#youre also somewhere on the spectrum

[acowardinmordor]

My brain won't shut up about this, so maybe if I write it my brain will let me finish working and get this massive work project off my plate.

Warning for Accidental Drunken Pregnancy

Fandom loves, correctly, the idea of Girl!Steve Harrington, either as an 'always a' or trans, we're a fan. And that's good. No arguments from me there.

But I was thinking about Always a Girl Eddie. And the impact that would have. Because see, Eddie is already Wrong in a lot of ways. She's poor, she's loud, she's a freak, she sells drugs, and starts shit with bullies. She's too much in every way, and she refuses to be a girl properly. Has ever since she was old enough to express an opinion.

She didn't want to play with dolls or play house. She wanted to run through the park chasing dragons. When her parents fought, she wanted to run away and get found by the Addams family where no one would be mad at her for liking black and reading about blood and fights and monsters.

By the time she's in high school, everyone's decided she's a lesbian. She isn't. She thinks she isn't, but she doesn't get a chance to try or test or find out before the whole damn town has made it Known. Eddie doesn't wear skirts, and she doesn't style her hair, and she doesn't listen when the counselor sits her down to talk about her behavior and how she needs to try to be a bit more like other girls if she wants to get married one day. That's her junior year, which is when she snaps and, true or not, goes on a rant about being a carpet munching butch who never wants to have a husband.

Her friends don't care. They've talked to her and agree its all bullshit. Her only regret about it is that her outburst becomes fodder for the kind of bias that makes her fail two classes her senior year. It makes her fail four her second time around. PE is one of them. The teacher won't let her participate if she isn't 'dressed appropriately' which suddenly requires that all the girls have their legs shaved. Surprise surprise, Eddie is the only one that has an impact on. Wayne gets into a shouting match over it, and he wins, but not in time for Eddie to pass.

And every time someone pushes her to be more ladylike, Eddie doubles down on being a freak because she's a lot of things, but she's not a quitter. The one good she knows she manages is that barely any other girls in Hawkins get bullied all that much. Eddie pulls too much attention, and Eddie is so far off the end of the scale, it makes the minor mistakes easy to ignore.

All her friends are guys because the girls of Hawkins are scared of the witch/lesbian/succubus/whatever bs they came up with this week. There are some girls who Eddie thinks want to come talk to her, thinks she'd be friends with if she could, but any girl willingly hanging around the Freak is going to get painted with the same brush.

She showed up to every single class in her third go around, daring her teachers to fail her again when she was getting perfect scores on anything with a straight answer, and doing so well on the subjective stuff they were giving her passing grades. She had a new flock of sheep who didn't care about the rumors because she ran Hellfire for them.

After Spring Break, after they accuse her of seducing and murdering Chrissy, after Eddie walks into Mordor and is dragged out the other side. After Eddie gives everything she has for a town that hates her, the school gives her the diploma. Maybe its just because they're terrified that she'll come back for a fourth try if they don't, but she has the damn thing.

Or maybe they don't want the new freshmen to start crying when they see her scars.

After the hospital lets them all leave, and after El and Will do whatever it is they do and promise it's over for real this time, Robin, Eddie, and Harrington sit around and watch crap movies and talk. It's still June when Robin comes out to her, and Eddie has to awkwardly explain that she isn't. Supportive, in favor of it, but not sure if she's like Robin.

"But everyone heard about what you said to--"

"Yeah, she was telling me I should start curling my hair and wearing makeup so I could find a husband."

"She did not."

"Yeah. I kinda snapped."

A few minutes tearing apart that kind of thinking later, and Steve asks, "So you like dudes?"

Eddie shrugs, because she's never tested that either. A bit of leftover enmity from when he was the King and she was the Freak keeps her from admitting she's a virgin. Instead she gestures to her face and neck, the part of her chest visible around her tank top.

"Don't think that's going to matter, Stevie, not now that I look like the Wicked Witch midway through melting."

There's nothing either of them can say about that. Between her status as a murder suspect, the infection from Upside Down dirt, and how efficient the demo bat fuckers were, her scars are ugly. Not the sort of thing she's read in books that a hero learns to take pride in. Just a mess. Her smile is jacked up on the left, and while she does have both of her nipples, the one boob is significantly smaller, and lumpier than the other now.

But they're friends, and its nice. Robin didn't find a fellow lesbian, but Eddie can understand the way she feels, and they bond over it. Where Robin goes, so goes Steve, so intentional or not, Eddie and Steve get close. Help each other with scar cream type close. It would be weird if there was any universe in which Steve would ever be interested in her. Instead they're good friends, and co-conspirators against the gremlins.

Robin is starting college in the spring semester in Chicago. Steve is going with her. Obviously. Eddie hasn't agreed to anything, but she's considering it.

They have one last party at Harrington's place. The kids leave around seven. The Hellfire guys leave around nine. By eleven, all three of them are plastered, and Robin is lamenting that she's leaving Hawkins and still hasn't kissed a girl. Eddie rolls her eyes and smacks one on her. Get it over and done with, right?

After an hour of Robin flustered and babbling about 'yes, yes, yeah, I do like girls! Kissing! Kissing girls is great! Steve! Steve-o! Did you know kissing girls is great?" she passes out on the couch.

Steve and Eddie, just sober enough to know that they're all going to be hungover in the morning, close blinds and lock doors. They leave water and asprin by Robin, then chug down a glass each.

"So, did it help you figure it out? Kissing my Soulmate with a capital P? Did you figure out if you like kissing girls more than guys?"

Eddie giggles instead of answering.

"I know Rob's not kissed anyone, but if you liked kissing her you probably could tell, right? So if you liked kissing her as much as you like kissing guys, or if its not like kissing guys, then you know!"

Steve's not a dumb as the kids joke. When Eddie doesn't answer, he puts it together. "Oh. Oh shit. Eds. You and Robin were each others' first kisses? Thats so -- you didn't have to do that! And now you don't know if you like kissing girls or guys or both or neither or -- Oh!"

Eddie watches Steve come to his decision and turn, and she decides to let it happen. Steve is the only guy her age who doesn't wince looking at her face. This is probably the only chance she's got until she's old enough her skin gets all wrinkly and no one can see the scars are there anymore.

It's better than kissing Robin. There's a lot of reasons why that might be true, but none of them matter, because after that first one. After a few seconds pause. After she leans a little closer like she's asking, they don't stop.

She wakes up naked and sore, with a blinding headache and the tight-skin pain that comes from forgetting the scar cream.

Awkward doesn't cover it when they look at each other in bed. When Robin trips on her way to make coffee, it gives them an excuse not to talk about it. It's bad enough that Eddie keeps thinking about it, and excavating the fragments of memory she's got. Probably the only chance she's going to get, and she remembers barely half. She does remember liking it, and Steve liking it, and neither of them being weird about the scars because they've been helping each other with them for months now.

Once they're sober enough for it, they talk, both of them apologizing, but not really. Neither of them regret it, even if it wasn't their best idea, and Eddie starts quoting Robin's rant about antiquated concepts of virginity when Steve tries to apologize for that. It's definitely weird, but they're not going to freak out about it.

By Wednesday, when Steve and Rob are loading up the beemer to drive north before the holidays, so they could get a place with a rental discount, everyone turns out to say bye. Eddie winks at Robin again, because it still makes her blush, and it still makes Eddie and Steve laugh when she does. She gives Steve a hug, and a promise to make a decision soon about moving up with them.

Six weeks of scheduled phone calls with them, and uncomfortable talks with Wayne, Eddie has finally, finally decided to go for it. She'll still be a freak, but according to Steve, no one in the city will bother her about it unless she asks them to. He's working at a diner, and swears the bookstore across the street will totally hire Eddie if she applies. Robin loves her classes, and her part time hours at the library on campus.

It's while Eddie is looking around and opening drawers, trying to plan how to move with more detail than 'throw stuff in the van' that she notices. There's a box of pads, mostly empty, in the corner of the bathroom cabinet. It's been mostly empty since November. And yeah, her period has never been predictable, and this isn't the longest its gone, and Eddie has never cared since she wears black all the time -- but. This time she had sex.

The odds are tiny, and the image of it is ridiculous. Eddie isn't any kind of a mom. Harrington is more a mom than she is. Anyway, all that shit in sex ed about it only takes once is crap. And she remembers Steve getting out the box of condoms. She doesn't remember anything between that and getting fucked, but she definitely remembers how concerned he was about opening the foil. So there's no way. No chance. Absolutely none.

The test comes back positive, and the nurse at the planed parenthood in Indianapolis asks if she wants to hear about her options.

It's pretty easy to choose as it turns out. Easier than quitting smoking cold turkey is for sure. Hell of a lot easier than telling Wayne. It's not something she ever wanted, ever thought about or considered, but Eddie knows this is the only chance she's got. Well. Sperm donors maybe, not that she'll ever have the money for it, unless she paid a guy to keep coming around until she got knocked up.

At first, she keeps it quiet because the nurse told her about the potential problems, especially with how much Eddie drank and smoked. It's not certain, so she stays quiet. Stalls the topic of moving up. She waits an entire day for the doctor to slip her in between appointments to get an ultrasound and check. Everything looks good. Healthy. and Eddie gets on their weekly scheduled call, hears Robin and Steve laughing as they tell stories, and Eddie breaks it to them.

"What do you mean? You said you were going to move up here. I thought you said you -- Eds, what the hell? You're going to leave me alone to watch Robin's attempts at flirting? You - I thought you promised."

"Excuse you, Dingus, she needs to come up so we can watch your attempts at flirting. I'm great."

"Fun as that sounds, me and Wayne are getting out of Hawkins. Wayne has some family in West Virginia, and I can't leave him at the mercy of all those spinsters. I'll still have a phone, you know."

They move before she's showing, and Wayne never asks, and Eddie never tells, but her uncle knows who it has to be. They land in Summersville, which is a damn lie since its a blizzard when they arrive. It isn't hard to use moving as an excuse to cancel a few phone calls. Then uses a boss moving her hours working at motel as an excuse when hormones means she knows she'll start sobbing if she gets picks up the phone.

Steve gets accepted to a community college. Robin aces her exams. Eddie finds out she's having a girl. She wouldn't have spent the money to find out since it wouldn't change anything, but the planned parenthood was still worried because of the alcohol at the start.

Wayne brings it up. Eddie considers it.

Steve gets a girlfriend. Eddie stalls.

Robin calls solo because Steve is on a one month anniversary date.

Eddie abandons the idea.

She never makes a choice to hide it from anybody. It's always one moment at a time, needing to get through one more thing, one more problem, one more checkpoint, then she could say it. By the end of July it's been too long, and it would be too weird. They didn't have some great tragic romance. They were good friends who got drunk one night. And Eddie is just living up to the warnings all the guidance counselors scribbled down about her.

She's never going to be anything special. She's not going to go chase her dreams and become the Joan Jett of metal music. She's coming up on eight months pregnant, can't hide it or pretend its something it isn't. She's still loud and obnoxious. She still wears all black and chained pants and refuses to style her hair in anything more complex than a ponytail. She's still mauled by monsters and scarred.

She's never going to be marriage material, and never wanted to be anyway. She can be a good mom though. Not a normal mom. Or a traditional one. She's probably going to end up punching someone at a pta meeting. But she can be a good mom for her daughter, whoever her daughter wants to be as she grows. And if that means she has to learn about ballet and glitter and my little pony, then she will.

Steve and Robin ask about a visit before their classes start since they'll have to do calls every other week now. They offer to drive to West Virginia, or buy Eddie a bus ticket. Eddie manages to dodge that bullet.

She dodges another when she starts contractions while on the phone with them, and plays it off like she has heartburn. She cries when she holds her daughter thirty hours later, smiling broad enough that the scars on her face hurt nearly as bad as the rest of her.

She gets good at sewing together a patchwork lie. Gets Wayne to take Lulu out for a walk during calls. Swallows the guilt when Steve talks about his girlfriend, Amy, who wants to have kids. Stares down the pediatrician who raises an eyebrow at her daughter's name.

It's awful. It's wonderful. It hurts more to do it alone than Eddie could have imagined, but she still can't bring herself to say it. Not because she thinks Steve would hate her for it . He wouldn't. One look at Stephanie Luthien Munson -- Lulu -- and Steve would know. And Steve would stay. And Steve would give up his classes and his girlfriend and his hope for his perfect family. Eddie has always known she's not what anyone is looking for.

So Eddie gets good at dodging questions, and explaining away noises in the background, and finding very reasonable excuses not to come out to visit. Very good at it.

She makes it to June of 1989, when her best friends decide it's been too long, and show up for a surprise visit.

Eddie was right though. It only takes a glance at the toddler on Eddie's hip as she opens the door for both of them to know.

[frobby]

Im back in the trenches defending another otokonoko from people claiming that they are a trans woman even though they are explicitly stated not to be

[deathlygristly]

Sometimes I read through my dash and I think there's a whole cognitive world out there that I don't get.

It's where people think in hard defined categories and really weird social rules and feeling like they have to do things they don't want to do just because other people do them. It seems like a really hard way to get through being alive, and they're always talking about having to unlearn it and how hard it is to rebel against it and how it makes them miserable.

I am very glad I don't live in that world, and instead I live in a cognitive space where I do whatever I want and I take people as they come without categorizing them and I'm happy.

[kaerinio]

soooo . . . turns out i'm what the kids call neurospicy.

[columblorbo]

.

[viric-dreams]

🎲 for Ockham!

If your OC played a pen and paper RPG, what class would they pick? Warrior, mage, thief, ranger, cleric, paladin, druid, necromancer, bard (or other, if that’s not enough).

Oh, that's an interesting one. Especially because I have a limited grasp on D&D classes to begin with. So Ockham is unlikely to go for a charisma build, because that tends to be very talking/interaction-heavy, and Ockham's more likely to just chill in the background. Similarly, relying on a strength-based character doesn't seem like fun to himherthem. I'm thinking Ockham would pick something like a mage or wizard, and be relatively quiet through most of gameplay, just vibing. But when it comes time to problem-solve and other options within the party seem exhausted, Ockham has some kind of slightly offbeat plan that hadn't occurred to anyone else, especially if it comes from unusual application of some obscure mechanic of the game hidden in some manual somewhere that the DM would have to check is a thing that actually does exist.

[lurxof--thxmaw]

Oh you are severely aromantic aren't you 👁️👁️

"Mh?"

Now that is a word she has not heard before. It does not happen often: the madame hates to result unprepared. What she can offer now is her best guess, which is － again, she notes with profound displeasure － still tied back to her romantic life. Which does not exist. Because she wishes not for it and the hardships it brings, of course.

"The lot of you very interested in matters which do not concern you. Why not ask these frivolous questions to the rest of the staff?"

[diagonal-queen]

a thing that happens sometimes (starring; me)

me researching autism: what is a common example of stimming

internet: rocking back and forth is a general stim, and the rest of your habits also heavily indicate autism.

me, literally doing that right now: I see, but because I haven't been officially diagnosed I am not actually stimming, I am just moving irregularly. Yes, autism may run in my family, and my mother has told me that I'm 'on the spectrum' and 'high functioning', and I have many habits and behaviours that indicate autism, and such a disorder might explain a large majority of my internal life and behaviours, but I am not autistic. You see, this is because no doctor has told me I'm autistic. Furthermore, my mother didn't say 'autistic', she just said 'on the spectrum', and in my brain, those two things are different for some reason. And I don't behave like my older brother, who is clinically diagnosed and whose autism is rather blatant. On top of all that, I am AFAB and autism is much less common in women. So as you can clearly see, there is no way I am autistic.

internet: well autistic people all behave differently and women can still get autism and i dont think you actually know what high functioning means...but okay if u say so :/ i just think that-

me, rocking back and forth harder: IF I CALL MYSELF AUTISTIC WHEN I'M NOT OFFICIALLY DIAGNOSED I'M UNDERMINING THE ACTUAL AUTISTIC COMMUNITY

internet: literally nobody thinks that

me: YES THEY DO MY BRAIN IS TELLING ME

internet: well according to research anxiety seems to be common in people with autism

me, barely able to type anymore: STOP

[lady-assnali]

Keeping on-brand, I’ve been thinking about baby model Gigi lately, and this simple little friend story appeared. It’s just friendship and a good memory with underlying baby Crygi feelings.

           “Okay, step up a little bit.”

           “Where the hell did you take me?? Why are there so many-oh god no. No. Are we in Times Square?”

           Silence-followed immediately by Jan’s shit-eating grin and Crystal’s mischievous giggling. Gigi may be blindfolded, and she may be a self-proclaimed ditz, but the memories of being run down by tourists in the city have burned the feeling of Times Square into her body’s internal memory bank.

           “What would possess you to bring me here on a Friday night-how much did we just spend on that Uber?”

           “Shh, relax.”

           “We could’ve taken the subway if you’d have just let me know where we were going!”

           “But then you wouldn’t have come! And you have to be here. This is very important.”

           “Jan, I love you so much but this is you talking. And if it’s you talking I’m lead to believe that we’re on our way to see Wicked again. Which…I love the show, don’t get me wrong, but there’s only so many times I can sit next to you while you sob through Defying Gravity before I need several months to recover.”

           “It’s worth it, Geege. Trust me.” Crystal gives her arm a little squeeze, and they slow down a bit. Through the noise of the traffic, Gigi can hear Jackie and Jan arguing about directions. She wonders how exactly she got to this point, a college dropout with a group of silly, perfectly mismatched friends who she’d follow blindfolded into the busiest part of the city without reservations. One moment, she’d been sitting in art history wondering what she was doing in New York and the next she was working alongside one of her idols, college free and learning from the best. Those first few weeks in college had given her the friends she’d needed to get through the work, so it hadn’t all gone to waste. They gave her the college experience; parties, clubs, the freedom of being away from home and finding yourself. They also gave her late night study sessions huddled up in her apartment while she worked on her latest project, helping Jan through auditions by reading through lines with her or being Crystal’s comic relief while she painted, making snacks and playlists and reciting horrible jokes. Jackie-well, there wasn’t much to be helped there, but Gigi likes to think that asking her questions about her latest study in political science is enough support as it is.

           They’re her friends, and she’s missed them so much while being away-even as the bantering continues as Jackie and Jan turn her body multiple times, quipping back and forth with each other until Crystal’s hands take both of her shoulders to steady her.

           “Ladies, please. I know we’re all very excited, but I’m pretty sure we’re a block away from where we need to be anyway.” Crystal’s voice is diplomatic, yet very clearly dripping with humor. Gigi groans, shifting her weight from toe to toe. She’s sure they’re causing a scene, although the middle of Times Square surely is the place where something like this mismatched group of people and a blindfolded woman will blend right into the background. Without her sight, every other sense is on fire; Crystal’s hold on her shoulder’s is warm and tingling, Jackie and Jan’s voices very clear through the sirens. She’s sure she’d be able to tune into any of the other passing conversations if she truly tried.

           “We need to find it soon, Geege is literally covered in goosebumps. One week in California and she forgets how to be a New Yorker.” Having just come back from a week in Los Angeles, she’d forgotten just how crisp the Spring nights could be. She finds herself shivering at Jackie’s observation, relief coming only when a soft, fuzzy coat is draped over her shoulders. Crystal. Crystal and her big fluffy jacket she’d refused to take off after thrifting it for only $3 when Gigi had pointed out that it should have been marked way higher. A steal of a deal, the pastel rainbow fuzz could be described only as cotton candy in a piece of clothing, and yet somehow her best friend made it look as though it were the most sought-after item on the market.

           The arguing subsides when Jan gasps, grabbing Gigi’s arm tight and shouting.

           “There! There! Look! Do you see it?”

           Jackie gasps and Crystal squeals, Gigi feeling her jump up and down from beside her. The three talk all at once, exclamations of oh my god and are you kidding and one airy sigh of jeez before Gigi scowls.

           “I’m going to take this thing off if you don’t tell me what’s going on!”

           “Oh! Shit! OH my god, sorry, here!” Jan, in her excitable fashion, all but rips the eye mask off of Gigi’s face, and for a moment she’s paralyzed by the brightness of the lights. Crystal’s hugging her side now, pointing her finger up at a wall of buildings illuminated by lit-up advertisements. Then, she sees it.

           “What,” It’s all she can say, breathless and disbelieving as her eyes widen in wonder. Jackie has her phone pointed dutifully at her, and Jan’s own camera clicks, but Gigi is stuck in place with an open mouth.

           “That’s me.”

           “That’s you!” Crystal squeezes her, eyes torn between the lit-up advertisement and the real person as they fill up with tears. “You’re literally up in lights.”

           “I don’t even…I can’t….oh my god.”

           “Take a picture! Did you take a picture? Gigi, stand right there!”

           Crystal backs up and stands beside their friends, pulling her own phone from her pocket and waving her hand at the redhead. For a moment, Gigi looks back at them with her mouth agape. Then, she’s turned around, posing for the camera with a well-practiced tilt of the head. She perfectly mimics the pose at hand, sultry eyes and parted lips, a hand on her hip and eyes that simmer with practiced, untouchable energy. Then she laughs, shrugging Crystal’s jacket down to her elbows and hugging it to her, sticking out her tongue. It’s an infectious energy, one that continues on as she turns one more time to stare back at her image illuminated and blown up to the size of  buildings.

           She ends up posting the photos for her rapidly rising  follower count later that night, after they’ve gone out to celebrate (after telling Jan that no, they wouldn’t be entering the Wicked lottery that night). She’s tucked into her bed between Crystal and Jackie, Jan on Jackie’s other side. It’s a tight squeeze but they pile onto each other anyway, limbs over limbs and laughter stopping any attempt at sleeping.

           Crystal’s head lolls onto Gigi’s shoulder as she watches her flip through the pictures she’s been airdropped, combining them into one perfect Instagram post. The first is the sultry mock-up, the most poised and polished version of herself showing off the billboard. Then the video reveal, her standing shock-still and staring up at the screen

           The last is her favorite.

           She and Crystal are standing side-by-side, backs to the camera. Crystal’s pointing up at the screen with one hand while Gigi clings to her other arm. She’s wearing the insufferable cotton candy jacket, scarlet hair cascading in waves down the back. Her head is on Crystal’s shoulder. This is the picture she wants to memorialize the moment with; the two of them, as it should be. She can hear the pride in her best friend’s voice, feel the nervous fluttering in her heart from seeing the reality of all of her hard work paying off in full. It’s every last trip away from home coming full circle, every time she’d wanted to quit or wondered why she even agreed to start in the first place telling her she was right not to give up. It’s the ability to share this moment with the person who’d been on the other end of every late night phone call, every bout of homesickness, every joke that’d pulled her through.

           It’s the sound of I’m so proud of you captured in one picture.    

           She can feel Crystal’s smile against her as she types and deletes captions, lowering her head so that her cheek can rest on her soft curls.

           “You’re incredible,” Crystal murmurs. She’s looking at her own phone now, where Gigi’s post has just gone live. The video plays on as they watch the moment Jan rips the blindfold-the disbelief, the hugging, the joy. Gigi tucks her own phone away and shifts down in the bed, cheek to cheek with her best friend. They shuffle around until they’re a tangle of limbs and sappy smiles. Jackie’s head is on her back and she’s flopped over onto Crystal’s chest, arms wrapped around her with a sleepy refusal to let go.

           The four finally fall asleep while they drift away from conversations about the future; Gigi’s next trip is only a few weeks away, Jan has a twenty-four hour festival to ready herself for, Jackie’s taking on a thesis, and Crystal’s submitting art for a possible gallery slot. In a contented pile of limbs far too big for her bed and surrounded by love, Gigi sleeps the best she has in a long, long time.

[elisedonut]

I don't really get romantic love

Like obsession I get

That extreme brand of loyalty that comes from like King/lionheart pairs make sense to me

But the difference between types of love has always baffled me

Like I love writing love I do

I love shipping

and while talking to a friend they said the love I write feels like domestic?

which ok cool I'm happy with that because sometimes i read it back

like

hmm they could legit be platonic friends If i tagged it platonic i don't think anyone would have questioned me like at all

Love is weird

[tearingdread]

coming to terms w the many many different ways i experience alienation …..

[hertwood]

fuck i forgot 2 text my friend back she's telling me abt her new boyfriend and i'm like NOPE sorry way to busy posting porn on the internet ttyl

[byuntrash101]

big bad wolf

f!reader x bangchan ft. stray kids smut | mdni 2.6k maybe you bit off more than you could chew when you hyped up your game to the campus’ infamous big dick owner nsfw tags under the cut

#5: huge dick + size kink (twt p☆rnlink) college!au, toxic ex bf!minho, frat boy!bangchan, alcohol consumption, one night stand, explicit consent asked and given, chan is really a tease, gentle dom!chan, daddy kink (i mean we're talking about chan here) , size kink (reader is smaller than chan), huge monster cock!bangchan, size training, protected sex (good job), oral (f), multiple orgasms, some humor at the end ♡

a/n : i was like this 🥴🥴🥴 writing this because ughhh im in love with this bangchan! wanna see the other entries for the event? check out the link <3

3k celebration | skz masterlist | navigation

“I mean being single is great and all” you said while downing the rest of the ungodly cocktail your best friend mixed for you earlier at the party. Before she left with Jisung. “But like I miss the toxic sex, ya know?” Christopher nodded his head while he took the empty cup from your hand to set it at the table beside the both of you on the couch.

The party was over so to speak. Everyone had left or was just passed out on random surfaces all over the frat. ΝΣΒ (nu sigma beta) was the frat that organized the best parties on campus. Well the second best parties but ΩΔΦ (omega delta phi) had Minho going to their parties and well you were finally over him that wasn't to run into him at a random party to drink and hook up with him again. You were determined to break free of the destructive cycle. That’s how you came to attend the parties here and met Christopher and his frat bros Changbin and Jisung. These three were quite the trio. Well not right now because Jisung was probably fucking your best friend somewhere and Changbin was passed out over the keg. Only Christopher remained somewhat (if not entirely) sober. He didn’t like alcohol that much, he claimed.

“Yeah I get you dude. Toxic sex is the best…” Christopher sighed. “But why though?”

“I don’t know man!” you said with a pout. “Also my ex was like… packing” the alcohol in your system was making it harder to perceive the fine line between sharing past experiences and simply oversharing. But Christopher wasn’t phased by it at all. On the contrary he was… intrigued.

“Really?” He questioned.

“Bro, he was real big. Like real big.” you said, closing your eyes trying to recall the extraordinary appendix Minho was blessed with. “The biggest I’ve ever seen really. I just miss that…” you said, finally opening your eyes again, purposefully avoiding thinking about your ex’s devil dick for too long before you drunkenly run to the other side of campus and to him again. When you open your eyes you see Christopher looking at you with an indecipherable expression.

“Well yeah. I miss someone that’s used to dealing with guys that are on the bigger end of the spectrum” Christopher was speaking very carefully, he was very clearly trying to hint at something but at the same time he didn’t want to come off as pressing or bragging.

You raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?” you asked as neutral as you could be, but still picking up on Christopher’s hint.

“Well you know. Girls always say it’s what they want. But like when I pull it out they either just run away or I mean they pull through but I can tell they’re not enjoying it. So I usually cut things short.” 

It’s true you heard one or two rumors about Christopher also being on the bigger end but you never paid attention to them. Now, they were suddenly running back to you.

“I just wanna be with a girl that's kinky and that you know… just enjoys herself with me”

Suddenly you were looking at him differently. You looked at his big biceps resting crossed over his chest and the sleeveless loose fitted white top. He was wearing a cap that covered his soft brown curls but they were still peaking at the back of his head and around his reddened ears. 

All of a sudden you were painfully conscious of Chris’ sheer size. Even though he was simply sitting next to you his large sturdy shoulders occupied the space on the couch. You found your eyes wandering to his lower half where his muscular thighs generously filled the black basketball shorts. And eventually your gaze wandered to his groin where you did notice a particularly remarkable bulge.

“You know, bro?” Chris took off the cap briefly, combing his hair with one large hand before flipping it backwards and patting it back on. He looked a little bit frustrated.

“Yeah I get it.”

Silence settled.

“Looks like we could like… help each other… maybe” you started carefully. That was uncharted territories, you didn’t know how Chris was going to react but you were a little intoxicated and that made you forget about the consequences or more like postpone thinking about them. You’ll do that tomorrow.

A cocky smirk spread on Chris’ face. An expression you had yet to witness. Usually he was all about wholesome smiles and cute laughs. But this one, this expression stirred excitement and thrill within you.

“Wanna see the big bad wolf?” Chan said right before sending you a cheeky wink that left you speechless. Before he started laughing out loud and lightly pushed you on the arm. “Just messing with you” Chris said, returning to the sunny smile.

“Why are you all cocky for anyway?” you outbid. “I’m sure it’s nothing I haven’t seen” you said, shrugging, eyes a little defiant. And Chris’ smirked returned to his handsome face just as quick. He felt a tingle in his lower half. He enjoyed that attitude you had right now. Wouldn’t it be fun to make you swallow those words? Amongst other things…

“Think you can handle it, babygirl?” Chan said, extending his massive arm behind your head on the couch and leaning on to you, making you feel even smaller. You took a whiff of his cologne, the alluring aromas or vanilla, cedar and citrus casting a spell on you.

“Yeah of course I can” you said, steady voice oozing all the confidence in the world. Making Chris chuckle again. 

***

Well maybe you couldn’t…

That is what you thought when Christopher dragged you to his room as the early rays of the dawning sun were licking the blinds. 

“Having second thoughts, babygirl?” Christopher said, smiling down at you while you looked up at him and sat on his bed. The loose fitting top was all he had left on him. Even the cap was now littering the ground, letting the soft brown curls loose. and you silently thanked the heavens for this. Maybe if he would have been completely nude you would have died right there.

He was absolutely breathtaking: large shoulders, thick arms and veiny forearms going down to his big hand holding the absolute monster that usually peacefully rested between his sturdy thighs. But right now it was awakened, and awaiting.

The thing was not only incredibly massive but also unbelievably long. Thick veins ornamented the length of it from the base to the red and dripping tip.

“So am I bigger than your ex?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. 

“Um, yeah a little bit I think” 

Lie. Big fat lie.

Christopher knew that. He knew that very well but he appreciated that you kept up with that act. He found that amusing.

“Perfect! Let’s get started then” 

“What?” you said as he wrapped his warm hands around both your wrists, gently pushing you down on the mattress until you laid there with only your feet hanging off the bed. He put your wrists at each side of your face, laying his weight over you. He was heavy, but it was comforting, reassuring. You felt small but also safe under him. The heat from his body ignited a fire within you.

“Don’t worry babygirl” Chris whispered leaning into your ear. You felt his hot breath fanning your burning cheek. “Daddy will get you nice and ready for him.” You felt yourself flutter at the name. You were definitely responding to it.

Christopher licked big swipe on your ear making your breath itch in your throat and you bit your lip to repress a moan. Fortunately you didn’t have to think about it too much because Chris kissed you instantly, one of his hands leaving your wrist to wrap around your throat, his thumb pulling on your chin to open your mouth. You didn’t fight back, letting him slip his tongue into your mouth. He tasted sweet, like energy drinks and tropical fruit juice. Now you knew for sure he was completely sober. But Chris, on the other hand, wasn't so sure anymore, because he sure felt drunk right now. Drunk in you, in this kiss. He threw himself into you, moaning in your mouth as you arched your back and he rolled his hips into you, pressing his hard cock onto your hip.

Before you could think too much about it Chris stripped you of your clothes, one article after the other until you found yourself completely exposed to him. Chris got up and took a step back to admire your body under the rays of the sun piercing through the blinds. You were gorgeous, stunning and he couldn’t wait to finally be inside you.

He then pulled on your hips to bring you on the edge of the bed where he kneeled on the ground and gently parted your legs. 

“Fuckk” he cursed under his breath when he saw your cute little pussy already glistening with need and lightly twitching. He only wanted one thing: to taste you. So he did.

He first laid a gentle kiss on your clit which made you jolt up and he smirked against you in satisfaction.

“Awww baby. Are you always this sensitive or is it daddy doing that to you?” He licked a large stripe from your entrance to your clit, staying there for a second giving more attention to the sensitive bud. 

“F-fuckkk. No it’s y-you” you breathed in, arching your back and fisting the sheets beneath you. “Daddy is doing this to m-me”

Christopher felt his heavy length jump just as the mention of the word in your mouth, it sounded so fucking good, so fucking sexy. It made him want to please you, be good for you.

He licked and swirled his tongue on your swollen bud earning more moans and pants from you. Until your cunt was throbbing against his lips and your heart was beating in your ears.

“Im… Fuck… gonna c-cum” you said lifting your face to see Christopher looking up at you from between your thighs. 

“Go ahead baby. Cum for daddy”

You came undone at the end of his tongue, your walls fluttering around nothing, thick slick gushing out of you and covering Chris’ face. 

“God fuck.. don’t- s-stop” you begged, tensing up your legs and your orgasm ripped through you. Chris didn't stop there, instead he gradually slowed down to help you down your high at your own rhythm.

“Fuckkk... Please daddy I need you inside me” you said looking at him. And he got back on his feet again. With disconcerting ease he grabbed you at the hips and flipped you on your stomach and lifted you so you were on all fours. 

He reached for his night stand where he took out of one of the drawers a condom and tore the wrapper hastily. 

“Was hoping you’d say that babygirl”

As soon as the condom was on he brought his tip to your soaked and fluttering little hole. You were feeling desperately empty and you wanted nothing more than to be stuffed full of Chris’ big fat cock. You wiggled your hips to urge him to fill you up.

“Are you ready baby?” he asked, making sure one last time you were still on board. 

“Yess daddy.. Yes please. Don't make me beg” You said, despair dripping from your lips. And Christopher resisted the urge to do just that. Maybe another time.

He started to push his huge cock inside you and you braced yourself feeling your walls expand beyond belief to accommodate the thick and hard length. Very slowly Chris continued to progress inside you. You gritted your teeth, fisting the sheet even harder and exhaling a faint complaint.

“It’s okay baby. You can do it. Big breaths, ok?” Chris encouraged you before continuing.

Thanks to Chris’ prepping,  the pain was bearable. Now you didn't even have a single shadow of a doubt left. Chris was indeed bigger than Minho. 

Soon enough he managed to push the whole monstrous thing inside you.

“There you go baby” Chris said gently stroking your back. “That’s my good girl. Say when daddy can move okay, darling?” he laid a soft kiss to the crown of your back, his voice appeared to be somewhat strained. Your tightness was also hard to handle on his part.

“Ok” you huffed quietly.

You took a couple of seconds to get used to him but eventually the pain disappeared. 

“You… can move”

Slowly Chris started to pull out only to push right back in when his tip was just barely hinging in. 

“Oh- fuckfuckfuck” you panted. 

“You’re doing so good, baby. So good for daddy” Chris said, pulling out once again.

He repeated the process until he felt you relax around him and the sharp breaths and sighs turned into moans and whines. 

“Fuckk so… so fucking big” you said arching your back while Chirs’ big hands wrapped around your waist to pull you back on his cock everytime he was pushing in. 

“Fuck your little cunt is so wet and tight for me baby”

“Hmmm daddy” you whined. “Please faster”

“Fuck so fucking naughty” he said as started to fuck you faster, deeper, dragging your precious nectar on his cock and making you moan louder.

“Fuck I won’t last long baby”

“Pleasepleaseplease daddy I'm almost there” 

Chris circled your hip and brought two fingers to rub circles on your clit, you threw your head back, completely letting go of the last bit of sanity you had left. Chris felt you throbbing around his cock.

“Fuck daddy…I'm cumminggg” 

“That's it cum for daddy” Chris said, his voice was strained as he felt you flutter around him, urging him to let got. Spurts of hot cum rushed into the condom as he hips became erratic, as continuously fucked into you until you were both satifed and out of breath. 

You collapsed and he rolled next to you, taking the condom off and tying it before rushing to the bathroom and returning with a warm towel and handing it to you. 

“Fuck that was… amazing” he told you with a bright smile that you knew. 

“So you like being called daddy? Now I understand why you’re into kinky girls.” you said, raising an eyebrow, teasingly.

“Oh– Hm.. well. Yeah… sorry it was like in the heat of the moment” he scratched the side of his face before ruffling his brown curls.

“Oh don't worry about it. I liked it” 

“We should like.. do that again sometimes… I mean if you're down”

It’s funny how he started all cocky and confident and now he was the one stumbling on his words and being flustered. You found that cute.

“Yeah we should”

“CHRIS WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING???” You heard Jisung’s loud voice coming from the hall. “WE’RE GOING TO BE LATE FOR PRACTICE” He fumbled with the door handle. “WHY IS YOUR DOOR CLOSED?”

“Get the fuck out Jisung. I’m busy” Chris said and you giggled.

“Bro, I think he’s fucking someone in there” Jisung said, this time to someone else.

“OI, MATE WHO’S IN THERE WITH YOU?? IS IT Y/N??” Felix’ unmistakably low voice asked.

“I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT“ Chris shouted.

“Fuck… I think you made him mad.” Felix said.

“Bro how the fuck is it me? You the one who insisted” You heard the two voices getting further.

“Don’t pay attention to them” Chris said and you both laughed and went back to bed, to get a well deserved couple of hours of sleep before a day full of college classes.

3k celebration | skz masterlist | navigation

a/n: thanks for reading babe if you enjoyed reblig or leave a comment because delulu is the solulu <3

[gallusrostromegalus]

If you please; what is your Tolberone theory of knowledge?

My theory, which I thought up a few weeks ago while sick with covid, is that all knowledge is a form of art, and that there are very broadly three basic types of knowledge arts: physical arts, philosophical arts, and scientific arts, and that pretty much all academic, artistic and practical disciplines exist somewhere in that triangle spectrum.

Physical arts are knowledges of how to actually, physically do things. The purest front of physical arts are things like dance and navigation.

Scientific arts are knowledges of things that can be tested and proven. Computer programming and Quilting are both scientific arts: they work, or they don't.

Philosophical Arts are knowledges of things which while not objectively provable, are still very real. History and Being A Good Listener are philosophical arts.

Nearly every discipline of knowledge is some combination of all three. Cooking is largely applied chemistry, a scientific art, but it's also a philosophical art because flavor is extremely cultural and contextual, and a physical art because you have to know how to hold the damn knife and heat when it's done.

The first part of toblerone theory is that, like how each piece has three sides, any given project needs at least one person who has a good grasp of each of the underlying arts involved or it's going to go sideways at best. For example:

Physical and Scientific arts, no philosophy: Jurassic Park. They need someone to point out that, while very possible, it's not necessarily a good idea.

Philosophy and Science, no physical: that dril tweet about the forum debate locked by a mod after 12,000 pages of heated debate. They need someone to drag them away from the keyboard and actually do something.

Philosophy and Physical, no science: that cult in midsommar that put a guy in a bearsuit. Without the ability to engage measurably with the world, they give into fear and behave like reactive animals. Also the "rare chicken steak" phenomenon.

You can have differing ratios of each type- Jurassic Park really only needed two philosophers: one animal behaviorist and an OSHA inspector, and 98% of the issues would have been avoided- but you do need at least ONE of each underlying art to check each other's work.

The second part of toblerone theory is that, like how the toblerone is made of many triangle pieces, there are poles to the triangle spectrum. Practical vs Esoteric arts. Short term and long term arts. High stakes vs for funsies arts.

While you have have different ratios and levels of expertise in each of the arts, you do all need them to be on the same piece of the bar, or they won't take each other seriously. A UN Diplomat and a climate scientist aren't going to take the advice of physical artist my uncle Bobby the plumber re: global warming, but they will take the advice of physical artist my Aunt Cheryl the civil engineer, a world expert in getting shit done.

The same applies for the other end of the spectrum. Aunt Cheryl the civil engineer isn't going to get much milage with the local high school student council and principal Waley when the problem at hand is "what are we going to do for this year's prom theme?"

I gotta go to therapy now, pictures later.

[kai-the-mad]

Shout out to Autism for inventing Flappy Hands because that shits been the only thing that's prevented me from falling into sleep paralysis on more than one occasion

[pix-writes]

for the nsfw request for Stan and Ford (which tbh is more like a question lol also be completely free to not answer in case you don't want to); what kind of noises do they make? or they don't make a noise at all? Thank you!!

No problem, thanks for asking!

Under cut as is 18+

STANLEY:

He seems like the kind of guy who would grunt and moan a little, he's not quiet but he's not loud either, as he wants to hear his partner's sounds most of all, but sometimes he can't be quiet either cause it just feels too good. (Also likes to hear the squeak or rattle of whatever furniture he's got you placed on/bent over when you get into it, has broken a worn out, shoddy table or two in his time!)

Knows from experience that a lot of partners like him to make some noise 😉 (say thank you to the ladies who taught him this). Though the very point where he does come, he's practically silent. Will pant and groan afterwards though.

Stan in everyday life is sorta what you get in bed too, just more unfiltered, he opens his mouth to say all sorts of dirty things and feedback about how good you're doing/feel and things he wants to do to you and praises you when you respond in the way he wants. Depends on the circumstances though, as if he's totally in the moment he doesn't run his mouth so much. Can also be more playful too, so at times he'll try to make his partner laugh or be totally cheesy (cue awfully obvious rp where he pretends you're some beautiful/handsome stranger), you might get a chuckle out of him as well. On the other hand, if you manage to rile him up enough, Stan will practically growl in your ear 🥴

If it's just him by himself though, he doesn't make too much sound at all, just moans a little, definitely has that depressing post nut clarity and feels a bit guilty for taking himself in hand.

STANFORD:

Tries to control his volume. Is not successful!

This guy is painfully touch starved and is making up for lost time once he's with a partner, so ends up being unable to censor all the sounds that come out of him from feeling someone else's touch. I'd say his volume is about medium, though, as he does have some self-control. However, once he starts to feel remotely close to orgasm, he will get increasingly more whiny. Increasingly desperate towards climax and starts begging you or saying things, it's so garbled though you don't even know if it's proper sentences or just nonsensical babble. Cannot contain his cries of pleasure when he finally does climax! 🤭 (Edge this man if you want but get soundproofing if you do, otherwise even the neighbours will be able to hear what you're getting up to!)

Doesn't talk too much during, mostly lost in it, will keep giving you necessary instruction or feedback, though. Mostly moans, groans and whines, praises you for how good you are/feel. Though, I think once he starts to get into a relationship and gain confidence/experience, will be more able to control his volume and will run his mouth more, if that's something you're into. Will pleasure you and not let you touch him so he can focus on talking you through it 🫠 gets a little cocky once he finds out that you like the sound of his deep voice (what have you unleashed upon yourself??!!!!)

Thinks that his self pleasure is about average but is probably below average, sees it more as relieving stress than for indulgence in fantasies, feels alienated by the way most men would talk about it as it doesn't fit his experiences at all (e.g. thinks most men exaggerate their drive and promiscuity... Probably not wrong, but I hc that Ford is on the ace spectrum somewhere, probably demi sexual, but doesn't know until the twins tell him about lgbt+ identities). Helps him to sleep, though didn't feel safe enough to do it much at all during his portal days, as he was often on the run. Is often intentionally quiet when doing it because he often is in places where the walls are thin or he needs to hear if he might be walked in on (because it's likely to happen; is happy that so far he's never been caught) still moans a lot when he comes though.