#hes too hot to be butchered like that

[sc4llywag]

Was feeling a little annoyed today about how odd Connor looks on the cover of Ac3 (yes ik it was the concept art of him bla blah IDC)

And I edited his face to look a little more like him because I think it looks nicer obvi

The edited vs og

I got rid of his stubble and made his nose more accurate to his design in game and tried altering the color so he didn't look so green compared to his warmer looks in the game

Here's the full pic but I only really edited his arm to look more bulky + brightened some colors

I'm the setting is supposed to be yucky and bleak but Connor just brings this warmth to the game that gives it life so :)

Pics of Ratonhnaké:ton if you'd like to see what I used for reference

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk

[starryeyedjanai]

Steve and Eddie meet through their local buy-nothing-sell-nothing group when Steve’s getting ready to move in with Robin and he realizes he can't keep everything he owns while trying to merge households with her.

The first time they meet, Steve hadn't even been meaning to actually meet the person picking up the free toaster oven he’s giving away.

He’s setting his toaster oven outside his house on the porch when Eddie hops out of his van to pick it up and it would be rude to duck back inside without saying anything since he obviously sees him coming up, so they make small talk for a minute and Steve has to keep his eyeballs in check because they keep wanting to rake all the way down this guy’s body.

He’s covered in tattoos and so extremely Steve's type, but he knows better than to hit on someone who lives in his neighborhood and is not here for that reason.

He laments to Robin about it the next day, about the hot guy who’s probably using Steve's toaster oven as they speak, who he’ll probably never see again.

Robin rolls her eyes fondly at him and tells him that maybe if he puts more stuff up for grabs on the facebook group, he might see him again, but Steve suspects she just wants him to get rid of more of his stuff so it doesn't overcrowd their new apartment.

The set of items he puts up in the group next is an old blender and a butcher block that has three of the knives missing—seriously where did those knives go? He has yet to find them.

He tries to pretend he isn't secretly hoping Eddie will comment under his post that he wants the items, but he isn't fooling himself when his heart literally skips a beat when the first comment is from Eddie. He messages him and tells him to stop by later that day.

When Eddie shows up, they talk for longer than last time, Eddie asking why Steve needs to get rid of so much stuff and Steve asking why Eddie needs all this stuff—especially considering Steve snooped through the group and saw that Eddie joined over a year ago and hadn't once commented before now (he doesn't mention that thought, but he is thinking it real hard).

Eddie laughs and says he was in the market for a toaster oven when Steve posted one and wouldn't you know it? He also needs a blender—the knife set is just a bonus, he says.

Steve tries not to read too much into it, but his brain is spinning the interaction around in his head for the next week.

He puts up a space heater in the group and within minutes, Eddie has claimed it.

“I should just get your number and text you directly when I find something I want to get rid of next time,” Steve says flippantly when Eddie comes by to grab it that night. “Instead of clogging up the facebook group.”

Eddie smirks at him and steps a little closer. He says, “Maybe you should.”

His neighbor’s car alarm decides to go off right at that moment, ruining the flirty atmosphere with its incessant shrill. They can barely hear each other over the drone of it, so Eddie leaves without giving Steve his number and Steve is left feeling like he keeps having these missed connection moments with Eddie.

In a fit of desperation to see Eddie again, Steve puts up a bunch of random stuff in the group the next day—a shoe rack that’s missing a piece, a step stool, a cheap side table he got from Ikea—and Eddie is still the first person to comment like he’s been refreshing the page, just waiting for Steve to post.

“I left without giving you my number last time and I didn't want to be creepy and message you unprompted,” Eddie says as they load the side table into his van. “I think I was overthinking things and then got kind of spooked.”

“It doesn't look like anything could spook you,” Steve says.

When they get the side table inside the back of the van, Eddie turns to him and admits, “A very pretty boy could.”

Steve can feel his face getting hot. “You think I’m pretty?” he asks.

Eddie nods. “Why do you think I keep coming here? There's no way a person who’s lived here for as long as I have would need all this stuff.”

“Did you need any of it?” Steve asks in a teasing voice. “Or were you just so blown away by how cute my profile picture is that you just had to meet me?”

“Oh, I needed the toaster oven, but everything after that was just to see you again,” Eddie says before biting his lip.

There’s an entire swarm of butterflies in his stomach when Eddie's hand brushes his, when Steve takes Eddie's hand in his and leads him inside his box-filled house.

Later, when they’re making out on Steve's couch—when Steve really should still be packing since he has to move in less than a week—he pulls back to ask, “Wait, so are you gonna put the rest of the stuff you don't need back up for grabs in the group? I feel like that would start so much neighborhood gossip.”

Eddie grins wide and Steve wants to kiss him again, wants to feel his smile against his mouth.

“Oh, we’ll be the talk of the town, baby,” Eddie says, pulling him back in.

[screampied]

YOHHH I JS READ UR NEW POST, IM GONNA LYK HOW MUCH I LOVED IT LATER 😭😭😭

i do got a request tho 😻 soft dom toji talking the reader through her first orgasm, or hate sex with toji !! you can choose either !!

—pearl anon <3

Ⳋ᧙ : having hate sex with toji.

warnings. fem reader, hate sex, shower sex, dirty talk, praise, choking, breath play, mdni.

“fuck you, toji.”

you scoffed, yet little did you know how quick you’d be eating up your words. you slip off out a small gasp once he quickly spun you around in the shower. as water raced down your back, you were met with toji pressed up firm against you, parting your legs.

“fuck me?” he mocks your tone, and you almost slip off a moan once he runs a hand between your legs, brushing two fingers against your drenched slicked folds. “fuck me but y’er this fuckin’ wet?”

“that’s just the water.”

“that’s just the water,” he mimicked your voice, butchering it entirely. you were close up against the shower wall, and toji’s warmth went all over your body. “if y’er gonna talk to me like that at least face me. but you can’t do that in this position can you?”

it was pure silence.

“what i thought. no fuckin’ back talk, brat.”

“you talk so much,” you spat, only to whine once he gives your pussy a brief squeeze. it felt good, your breath soaks against the wall as you panted before you bit your lip. “just fuck me already.”

“got some nerve tellin’ me what to do,” toji scoffs, and you moan once you feel the tip of his dick graze against your folds. he was so thick, just the sole fat tip was enough.

you felt beads of sweat run down the sides of your neck as you stood still.

“bet me havin’ you like this is getting you all wet. knew you were always nasty for me.”

your eyes roll for a bit before you part your thighs a bit more.

toji makes you arch your back for him. he wraps a hand around his girth of a length before you feel him starting to realign himself.

a soft whine flew past your lips once he teasingly starts to slap his tip against your slick entrance.

“audacity,” he hisses in a low tone.

the base in his voice made you pulse—you felt so hot, the steam of the shower wafting in the air, ringing started to form in your ear from the droplets plopping down amongst the floor.

“…audacity to say ya hate me with a pussy this drenched.”

toji’s dirty talk never failed to make you throb, yearn desperately for more.

he was so filthy, his mouth was especially. he knew no bounds.

all he knew was rhat he could say just about anything to make you drip all right between your thighs.

rough hands of his roam all over your body before he brings your ass right up against him.

“f-fuck you,” you whine, his girth completely stretching you out. he was so big, it was almost too hard to fathom — too hard to process.

toji’s wet body rocked in such a sensual way, all it took was for him to wrap a hand around your neck, ghosting a middle finger near the passageway of your throat.

he leans up close to your ear, pivoting his hips before you’re met with a rude thrust. “you fuck like a girl.”

“you couldn’t be funny if you tried, girl,” he whispers, sneaking a kiss towards your neck. once you start being fucked behind by toji, he grunts at how the sheer ruthless smacks your ass feels. just thwacking and thwacking back against him in response. “yeah. try ‘n hide those pathetic moans from me.”

as he was pressed up against you, toji teasingly brings a hand towards your ass. you gasp, feeling the sharp sting his palm presents you.

he maintains a tempo before you moan, the thought of becoming fucked from behind turning into a reality for you.

he was all up close, even being a tease to bite against your neck—you moan once he pivots his hips just to reach that spot.

“nothing to say now, huh,” he scoffs, bringing two rough hands towards your ass.

you shiver from his touch, feeling the droplets of water that raced down him dance against your skin. for a few seconds, nothing but silence was your initial response before he chuckles. “hate me yet here you are. bent over of me like some slut.”

“s-shut up.” you grouse, the temple of your cheek being pressed up against the slick tile wall.

toji raspy laughs against your ear, “make me. oh right, you can’t.”

and his tone was filled with such tease—you moaned once he pulls your ass up a bit, getting such a thorough angle that he’s reaching so deep. you gripped back against him and it made you bite your tongue to not produce such loud whiney moans. “say ya hate me but y’er pussy says otherwise.”

he always sounded so sure of himself, the pure smoothness that ran off toji’s touch — it never failed to make you soak right between your legs.

his cock was so thick, you felt it reach just about every spot, every crevice with such ease. it left you with your maw practically dropped, such moans escaping your lips.

the way his vigorous hips maintained such speed. you whined, feeling your right thigh start to bounce. fingers of his wander against your skin, tracing the outline of your figure just to watch you shiver from his touch.

“such a sensitive girl,” he purrs, right beside your ear. you moaned, feeling the edge of his mouth, the side where his scar ran across his lip swipe gingerly against your cheek. toji’s so mean with his thrusts, it leaves your mind empty — brain just roaming with all kinds of filthy thoughts. “should see y’erself for me right now.”

he knew every inch of your body, every spot to make you tingle and whine out in pleasure. toji positions his hips in a way that you feel the girth, the stretch he continuously makes against your cunt. he groans, looking down to see how your slick departs from him again and again.

“fuckin’ messy,” he groans, and you feel the heftiness of his base thwack against you. just a simple gesture of that makes your ears rings before you arch just a bit more, dumbly moaning and whimpering for more. you sounded desperate, which you were. “looks like someone’s getting close.”

“t— toji,” you mewl, entire body being drenched from the water. toji too — his body heat radiated amongst you, him being so close and personal this much towards your body made you pulse.

he snickers, bringing a smack towards your ass. “don’t give me that. thought you hated me, baby.”

toji smiles, knowing you were probably pouting from his witty response. you felt multiple nerves stir up inside you, and your breathing started to becoming heavy and irregular.

each time his tip prodded against that particular spot, you let out a cute noise, chasing your incoming orgasm.

“jus’ let me cum,” you whined, fully disregarding what he was saying. you were so close—you squeezed your eyes shut for a brief moment, transmitting into a world of total ecstasy. toji brings his hands towards your waist, pressing two thumbs against your skin before he shoves you back and forth against him. he was so thick, your mouth remained open before you start whimpering, not knowing how long you could hold out. “pleasepleaseplease.”

“say pretty please,” he starts, and that’s when you feel his hips slow down. as his voice trails, you frown once his sudden sloppy pace goes to an abrupt halt. “in that cute voice of yours.”

you whine, clenching around him before murmuring out a sweet, “pretty please toji.”

“good girl,” he maunders lowly, his tone made you pulse — it was embarrassing. whenever he did that thing where he pitches his tone, the bass that hid behind it. especially whenever he praised you. toji fixes your posture, skimming a finger down your back before kissing the back part of your neck. “go ‘head. give it to me. i guess...”

you couldn’t see him, but you’d bet money he’d just given you an eye roll. once you came, it was so much — you moaned from the shockwaves that ran out of you. “f-fuckkkk,” you spat, convulsing all on his shaft.

even whilst standing up, your legs felt so numb. butterflies resided in your tummy, and once he let you compose yourself, he turns you around.

toji’s smirking at you visibly, and your eyes were all low and half lidded — you give him a glare before he leans in to kiss your neck and slowly raise your leg up against him. he whispers right against your skin a rasp, “uh huh. that’s what i thought.”

[vanderilnde]

so true @altissiia. neighbour/butcher simon is but a matted cat that would charitably leave mice at your door if that wasn’t so off-putting

-

It’s eight in the morning, and there’s coffee all over your work blouse. Burning through the canopy of your shirt, sticking your skin. 

You had loudly cursed as your foot got caught behind an innominate object, propelling you face first—and coffee first—into the corridor. Surely, the whole flat heard it. The tight yelp you released, the thunder of your nose colliding with the floor. 

You don’t care about the coffee blotches congealing in the hallway. The carpet has enough cryptic stains, ones that management isn’t bothered to fix, so you look away and throw a cursory glance over your shoulder—to see the cause of your fall—and grimace without conscious control.

It’s a bag of meat on your doormat. 

Wrapped in a plastic, sitting in a puddle of fresh blood. 

A few drops of dew glaze the bag by means of moisture. It hides its contents, hindering you from recognising anything inside. You poke it with your shoe, cringing at the cartilage and meat and marrow beneath the sole of your foot. It tumbles over in the clear film, revealing its gory underbelly and a sticky-note. 

The note is dog-eared, crumpled, and damp. Covered in writing written by a slap-happy hand. Sorry for being too loud last night with my mates. Guess I’m a hypocrite. Here’s some meat please accept, is what it reads. The tail-end features a poorly-drawn smiley face and a signature. Simon.  

He was being noisy last night. You were just too skittish to slap the drywall dividing you, or to knock on his door and ask him to keep it down. There was an overlap of voices, an undercurrent of accents, and the charm of beer cans persistently snapped open.

As you peel the note off the bag, the door beside you swings open. Simon stumbles out, sweatpants low on his hips, medical mask obscuring the lower shell of his face. By the looks of it, he just floundered out of the shower. His curls are still dripping with opalescent water drops. He’s shirtless, his chest hairs so blonde they’re almost glass-like. Tousled and wispy.

A few scars distort the skin of his ribcage and makes you wince. He’s breathing heavily, distending them, puffing out his chest.

“You alright?” He asks. “Heard you fall.” 

You realise you’re still on the floor. Simon looks cosmic from this angle—colossal—hauling with him disciplined muscles eclipsed by a soft belly. 

You meekly nod, rising to your feet. “‘m fine.”

Simon’s eyes flutter down to your chest. A hot-flash pools under your skin, sticky, messy, leaving you preening under his gaze, until, of course, you belatedly remember your spilled coffee. How your shirt sticks to your skin, revealing the barest hint of your breasts. You don’t cross your arms.

“You’ve something there,” Simon sniffs. He gestures to your chest.

“Um, yeah. I know.”

A whisper of discomfort marinates between you. Discomfort that Simon doesn’t seem to notice—or doesn’t seem to care about—as he keeps staring at you. 

He grunts. “I got you meat.”

“Thank you!” You chuckle. “It was a… sweet gift.” 

It takes you by surprise when Simon tucks his chin into his chest, grumbling. His crows feet crimp together like knife-edges as if he’s barely smiling. 

“Wait here,” he mumbles, then spins on his heel. You assume he’s going to put on some clothes, or bring you some more meat, but when Simon returns, he outstretches towards you a threadbare jersey, waiting expectantly.

“Stained your blouse,” he snorts. “Wear this.”

Owlishly, you blink. It’s your work blouse that’s stained. You can’t go in a Manchester United shirt.

“Um. I wouldn’t–”

Simon shoves it in your chest. At this point, he reminds you of a wet dog. Dripping wet, gratified of his gift-giving. Leaving raw meat that stinks of ammonia at your doorstep, handing you a shirt too-many-sizes too big for you. If he had a tail, it’d be wagging.

His hand is still extended. Above his mask, Simon’s eyebrows pucker as if he’s pouting. Like a kicked mutt, confused, and a little ratty. You feel awkward indebtedness eddying through you, so you snatch the jersey from him and slip it on jointly. It smells heavily of nicotine and pomade, slightly impairing you.

Satisfied, he nods. You think he’s going to say something else—there’s a little stifle between the flicker of his eyes and his jaw—but he doesn’t. Simon turns around and slams his door shut in your face. 

[luveline]

Hi I love you coworker! James series feel free to ignore if you don’t like this idea but what if Remus convinced reader to go to a karaoke bar with them and she gets a little tipsy and signs her heart out and James is just heart eyes over it

thanks for requesting <3 fem!reader

“What is that?” James asks, genuinely scornful as he points at you where you’re leaning on the bar. “Is that another margarita? Jesus Christ.” 

“You should be enjoying this.” Sirius smiles around the lip of his beer. 

“Why would I enjoy this?” 

“She’s coming out of her shell, isn’t she? You’re always calling her a priss.” 

“She is a priss, but binge drinking isn’t the same as extroversion.” 

Sirius taps their beers together. “And what are you doing tonight, James?” 

James scowls as you collect your new drink. You’ve had four or five by now and they’ve more than started to affect you, your giggling endless, your hand wrapped around the crook of Remus’ arm for balance. 

“Remus! It’s your turn, hun, get up here!” your general manager calls from the stage, a mic in her hand.

“Me!” you shout suddenly, to James’ shock and Sirius’ bright laughter. “Remus, please let me have your turn, please! I know exactly what song I want to sing.” 

Remus, who’d convinced you to come through a lot of pleading and a promise that you won’t have to sing at all if you weren’t ready, looks at you like you’ve grown horns. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes? Can I please?” 

You take his arm into your hand and you look at him with widened eyes, thumb rubbing a line that James zeroes in on, doesn’t mean to, can’t believe he’s noticed at all. He’s irked you’d even look at Remus that way. 

Because you’re annoying. Yes. Very annoying. 

You drink a good half of your Margarita and ask Remus to hold it for you before you take the steps onto the stage and chat with your general manager about what song you want to sing. You put your hands on the mic stand and prepare yourself with eyebrows pinched together, determined, even though you look a little shaky at the same time. Sirius nudges James from behind, the two of them joining Remus in the small crowd of your coworkers as the music starts. 

There are two screens for lyrics. A huge one for you, a smaller for everyone else beside you. You clutch the mic and stare resolutely at the bigger one as the melody becomes recognisable. James watches in what he thought would be smugness, but instead lays somewhere between awe and mild horror as you begin to sing.

The song is Brandy (You’re a Fine Girl) by Big Head Todd & The Monsters. James loves this song, he sings it every time he has to drive Remus to cornwall. He knows every word back to front and he likes how you seem to like it too, even if you’re butchering it, and the drunken slur to your words is ridiculous. You know the chorus well enough and sing it with a beaming smile. James maybe doesn’t like you, but it’s hard not to smile when someone else is happy like that. 

“Don’t make fun of her, James! Please don’t, she’s trying her best,” Remus says at his smiling. “And she won’t come again.” 

“I’m not,” he says, not bothering to look away from you.

Your eyes scan faces and get caught on his. He can feel the moment you realise he’s watching too, see your slight falter, and then, magically, your excitement. “James! It’s Brandy! You love this song!” 

Sirius snickers at his expression. “Mate,” he says quietly, “I thought you didn’t like her?” 

“I don’t.” 

You stumble a little where you’re standing and James has to stand extremely still so as to prevent his hands from reaching out for you. “James, I didn’t take your favourite song, okay? You have to sing Don’t Stop Believin’! Oh, shit–” You don’t realise your cue to sing the chorus until it’s halfway through, but when you do find the right words, you’re extremely passionate. 

“She sounds like Melly coughing up a hairball,” James says, wrinkling his nose. 

An emotion far from disgust settles hot at the base of his neck. 

“She looks cute,” Remus says.

“Sure, if you’re blind. And deaf.” 

“Well,” Sirius says, “you do wear glasses.” 

[chaotic-iguana]

desperate | billy butcher x reader

a little something in spirit of kinktober and my delirium. lmk what you think. nsfw below the cut. mostly denial/teasing.

“fuckin’ look at you, doll.” butcher flashes you a shit-eating grin before reaching up to pinch your nipples between his thumb and forefingers harshly, rumbling a chuckle at the whimper it draws from you. you’re all splayed out for him with your hands tied to headboard above, thighs wrenched open by his shoulders; skin hot and flushed under his touch. he’s told you to stay still twice already but you can’t, not when he’s been leaving featherlight brushes on your skin for hours and cruelly laughing at every sound that comes from your mouth, smiling at the way your hips buck in his hold- 

and then he’s leaning in just to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to your sternum, beard stinging against your sensitive skin, jaw working to nip and bite until your tears are falling and he’s pulling back with a mocking tut, eyes twinkling.

“all these pretty tears just f’me, love?” your frantic nod makes him raise a brow, hand coming down to swat the inside of your thigh - the impact shooting straight to your poor, neglected cunt. 

“use y’words, chatterbox.” 

his tone makes you want to curl in on yourself, because he knows you’re too far gone to form words right now, too far gone to think about anything beyond the fact that you need him and that you might actually die if he stops touching you. but you know butcher, and you know how mean he really is - he’ll keep you writhing on the bed for hours to fix your attitude if he doesn’t hear an answer now; uncaring of the fact that you’re barely grasping at thoughts and completely fucking gone. and like the devil, you  he starts rubbing circles into the juncture of your thighs while you struggle to answer him.

“y-yes, da-butcher. ‘m cr-crying for y-you.” he hums, and suddenly runs a knuckle through your folds, making you keen, tears sticking to your lashes. 

“yes, who?” bastard. he knows you can never bring yourself to say it - not even if it rests on the tip of your tongue every time - and despite yourself, you bite your tongue and shake your head, hiccuping. 

“oh we’re being shy now? fuck me, honey, where was this when i had my cock in your ass?” his hands rest just above where you need him now, thumbs stroking your abdomen in careful, downward brushes. your back arches into the touch, hips chasing him even when he pulls his hands away, and then you’re sobbing in earnest. 

another tut, dripping with condescension. “no more cryin’. tell me what you want, baby.” and you’re gasping another breath and gulping air, wrists straining against the rope before stammering out another response, too delirious with your need to register what you were saying. 

“need you to t-touch me, d-daddy, please.” he shuffles up, gripping your chin to turn it towards him before capturing your lips in his, his tongue sweeping into your mouth. his thumb presses gently on your buzzing clit, making you jolt with surprise. you blink at him, frowning. he’d never cave this quickly. 

until- he’s reaching down to plant a kiss to your forehead, smoothing over your hair before nuzzling against your cheek. 

“gotta give my pretty girl what she needs, don’t i? 

masterlist

taglist: @bastardmandennis and @amanitacowboy (no one else would be into the boys i think) love u both @imherefordeanandbones

@cafekitsune’s divider.

[frogchiro]

Slasher!Ghost is making me feel feral. Him being so big and muscular, absolutely towering over the cute little reader who comes in for meat. Another man hitting on you as you’re in the shop, leaving Ghost seething and wanting to kill the man but not wanting to scare you. He wants to be your everything so badly. I can just see him being SO over-protective and possessive

Butcher Ghost is extremely possessive!! Like, I' talking resource guarding you even if you two are not together yet :((

He's extremely strong and masculine too; standing at 6'4, his broad shoulders, thick waist and strong hips, legs and bulky arms make for a burly and intimidating man, the look completed with the white butcher's apron that is usually stained with blood so no one in their right mind would go against him. Like when he chooses his victim there is literally nowhere to run and that's the terrifying thing about it; he may be huge but he's very fast and agile too so you may do whatever and he's still going to catch his victim.

And yet all he wants and desires is to have you call him your husband, cuddle with you in that cute warm home of yours, your new, chubby baby cuddled close and feeding from you peacefully while he supports you from behind :((

So you can only imagine the white hot rage he feels when he sees some guy flirting with you right there in his shop, his territory, and making you visibly uncomfortable but you still smile weakly and try to get out as soon as possible, it's done. It's over.

He knows now that his next victim hanging from the rusty meat hook in the freezer will be that miserable cunt who made his girl uncomfortable.

[chaoticace2005]

Reason I, sexiest being ever Angel Dust, wanna get fucked by BE WITH Whiskers: (Complimentary to Husk's reasons for NOT getting involved with Angel post)

He's hot.

~Daddy~ (I don't have daddy issues shut up. Who am I? Charlie??)

Wanna see the kitty ~purr~ and those wings ~flap~

He has hearts. I have hearts. THAT'S SO MANY HEARTS!!!!

Our colors compliment each other!!!

Are cat's dicks really... ya know?

Honestly he probably needs a good lay.

Actually, wait: is he even queer??? YES YES HE IS!

Makes good drinks.

Funny to piss off.

Charity work. That's a redeeming "quality" right?

Fuck this entire list actually. He sucks. And NOT in a sexy way. He'd be LUCKY to fuck me.

Good singer and dancer??

Actually gets what I'm going through and doesn't give me that pitying bullshit?

Badass motherfucker with EXPLOSIVE CARDS?!

Good drinking buddy

HE CAN FLY?!?!

Somehow actually believes in me??

Short king. Short guys are sexy (except you Arackniss, fuck you.)

So fucking soft. He'd deny it though. AND HE PURRS

Doesn't bullshit me or anyone for that matter.

Smiles wouldn't like it.

Husk should know he is loved and supported. (Am I really the best guy for that?? I don't even need to date him to tell him this. I can get it through this thick skull in other ways until someone better comes along.)

Best cuddler ever.

Makes me feel seen and alive.

Being with him is better than any drug.

He takes care of Nuggets!!!!!!

Speaks Italian?!?!?!?!? AND DOESN'T EVEN BUTCHER IT!!!! (and it's VERY hot)

Nice enough to ask for permission before doing anything??

Thinks that asking for permission should be expected?

Takes care of me after a bad session/day and I wanna take care of him.

Doesn't want to have sex with me.

Says "Tony" WAY too well.

I've literally never cared about someone this much before??

One of my favorite people ever and I'm so lucky to have him as a friend. And maybe that should be enough?? What the hell am I doing??

[anundyingfidelity]

DO YOU HATE ME THAT MUCH? — Billy Butcher

Summary: Butcher gives orders for you to stay back from the fight. You hardly comply and prove differently; he starts thinking in a very improper manner about you.

Pairing: Billy Butcher x female!supe reader.

Word count: 2k.

Warnings: smut!! hate sex, unprotected sex, fingering, enemies to fuck buddies, reader can control blood and explode shit (like Victoria Neuman lol), the usual mentions of violence.

Notes: this is a request made by @thatcharmingmushroom for my 400 followers drabbles celebration. I'm sorry I took soooo damn long on this, but I hope you like it and thank you so much for the idea because I had so much fun with it! I picked the Herogasm episode for this tho hehe

☕ if you like my writing support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

taglist is here!

On the hunt for Payback, you made your way to infiltrate Herogasm along with Butcher, Hughie and the new asshole, Soldier Boy, not caring that the British dick ordered you a thousand times to stay back.

For different reasons, you were kind of forced to stay with the team, and while you didn’t really get along with any of them, Butcher was by far the one you hated the most. And, in the end, when Soldier Boy burned the whole place to the ground with a blast and Homelander arrived, you couldn’t stand there doing nothing. While the three men tried to hold down Homelander, you used your blood to create strong whips around his limbs, trying to tie him to the ground as Soldier Boy prepared to blast, yet again.

But just in seconds, Homelander recharged himself and pushed them all aside, cutting your whips, and flashing you quickly with his heat vision before storming out. Your blood blades barely made it to the hole he left in the roof as the supe just disappeared, flying away like a scared bitch.

“Well,” you started after an instant of staying silent. “I guess we fucking failed.”

Butcher shot you a dark glare as he walked straight until he stopped in front of you. “You shouldn’t be here,” he whispered.

You held his eyes as he towered you with his broad figure. He looked even more intimidating now he started playing the supe, injecting himself with Compund V. “I don’t care.”

There was this smug smirk on his face as you talked back. You knew he hated you; you knew you hated him. But as fucking weird your powers were, controling blood and exploding people with their own, Butcher found you interesting and stupidly astonishing. But of course, he wasn’t going to admit it. They were just intrusive thoughts about you and how hot you were, defying his direct orders of strictly not coming to the supe-orgy. Yeah, Homelander was a fucking cunt, and he would take care of Soldier Boy soon too. Right now, he just needed something to take the stress out after another stupid failure. His hand would work later once back at the motel, he decided.

Butcher leaned down, until his lips almost brushed the shell of your ear. “We’ll see about that.”

“Why do I have to keep listening to you?” you asked as Butcher followed back to the motel.

You stopped right out of your door, because of course you weren’t going to share a room with him and the old asshole. Hughie, who went inside their room, was the only decent human being between all of them, but still, you had to take care of yourself from those fuckers. Besides, the British idiot wouldn’t stop the verbal vomiting the whole fucking trip and you were growing sick of it.

“Because, for starters, you’re a fucking newbie here,” Butcher replied, smirking hatefully. “And second, your powers are fucking out of control. You need training and keep your mouth shut.”

You rolled your eyes, showing him your wrists. “I already healed myself from the cuts I made. Perhaps I should use your blood next time?”

“No, there’s no next time for you.”

“You don’t decide that, Butcher,” you crossed your arms over your chest, tired of being treated like a stupid kid. “I’m helping on this, I want him dead. And if any of you idiots don’t kill him, then I will.”

He curved an eyebrow, not showing any signs of being taken aback at your words, but inside, he was just in awe as before. You really hated Homelander as much as he did, however, you didn’t have a fucking plan. You would attack first, ask questions later. In any way, since when could he care about that? He had no idea.

“Hey,” Soldier Boy talked behind Butcher and stepped in closer between both of you. “You fucking stay back from this, you ain’t doing shit with your blood whips.”

Furious, you motioned your hand to draw fresh blood from a wound on his cheek and created a sharp blade, cutting his skin lightly. Soldier Boy clenched his jaw before smirking at you.

“Talk to me like that ever again and I’ll blow your dick, and not the way you like it,” you warned through your teeth.

Soldier Boy wiped the blood off the fresh wound, and smiled anew before patting Butcher on the shoulder. “She’s all yours, pal.”

With that, the old supe disappeared in the next room. You just wanted this to be over, so you turned around to get inside your room, but Butcher wouldn’t leave you alone just yet, putting his foot between the door and the frame, holding it with his super strength.

“What the fuck you want now?!” you yelled at him as he made his way inside, slamming the door closed.

“Imma have to call the fucking CIA if you don’t calm down your ass,” he threatened between his teeth.

“You wouldn’t-”

“I can, and I fucking will,” he insisted, taking slow strides, making you step back from him until your back met the wall.

His eyes were getting dangerously dark and you could smell the sweat and dry blood coming from him. You noticed his pulse was increasing, and you grinned. Your mind jumped to an unsafe place where you probably knew what Butcher was feeling right now. The heat and coming down the high of what could have been the end of both yours and his enemy was too much to burden. Little did he know that you were the kind of person that used to take out the stress with something, or someone. Just like him.

“From one to ten, how much do you hate me?” you asked all of the sudden, looking straight into his eyes.

Butcher’s fierceful gaze turned into confusion. “What?”

“How fucking much do you hate me?” you repeated yourself steadier.

Butcher rolled his eyes before answering in a whisper. “I’d choose a one thousand scale for that.”

“Good, I hate you too,” you replied with a smirk before pulling him for a kiss that turned heated too fast, but you didn’t care.

You needed release. Something quick, hard and hot to take it out of your system. He was perfect for the task, and by the way his tongue tasted your mouth, you found out that he wouldn’t step back. At least you hoped so. The tension between both of you was so damn sharp and it was just a matter of time for that bomb to explode, and you preferred it this way instead of fighting each other to death.

Gripping the neck of his shirt to get even closer as you kissed, Butcher’s hands roamed all over your hips, running on your sides until he met the flesh of your ass on your jeans, pressing you towards his chest. You gasped against his mouth when he started to unzip your pants, you worked immediately on the buttons of his shirt. Desperately, you discharged his shirt, the fabric being followed to his pants, and he undressed you with the same eagerness until you were only panties and bra.

Butcher lifted you up from the ground, hands on your thighs as he guided you to the mattress. He crawled on top of you, spreading your legs with his big, rough hands and leaning down to lick down at your chest and rip your bra off. His action made you gasp out loud at the same time he sucked on a nipple like a starved man.

“You're a fucking beast,” you whimpered, feeling his hands peeling off your panties and leaving you completely exposed at his mercy.

You tugged at his jeans and he pulled them down along with his boxers as quickly as he could, taking out his dick with that smug smile on his stupid face. He noticed your eyes taking the sight of his half nakedness, biting your lip slightly once you focused on his hard cock pressing on your crotch. It only made you wet.

“Well, I plan to fuck you like one,” he said, grabbing the back of your legs and rubbing the tip of his cock against your wet folds.

“Show me, don’t talk- fuck!”

You let out a rather loud moan when he rubbed your clit with his fingers, playing with your entrance until he inserted a single, thick digit in your pussy. Butcher stretched you out with a finger, then slid a second one, scissoring them to reach your deepest spots as your walls clenched around his digits. You kept whimpering and moaning as he increased the thrusts of his hand.

“Bloody fuck, these are the only sounds I like coming from your mouth, luv,” he hissed, sensing that you almost came on his fingers.

Right before you reached your high, he pulled out and you groaned in annoyance, feeling empty once again.

“Shit,” you breathed out.

He positioned between your legs anew, getting comfortable as he started to push his tip against your slit. The grip of his hands on your thighs became a little harsh once he entered you slowly, the thickness of his cock splitting you open.

“What a tight cunt I always knew you’d be,” he grunted, filling you up completely and leaning down to mark your neck with his teeth.

His mouth and thrusts earned him your sweet moans as he fucked you senseless. The burning soon turned into pleasure. Your nails scratched his back while moaning incoherent words. His hands on your thighs would leave marks on your skin, but it felt so damn good. You needed a little bit of pain to remind you that you were alive, rotting for that sweet bliss only sex could give you.

Moans escaped from your throat and mingled with his deep groans and the sound of your skin against his own, the headboard of the bed hitting the wall with every of his hard thrusts. You pulled him down for a wet kiss when you felt closer and closer to come undone.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you gasped.

Butcher increased the rhythm of his thrusts, his cock throbbing as your walls started to clench around him.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he mumbled against your mouth.

“Do you still hate me?” you asked, trying to catch your breath. You reached down to rub your clit. You were so close, almost there.

“If I keep fucking you like this then I might change my mind- holy fuck!”

In that moment, you came hard with a string of curses and clenching your walls around his cock. The pound of his hips increased and he fucked you through your orgasm to reach his own. You continued rubbing your clit, fingers finding the place where you two connected, meeting his cock coated with your juices when he pulled out just slightly to slam back inside again.

Butcher emptied his cum inside you, mumbling dirty words against your ear. His rhythm slowing down eventually, fucking his seed in your pussy. Once he came down from his high, he pulled out and rolled by your side on the bed. Your body started to ache but in the best way possible. It was the best fuck you had in a long time. After a couple of minutes in complete silence you decided to talk, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“I hope you keep hating on me…”

He turned slightly to see your blank face. “Why?”

“I love hate-fucking.”

He scoffed with a smile curving on his lips. “You bet I enjoyed this too.”

Within a second, you climbed on top of him. Thighs straddling his lap as you rubbed your cunt on his soft cock.

“Second round? You can eat me out and suck your cum out of me,” you gave him a wink, rolling your hips and leaning down for a quick kiss.

“Dirty girl,” Butcher whispered on your lips. “Perhaps put your mouth into good use.”

“I like how that sounds,” you smiled back at him.

Billy Butcher taglist

@delaynew

@thesilmarillionblog

@feyresqueen

@drasticemotions

[lilacliquors]

Hey you're probably sick of the boys requests so take as long as you need with this

I was wondering if I could request how the boys would react to be called their real name in an angry voice by their gf instead of their nickname

Like for Frenchie it would be Serge

For Noir it would be Earving

For Billy it would be William

For Soldier Boy it would be Ben/Benjamin

For Hughie it would be Hugh

You get the jist, I hope you like this request 😊💕

i love this request nonnie!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ FRENCHIE

he's not expecting it at all. he's always just been frenchie. with you, with the boys, just frenchie. but then, you find out that he's worked out a deal with little nina, and you know her reputation. everyone knows her reputation. and it's a matter of life and death. not to mention she used to fuck your boyfriend. he practically drops to his knees before you the moment you yell 'serge!' and he's both begging for forgiveness while also trying to explain.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ NOIR

it's been a long time since anyone has called him earving. he's always been 'black noir' or 'noir'. he doesn't even register that you're angry with him when you shout 'earving!'. he's simply reminded that he's still human under the mask, and he lets you yell. but when you're done, he simply wraps his arms around you, and where you see an apology hug, he sees a thank you hug.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ BILLY

he thinks it's hot. you don't intimidate him by any means, but he can't deny loving that angry flair in your eyes. he hears you go 'william butcher!' and he knows there's gonna be angry sex tonight. he'll let you yell at him, be angry, get it out of your system, but then he makes that one sarcastic comment that just grins your gears, and you get started all over again.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SOLDIER BOY

like noir, he hasn't been called 'ben/benjamin' in years. not by someone who cared. and when you shout 'benjamin!' after a stunt he pulled, whether it be flirting with a backup dancer or getting a bit too insulting with a coworker of yours, he does pull back. he realizes that he doesn't want to actually upset you, and he does promise to do better.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ HUGHIE

he's caught off guard, definitely. to him, his father is hugh, not him. he's always been hughie, and robin never called him hugh. so when you find out that he's taken temp v, despite butcher telling him not to, you're furious. that stuff could kill him! so when you storm up to him, poking his chest while saying 'hugh campbell jr.!', he doesn't know what to think.

[heartfullofleeches]

Femboy slasher Yandere and Darling is giving me brain rot SO BADLY RN. Okay so what if yandere is a playboy, luring in his victims using his oh so perfectly hot body. One day, he goes out late at night to a bar and finds Darling hooking up with some guy. He plans on killing the both of them, but loses them in the crowd. When he finds them again, Darling is gutting the fool who thought that they would ever touch scum like him, and yandere can't help but plan their wedding.

(This could kinda go with what I had in mind so I hope you don't mind me merging the two- Mentions of Murder/Death)

Femboy Slasher Yan + Femboy Murder-Streamer Slasher Darling-

"Looking for some fun?~ Two cuties seeking third partner to celebrate their anniversary with. Location and pictures provided after a few questions. See you soon ;)"

" "You're making this way too easy, love. People might get suspicious."

"Whaaat? No way - ugh, this blows. I wish we could go to our usual spot, but there's too much attention around that area after that last guy you picked...."

"He was being too sweet with you - he had to die...."

"All he did was give me a free drink - on my birthday!"

Yan's Darling is so weird. Instead of movies of grabbing a bite to eat, Darling has a different idea of what the perfect date night is. They're lucky they're so damn cute in red-

Derailing from your ask a little, Yan actually never murdered anyone before he met darling. Robbed them blind and maybe left a few in the hospital, but he never killed anyone far as he knew or cared. He used his looks to lure people in and take everything from them once they were under his spell. One day, he catches word of another cute face frequenting bars and other places Yan chose as his place of business. He couldn't have that. Eventually, Yan locates Darling on the same night Darling is luring some drunk guy behind some dumpsters. Yan heads over, hoping to catch some blackmail he could used to get Darling off his turf, but what he saw behind those dumpsters was not what he was especially to see."

"Hey gang~ Oops, looks like someone's finally feeling the effects of the medicine I put in his drink. We'll have to cut this stream a little short tonight."

Yan watches as the person behind the dumpsters slits the man's throat - blood mixing with white foam bubbling from his lips. The person looks almost identical to the boy Yan had seen early, but now he's wearing some weird make. It doesn't take long for darling to notice Yan. Instead of rushing him, Darling reaches into the man's pocket and pulls out his wallet - throwing it at the other male.

"That's what you wanted, right? I've seen you around here before, but I thought you'd be good bait to lead the police off my scent when this guy here was found... Wanna be friends?"

Yan should run. He should scream - yell for help, but the way Darling is so carefree and nonchalant about their crimes..... It's the hottest thing he's ever witnessed.

Darling tells Yan all about their life. Killing people has always been more of a hobby to them, but somehow they found a community of freaks who'd pay hundreds to see a cute boy like them crack someone's skull open. Better than being stuck as at crappy cashier job in their book. Their first manager would have been their first victim had he not passed away in an accident the same week Darling planned to butcher him.

Darling and Yan quickly come to the agreement that if Yan lures people away, Darling will do the deed. Yan develops more of a crush on darling seeing how much pleasure and glee comes from killing for rhem. Yan is approached by someone who's cautious of their new friend and warns Yan about them. Yan kills their acquaintance in a fit of rage after they express their plans on telling the police about Darling. Yan realizes he hasn't been entirely in it for the money and has developed feelings for Darlings. Feelings he'll protect in any way necessary. Darling is so proud of him. They give him their favorite knife as part of his promotion to becoming their partner. The two become a team who passionately kiss in between disemboweling the poor fool who was stupid enough to answer their online ad.

[mariacallous]

American Jewish food is most typically defined as pastrami sandwiches, chocolate babka, or bagels and lox. But I am here to argue that the greatest American Jewish food may actually be the humble hot dog. No dish better embodies the totality of the American Jewish experience.

What’s that you say? You didn’t know that hot dogs were a Jewish food? Well, that’s part of the story, too.

Sausages of many varieties have existed since antiquity. The closest relatives of the hot dog are the frankfurter and the wiener, both American terms based on their cities of origin (Frankfurt and Vienna respectively). So what differentiates a hot dog from other sausages? The story begins in 19th century New York, with two German-Jewish immigrants.

In 1870, Charles Feltman sold Frankfurt-style pork-and-beef sausages out of a pushcart in Coney Island, Brooklyn. Sausages not being the neatest street food, Feltman inserted them into soft buns. This innovative sausage/bun combo grew to be known as a hot dog (though Feltman called them Coney Island Red Hots).

Two years later, Isaac Gellis opened a kosher butcher shop on Manhattan’s Lower East Side. He soon began selling all-beef versions of German-style sausages. Beef hot dogs grew into an all-purpose replacement for pork products in kosher homes, leading to such classic dishes as Franks & Beans or split pea soup with hot dogs. Though unknown whether Gellis was the originator of this important shift, he certainly became one of the most successful purveyors.

Like American Jews, the hot dog was an immigrant itself that quickly changed and adapted to life in the U.S. As American Jewry further integrated into society, the hot dog followed.

In 1916, Polish-Jewish immigrant Nathan Handwerker opened a hotdog stand to compete with Charles Feltman, his former employer. Feltman’s had grown into a large sit-down restaurant, and Handwerker charged half the price by making his eatery a “grab joint.” (The term fast food hadn’t yet been invented, but it was arguably Handwerker who created that ultra-American culinary institution.)

Nathan’s Famous conquered the hot dog world. Like so many of his American Jewish contemporaries, Handwerker succeeded via entrepreneurship and hard work. His innovative marketing stunts included hiring people to eat his hot dogs while dressed as doctors, overcoming public fears about low-quality ingredients. While his all-beef dogs were not made with kosher meat, he called them “kosher-style,” thus underscoring that they contained no horse meat. Gross.

The “kosher-style” moniker was another American invention. American Jewish history, in part, is the story of a secular populace that embraced Jewish culture while rejecting traditional religious practices. All-beef hotdogs with Ashkenazi-style spicing, yet made from meat that was not traditionally slaughtered or “kosher”, sum up the new Judaism of Handwerker and his contemporaries.

Furthermore, American Jewry came of age alongside the industrial food industry. The hot dog also highlights the explosive growth of the kosher supervision industry (“industrial kashrut”).

Hebrew National began producing hot dogs in 1905. Their production methods met higher standards than were required by law, leading to their famous advertising slogan, “We Answer to a Higher Authority.”

While the majority of Americans may be surprised to hear this, Hebrew National’s self-supervised kosher-ness was not actually accepted by more stringent Orthodox and even Conservative Jews at the time. But non-Jews, believing kosher dogs were inherently better, became the company’s primary market. Eventually, Hebrew National received the more established Triangle-K kashrut supervision, convincing the Conservative Movement to accept their products. Most Orthodox Jews, however, still don’t accept these hot dogs as kosher.

But over the last quarter of the 20th century in America, the Orthodox community has gained prominence and their opinions, and food preferences, hold more weight in the food industry.

The community’s stricter kashrut demands and sizable purchasing power created a viable market, and glatt kosher hot dogs hit the scene. Abeles & Heymann, in business since 1954, was purchased in 1997 by current owner Seth Leavitt. Meeting the demands of the Orthodox community’s increasingly sophisticated palate, their hot dogs are gluten-free with no filler. Recently, they’ve begun producing a line of uncured sausages, and the first glatt hot dogs using collagen casing.

Glatt kosher dogs can now be purchased in nearly thirty different sports arenas and stadiums. American Jews have successfully integrated into their society more than any other in history. So too, the hot dog has transcended its humble New York Jewish immigrant roots to enter the pantheon of true American icons. So when you bite into your hot dog this summer, you are really getting a bite of American Jewish history, and the great American Jewish food.

[onismdaydream]

yuuji x older sister ‼️ he probably asks her to teach him how to kiss and stuff but then he gets turned on oops 😅 he just admires her so much and wants to make her feel good too :(

anon i am eating you i love this so much ...... i think yuji is so ... he gets attached very easily and he would definitely be like that with his siblings but tenfold. and he doesn't necessarily mean for it to be more than siblings, it just kinda happens where his feelings and love get so big that it becomes something else.

tw for incest (obvi..), mostly just kissing, not really anything smutty

his words come out rushed, fingers gripping his shorts until his knuckles turn white, but his amber eyes never leave your face.

"you want me to... kiss you?" you ask, slowly, almost as if you were unsure if you heard him right. but you know you did. you always knew what yuji needed or wanted. it started when you were kids, when his mouth was still learning how to form sounds properly and you were there to translate his butchered speech. you understood him like no one else.

it'd be scary if it was anyone but yuji.

"yeah." he nods, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

"why?"

"because... well, because i don't know how." his eyes drop for a moment, landing on the space between the two of you. you haven't moved away from him, your knees still practically touching, legs crossed as you sit on your bed. part of him expected you to push him away, to call him disgusting and a freak.

the other part, though—

"okay." you hum, agreeing to it like it's the easiest thing in the world. and maybe it is.

-

the moments your lips touch, yuji knows that he never wants to kiss anyone else. your mouth feels so soft and warm against his own and he finds himself chasing you when you begin to pull away.

"yuji," you smile, a light giggle making his heart skip a beat. "start slow."

"right. sorry." but his gaze fall to your lips, his tongue darting out to wet his own. the slightest taste of your chapstick lingers on him, a sweet strawberry flavor. something a bit too artificial to be real and now something a bit too you to be anything else.

you must take pity on him in that moment, must notice the sound of his heart thumping against his ribs, because you're kissing him again.

and then your hands are on him.

you lean forward, your palms resting on his thighs to steady yourself as you deepen the kiss. it's like electricity is flowing through yuji, his body overheating from excitement and bound to catch fire soon enough. but he wants more, needs more. it's not his fault that you're so addicting.

he tries to focus on the kiss, he really does, but your hands are so hot and burning through his shorts, and he can smell your shampoo and you're just so close to him that all he can think about is you. he feels guilty that his blood is rushing to his cock, knows that he should stop this before you notice but he can't. he can't pull away from you. yuji is always going to be drawn to you like the moon to the earth, tied to you from the moment he was born.

he doesn't follow when you break the kiss again. instead, he grabs onto your wrists, hoping you won't pull away. his eyes are half lidded, slightly unfocused, as he catches his breath.

"please."

it's all yuji needs to say for you to know what he's asking.

[saerins]

─── 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍-𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏

+ michael kaiser x f!reader | wc 2.8k | content: fluff, kaiser is persistent lol, making out, suggestive

notes: idk babes …. hopefully i didn’t butcher him <3 running back to sae after this 🫡 kaiser lovers, enjoy the one and only kaiser fic on my blog !! hehe

summary: kaiser has more reason to visit his regular cafe spot now. and he’s not gonna quit until he makes you his.

kaiser thinks you’re pretty.

call him stupid or superficial or whatever, but he can’t help it. he walks over to the far end of the counter where you’re working, staring intently at the latte art you’re doing.

it’s horrible. you’re probably new. figures, because he lives right above in the apartment complex and he’s never seen you here before. it’s a damn crime.

“i want a flat white cappuccino, hot, and could you make it with a heart on top?”

you furrow your brows and look up at him, his elbows propped on the stainless steel countertop, cheeky smirk filling his face. you continue wearing your straight expression as you go back to the task at hand.

“i’m not the waiter. you can ask mimiko, she’s the one at the register.”

kaiser doesn’t know her either. she must be new too.

you’re not that friendly. not that kaiser minds; he’ll break through your walls. that’s his personal challenge. he’ll do it.

“but i wanna talk to you.”

still unamused, you sigh and look at him, putting down your frother.

“get in line.”

“hey y/n!”

kaiser’s still optimistic after the failed fifth attempt. he managed to get your name from mimiko when you finally made him go away that first day he saw you. to which you groaned, but kaiser only grinned.

today’s no different. you frown when he walks in, immediately relegating to the back corner of the bar. too bad though, kaiser’s got charms, he’s made quick friends with everyone else here plus he has the famous soccer player privilege so your other colleagues love him.

that’s why he manages to get behind the counter in no time, saying he’ll help work the register. but really, he has no clue what to do and he’s just dilly-dallying around you.

“no, real talk, why do you hate me so much?” kaiser asks, not really bothered but more curious.

you don’t even take him seriously. you’ve looked at him probably about twice this entire day, and one time wasn’t even by choice; it was only because kaiser was blocking your path to the fridge and wouldn’t budge unless you said please. (you didn’t. you just glared at him until he moved.)

“i don’t like your hair.”

“hey, what’s wrong with my hair?”

you shrug. “just don’t like it.”

“okay but what about my tattoos, you like those right?”

kaiser moves to adjust his shirt to let you see but you walk off.

“not really.”

he sighs, you’re really hard to get close to, he’ll give you that. but he’s not one to give up.

before kaiser can say anything else, a bunch of girls from the counter call your name, and he sees you smile for the first time since he’s met you and he feels even more hooked on you.

the control you have over him is pretty insane, and it’s only because kaiser allows it.

you and your friends talk about normal stuff. they’re asking how work’s going and you say it’s fine—just that there’s an annoying guy that won’t quit talking to you.

“wow, fifth date and you’re already telling your friends about me?” kaiser interjects, putting an arm around your shoulder and greeting your friends. he’s positive you’re seething right now, but he continues on. “hey there, you can call me kaiser.”

as your friends blush and introduce themselves, all kaiser notices is how you don’t push him away like you always used to upon first contact. so hey, maybe he is making progress after all.

“so, barista y/n l/n, what’re your plans for today?”

it’s been two months since you started working in the cafe, and it’s been two months since kaiser’s relentless pursuit. he’s not backing down though.

“well, player michael kaiser, that’s none of your business,” you absentmindedly respond as you clean the glass in your hand with the cloth and put it back up on the shelf.

lucky for him, mimiko is on his side.

“our dear y/n has a blind date tonight,” she coos, getting a sigh out of you and winking at kaiser.

“first of all, i’m not a player,” kaiser makes sure to tell you, hurriedly making his way behind the counter as if he owns the place. “second of all, who’s the guy?”

you press your lips into a firm line and repeat yourself, “none of your business, kaiser.”

“but it is.”

“why the hell would it be?”

kaiser pouts. “because i like you.”

it takes you a while to respond, swallowing the lump in your throat. “i’ve been nothing but mean to you, you sure you’re not just a masochist?”

that’s a blatant lie, kaiser knows. he knows you’re not actually mean, you just have a sharp tongue.

kaiser notices how you notice him—placing three sugars in his coffee and doing it for him whenever you make it. adding to that; you personally make all of kaiser’s drinks instead of handing it to the other barista, and you make little hearts on top. (at first he thought you might’ve really wanted to poison him, but hey, he’s alive so probably not.) he knows you give someone else the horrible latte art and give him the nicer one you do. he knows how you’ve never actually been mean to him aside from saying you hated his hair and tattoos. (but then he also caught you staring at the rose that one time so maybe you don’t.)

“nope, pretty sure i like you,” kaiser affirms, because in the sunlight he thinks your invisible halo is shining and he’d be a lot more lovestruck now if half of him wasn’t upset that you’re going to go on a blind date when he can’t even score alone time with you.

“what’s his name?” he asks you again, when you don’t respond to him.

it’s about a half hour till closing, he’ll have the whole time to pitch himself to you, maybe. score a date or something. hell, maybe he’ll even convince you not to go on the—

“y/n, right?”

kaiser whips his head to the side to see your supposed date already here.

“i’m yukimiya kenyu,” he’s shaking your hand and you’re actually smiling. at a guy. do you smile at anyone as long as they’re not kaiser? “ready to go?”

“she has another half hour to go, idiot,” kaiser lets slip, catching a warning glare from you.

yukimiya grins sheepishly at the animosity, but you’re quick to defuse the tension. “actually i get off a half hour early today so i’m good to go,” you tell yukimiya, ignoring kaiser behind you. “just let me get my bag and we can go, okay?”

while you’re in the back clocking out, kaiser glares at your date, who’s leaning against the counter and scrolling through his socials. he’s clean, neat, looks like he could be a model. is that your type? kaiser can do that too, does he need to show you all the endorsement deals he’s done?

you leave without saying goodbye, laser focused on yukimiya and whatever the fuck he’s saying and kaiser has never felt more irritated.

“so, how’s your date with pretty boy?”

that’s mimiko asking, because kaiser is still a little pouty even a week later.

“it was fine, we’re into a lot of the same stuff apparently.”

kaiser’s still hovering around you though, because it’s off-season and he’s going to spend every moment he can chasing you. you’re not making it easy though. you’re still giving him the cold shoulder sometimes.

“when’s the next date?”

kaiser is too focused on the thin air he’s staring into to notice you briefly throwing him a quick glance.

“don’t know if there is one, honestly.”

that manages to get kaiser’s attention, his mood immediately perking up and eyes now fully focused on you.

“why not? thought you guys had a lot in common or whatever,” kaiser half-mocks, still a little salty. (which is a little funny to you, considering what kind of person he is in the soccer world.)

you roll your eyes and sigh, moving to keep all the cutleries that you’ve just shined. “don’t know,” you tell them, “maybe because when i was on the date i kept thinking of this annoying guy i know.”

kaiser freezes up. did you really just say that? he’s going to take a shot and just assume he’s the only annoying guy you know. no one should take that position from him.

from the side, mimiko slowly shuffles away, leaving the two of you alone by the coffee machine.

“so… does that mean you’re giving annoying guy a shot?” kaiser’s grinning from ear to ear now, and it’s probably infectious because you’re trying to suppress a grin too.

“maybe, but if he screws it up i’m done with him.”

you’re still trying to act fierce, but it’s too late because kaiser can see through it now. you’re really just a softie inside, aren’t you?

“then are you free this weekend?”

you look at him for the first time with no disinterest in your eyes, like you’re really looking at him now. “what for?”

kaiser smirks. “annoying guy is gonna take you out for the best first date of your life.”

kaiser doesn’t know if he succeeded. but hey, it’s been three hours since the date started and you haven’t run away yet so he must be doing okay.

he takes you to the amusement park first, because one time when you were idly chattering away with mimiko he heard you saying you haven’t been to one in ages. so here you are, on the third rollercoaster ride and you’re having so much fun kaiser’s proud of himself.

turns out you’re surprisingly nice to be around when you’re not being such a grouch. kaiser’s only liking you even more now. likes you even when you’re so excited to eat the corn dog that you get mustard on your face—that only means he gets to wipe it off. likes you also when you bat your pretty eyelashes at him so he’d win you that bunny toy you like in the claw machine.

“so, how am i doing?” kaiser asks when he escorts you to his car—next stop is dinner.

you hum, taking a bite of the big unicorn candy floss in your hand. “a solid six.”

kaiser clicks his tongue in faux annoyance, “it’ll be an eleven by the end of tonight.”

you laugh again and kaiser thinks all this work is worth it. he opens the car door for you, makes sure the aircon isn’t too cold that you freeze, lets you play your music in his car.

you’re kind of the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, but then again he might be biased. but who cares? you’re also kind of one of the most annoying, but you think the same of him. and you’re not scared of jumping into anything, he can tell because when he pulls up in a parking lot outside of the restaurant, he tells you he wants to kiss you kinda.

your answer?

kaiser never really expected you to agree. but you do; because you climb over to the driver’s seat and settle on his lap, your lips inches away and a smirk forming on your face when you see he’s taken off guard.

“want me to kiss you, kaiser?” you’re teasing him, and he thinks you’ve never looked hotter. he can feel your breath against his lips and fuck your lips are so so close and he wants to taste you so so bad.

but then he remembers who he is and straightens up, cursing himself for letting himself be so flustered into submission. “only if the lady wants it.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes and moving to open his side of the door, “well, if you don’t wanna—”

kaiser closes the door as soon as it opens and turns you to face him, “fuck, just kiss me already.”

the two of you hold onto each other, his hands around your waist and entangled in your hair, his lips gentle and rough on yours both at the same time. you taste sweet, must be all that candy floss you ate. he wants to taste more of you. the little sounds you make when you’re almost out of breath? music to his fucking ears. he’s so whipped for you and he hates you for it. but he also loves you for being like this, for being you.

you’re the first to pull away, smirking and biting your lower lip as you keep your index finger on his lips, separating him from you. “how was that, kaiser?” he doesn’t think you can sound more seductive if you tried.

“y/n l/n, you drive me insane.”

kaiser can’t even focus on dinner after that.

fourth date in and kaiser’s fucking pathetic.

really, he can’t even remember ever being this pathetic because you’ve got him wrapped around your cute little pinky finger.

“what’re you staring at, perv?” you ask, catching him staring as you’re idly flipping through the channels.

it’s a lazy sunday in, you and kaiser are at his apartment, on his bed, watching movies. kaiser sighs because ness walked in on the both of you earlier and even though he’s more than happy to show you off, he’s not looking forward to the interrogation that will unfold.

“staring at your stupid pretty face,” kaiser says, and you avert your gaze, pouting, which kaiser has found out two days ago is just to subvert from your embarrassment.

“hey, when’re you leaving for the champions league again?”

“next week, why?”

you deadpan at him, “what, not gonna invite me to something?”

kaiser stares at you for a minute, dumbfounded, before laughing. that must be the first time ever that you’re asking him for something. up until now, it’s always been him.

“you know what, forget i asked,” you grumble, pouting even more and kaiser has to peck a kiss on your lips from how adorable he thinks you’re being.

“fuck, you’re cute,” he thinks out loud, and you look away.

it’s not like the both of you are together, he thinks, as his finger moves up and down your arms, watching as the goosebumps appear and disappear. but kaiser whatever this situation is, kaiser wants it. he wants this and more and he’s so far gone in you and he doesn’t mind.

“you better be in the front row, okay?” kaiser tells you that night, resuming that conversation. you move to straddle him instead and relish in how he’s dragging his eyes all over your body.

“yes, sir.”

fuck, you really do drive him fucking insane.

kaiser finds it sexy, how you’re in the front row at one of his matches, how you’re wearing a jersey with his name and number on it, how he knows you’re cheering for him and him only.

he invites you to all of his games, puts you up in his hotel, sneaks you around so you won’t be under the public eye. it’s thrilling, and you’re still the same you, beautiful, gorgeous, kind.

you’re still not together, but now he’s sure where he’s headed with you. after six months of whatever this is, he thinks you’d kill him if you weren’t sure. and kaiser thinks you’re just waiting for him, so he’s going to make it memorable.

so, so memorable.

his team makes it to the finals, and with noel noa leading everyone, it’s no surprise they win. the bleachers go wild, everyone is chanting the club cheer, fanning their merch wildly.

kaiser is being pounced on by ness and his other teammates, so is noel. but kaiser pushes through it, weaves out of it, and he’s headed straight to you.

in front of everyone in the stadium, in front of international television, kaiser is running across the field and making his way to you.

kaiser is fast and persistent and so pathetic because he’s so into you and all he knows is he wants you around. for a long time, and forever, if he dare say. so he throws his legs over the railing and kisses you without hesitation, the entire crowd going wild.

he’s kissing you, slow and smiling against your lips and you’re holding onto his arms and fuck you’re so perfect.

“well,” you say when kaiser finally pulls away, his hand still on the back of your neck, “that’s one way to make things public.”

kaiser chuckles, pressing a kiss on your forehead. “now the whole world knows you’re mine,” he says, aware that everyone on his team is probably passing money around because he’s sure they bet on when he’d finally make you his girlfriend.

“you’re crazy, michael kaiser.”

yeah, but you love him, don’t you?

he loves you too, by the way.

kaiser pulls away and winks at you right before he gets ready to get back to his team.

“guess i’ll have to top this when i ask you to marry me, huh?”

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The FTC has Big Pharma’s number

On November 27, I'm appearing at the Toronto Metro Reference Library with Facebook whistleblower Frances Haugen.

On November 29, I'm at NYC's Strand Books with my novel The Lost Cause, a solarpunk tale of hope and danger that Rebecca Solnit called "completely delightful."

The most consistent bright spot in the dark swirl of US politics is the competence of the Biden Administration's progressive enforcers: people like Rohit Chopra, Jonathan Kanter and Lina Khan, who keep demonstrating just how far a good administrator can go. Anyone can have a vision, but knowing how to execute is the difference between hot air and real change:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/23/getting-stuff-done/#praxis

Take a minute to contrast Biden's administrators with Trump's: Trump's administrators had an ideological vision just as surely as Biden's do, and Trump himself had a much more pronounced and explicit ideology than Biden, whose governance style is much more about balancing the Democratic Party's blocs than bringing about a specific set of policies:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/06/personnel-are-policy/#janice-eberly

But whatever clarity of vision the Trump administration brought to DC was completely undermined by its incompetence (thankfully!). Apart from one gigantic tax break, Trump couldn't get stuff done. He couldn't deliver, because he'd lose his temper or speak out of turn:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/14/when-youve-lost-the-fedsoc/#anti-buster-buster

And his administrators followed his lead. Scott Pruitt was appointed to run the EPA after a career spent suing the agency. It could have been the realization of his life's dream to dismantle environmental law in America and open the floodgates for unlimited, wildly profitable corporate pollution and pillaging. But the dream died because he kept getting embroiled in absurd scandals – like the time he sent his staffers out to drive around all night looking for a good deal on a used mattress:

https://www.nbcnews.com/politics/politics-news/epa-s-pruitt-told-aide-obtain-old-mattress-trump-hotel-n879836

Or his insistence on installing a CIA-style "Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility" (SCIF) so he could play super-spy while reading memos:

https://www.cnn.com/2018/04/26/politics/epa-administrator-scott-pruitt-sound-proof-booth-scif/index.html

Or the time he sent his security detail to the Ritz-Carlton to demand that they supply him lots of little bottles of his favorite hand-cream:

https://www.vox.com/2018/6/7/17439044/scott-pruitt-ritz-carlton-moisturizing-lotion

There were other examples in the Trump administration, but Priutt is such a good case-study. He's like a guy who spent his whole life training to compete in the Olympics, and finally got a shot, only to be disqualified for ordering too much room-service in the Olympic Village. Priutt was wildly ambitious, but he was profoundly undisciplined – and wildly incompetent.

Compare that with Biden's progressive enforcers and agency heads, who showed up on the first day of work with an encyclopedic knowledge of their administrative powers, and detailed plans for using them to transform the lives of the American people for the better:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/18/administrative-competence/#i-know-stuff

The Biden administration's competence translates into action, getting stuff done. Maybe that shouldn't surprise us, given the difference between the stories that reactionaries and progressives tell about where change comes from.

In reactionary science fiction, we enter the realm of the "Competent Man" story. Think of a Heinlein hero, who is "able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyse a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly."

In Competent Man stories, a unitary hero steps into the breach and solves the problem – if not single-handedly, then as the leader of others, whose lesser competence is a base metal that the Competent Man hammers into a tempered blade:

https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Creator/RobertAHeinlein

Contrast this with a progressive tale, like, say, Kim Stanley Robinson's Ministry For the Future, where the Competent Man is replaced by the Competent Administration, in which people of goodwill and technical competence figure out how to join forces to create population-scale architectures of participation that allow every person to contribute their skills and perspective:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/03/ministry-for-the-future/#ksr

The right's whole ideology insists that the world can only be saved by Competent Men. As Corey Robin writes in The Reactionary Mind, the unifying factor that binds together conservative factions from monarchists to racists to Christian Dominionists is the belief that a few of us are born to rule, and the rest to be ruled over:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/05/25/mafia-logic/#mafia-logic

The Reaganite insistence that governments are, by their very nature, incompetent and malign ("The nine most terrifying words in the English language are, 'I’m from the government, and I’m here to help'"), means that conservatives deny the possibility of a Competent Administration.

When conservatives take office and proceed to bungle the most basic elements of administration, they're fulfilling their own campaign narrative, which starts with "We must dismantle the government because it is bad at everything." Conservatives who govern badly prove their own point, which explains a lot about the UK Tory Party's long run of governmental failure and electoral success:

https://apnews.com/article/uk-suella-braverman-fired-cabinet-shuffle-7ea6c89306a427cc70fba75bc386be79

There's a small mercy in the fact that so many of the most ideologically odious and extreme conservative governments are so technically incompetent in governing, and thus accomplish so little of their agendas.

But the inverse – the incredible competence of the best progressive administrators – is nothing short of a delight to witness. Here's the latest example to cross my path: the FTC has intervened in a lawsuit over generic insulin pricing, on an issue that is incredibly technically specific and also fantastically important:

https://www.fiercepharma.com/pharma/ftc-blasts-pharmas-abuse-fda-patent-system-sanofi-mylans-insulin-monopoly-lawsuit

The underlying case is before the FDA, and it concerns the dirty tricks that pharma giant Sanofi used to keep Mylan from making a generic version of Mylan's Lantus insulin after its patent expired.

There's an explicit bargain in patents: inventors can enlist the government to punish their rivals for copying their ideas, but in exchange, the government demands that the inventor has to describe how the invention works in a detailed patent filing, and when the patent expires, 20 years later, rivals can use the patent application as instructions for freely copying and selling the invention. In other words: you get 20 years of exclusive rights in return for facilitating your competitors' copying and selling your invention when the 20 years are up.

Pharma doesn't like this, naturally: not content with 20 years of exclusivity, they want the government to step in and punish their competitors forever. In service to that end, pharma companies have perfected a process called evergreening, where they dribble out ancillary patents after their initial filing, covering minor reformulations, delivery systems, or new uses.

Evergreening got a moment in the public eye earlier this year, with John Green's viral campaign to shame Johnson & Johnson out of using evergreening to restrict poor countries' access to TB medication:

https://armandalegshow.com/episode/john-green-part-1/

The story of pharma is that it commands gigantic profits, but it invests those profits into medicines that save our lives. The reality is that most of the key underlying pharma research is publicly funded (by Competent Administrators who apportion funding to promising scientific inquiry). Pharma companies' most inventive genius is devoted to inventing new evergreening tactics:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/19/solid-tumors/#t-cell-receptors

That's where the FTC comes in, in this Sanofi-Mylan case. To facilitate the production of generic, off-patent drugs, the FDA maintains a database called the "Orange Book," where pharma companies are asked to enumerate all the ancillary patents associated with a product whose patent is expiring. That way, generics manufacturers who make their own version of these public domain drugs and therapeutics don't accidentally stumble over one of those later patents – say, by replicating a delivery system or special coating that is still in patent.

This is where the endless, satanic inventiveness of the pharma sector comes in. You see, US law provides for triple damages for "willful patent infringement." If you are a generics manufacturer eyeing up a drug whose patent is about to expire and you are notified that some other patents might be implicated in your plans, you must ensure that you don't accidentally infringe one of those patents, or face business-destroying statutory damages.

So pharma companies stuff the Orange Book full of irrelevant patent claims they say may be implicated in a generic manufacture program. Each of these claims has to be carefully evaluated, both by a scientific team and a legal team, because patents are deliberately obfuscated in the hopes of tricking an inattentive patent examiner into granting patents for unpatentable "inventions":

https://blueironip.com/patents-that-hide-the-ball/

What's more, when a pharma giant notifies the FDA that it has ancillary patents that are relevant to the Orange Book, this triggers a 30-month delay before a generic can be marketed – adding 2.5 years to the 20 year patent term. That delay is sometimes enough to cause a manufacturer to abandon plans to market a generic drug – so the delay isn't 2.5 years, it's infinite.

This is a highly technical, highly consequential form of evergreening. It's obscure as hell, and requires a deep understanding of patent obfuscation, ancillary patent filings, generic pharma industry practice, and the FDA's administrative procedures.

Sanofi's Orange Book entry for Lantus insulin listed 50 related patent claims. Of these, 48 were invalidated through "inter partes" review (basically the Patent Office decided they shouldn't have allowed these claims to be included on a patent). Neither of the remaining two claims were found to be relevant to the manufacture of generic Lantus.

This is where the FTC's filing comes in: their amicus brief doesn't take a position whether Sanofi's Orange Book entries were fraudulent, but they do ask the FDA to intervene to prevent Orange Book stuffing because "improper listings can cause significant harm to competition and consumers."

This is the kind of boring, technical, important stuff that excellent administrators can do. The FTC's brief is notice to the FDA that it should amend its procedures to ban (and punish) Orange Book abuse. That will make it possible for you, a person who needs medicine, to get that medicine more cheaply and quickly. In America's pay-for-use privatized healthcare hellscape, this could be a life-or-death matter.

There's plenty of things the Biden administration is getting very, very badly wrong, but we shouldn't lose sight of how its progressive wing is making real, lasting change for the better. Competent Administrations are the true peoples' champions. They beat Competent Men every time.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/23/everorangeing/#taste-the-rainbow

[kaleldobrev]

Hard to Believe

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ben tells you something that you weren’t quite expecting

Word Count: 581

Warnings: Cursing (4x), Ben being pissed about this generation of youth, Cute(?)!Ben

Authors Note: If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

As you were sitting on the couch attempting to read as Soldier Boy had the tv just loud enough for you not to be able to concentrate, you couldn’t help but notice out of your peripheral that he was staring at you. It wasn’t a creepy stare, more of like an enamored stare and you honestly couldn’t place why. The Supe had barely said two words to you since you, Hughie, and Butcher brought him back after the incident at Crimson Countess’. Finally semi-annoyed (or maybe it was more curiosity), you shut the book and looked over at him, making eye contact with him briefly before he looked away at the tv in front of him. “Can I help you?” You asked, and he turned to you, taking a sip from the cup he had in his hands.

“No,” he answered all too quickly, and semi-annoyed sounding. “Can I help you?”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re the one that won’t stop staring at me,” you said.

“I’m not staring at you. I have no reason to stare at you,” he said, his tone a little harsh, pissed that you had actually caught him despite it being blatantly obvious.

“If you say so,” you replied, re-opening your book. As soon as you had opened it, the staring started again. “You’re staring,” you said, not looking up from your book.

“How can you even tell?” He asked.

“Something called peripheral vision,” you said, turning the page. “So why are you staring?”

“I’m n—” he began, but that’s when you looked at him, eyebrow raised, not believing a word he was saying. “Fine. I was. Happy?”

“Just curious mostly as to why you won’t stop staring at me,” you stated. “No one’s ever stared at me as long as you have before.” It’s interesting, you wanted to add.

He scoffed. “Hard to believe.”

“And why’s that?” You asked, re-closing your book yet again.

“Cause you’re hot,” he said, no hint of humor in his voice. Shit he was serious, you thought. That’s when he looked over at you, looking dumbfounded at what he had just said to you. “What?”

“You just said I was…hot,” your voice had a hint of hesitation, and it was his turn to raise a brow.

“And?” He asked. “Does that offend you?” Fucking people these days, can’t pay anyone a fucking compliment, he thought.

“No…just…surprised really,” you said. And you were in fact legitimately surprised by Soldier Boy’s comment, as no one had even told you that you were hot before, not even previous significant others.

“Why?” He asked, taking another sip from his cup.

“No one’s…ever called me…hot…before,” you admitted.

“Again, hard to believe,” he said, getting up from his current spot. “No one? No one’s ever called you fucking hot before?” You shook your head. “Not even like…I don’t know….boyfriends?” You shook your head again.

“You’re the first one,” you said, your voice getting lower, slightly embarrassed. You felt your cheeks start to get pink.

He grinned. “Well lucky me.” As he started to walk away, he turned around to face you again. “Expect me calling you hot more. And…other things,” he winked. You wondered what other things he would start calling you now, and you hoped, that when he did in fact call you these things, it would be just when you and him were in the room and not in front of your friends. But knowing him, he’d do it in front of them.

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