worth independent of Havok. They want the relationship forced onto Lorna because in truth? They’re fucking afraid that he really is a nobody ass clown and can’t hack it on his own without Polaris reduced to his ever-present manic pixie dream girlfriend. They can’t give her a single second, nevermind ten years, just being herself and building herself up toward a future benefit.
So fuck Havok.
I gave the idea of Havolaris a chance. I gave the character a chance. I gave them a decade and a half of my life to fix this shit. But they’re all just too goddamn committed to fucking Polaris over any time she gets the tiniest scrap of something good. They all love their nostalgia, with its origins of rampant sexism meant in its original time to kill the feminism she had on creation, way too much.
They have all proven to me beyond a shadow of a doubt that Havolaris will never not be sexist self-insert fanwankery, and that Havok himself will never be anything but a fuckboy who always requires making a hot green-haired woman look more pathetic and useless than him to garner any semblance of appeal.
Which still isn’t enough to keep a book from getting canceled cause it sucks shit and the majority of people don’t want to read sexist trash. But hey. That’s apparently what Havok fans want, and what people at Marvel want cause it’s the only place they can get away with being sexist (since they can’t be sexist toward Jean, or Storm, or Emma and get away with it).
Anyone who wants to try to make me think differently, don’t bother. You’re competing against a decade and a half of direct personal experience. You’re not changing my mind with a half-assed bit of gaslighting.
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tocomplainfriend · 1 year ago
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I am mad
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Yup!
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Bro shut up, she is white - being Latina is not a race, is an not the same as color skin. And she is a second generation immigrant too. So like... this isn't like a Salvadorian person doing a cartoon, is a daughter of Salvadorians... That grew in the USA. Being Latino doesn't mean you aren't white, you can be any race and Latino. Still wouldn't make up for the lack of representation or the existing racism. In the piece of media that's "diverse".
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Salvadorian is not a race, LMAO. That's crazy- you think someone from Argentina who is white, is not white cause of their nationality??? Being Latino and having that culture does not equal a race. It's in itself a racist thing. This Latino = Race is terrible, It also comes from the idea of the "You are not Latino because you are not brown", assuming all people from Latino America are brown by default. You know how much has that happen to me? -AND MANY OTHER PEOPLE.
(I'm Latino btw)
I already have an older post about it, but - you can really see the lack of diversity in the show a lot. (Will talk about it even more other day).
Again the main thing you get is MEN, hypersexual skinny queer men (cis). You won't get to see female characters being well written, thought all the season 1 and all the episodes we got rn of season 2. All characters are skinny and similar body types and repetitive design choices. Funny enough, shows that lack of human characters still have better race-coding that helluva. (and well in hazbin you'll get POC characters that are gray, lack all ethic features... even when they are humanoid. So that is great.)
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Bro you could, you imagine a character being black and having different textured hair, and you go to hell... AND EVEN THO YOU ARE HUMANOID- your hair became straight and spiky, and you are now a light gray? If you build a world like that... it just seems like the perfect racist excuse to delete ethic features out a POC character because you don't want to draw them. "Not going to a single hint of their race/culture unless it revolves on their death"... If the character became a fucking coin with dot eyes, maybe (not really, shows with no human/humanoid characters still are capable to race-code their characters). But all of these characters are humanoid- why do none of them have their different characteristics? Also, this is about a real person in the real world choosing how to design a character.
This tweet also implies that a black character when they were a life they had ethic features, but lose them when they go to hell. Which is even more fucking stupid.
If a white person with straight hair goes to hell, and their hair remains straight (assuming it has nothing to do with their death), why wouldn't there be black people with textured hair? This is dumb. This goes back to the fucking thing of "No black people in fantasy media", In the same way, it's stupid for fantasy stories to revolve around white people characteristics in fictional species and people in that world- not including all the rest of diverse human characteristics POC people have it's crazy. The biggest problem here is why the fuck all Viv's sinners characters (main characters designed by her) that are supposed to black (or mixed like Alastor) have 0 characteristic. THEY ARE HUMANOID, THEY AREN'T EVEN ABSTRACT OR AN ANIMAL OR ANYTHING LIKE THAT. She didn't want to draw that nor change designs, and wanted to justify the whole concept of Alastor even using Voodou.
HOW ARE ALL THE ANGELS THAT VIV WANTS TO BE BLACK (black voice actors specified, or are race specified) HAVE NOTHING??? LIKE HELLO THE 'I'm such a nice angel character girl' HAS SPIKY STRAIGHT HAIR??? SHE IS AN ANGEL AND BLACK, WHY DIDN'T YOU DID HER HAIR TO BE CLOUDS- It's THE EASIEST SHIT YOU COULD’VE DONE.
BOOM! A FUCKING TROLL FROM A KIDS MOVIE WITH DIFFERENT HAIR. BOOM! THE FUNK TROLLS ARE SO EXPLICITLY BLACK CODED.
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Bro, you know this whole thing of people with textured hair have to forcefully straighten their hair or wear wogs to a job... because people consider it ""Unprofessional"" cause racism? The erasure and discrimination of POC people and their features is a problem. That's why it is important to people represent all of those things:
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(Marvel's Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur)
The only reason of why Alas tor is even mixed is purely cause Viv used the Voodou symbols because she thought they were creepy and edgy. It's sucks that all the angels and sinners that are supposed to be black have nothing.
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tawked · 3 months ago
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I feel like engaging with real world homophobia would make Batman / Superman slash much more interesting.
It's more inaccessible, though. You have to finesse with knowledge not only of one "Gay Community" but the multitudes of communities and Kinds Of Guy you meet in those communities, you have to engage with Bruce as a public figure vs. Clark as a relative unknown, you have to understand how homophobia and therefore homosexuality are defined in American mainstream culture, blah blah blah - but it's worth it, right?
So, Bruce Wayne is a rich beloved playboy billionaire in his 30s with liberal beliefs that funds and advocates for, while maintaining a veil of being a real fucking dumbass. Everybody would hate his ass. He'd probably not be known publicly as queer until "exposed" ala Peter Thiel, either intentionally or simply because he doesn't perceive his identity as queer as important for the media and public to know (because it shouldn't be, but we do not live in that world lol). Because he's rich and therefore no one can conceive of him experiencing homophobia, people would defend his public outing as their exceptional case to a social policy they otherwise never discuss, that is outing people for fun and profit, a staple of American culture since the 90s.
From there, most leftists and working class progressives would probably hate him, especially The Straights, who would attempt to characterize him as some kind of class traitor. You know, [queer business] failed, why didn't Gay Billionaire Bruce Wayne bail them out? [Homophobic politician] did [bad thing], why didn't Gay Billionaire Bruce Wayne use his money to save the day? And then, in the same breath, using Bruce Wayne's success to say that American culture isn't homophobic any more whenever a major discrimination case breaks the news, similar to how Republicans use characters like Ellen. This is an especially common strategy racially marginalized people have to deal with, the use of a single successful person as a model minority to discredit the idea of systemic racism - they do the same thing to The Gays. But overall, drawing from how liberals discuss Peter Thiel here, they'd be making bitchy comments about how because he's a billionaire, cis and conventionally masc - and especially because he doesn't show any social signifiers of being of the culture - Bruce Wayne is basically a straight man, regardless of whatever he must deal with, exactly like how they characterize Dave Ruben.
Meanwhile, conservatives would NOT be okay with a known queer man raising a handful of adoptive sons, especially not one of their billionaires, who they prop up as proof capitalism works, the American Dream is alive, blah blah blah. He'd be accused of depriving them of a mother, he'd be relentlessly pedojacketed, QAnon flavoured freaks and the Christian Right would be constantly on his ass calling in fake allegations to CPS. Especially after Jason Todd's disappearance from public life. Alfred would, inevitably, become part of all of this, as people knowing Alfred basically raised Bruce after Martha and Thomas died would be like "oh well Wayne was definitely abused by his butler and when men are abused they just become abusers, that's how homosexuals reproduce," 'cause Boys Beware style beliefs never actually went away, it's just less common for people with a college education to share them. Bruce would have to navigate a social impact upon his whole family.
And the thing is, in actual lived gay social life, you have to realize, Rich Gays are not perceived as being at all like us. The ones with social profiles are perceived as aliens who tap-dance for straight people. Ryan Murphy, Steven Moffat's bottom, Stephen Fry, all them wealthy hyper-visible Hollywood homos seem behave as if homophobia is something you can outwit with a sarcastic comment (like that West Wing Bible lecture scene), and that no one but isolated freaks who can't hurt anybody or achieve anything is really homophobic with their whole chest. Because they're so insulated by their wealth that they've never been denied housing by a landlord who'd "prefer to rent to families," or harassed with "girlfriend conversations" at work, nothing like that. It's understood that they can buy their way around the barriers created by discrimination, experiencing only meaningless slurring from people who do not know them.
They belong in the PinkNews world, where homophobia is someone saying something mean on twitter. You cannot imagine they had the same experiences coming out to their parents (especially not Bruce, who seems really distant from his parents, like they're just never around for some reason idk), going through high school (Bruce was home-schooled), or perhaps most importantly, trying to start adult relationships with a lack of education about what all anything is. A formative experience many gay men of Bruce's usual age have is navigating those adult power dynamics while vulnerable. There are other touchstone experiences among working class gays, like fear of potentially being kicked out of home or dealing with the social isolation of being denied family in a family-driven culture.
Finally, it's not like he can just show up at the club with his nips painted rainbow and be inducted into the community. My point in saying all of this is, there are layers upon layers of social barriers between Bruce Wayne and conventional queer life. So - if he's connected to a queer community at all, it'd be the insipid one of rich white people, where being queer means redecorating your fucking McMansion for the 10th time in one year, with a kitchen perpetually under renovation. Annoying Miniature Poodle Gays. And I just do not see Bruce Wayne hanging with Charles & Rudy, he's too much of a Debbie Downer and is simply not someone who can fake an interest in Christos Tsolkas novels.
Meanwhile, Clark Kent is nobody. Sure, sometimes he has his name on bylines and depending on when in continuity we place him he's been a TV anchor, but let's be real, if Clark Kent were outed there wouldn't be a similar amount of drama, not even close. If Superman were outed - well, Superman is already the subject of fearmongering and conspiracies among the stupid, the status quo would not shift for him. He might wear a rainbow cape during Pride Month or whatever and make a bunch of public appearances where he's like, "trans women are women, and an individual's right to their own body must be protected!" I kinda picture him as the sort of dude who'd volunteer a weekend at the AIDS Council without knowing who ACT UP were.
Because, hear me out, he's from a small country town in Kansas and absolutely would have grown up with the concept of City Queer vs. Rural Queer. So, for some context here, where I live straddles the line between suburban and rural. I have cow paddocks and a major mall both five minutes from my house (Australia is a place man). So when I'm looking for dick my Grindr is full of cowpoke lookin to yeehaw and people who just moved into the area from the inner city. These are distinct flavours of Gay, believe me.
The social consequences of being outed when your nearest neighbours are an hour away, when you're dealing with the severe social isolation of rural living - it's different. Ostracism in circumstances like that will make you insane. These are communities where the church exists as the center of social life. Baby Clark has access to Smallville, which is more of a population center, obviously, but the likelihood of him having exposure to and a concept of queer life while growing up in this place is low. Men who went through this often claim they were The Only Gay Person In Town, which is not actually what's going on, it's more that men are so extremely closeted and the consequences for interacting with a 15 year old, even if it's just to say "hey dude, you're not alone, it gets better, move out of this hellhole ASAP" are so extreme that no one is taking that risk.
Meanwhile, homophobic narratives are pervasive, and many rural queer people actually do internalize and believe a lot of these homophobic myths, like that city-dwelling homos never experience oppression, that they're all poppin party drugs and living at the club 24/7, that they are incapable of commitment and only want shallow sex, blah blah blah. Clark would have to unlearn a lot of that after his move to Metropolis and if his primary connection to queerness is Bruce, well... he wouldn't. Y'know? Shit, Lois is more likely to know actual working class, real life gay culture than Bruce Wayne. The distinction being, Clark can actually access and learn these things, but Bruce Wayne is always Bruce Wayne, sans some kind of weird disguise he can't access the same spaces and cultural institutions as Clark.
For what it's worth, I feel like Clark would come out shortly after the move to Metropolis and he'd seek out actual queer life, but you've met boys like that, who come from bumfuck nowhere into the modern world and have to unlearn all of the stigma that surrounded them throughout their formative youth. They tend to have the realest, most honest understanding of how discrimination actually functions, and I feel like that'd be in the back of Clark's mind especially as a champion of truth, justice and sloppy makeouts with the lads.
My point in saying all of this: Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne would be very specific Types Of Guy if they were indeed queer and together. Their relationship would be heavily influenced by that. They are in some ways opposites - Bruce likely believes queer rural people are redneck hicks with a lot of homophobic beliefs, the kind of men who sign up for conversion therapy, and Clark likely believes that Bruce is so insulated from real homophobia that he's simply never been called a slur, capable of understanding homophobia only in the pure abstract.
This is, in real life, the kind of fiber that in many ways can define a queer relationship. We do, in real life, have concepts of how out one is and where one is out, we navigate complicated relationships with each others' families, and it is not uncommon to meet someone in the community who simply has no ties to their parents. The concept of "having kids" is, for most gay men, this incredibly complicated ordeal, regardless of those photos of smiling men in their 30s wearing Mr. Rogers cardigans you see in lifestyle magazines (the Charles & Rudy Gays I was discussing earlier), and Bruce has like ten of the fucking things running around. That would be a big deal to Clark, who's from a background with no queer parents in a ten mile radius, where queer marriage may be legal (for now) but the church sure ain't likely to cater to they/them folks, not in these here parts.
As a final thought, when gay men criticize fanfiction as not representing us, it's because none of this stuff is ever really considered in how those queer relationships are written. There's this lack of awareness or interest in how a relationship between queer men is fundamentally different to a hypothetical relationship between two ostensibly straight men, as men who are not victims of discrimination and have not had their identities formed under oppression. It can feel alienating and invalidating to see media someone who is not like you has created to represent a fetishised, simplistic idea of you, the literary equivalent of that "lesbian" porn made for straight men that has no interest in any kind of emotional or social connection between the performers under the male gaze.
And in the case of Batman and Superman specifically, it's like... to be honest, you're missing so much of the potential romantic tension and meat by simply not engaging with this stuff. You have a rich socially isolated queer man who's never been able to enter the community due to his wealth, who would reject the rich gay community because I mean who wouldn't, hooking up with a country boy liberal journalist who moved from Gay Hell to a major city at 18-20 or so. There's so so so so much there. Flattening this into "it's just them 1:1 exactly as in the comics but they fuck" feels alien and unreal, like they had no sexual thoughts or self-concept before encountering each other and therefore have never lived as queer men.
This is not a "you should do it like this or you're homophobic" post, this is a "you could access these concepts to add humanity and drama to your writing" post.
btw I think this applies to basically all slash fic but am using Batman / Superman specifically due to familiarity with the characters.
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mycroftrh · 24 days ago
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Saw a post from @itsatorchwoodthing saying like “Torchwood would have killed Conrad with hammers” and it spun me into Thoughts because
I am deeply curious as to whether Jack would have existed in Wish World at all? Bc there’s this divide that seems to be established where people with queer sexualities are conversion therapied (and visibly or sensorily disabled people are made homeless) but trans people are erased entirely.
And that leaves for a LOT of messy situations. Rosie… I’m sorry I’m about to use terms I don’t like in loose ways but I don’t see any way around it… Rosie is post-transition and fully passing. Conversion therapy-ing her into a “man” seems to be more of a leap than the Wish World was able to make. But I’m betting trans people who haven’t come out at all didn’t vanish, they got conversion therapied. Okay, makes sense.
But what about the people in between? People who have had HRT and surgery but don’t reliably pass? People who pass but haven’t physically transitioned? Nonbinary people? Demi nonbinary people? People who are very out but make no effort to pass? What about intersex ppl, especially given that that’s a major spectrum? And most relevantly to my topic, what about people who don’t identify as trans - eg ppl who identify as drag queens or as a cultural third gender, or like ppl who identify as eg “a man of trans experience, NOT a trans man”?
Now we know that to a certain extent that last category just gets ignored instead of vanished, because that’s what the Doctor is. They don’t seem to identify as trans, but they change sex and gender pretty regularly! Conrad seems to be doing there what publishers/companies have being doing for ages with sex-fluid characters and pretending that doesn’t count as transness bc they’re “cis” at any given moment (see eg Loki in the MCU and innumerable shapeshifter characters throughout fiction).
And also the Doctor couldn’t exactly get vanished for the Rani’s plan to work; he had to be worked in somehow. (That’s also my guess as to why racism doesn’t seem to have come up with him and Belinda in the Wish World.)
So annnyway as regards Jack
Jack’s canonically been pregnant at least twice.
We never see him present as anything other than a flamboyantly omnisexual man, but we know that he’s been pregnant at least once before Torchwood era, and at least twice over his lifespan. And that does NOT seem like something Conrad would like! Which means that I feel whether Jack exists in the Wish World would answer a lot of questions (eg is he trans in a roughly 21st century sense, did he use futuristic technology that temporarily allows for mpreg (note that at least the first of his pregnancies seems to have been accidental, so this seems unlikely), do men from the 51st century just all or mostly have the ability to get pregnant/do we just end up in an A/B/O universe at some point in the future).
There’s an argument to be made that Jack has to exist in the Wish World, like the Doctor does, though for different reasons (fixed point) but the Wish World seems to be capable of breaking fixed points anyway (ie every single fixed point that happens after 2025, although they may have been trying to say that the tension btw fixed points and Desiderium was what was causing the time loop, in which case eh who knows). In which case I’m very curious what a conversion therapied Jack looks like. Jack’s literally not capable of acting straight to save his own life. And on the former topic, is conversion therapied Jack a cisperi dude or a closeted “woman”?
So yeah I think basically the options here can be roughly categorized as either “Jack vanishes, and his team debates on whether Conrad should have his entire life erased by Retcon, get tortured by Ianto and Owen, get shot, or be killed with hammers” or “Jack is conversion therapied but can’t actually be successfully suppressed like that and someone calls to get him disappeared/taken to Miniluv, and his team debates on whether [see above]”
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0x-hazel · 5 days ago
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Hazel's Book Club
I'm doing this again! hopefully consistently! Apologies to the two of you who care, I've been kinda busy the last while.
First story I wanna shout out is Pocket Healer by abby_gay_ill, it's super sweet and gay and I love it dearly. Very dense egg hatches after teaming up with some supportive folks on (a game that is totally not) overwatch. It's funny and it does remind me of some of my time with the game it's based on (and I also definitely didn't have any gender feelings there xP)
Next up is Compass of True Love by Muffin_Maeve, which is a polyam fantasy romance drama thingy, and it's been fun so far. Still ongoing and a bit more explicit than some of the others I recommend so take that as a warning, but other than that it's lovely and I hope it continues ^w^
Finally, since I seem to gravitate towards three main recommendations and then a few miscellaneous special mentions, I'm gonna put in Rainbow's “If I lose my virginity, I’m stuck as a girl” story, but I tried my best to make it actually good, which is a bit of a mouthful but it's a part of her sorta-series of kinda trashy tropes made a bit more palatable, and is again very sweet :3 Surprisingly minimal sexual content for the name, so don't be worried there.
Finally Finally, a couple of special mentions! How (Not) to Make a Love Potion by @zemathememequeen, please check it out, it's fun! Not explicitly trans but it's queer and none of the characters claim to be cis, so I believe~
and then also! @chirivulpes and @luminamystere have finally gotten fluff4.me online for wide(ish)spread use! It's still a beta and constantly getting more features and fixes so don't expect the world, but do check out the stories on there and maybe throw them some money if you can (although this goes for every author I post about tbh)
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tumblingxelian · 1 year ago
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How do some even think that RWBY has male characters “hijack the narrative?” It’s like they project what their grievances with past stories on what looks like the same but not really.
Like Jaundice in Volume 1 flies right by marathoning the season. No bigger than a single episode of TV at 20+ minutes.
So the answer to that questions ranges from what you said to several things like:
Not watching un years & misremembering what was watched, being misinformed & not having watched at all, lying and such. But, I think I hit on another major reason for this problem and its kind of hilariously twisted so please hear me out.
Every arc I've noticed that a certain strain of "Fans" get very attached to one or two male characters and start projecting the idea that they are the real MCs & then get offended when it turns out they aren't.
In V1 to 3, it was Jaune & Adam. Then in volumes 3 to 6 it was Qrow & then Ozpin, Followed by Ironwood in volumes 4 & 7.
All these guys are introduced either in a typical shounen hero or antagonist or mentor and ally role.
Then have the layers people back to show what exists beneath the archetype and what they either have to overcome to remain on the actual main characters side. IE, Jaune, Qrow & Ozpin.
Or what it is that they long since failed or will fail to overcome and grow from that makes them into villains, IE, Adam and Ironwood.
The reason this keeps happening is because that particular strain of "fan" has such a "Men as default" head-space that they cannot, genuinely cannot grasp that they are watching a story about women. Thus they keep expected ay given guy who shows up to be the "real" main character.
Aside:
You may also notice Ren, Oscar & Marrow never gets on the above list. The closest they get is being someone else's cheerleader or not mentioned at all. Meanwhile the white (Or perceived as white in Qrow's case) cis and overtly straight men do get said treatment. I wonder why that could be? Such a mystery :/
But I digress, this is important because it reflects a deep subconscious bias in those "fans" & I think said bias also exists in the people making claims like this.
IE, because they treat men as the default & the protagonists in a given scene, while subconsciously placing women below them and more as accessories, their focus on any given scene is always on the men.
Kind of like those tumblr posts that are explicitly about women & have a bunch of people with piss poor reading comprehension tagging it with dudes or even going so far as to say "Just say gay men". & rather similar to that observation that a lot of fandom treats men, any man from a piece of media, as an inherently deep and complicated character with so much to analyze or so much freedom to expand on. Meanwhile dismissing women out of hand as awful & or boring.
Thus, when they see a group conversation scene, they instinctively assume that the one leading the conversation, with the most to gain from the conversation, with the most narrative weight in the conversation is a man.
Even if he barely said anything and all the lot relevant, interesting character stuff and such was being done by women.
This head-space persists consistently and inflames any given scene, story beat or exchange.
But, here's the twist, these "critics" know o a conscious level that RWBY is about women and that, that is a selling point. But then they look back over their memories, subconsciously blurring out the women and think, "Wow, the girls didn't do anything, it was all about the guys!" Even though its actually just cos they refused to pay any attention to a character that wasn't a man.
Then they get mad because "Clearly the writers are doing this wrong" and ten they get madder when these men fail, or are villains or have to learn lessons, because in their eyes, those guys are the righteous protagonists, and super complicated, "Can't these blank slate girls realize that? Can't the writers!?" But again, its just because they weren't paying attention, rather tan it being a problem in the writing.
Its very similar to that trend of, "There was no queer foreshadowing, they were both obviously straight!" & then their evidence is like, she looked at a man once, & so therefore every interaction with women she has is platonic by default and therefore does not contain foreshadowing.
Damn, could have just led with that, its male bias, rather than straight bias, but the end result is the same. They don't perceive the women on the screen, they don't see the queer signals.
Then, when the story develops around those women, when queer characters & events set up across years happens it slaps them across the face & they insist it must have come out of nowhere.
Sadly, nothing you can say is liable to change their minds, because in a way, they really are watching an entirely different show.
It'd be like if I went into Naruto thinking Rock Lee was the main character & then never adjusted from that perspective.
Not an identical situation, but one that conveys my point regarding why they claim so much nonsense with such confidence.
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iamnmbr3 · 4 months ago
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Your blog is a treasure on this website. Thank you for speaking up for what matters while still dedicating time to dissecting the series you love.  I wanted to ask you a question that blends both topics: I wanna talk about Tonks’ gender non-conformity and Lupin’s coding, and where JKR went wrong in later statements for both of these things vs. what we can garner from the books. I love your analysis style and would love to hear your thoughts on this. If someone’s already asked this before and I missed it, please link it, haha, I don’t wanna waste your time. Love
Wow. This is. So incredibly nice. I just sat staring at this message when I got it, filled with gratitude and warmth. Thank you so much for your kind words.
And thank you also for this great question! And for the chance to rant about what is, in my opinion, the most confounding and worst ship in the entire series - Lupin/Tonks.
(If you like this ship, that's fine; you do you. I've shipped characters who never even met. But for me, the way JKR wrote the ship did not land...and also felt like a course correct to "straightwash" two very queer coded characters into heteronormativity).
So first, let's talk about Tonks. With her short, pink hair and her tomboyish ways the coding surrounding her really lends itself to readings of her as queer/GNC. (And no this is not me saying there can't be straight cis gender conforming women with short pink hair so put down the pitchforks). She's also shown to be career driven, passionate about her work, not at all interested in being a house wife (and remember most of the women in HP seem content to settle down into traditional female roles) and seemingly not that interested in men at all. Not to mention the fact that she has a strong dislike of her given name and chooses to go by something less obviously feminine has created a lot of fodder for NB and trans readings. Also, sorry not sorry, but she canonically chose her own gender. I know that's not what JKR intended, but given the extent of Tonks's powers the reason that she is a girl is because she wants to be.
So that's Tonks.
Then we have Lupin. Who is. Extremely queer coded. I mean. The wolfstar coding. My god. Remember the bit in book 5 when he and Sirius spend like 15 pages just...staring at each other? It's a lot. I'm not even going to get into that in detail because there is just so much of it. I will say I personally see wolfstar as a deeply flawed and messed up ship with a bunch of toxicity (like the whole Marauders' dynamic tbh) and not as something fluffy and soft. I see Lupin as having been a bit infatuated with James (and having had a bit of a crush on Sirius too) while Sirius was deeply and obsessively in love with James and James alone (despite James being tragically straight). And then after James's death I can see them getting together and bringing all the baggage from their messed up Marauders dynamic into that relationship. But I know that's an unpopular reading of the ship.
Also, In a society where everyone tends to pair up to someone of the opposite sex and get married he is very single and not looking to mingle. And yeah, I know, there's the werewolf thing. But again. He doesn't seem that interested.
AND JKR made werewolves as a metaphor for HIV/AIDS which tragically has a strong history in the gay community. (The metaphor doesn't quite work since while people with HIV/AIDS pose no threat to society and do not in any way deserve their stigma werewolves are genuinely dangerous and can and will eat your child...but that's a different topic).
So that's Remus.
And now we get to the travesty that is remadora (again, no hate to the fans of this ship). Unfortunately, JKR became increasingly homophobic over the years which did not jive well with fans picking up on the queercoding of Tonks and Lupin and running with it. Wolfstar especially became super popular, much to her horror. So what did she do? She decided to shove the two of them into the most awkward romance I have ever seen. Every time I reread the books I look for some sort of buildup and there's just nothing. (Also, Remus literally has to be bullied into marrying her and then is immediately unhappy and tries to leave so honestly...if this was an attempt to beat the 'Remus is a closeted gay man' allegations it kinda backfired). It's so WEIRD. There's no chemistry between them. We never see them really interacting in a positive way "on-screen." Remus is also wayyyy older than her. They don't have shared interests. They are extremely different people. They never even seem happy together. AND as soon as they're together Tonks's character gets gutted and she just accepts the traditional feminine housewife role and is stripped of all her spunk and personality and forced into bland heteronormativity that ruins everything that was unique about her. I hate it so much. And it's SO obvious what JKR was doing.
But listen. I don't care what JKR says. In my head Tonks is alive and well and happily married to Ginny. Remember when Ginny canonically was like 'wtf is wrong with Bill? Who WOULDN'T want to marry Tonks instead of Fleur?!' C'mon. She clearly is down bad for Tonks. (Though also I think Fleur/Tonks would be HILARIOUS). After the war they both start comforting each other over having partners who clearly don't actually want to be with them and then a romance blooms. They even like the same music. It's perfect.
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nerd-party · 10 months ago
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i have no problem with HC characters as trans, but I feel like a lot of people only hc trans because they want the Character to be 'straight' (I KNOW ITS NOT STRAIGHT, HARD TO EXPLAIN BUT I GUESS HETERO SEX??) some way or another- romance 'straight' or sex 'straight'.
With some characters, it makes sense- sparrow? I think he's cis but I LOVE A GOOD TRANSFEM SPARROW. but wolverine? I have never come across a single thing that makes Logan trans for anything but sex reasons.
It's totally fine to do, but I wish there was an actual good fic of him realizing, telling the other X-Men, and growing to be the wolverine we know and love.
I love trans rep in media, but I wish we had more trans rep for character purposes, not just sex purposes. If anyone can find a fic for trans Logan (or wade) where it's his actual trans journey, I would love to hear it (preferable without smut bc I don't like reading that)
(not trying to imply that you need a reason to hc a character as trans!! Totally nothing wrong with it, all I'm saying is I wish we had more cool fluffy trans realization FICS!!)
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