#we are just all at fuckin capacity

[blueskiesagain]

Lmao this shit is fuckin wild honestly like can everything just PLEASE give me a goddamn break

[oglegoggle]

I would very much like to have my neck kissed 😭

[paper-mario-wiki]

Regardless of whether or not its "legal" to criticize Israel and Zionism doesn't fuckin matter. With all of the massive organization in protests, strikes, and unions we've seen in the past year, we are experiencing unprecedented levels of "they cannot take us all" that we haven't seen in the public consciousness in decades.

They don't have enough government employees to monitor everyone.

They don't have enough police to arrest everyone.

They don't have enough prisons to lock up everyone.

They don't have the capacity for our continued anger, which is why the dickheads in powdered wigs are beginning to bark louder, because this kind of thing ramps up exponentially and they can see it beginning.

Don't listen to them, they are our enemies. All of them, not just the GOP. The results on the recent votes are reason enough to dissolve trust in the DNC for the rest of my life. The system will not create its own revolution. I hope you'll not forget this either.

[snekdood]

Its wild to me that theres probably people out there that think im someone who needs to be educated on misogyny n shit bc of whatever my ex says, as if "snake" the character wasnt intentionally a joke character- like mj picks on him ALL THE TIME for his dumb misogynistic beliefs n shit, and its literally always fucking been that way, lol

[lovingbarbariancomputer]

You’ve been trained well bud. The men in power have made absolutely sure to keep your dick hard, your belly full, and your head empty. By the looks of your thick American belly and your rock hard dick, they did a fuckin good job. If they gave you a collar, we both know you’d put it on bro.

It just feels too fuckin good to deny. You know you’re meant to be a good fatboy. You know the way you fill out those clothes makes you feel like a fuckin man. Showin off your fat belly, helping to set the example for others. That dick of yours knows what it wants. Your dick is begging you to eat big bro. What are you gonna do, say no? You’re a domesticated fatboy now. And all you can do about it is jerk off like a good boy. You’re past the point of no return. It feels so fuckin good it’s almost supernatural. Writhing around, moaning, full beyond capacity. Dripping with precum with no thoughts in your head. You’re a fuckin man bro

With every pound your dick seems to get shorter. That’s just fine with you though. you’re a fatboy now. Barely even need to touch your dick anymore. Just existing as a domestic fatboy is enough to cum your pants. Fuck you’re gonna get so fuckin fat bro. I mean just look at yourself. Just reading this has you so fuckin hot and bothered.

Makin your country proud bro. Setting the example of American masculinity. Eat up fatboy

[willowser]

you had only to look at me—

part one.

bakugou x f!reader

wc: 7.4k+

tags: nsfw (18+), childhood best friend bakugou, oral (f!receiving), m!masturbation, lots of "first time" talk, more angst, more virgin bakugou.

even before i was touched, i belonged to you; you had only to look at me. — the burning heart, louise glück.

this is a repost.

you and bakugou avoid each other just like you did in middle school, only it's a little too easy this time around.

he's terrible at texting back in general, and because you're not initiating any conversations on your own — or sending funny memes or bringing up all might in some capacity — the radio silence draws ever on and on.

the closest you come to interacting with him is getting a snapchat from his mom, his figure in the background at their kitchen table. all you can see is the floof of his hair and the outline of his shoulders, but you're so bothered by the fact that he's home and didn't tell you that you don't even respond.

it officiates things in a bad way; he's really, actually not speaking to you.

and it's — fucking annoying.

at least in the past the distance was mutually and wordlessly agreed upon; you didn't talk because you were busy or didn't have time or anything new to say, but whenever he's come home — because he so rarely does — bakugou has always made his usual, god-honest attempt to irritate you.

and he still is, but this time he's doing it all wrong.

you go through the five stages of grief rather quickly, jumping from denial to anger overnight. several times, you type out something to text him, each message different than the last:

i know you were at your mom's jackass ☠️

it's really not a big deal and i think we should just forget about it, if that's what you wanna do ?

if i crossed some kind of boundary with you then i'm sorry and i won't say that again so you better call me before i put your baby pictures on the internet. i'm serious.

you're my best friend and i don't think it's weird that it happened. if you're being dumb because you're embarrassed, then don't be because i thought it was really hot

unsurprisingly, you don't send any of these and instead just stew in your own aggravation. lunch with him after the whole thing had been just as empty and awkward, and you think he chose the place near your apartment just so you could walk home and he didn't have to spend another second with you.

three months go by, which isn't long compared to other stints you've spent not talking to one another, but this one drags. like a lot. the only good that comes from it is that you graduate from anger to acceptance, finalizing a future without him in it.

except for the few times he invades your brain like a little parasite, red-faced and shuddering, gripping you like a lifeline, and then your stomach flips so hard that you feel sick and it takes genuine effort to check out of that daydream and back into a bakugou-less reality.

and then he shows up at your apartment, uninvited.

his mom hosts a sunday dinner that you don't go to, for several potential reasons. one would be that you'll have to see bakugou and pretend like nothing's happened even though you're still a little peeved; two is that you'll both ignore each other, and that'll reverse all your progress because he's been ignoring you already.

three is that he might not show up, and then you'll have to pretend that it doesn't bother you all night long.

none of that sounds better than watching trash television and falling asleep on your couch, so you tell mitsuki that you're very sick and very sorry, and that you'll make it up to her later.

because of this, the first thing bakugou says to you after you swing the front door open is, "you're supposed to be fuckin' dead."

suffice to say, you're surprised to see him; still outfitted in his hero costume, mask shoved up his forehead so that his hair is wilder than usual. there's kohl smudged around his eyes, messy, and they look brighter and harsher because of it.

there's also a family-mart plastic bag in his right hand.

"what?"

he just grunts, eyes snapping over your figure, dressed down in a too-large sweater and athletic shorts meant for running even though you've never done so in them.

in his hands — still gloved — the plastic crinkles obnoxiously as he holds it out. "old hag told me to bring this to you."

a can of low sodium soup, two apples, gatorade, and something over-the-counter for nausea. there's something else at the very bottom that you don't get the chance to inspect before he interrupts with his big, fat mouth.

"y'look fine to me, so why the hell didn't you go?"

you frown at him and — don't know what to say. clearly, it seems he's going the pretend-it-never-happened route, which is infuriating because he could just as well have done that months ago. even still, he won't hardly meet your gaze, staring for only a moment before rolling his eyes and huffing, sticking them anywhere else. if you peek close, real close, you'd say his ears are a little red, but maybe you're just looking for — something.

you shrug. "didn't feel like it."

he shakes his head like that's the stupidest thing he's ever heard, eyebrow arched. "why the hell not?"

"because, bakugou, i just didn't feel like going, i don't know what else to tell you." you huff, shrugging again when he doesn't say anything. "thanks for the stuff. is that it?"

his lips twist as he thinks, giving you another once-over before sighing. under his tank-top, you watch how his chest expands, the grimace that ripples over his face as he reaches a hand to lightly feel at his right side. "need your help with somethin'."

now you're just being petulant; you snort, raising your eyebrows as his eyes narrow at the sound. "me? are you joking? you need my help with—"

he groans loud enough to drown you out. "y'gonna let me in or y'just gonna run your mouth?" and so you step aside to wave him in wordlessly.

the backpack on his shoulder dumps to the ground by the door and he strolls into the kitchen like he owns the place, despite the fact that he's never been here before. you've lived in the unit for a year, but meetups are so infrequent and showing it off to him was never considered — until now; watching him shuffle through the bag on the counter, your nerves spike at the reality check.

alone together, again. in your apartment. well after dark.

that image of him is so — invasive, sweeping in at the worst times: between your legs, face as red as his eyes, the little moan he kept trying to swallow. how embarrassed he seemed when you asked if he felt good, if you felt good, and the fact that he still admitted it despite everything.

your entire body blazes like a flame to gasoline, and you try to focus on what else he's taking out of the bag, oblivious.

does he think about it at all? the way you have? at the root of the situation, that's what has been most bothersome: is he grossed out? simply embarrassed? does he feel taken advantage of? did he enjoy it and just doesn't know how to say it? the not knowing is driving you insane.

"i got—" bakugou awkwardly angles his body, gently touching at his side again. in his hands is a simple pack of first-aid supplies, like a wound wash and bandages and medical tape. "need you to change this shit for me."

"oh?" is all you can manage to say, still distracted, and whatever is obvious in your voice has his eyes snapping to you from across the kitchen, adam's apple bobbing. you clear your throat, struggling for normalcy. "the hell did you do?"

he's — going to take his shirt off. clearly, by the way he stretches out his shoulders and then slowly reaches behind himself to grab the material by the back, carefully pulling it up over his head with a low, stinging hiss.

bakugou's always been a lean kid — guy — but pulled so taut like that, after years of working out muscles you didn't even know he had, he looks — stupidly shredded, and the slow reveal of his tight stomach is not helping you to focus.

you just never realized how hot it was, because you never looked at him like that. until recently.

his mask comes off with his shirt and he tosses both onto the kitchen counter — again, as if he pays the bills here — and his hair is a mess and he usually doesn't care, but he runs a hand through it several times before finally looking back at you, eyes outlined in black.

"y'gonna help me or...?" he shrugs, trying to appear impassive — but it's too obvious; something's shifted, for the both of you.

you don't trust your voice anymore, so you just shuffle over to him, frowning at the dirty, worn bandage that's already unsticking from his skin. with his teeth, he pulls off his gloves and it's a wonder why he even wears them, really, because his hands are filthy underneath, covered in soot and black-stained grease.

standing like he is, arm slightly raised, you can see all his sweat, muscles shifting under his skin as he breathes, and his hairy armpit is staring you in the face and you don't know when he stopped being 12 and started being 20 and when he became such a man. it's not fair, that he should suddenly be so — attractive.

"you're disgusting," you tell him — and mean it — and it's met with such hot and irritated surprise that you have to keep talking before he explodes. "you should probably take a shower before putting on a new bandage."

it's road-rash up his right side, still shiny and wet and blood red. still raw. just looking at it is enough to make you cringe.

bakugou huffs, exasperated. "okay, gimme a towel then."

"i didn't mean take a shower here!" you squawk, taking a step back as if to further yourself from the suggestion.

detonation imminent; bakugou curls his hands into fists and the same muffled warning you've been getting your whole life crackles. "okay," he says, voice thin and razor sharp. "you're coming back to mine then?"

your whole life flashes before your eyes — or at least the few minutes it took for him to lose his shit between your legs. "what? no, why would i?"

"i need your help with this, dip-shit!"

"you're saying there's no one else that can—"

"if you want me to fuck off, just say so!"

things go silent, startlingly so. totally still, except for the rising flush across his face, one that you used to read as annoyance but are now translating into something else you never could have expected from him: embarrassment. it's starting to give you whiplash, how much you're discovering despite knowing him all your life.

"closet is at the end of hall," you say in surrender. "bathroom will be on your left."

bakugou mutters a quiet, angry little "jesus" before stalking back to the front door to get his bag, and then he's disappearing into the dark of your apartment.

you slump down on your couch and — struggle. watching the tv and absorbing nothing; it's a rerun anyway. the sudden, overwhelming urge to cry washes over you as the shower spray sounds in the background, followed by a low-timbered swear and the clatter of several bottles against the tub.

it's easy to butt heads with bakugou. you don't think there is any other way to interact with him, really, because he's so argumentative and that used to be okay, but now things are — off. you don't know what he's doing, what he wants, why he's here and in your shower when he could be at home or getting patched up at his agency. all the conclusions you can come to are frightening, a little, and they're hard to fathom; is he — does he want more?

is this just because he's a guy that got some action and is looking for a second round, or is this because it's you?

this stupid situation has only added an unnecessary amount of drama to your life, and you think maybe the pretend-it-never-happened route is the smartest path, even if you can't stop thinking about him and the strength coiled in his biceps, in his shoulders, and how tall he's become and — when did he lose most of the baby fat in his face, and when did he get such a sharp jawline?

how much is he working out, to get his body like that? he used to be a skinny, scrappy little thing and now — he can probably lift a truck over his head. must run all the time, though he's always been active, and you've never looked before, but you wonder how nice his ass is.

what he looks like under the shower, soapy and wet.

furiously, you blink out of your daydream, feeling like a foreign body in your own skin; if someone would have told you only a handful of months ago that you'd be having weird, sensual thoughts about your best friend, you would have laughed so hard you'd cried. or puked.

but if anyone else stands in that picture with him, your heart squeezes painfully. traitorously. already, you've shared so many memories with him; the start of elementary school, learning how to swim, giving each other equally bruised faces, staying up all night to study for important exams, tackling middle school graduation side-by-side, him making himself at home in your first apartment, just as you had done in his.

the devil on your shoulder asks: what's a few more firsts?

it seems like the shower stops in record time, but when you hone back in on the tv, the episode has changed and new drama is settling in. distantly, the rattle of the doorknob is more aggressive than it needs to be and when the echo of a swung-open door trails down the hallway, your heart suspends in your throat. never have you had to think this much just to be around him, and it's bothersome.

clean and relaxed, he's — softer; you spare a quick glance at him when he comes to stand beside the couch, distracted by the show on screen, and his hair is damp, starting to stick out again the more it dries. his muscles aren't made of marble anymore; still there and rippling, but he breathes calmly and his skin is baby smooth, tender. you eye his tummy and the line of fine hair running down into the waistband of his sweats, and do your best to ignore the sudden desire to kiss right above his belly-button.

"since when are they talking again?"

just as he looks at you, your gaze shoots back to the screen, eyes narrowing as you try to rapidly remember what's happening in the day-to-day for stay-at-home, pro-hero wives.

"uh," you blink, distracted — and he notices, "what do you mean? they've been hanging out, like, all season."

bakugou watches the tv in silence, occasionally glancing down to the bandage in his hands as he carefully spreads it out, as he dampens the towel with the antiseptic and dabs at his wounds. 

"even after she hit on whatshername's husband?"

"yeah, that was a misunderstanding," you frown at him but he doesn't see it. "remember when they went to that dinner party and all hell broke loose because—"

his flat look serves for a rude interruption. "they go to a lot of fuckin' dinner parties."

"i know, but," you scoff, annoyed, "have you even watched this season?"

bakugou scoffs, mocking and over-dramatic, "yeah, as if i've got all day to sit on my ass and watch your stupid girly—"

"you're watching it right now."

"because you've got it on!" he huffs when you sink into the couch, resolutely trying to ignore him. “start it over then, if you’re gonna cry about it.”

you gape up at him, going as far as to pause the show so that maybe he’ll acknowledge you and all your annoyance; he doesn’t. “start it over? this is, like, episode 26!”

“so? got a hot date or what?”

he’s not at all interested in the answer and that’s obvious when he spins around and holds out the bandage expectantly, staring down at the scrape — glowing red and angry, a mirrored wound you can feel scabbing across your own skin; itchy and irritating. 

finally he looks at you properly, frowning softly and — you see him then, can feel the tension lining his body as you carefully tape on his bandage. trying to hide how uncomfortable he is, though you he’s never had to do so with you in all of — forever. it’s nauseating, and again you're struck by the image of him, only now it's of the horror that had been on his face afterwards, at what you’d done.

it pushes everything over the edge; quietly, so that your voice doesn’t expose anything, you say, “you haven’t spoken to me in three months.”

silence weighs in the air immediately, heavy, and you watch him try to appear unbothered, shrugging as he stares back at the unmoving tv, jaw tight. “phone works both ways.”

“yeah, but,” your hands drop as he steps away to pull on a loose shirt, and you curl your fists into your own. just as he has. “i’m always the one having to reach out—”

“so why didn’t you?”

“what?” frustrated, you massage your temples, trying to soothe the nuclear headache threatening to incinerate you. “are you seriously trying to—”

“what’s the big deal?” he huffs, slumping down into the far corner of the couch before cringing, swearing as he gently touches at his bandage. “you’ve gone longer than that without talkin’ to me, so…”

the tone of his voice is infuriating, as if this is somehow all your fault — and maybe it is, because you shouldn’t have crossed such a boundary with him, but — he can be such a dick.

“it’s not just me bakugou, you could have just as easily picked up the phone, too!” your teeth grind when he shrugs again, leaning his head against his fist as he looks anywhere else. it almost looks like guilt that's dragging his expression down, but you know better than to assume he could feel such a thing. “you always—”

“jesus, if i always do this—”

“shut up for a second, damn!” and then because you can’t stand the stupid look on his face, you kick him in the thigh for good measure; it garners a warning glare, his teeth bared.

he easily catches you by the ankle when you try to kick him again. "tell me what the big fuckin' deal is."

"the big deal? oh, you mean besides the fact that you totally came in your pants?"

it stuns him for a second, eyes wide and face pale, before he's yanking you across the couch, narrowly avoiding the knee aimed for his gut. "you—fucking—!" a smack lands across the back of his head when he ducks and he plants a heavy hand over your face, forcing you to close your eyes and turn away.

"you're gonna blow my head off!"

"if i wanted you dead, you—" he intercepts the hand you blindly reach up with, crossing it awkwardly over your chest so that you're pinned down like a wild animal. "you would be!"

"kiss my ass, katsuki." you snark, and it does something to him, your use of his first name, because he's still for a moment before sitting back and collecting your wrists correctly, to hold against the couch arm above your head.

"you're such a fucking—" he swoops in so low that his nose almost brushes yours and he grabs the front of your sweater with his free hand, like he's gonna shake you down for some lunch money. "fuck, i could just—" and then he groans long and loud, so annoyed he can't find the words.

"yeah, well—"

"shut up," he lightly knocks his forehead into your cheekbone with another dissatisfied sound, letting out a heavy sigh as he sinks his face down into your neck.

all your muscles tighten on instinct, waiting for the sharp bite that's due any second — but his fingers only uncurl from the material of your sweater, slowly slipping around to tangle into the hair at the nape of your neck. his pull there is a little tight, enough for you to know he's got you, but not so much that you're head is aching; you can't imagine you have a sensitive scalp, anyway, after growing up around him.

you want to say something — which is an annoying realization because now you feel like too much of a talker — but you just focus on the heave of his chest over yours, the breath that moves through him. the minute jostle of his hips as he settles further into the space between your legs, almost comfortable. the slight swell of something unfamiliar against your inner thigh.

bakugou presses his face a little further into you, warm, and the tip of his nose drags along the column of your throat. successfully sedating you, distracted by the feel of his parted lips against your skin.

your body is hot all over, very suddenly; the sweater now feels like a death trap and hopefully you don't smell weird, though it's never been a worry before, not around him, and your adrenaline is rushing and you're kinda tired of acting like you don't know why that is.

fuck pretend-it-never-happened. it's been a long three months.

he's almost entirely pressed against you, but there is a small gap of space that closes when you open your legs a little wider, hitching them around his waist as his breath stutters against your neck.

it's happened so quick, so effortlessly yet again; you give a purposeful roll of your hips upward and are lost in him all over.

only — it's different than it was before because straddling his lap hadn't done much for you, but now the weighted outline of him is right against your center and the pressure that drags across you sends tingles up your spine and has your toes curling in your socks. when you let out a tiny gasp at the stomach-flipping sensation, tension coils in every curve of his body and the grip around your wrists and in your hair only tightens.

you can't help it; you let out a "katsuki" in the same heady tone as you did in his apartment and it has him falling easily into the slow grind you've been unable to stop thinking about. what shifts across his face is obvious, against your throat, like the scrunch of his brow and the slow drop of his mouth. he tries to muffle his breathy "oh" into your skin, but it echoes throughout your entire body, has an ache beginning between your thighs that he's already soothing.

the nip comes then, teeth sinking gently into your neck as you weakly cry out in surprise, but it's only for a moment before his tongue — wet and heavy and wide — is tasting over your jugular, lips closing around your skin as he sucks experimentally. you let out a proper moan then, squirming against his hands and up into him so that the pressure doubles for the both of you.

katsuki finally relinquishes your wrists, carding his hand down your body before coming to squeeze your hip, your thigh, locking your leg tight around his waist. "yeah," he rasps, voice deeper than you've ever heard it as he presses his forehead into yours. "how do you fuckin' like it?"

being bitten, he means, vengefully, but you're spread open beneath him and he's rutting the hard length of himself against you roughly, eagerly, and panting open-mouthed and you tighten up at the aggression in his tone and in his hands and his very being and —

"fuck," you gasp, loud and wanton, "fuck, katsuki—"

and then you are kissing your best friend.

the boy from down the street that always ruined your hair and taught you where to place your thumb if you were gonna throw a punch. that used his empty pen cartridge to blow spitballs at you and mocked you for losing crane games, even though he ended up giving you the stupid stuffed animal anyway. that had to be king of the castle, with his stick-sword and cardboard shield. that demanded you be his queen, weeds he picked for you woven carefully into your hair by his hands.

katsuki kisses like he's shy — another term you've never thought of in relation to him and all his fire and brimstone; it's slow and a little delayed in comparison to what his hips are doing, as if he's in his head too much and is trying to figure how to move his lips and when. tentative and chaste, until you run your tongue along the seam of his mouth and pry him open a little more.

it's making you hungry; that possessiveness from before is creeping back in, eager to have him in ways nobody else has. you arch into him, biting at his lips and sighing into his mouth as goosebumps break out across his skin.

with a slant of his head, he deepens the kiss and you can feel his nostrils flaring, the fingernails scratching against your scalp, the bruises he's probably leaving on your thigh. he lets up only to breathe, panting into your ear when he begins to bite and suck on your skin again; your earlobe and neck and even the cut of your jaw. like maybe he's hungry, too.

you fist a hand into his shirt just to tug it up his body, feeling the strong contract of his stomach when your fingers ghost against him. katsuki gets the hint quickly, rising up to his knees to tear the material off — much more harshly than he did before, which has you eying his crinkled bandage — and you move fast to take advantage of the new space.

it gives him pause when you yank down your shorts, pulling your legs back to slip them off and fling them somewhere across the room. his face goes red again, and his heaving chest, too, and his eyelids flutter as he takes in the sight of your flimsy, damp cotton underwear. you start to pull the sweater up your stomach, but he's watching so intently — so ravenous — that you get shy, without a bra underneath the too-hot fabric.

in any other situation, katsuki would have grabbed onto this moment, your hesitation, and held it over your head to come back and poke at. cataloged this little weak spot for future arguments, but now —

not once has he ever been gentle with you in anything; it's enough of a surprise that that's even a possibility for him, for the two of you, but he presses his body back into yours and kisses you deep, calloused fingers tracing over the new skin exposed to him. he doesn't try to push the sweater up any further, but one hand slips up your back, to splay between your shoulder-blades like it had before, and he's so close and you've never known him to be this — careful. with anything.

"y'r so—" katsuki rolls his hips again and groans, whispering against your lips. "fuckin' soft."

his sweatpants are still on and you don't know why, but when you reach down to help tug them off, he grabs your wrist before they can go too far.

he presses the heat from his cheeks into your own, like he wants to share it. "you done this before?"

"have you?"

he frowns at your non-answer. "i asked first."

you have. three times, technically, though a phantom pain echoes in your stomach at the memories, and you feel an odd emptiness in your chest that makes you really glad to have the sweater still on. your answer leaves you a little ashamed, under his gaze, and you purposely turn from it. "would...that bother you?"

before, you wouldn't have cared, didn't care, nor were you even thinking of him when it happened. wherever he must have been; u.a, probably, getting ready to make his lifelong dreams a reality while you trusted a boy that didn't look at you the way katsuki is now. that didn't hold you and touch you and kiss you the way your best friend has.

he scoffs, though it doesn't sound as careless as it usually does and he squeezes his eyes shut so you can't read them. the truth that's hidden there. "no," he lies, "why would—" but he doesn't finish, just sighs.

"it was awful anyway," you tell him, offering a small smile when he peeks down at you. he doesn't say anything, so you kiss him once, twice, until his tension is melting away. "should have been you."

the grip on your thigh turns almost painful and he grinds into you so roughly that you both gasp, loud in the tight, barely-there space between you. "yeah," he rasps, sucking another bruise into the hollow of your throat. "fuckin' should have."

you try to imagine it; eighteen and nervous, naked in front of him for the first time since you were seven and got into paint from his mom's workshop, when she made you both strip down in the same room, furious. how different he might have been with you then, how much more unsure. kinder than your ex, without a doubt, even for katsuki, and he probably wouldn't have even gone through with the whole thing, considering how uncomfortable the first time is.

or maybe it wouldn't have been, with him; maybe he would have looked into it, taken the time to wind you up the same way he is now so that you were eager and wet and ready. looking down at you with his wide, almost-black eyes in the dim light of a table lamp. another first to share.

"if i'd have just," he huffs, allowing his sweats to slip down past his hips. shoulders trembling when he makes you moan out his name again. "fuckin'—grown a pair 'n told you—"

the weight of him becomes more obvious, the straining bulge he's rocking into your core, and seeing it is — really getting to you; wearing such tight boxers, you can tell just how close the pink tip of him is to his waistband, nearly peeking out from just how hard he is.

it takes a shrug to get him out of your shoulder, so you can press your lips back to his. "can still be you, katsuki," you breathe, biting on his bottom lip until his tiny frown is gone. "if you want, it can still be you."

for a minute, he indulges himself in the greedy kiss you're giving him, testing strokes of his tongue against your own as his hips stutter out of rhythm — but it's when your fingers brush through the hair at the base of his stomach, trying to slip a hand into his boxers, that he's gasping into your mouth and pushing his body up and away.

determination settles over his face then — along with his vibrant flush — and he doesn't say anything as he grabs you like it's nothing and scoots you up the couch so that your back is pressed to the arm, propped up. once he settles between your thighs, he just rests his face into the plush of your stomach — which is humiliating and has you squirming, but the firmness returns to his hands; holding your hips so that you'll still, so that he can kiss right above your belly button, just as you wanted to do to him.

heat flares in your own cheeks — and down your chest and in your ears and searing on the back of your neck — when you feel the first puff of his warm breath against your underwear, where you're sensitive and slick and aching.

this is completely new to you; your ex-boyfriend probably never considered tasting you here, certainly not with the same desire that's painted across katsuki's face. you have to slap your hands over your eyes and bite your lip, embarrassed, suddenly, at how desperate the simple press of his mouth to your underwear makes you.

"hey, hey," katsuki grunts, pinching at your hips until you peek at him through your fingers. the highlights of his cheeks are crimson and his eyes are black, glaring with an intensity that makes you shiver. "it's my fuckin' turn."

to make you fall apart, he means, just as he had.

at the first hot drag of his tongue against the material, you squirm, leaning your head back so that your expression is hidden. another grunt comes from him, you think in dissatisfaction, but he continues, laving until your mouth is falling open and the fabric between you is drenched.

he's gone just long enough to be replaced by the ghost of his thumb, touching you much too-gently. hunger has you stealing another look at him, watching behind your hands as he stares, blatantly, at the mess he's already made of you, stroking the pad of his finger against the sodden material in interest.

discovering; a curious swipe over where you're aching has you sighing and trembling and his eyes jump back up to your covered face, open mouth curling into the faintest smirk as he does it again and again and again. it's bullshit — how quickly he's figured you out, almost as if your body was meant to be unraveled by his hands — but then again, it didn't take you long either, did it?

"katsuki," you hiss, digging a hand into the hair at the crown of his head, tugging on it until his smile is dropping and his eyes are lidding. your body is on fire and your legs are trying to close around his head, hips squirming as he toys with you, like the little brat he is.

deadly serious, he grabs your underwear and holds it tightly in his fist so that you can wiggle one leg free, and then he's tugging it out of his way and devouring you whole.

it's sloppy, the mixture of spit and slick as runs his tongue through you, wet and wide, and you're so sensitive that you squeak out in surprise, fingers tightening. a groan punches from deep in his chest and your hips buck at the vibration of it, drawn so tight already.

"oh my—" you gasp, dropping your other hand from your face to grip the couch; eyes closed, you're somewhere else entirely, lost in the clumsy swirl of pleasure between your thighs.

katsuki raises his head to breathe, reaffirming your grip in his hair by wrapping his fingers tight over your own. at the shiny sight of his mouth, you can't help but to whimper with a needy roll of your hips, until he's simply sticking out his tongue and allowing you to ride it, to use it as you need to. it's embarrassing, how desperate you are, but his eyes are knife-sharp and trained on you and you've never experienced anything like this.

he moves then, slipping one hand further up under your sweater, cupping your breast carefully as his lids flutter — and the other is shoved between his hips and where they're pressed into the couch. you tighten up at just the idea of him rutting into his hand while kissing your messy slit, moaning openly, head falling back as your eyes start to roll.

this is — fuck — you've never been so turned on in all your life and it's driving you crazy; at one point in time, the thought of bakugou like this would have grossed you out, but now you think it's only like this because of him. anyone else wasn't right, not the way he is, and he's maybe a little impatient and unwieldy, but it's katsuki. between your legs with his mouth on you — something he wanted — and his fingers are brushing over your nipple and the other is down his pants, wrist flexing and —

"fuck, oh fuck, i—" you try to sit up, chasing blindly after the high, but he forces you back down. a long groan is muffled by your skin and when he lifts his chin just a little, a glob of spit falls off his lips and the sight makes your toes curl before he presses back into you and sucks.

everything goes blank as you free-fall into him and you cum quietly, muscles so taut in your body that your voice can't even squeeze out of your throat. the minute you're able to breathe, he's biting a mark into your thigh and yanking you back down under him, lips slick against yours.

tasting yourself on his tongue has you coming out of the heady haze, ravenous; katsuki helps you to shove his boxers down, though he can only gasp tightly when he grinds against you, coating himself.

"'m not—" his soft hair tickles your face when he shakes his head, arms trembling beside your head. "i won't be able to—"

"keep going," you breathe, smearing your mess over the tip of him and down his length as he groans. "i don't care, keep going."

he smashes his lips to yours, though he's only able to meet the pump of your hand a few times before dropping his forehead to your shoulder, spine curling, fingers digging into your hair. katsuki swears long and low, eventually letting out a soft sound you wouldn't have expected from him as his entire body tenses and he spills onto your stomach.

"goddamn it," he moans into the fabric of your sweater, weary, after a long moment. "now 'm fuckin' tired."

and for some reason that makes you laugh, though the lust is dissipating and your nerves are trembling at the memory of how this ended last time. katsuki pulls away suddenly, making your stomach drop, and he doesn't look at you as he detangles himself, awkwardly shuffling away from the couch and out of sight.

you frown down at the mess on your stomach, the way it's pooling in your belly-button — and you'll be damned to let him leave you like this, but just as you finishing reciting over and over what you want to say, he appears, towel in hand.

it's still damp from his shower and you tense on instinct, waiting for him to start twirling it with that stupid grin on his face, but katsuki only arranges your legs so that he can sit between them, carefully wiping you off as his cheeks burn. and you just watch him, the way he runs a hand over your skin to make sure he got it all before helping to finagle your underwear back on properly.

then he just looks at the tv, unmoving. if he's trying to appear casual at all, it's a piss-poor job — but he's never been able to keep his fat mouth shut for long.

the look he gives you lacks its usual heat, though you can't tell if that's just because he's drained or if he's withdrawn for another reason. "what now? six months, a year before you talk to me again?"

and you're annoyed all over again.

"what?" you return his weak glare, sitting up properly so that you're right in his face. "are you kidding me? you didn't talk to me either."

"the hell did you want me to say?" he scoffs and — you could slap him, for ruining everything so quickly. wipe that stupid look off his face with your fist. "'sorry i busted a nut, you free for dinner?'"

"yeah!" the shrill tone of your voice makes his eyes widen, and you throw your hands up in the air, incensed. "that sounds wonderful in comparison to coming home and avoiding me."

"i didn't avoid you," he mutters, though his eyes drift back to the tv. "just didn't have shit to say."

"bakugou," you slap your hands over your face for the second time, though this one is much worse than the last. "how is that fucking fair? what did you want me to say?"

and now — his eyes are full and furious, mouth curling down into an ugly frown that you've so rarely had the pleasure of seeing on his face; every time his mother made you go home and when you told him you weren't gonna try to test into u.a. when he overheard your girl friends teasing you for liking an older boy in your school.

when he was losing you, you realize.

"'m not doin' this shit with you," he mutters, definitive, before swiping his shirt up off the floor and standing. "not doin' this bakugou shit."

"oh my god," you groan, rising, too, because your stomach is twisting at the thought of him leaving again, no matter how angry he's making you. "what does that even mean?"

you trail him as he stomps into your kitchen to grab his work shirt and mask from the counter, trying to interrupt him at every turn, and the scowl on his face only grows when you shoot to stand in front of the door, just as he reaches for his bag.

"you can't—"

"this," he seethes, gesturing to you and then himself before gritting his teeth so hard that they should shatter. "this is why i didn't wanna fuckin' talk to you."

you knew he didn't. the minute lunch ended and when you made out his shape in mitsuki's snapchat: you knew. but hearing it from his mouth is as much of a confirmation as it is a kick in the gut.

there's more he's struggling to say, mouth shifting as he chews on the words and the skin of his lips. his gaze jumps from you to the door to something on the counter before he's swallowing again, staring down at you with brand new eyes.

the light in the kitchen makes them shine, angry and sad. "i can't—" he sighs, nostrils flaring like he's mad at himself for struggling. "go back to bakugou, not after—" a vague hand waves toward the couch. "maybe this is just, i don't know, whatever to you, but i — fuckin' can't."

tell me what the big fuckin' deal is; earlier, he'd demanded it of you, why the silence mattered so much this time when it didn't seem to matter before. in the midst of your anger, you didn't think twice about his wording but now —

he wanted you to say it. katsuki wanted to hear you say that it hurt to be without him for so long, and he kept his distance because he was afraid that you wouldn't.

"you're so stupid," you mutter it quietly, and his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, enraged, but before he can get another dumb word out, you loop your arms around his neck and just — kiss him.

not crazy or wild or lust-driven, just your lips to his, slowly working him out of the shell he's tried to hide behind.

the bag in his hand hits the ground with a soft thud and then his arm is wrapping around your back, tugging you to him as he finally breathes and opens his mouth — and lets you in.

when you cup the sides of his neck, katsuki inhales sharply through his nose, pulse jumping under your fingers, and his lashes flutter against your cheeks as he opens his eyes. he pulls back enough so that you can stare at each other and you realize that eyeliner is still clinging to his lids, making him seem sharper than usual.

you're a little stunned, then, at how beautiful he is. 

"i can't go back to bakugou either, dumbass." gently, you knock your forehead into his, smiling at the pout on his face. "you've totally screwed that up for me."

"yeah, well," he huffs, "about time. only took you all my goddamn life."

"sorry i'm late."

"what else is new?" he rolls his eyes and you squeak, indignant, before sticking your tongue out at him, patience worn thin already.

you expect a bite or a pinch to the cheek or another rough violence that falls along the lines that have made up your relationship thus far — but instead there is only something soft that reflects in his eyes and the shy kiss he presses to your lips, something that he's kept safe just for you, guarded, with his stick-sword and cardboard shield.

[nonpracticinghumanbeing]

Izzy IS about community. He’s ALWAYS BEEN about community in his own messed up way. The Canyon was right and the haters were wrong.

He wanted Blackbeard back because that was what kept the crew safe. He was terrible about it and hurt the man he obviously loves in the process, but it WAS for the greater good. It wasn’t a purely selfish act the antis love to frame it as. He wanted to feel safe again and he wanted the crew to be safe as well.

Hell, he was doing his best to help Edward through his post-breakup depression. He didn’t understand what was going on and was clearly distressed by it but he provided what Ed needed. He *knew* he lacked the emotional capacity to help his captain himself so he agreed to bring him Lucius. I really think he would have just gritted his teeth and suffered through it if Ed didn’t say the one thing that could collapse his whole world.

"Why do we even bother being pirates?" That was what freaked Izzy out so much that he pushed Edward to violence. Not because he selfishly wanted Ed to be close at all times but because Blackbeard the legend was the pillar of his community. That legend kept everyone safe and even if Izzy is a horrible asshole, he *does* care about his crew. He knows the world is a horrible hostile place and he focuses on risk mitigation, even if it means hurting the one person he really cares about.

He really tried to provide that to the crew when Edward and Stede took the Act of Grace. It was a terribly misguided attempt at keeping things under control and it was certainly influenced by his submissive tendencies which make him crave structure and feel safe within hierarchies. He *knows* he lacks Ed's charisma and ability to think outside the box and with such huge shoes to fill it's not really surprising he acted out in anger and in result failed miserably. But he was *NEVER* an asshole just for the sake of it.

Now he realizes those days are gone for good. He's already done everything he could to bring Ed back to his senses, including using *Stede fuckin' Bonnet’s* name. It didn’t work. The realization that his one true safeguard is really gone must be terrible, but it also pushes him to take action.

The moment he realizes the crew are in real danger, he takes things into his own hands. He not only goes against the hierarchy he believed to be sacred but also against the man he *LOVES*. He fucking shoots his beloved captain to save the crew. You don’t get much more *community* than that.

He is clearly struggling. He's just tried to fucking kill himself after being maimed AND told he was disposable by a man whom he's apparently served for dacades. He will have to reevaluate his whole life and he *knows* it. But he puts it all to the side and he does what needs to be done. He took all of Edward’s abuse without complaint it seems but the moment the crew are in real danger, he intervenes. You can’t tell me a community (*any* community) doesn’t need people like that.

It all feels very old-time queer to me. The willingness to make terrible sacrifices to protect one's space. The decision (conscious or not) to be effective rather than liked. The choice to stay alive despite terrible heartbreak and go on fighting.

He's absolutely NOT an irredimable villain. He’s an asshole who tries to keep his little world safe. He’s Larry Kramer getting kicked out of GMHC for being too confrontational and politically incorrect to be palatable to the general public.

[slutshamethesquirrels]

Shamesy's Fic Recs

(this post will forever be under construction. you can find my own fics here if you like, or you can munch up anything on this list)

Authors of The Highest Honor:

All of these authors get my umbrella stamp of approval, assume any of their work is good because it IS. This is a rarity from me so trust if they've got my approval their writing is supreme!! I also will not post any authors here that are unkind/rude to their readers, so you can feel comfortable exploring their AU's as needed and feel comfy with commenting and showing them some love!

I will not be diving into any fic reviews from these guys here bc all of their work elicits such emotion from me that i could write a fucking collegiate thesis on why I love them. I'm serious. Read everything they've ever written.

hayakawalove (Ao3) // @hayakawalove

vallification (Ao3) // @vallification

Chaptered Fic Recs:

Dishonorable by loversfleur (Ao3) (Geto x Fem!Reader)

Regency era Geto??? I fuckin- ASHSJHASJAB

Capacity by silkscreams (Ao3) (SatoSugu x Fem!Reader)

I cannot describe to you what this fic has done to me. It's tragic, it's hornknee, its a fucking masterpiece that makes me sob with every chapter im so for real. a must read.

Honesty Corner by mimiquack (Ao3) (SatoSugu)

my brother in christ this fic is a treasure. its sweet, its corny, its horny with just the right amount of angst. the way i would pop my whole shamussy for this version of geto IM-

Stop Me by septembersummer (Ao3) (Gojo x Fem!Reader)

!!! guys please be mindful of tags when reading anything by septembersummer. they are a crazy talented writer but they do like to get kinky and freaky and bed squeaky or w/e chappel roan said that one time !!!

oh god stop me is so fucking fantastic, i have no words. its dark AS HELL and deffo made me cry but y'all need it in your life if you haven't read it yet. septembersummer EATS idc idc call me a horndog

Embrace me tight (till I can't breathe) by Cynical_Bunny (Ao3)(Geto x Fem!Reader)

DONT LOOK AT ME DONT LOOK AT ME DONT LOOK AT ME DONT LOOK AT ME DONT LOOK AT ME DONT LOOK AT ME DONT LOOK AT ME JUST READ THE TAGS AND DO NOT PERCEIVE ME I DONT HAVE TO JUSTIFY ANYTHING TO YALL SHSHSHSHSHSH

The Cult Leader's Quarry by QuinnyUndertow (Ao3) (Geto x Fem!Reader)

another one where you must be careful about tags but quinny is an absolute peach,, one of those authors i followed before i ever talked to and just absolutely fell in love with her beyond her great writing once i did. this ones raw, its horrific, its sexy. a must for our demented sugu lovers.

One Shots / Shorties I can't forget:

Blurred Lines by yasu1234 (Ao3) (Gojo x Fem!Reader)

mmmmmmm this gojo is my favorite gojo. love him. love him irrevocably.

Wisteria and Ciabatta by hayakawalove (Ao3) (Geto x Fem!Reader)

i lied uptheread im so sorry this one deserves a highlight. not HISTORICAL WHIPPED SUGURU?????? hayakawalove is my personal beyonce- just crazy talented and for what

Amen by agent_cupcake (Ao3) (Geto x Fem!Reader)

CULT LEADER GETO! CULT ! LEADER! GETO! kinda kinky tho fair warning

Rub You The Right Way by daisynik (Ao3) (Choso x Fem!Reader)

daisynik has blessed us with the possibility of more chapters for this fic and i screamed when i found out. this is my favorite reader character kind of ever. choso and our mc are fucking DORKS in the best way. we love.

Welcome To The Itadori's! by tonycries (Tumblr)(Choso x Fem!Reader)

i am selective about my choso fics and this one is phenomenal! i love the way he's characterized here!! 10/10

[pretending-ican-write]

Cowboy Up - Pt.4

A/n: I think there will be another part after this before the show starts and they will be getting together! I'm currently going through episode by episode and pulling out all the scenes I want to be a part of this. No promises that this won't get abandoned or take forever to write but I do have a mental endgame for it in s5!

Pairing: Ryan (Yellowstone) x Dutton!reader

WC: 871

Previous part - Next part

---

The peace of a still sleeping bunkhouse was disturbed by Rip rushing in and the loud bang of the door against the wall.  

“Lloyd, have you seen y/n?  She didn’t answer the door and the trailer’s locked,” he asked hurriedly scanning the bunkhouse, “Ryan why the fuck are you on the couch?”

Rip looked at the hand under the blankets and connected dots as Lloyd stirred from his own bunk to ask what was going on.  The foreman stormed into the other room to find exactly what he expected, y/n just waking up in Ryan’s bunk.  She rolled over and looked over up at him confused.

Y/n pulled herself up in the bed, “why are you shouting at 4 in the fuckin’ morning Rip?”

In lieu of an answer, he turned back around to where Ryan was waking up and hauled him to his feet to shove against the wall.  Suddenly everyone in the bunkhouse was awake and aware of what was going on.  They all surrounded the pair but nobody was about to get in the middle of whatever was going on, except y/n who was being kept from getting in between them by Jake.

“What the fuck is she doing in your bunk,” he growled.

Y/n shook Jake off her, “the hell Rip!  There’s no heat in the trailer and I was freezing my ass off in the barn so he insisted I come in here.  Stop being such an overprotective asshole!”

“If you even think about laying a finger on her in any capacity I’ll have them,” Rip threatened before releasing him and turned to the rest of them, “that goes for every one of you fuckers.  She’s off limits.”

He didn’t wait for an answer and headed out of the bunkhouse leaving the crew speechless.  Y/n turned to Ryan and checked that he was okay before storming after the foreman.

“What the actual fuck do you think you’re doing Rip!” She yelled at him, “you have no right to do that.”

Rip turned to glare at her, “he’s taking advantage of you.”

“Oh give me a break.  He was being a gentlemen which is more than can be said for most people in there.  I’m not a little girl that needs your protection anymore.  I can make my own decisions and I’m big enough to own my mistakes and Ryan certainly wouldn’t be one.  But I don’t think you need to worry, I’m hardly his first pick,” she finished bitterly.

Y/n went back to the bunkhouse in search of coffee, leaving Rip to wonder what on earth she had meant.

-/-/-

A few years later (like 6 months before the show starts)

After a long day of working the cattle for the spring gather, everyone from the valley was settled around the corral enjoying Gator’s cooking and each other’s company.  Y/n was sat to the side of the crowd having finished her food, just taking in the atmosphere of her favourite day of the year.  Gentle country music filled the air from a speaker Jamie had set up by the grill and some of the hands were showing kids how to rope on the dummy steer.  A smile graced her face as she watched Ryan and one of the newer hands, Colby who had become fast friends with him, helping a young girl swing the lasso above her head.

John watched his daughter from his seat next to Lee and how at peace she seemed with her life back on the ranch.  He picked up his beer and went to join her on the straw bale she’d claimed.  Y/n smiled at her father sat next to her before turning her attention back to the scene in front of her.  They sat in a comfortable silence for a little while, a significant improvement on how they’d been when she returned years ago.

“I think it’s time that we have our annual conversation,” John started, “even if nothing has changed.”

She took her eyes off the wranglers to look at her dad, “everything and nothing has changed dad.  I belong here again.  I finally feel like I’m part of it again.  But Kayce still isn’t here and I don’t see that ever changing.  I love you but you’re a stubborn man and lord knows my brother is too.”

“You set the terms but being back under the roof is where you belong,” he pushed.

Y/n allowed the silence to envelop them again as she thought through what was being put in front of her.  The sun was just beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the valley.  The wranglers had left the kids to the roping in favour of beers by the fence and Ryan winked when they made eye contact.  

“I’ll come back,” she relented, “but you don’t get a say over what I do and when I’m there.  I’m still gonna spend time at the bunkhouse because at the end of the day I’m a wrangler and those are my friends.  It took long enough for them to see me as more than just your daughter and I don’t want them to see me differently again.”

John smiled at her, “I’m just happy you’ll be truly home.”

[tired-biscuit]

𝟭𝟴+ 𝗺𝗱𝗻𝗶, 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 // college au, hints of a corruption kink, established relationship. he's fuckin' aged up.

𝘄𝗰: 1.1k

---

𝗔𝗙𝗧𝗘𝗥 your first time, Jock!Bakugou likes to fuck you every chance he gets. And yes, that includes the frat parties he drags you to every weekend.

Katsuki is not much of a party person, per se, nor is he a sex addict. However, something about seeing his nerdy, goody two shoes girlfriend getting her decency torn off of her layer after layer inside the narrow bathroom of yet another frat house, is still so compelling that it eggs him on and turns his fingers rather greedy. 

After all, frowning in the foggy mirror with potent disapproval whilst his heavy dick pummels in and out of your pretty virgin cunt, you’re staring up at him through eyelids so heavy that they’re threatening to squeeze shut despite that you’re fighting so very badly to remain stern with him.

But stern or not, you're still a mess; a hot one. Your back owns an arch that allows him to hit the sweet, gushy spot which you’ve only let him stroke three times so far with expert precision, forcing you to milk him just the way he likes it.

Nevertheless, his domineering actions aren't surprising at all. He’s the first man you’ve ever allowed inside and he’s worked long and hard to get himself in there in the first place; getting what he likes is what he deserves.

The feverish effort he’s put into you – and which he’s currently still shoving in – is enough to make his chest swell with cocky pride and for his stomach to flutter with butterflies he’ll never admit to owning. You’re putty in his hands; all warm and soft. He's fucked you into submission and is able to bend you and stretch you in any way he wishes at this point.

Your hands are wrapped around the edges of the sink you're currently bent over, fingers tightly clutching the porcelain that keeps biting into your middle from how roughly he's pushing into you over and over again. Standing on your tippy-toes, your rather modest skirt is hiked up for easier access. Ready to be devoured just for him, despite that you don’t look like it at first glance. 

The sight of how badly you want to seem innocent is enticing to Katsuki; almost amusing, he could say. He’s so deep-seated inside you, filling your still vulnerable capacity in a way that it’s making your toes curl inside your sneakers and your skin glow dewy from sweat. It’s taking you every last shred of effort to not squeal his name out, and he knows it.

And that knowledge is so satisfying: seeing that pouty mouth of yours open and turn into the shape of a small 'o' every time the lewd smack against your peach of an ass hits the mark and he pushes in every inch so deep that it starts to hurt. It's so fulfilling to see you repeatedly swallow down the slutty moans that surely shouldn’t leave the mouth of a good girl such as yourself with the utmost endeavor.

But the pain he gives you sears through your middle at such a hot degree now, that it makes you blink and glare up at his massive reflection in the mirror. “Kat.”

His nickname is spoken like a warning, no matter that it is cute, short and nearly sighed out. You’re still not quite used to the whole sex thing, even if you’re taking it like a proper champ.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Katsuki grunts out in reply, carmine eyes glazed over from lust and the cheap beer he's downed earlier. He’s still not quite used to the whole apologizing thing, even if he’s saying it like a proper gentleman. “Just a lil’ more and then we can go back to the party, promise.”

“N-No.” You hiss through your teeth and clutch the sink tighter when he buries himself deeper and his cockhead nudges your cervix. The squelching noises your bullied pussy is producing makes heat bloom over your face, which you try to hide from the mirror now. “No more partying. I wanna go home after this.”

“Yeah? You wanna go home, pretty?” His warm hands squeeze your ass, the heat of his palms nearly unbearable. The needy whine you fail to suppress when he spreads you apart and lets a glob of his drool ooze right down to the place where you connect is so filthy that it truly does make you sound like a little slut in heat. The way it cools your hot skin makes you outright shiver. “Tell you what, if you let me fill up that lil’ cunt of yours, we can leave as soon as we’re done and I’ll let ya pick a movie, even if it’s a shitty one. Sounds good?”

All you can do is nod feverishly with a head so light that it makes you look like you’re a doll. He’s slipped around the curve to pinch and tease your clit with savage motions instead, and you’re so wet that the warm slick is dripping right down to the upper elastic of your thigh–highs. 

“Imma make it quick, then.” His thrusts are getting even harsher because of your silent approval. “Gonna fill you up, yeah? Make you nice ‘n filthy for me, so that my cum runs down your legs when we get out of here... I don’t want any of those fuckers getting stupid ideas, I saw how they all looked at you earlier. Rubbed me the wrong fuckin’ way.”

His jealousy truly is one of a kind.

“Mhmm, ye-yeah.” The knot inside your stomach is tightening as you begin to clench around his dick and gush at the filthy words he continues to whisper into your ear. You can’t focus, can’t speak coherent sentences. He’s completely wrapped himself around you in the process – all heavy and hot – you’re both hunched over the sink from how badly you need to reach your respective climaxes together. One hand between your legs, the other on your belly; he feels the outline of his dick underneath your skin with every stroke now.

It’s enough to even make a man like him weak in the knees.

You’re whining and whispering his name out as he starts to throb and twitch at long last, tears adorning your mascara-coated lashes. So dirty, you’re not a decent girl at all if just the mere thought of being filled up is enough to make you cum. Not used to this entire sex thing, and yet here you are; begging and crying big tears for him to spill his load inside you already.

In return, Katsuki is all the more determined to make you cum even harder – and not just because of a thought this time around. The frantic, whispered pleas just aren’t enough.

No, he’s going to make sure that your first ever creampie makes you squeal.

[wtftarot]

PAC: How can you face your demons?

Thanks to @lifeofaie for the inspiration for this one!

Demons. We all have them and they come in all shapes and sizes, what are yours? Are they tiny ones on your shoulder, whispering in your ear? Are they hulking and bloody and hunting you down? Only one way to find out!

TW: We are talking demons if you think this is gonna be an easy-to-read-easy-to-swallow reading, then you may wanna look up the definition of demons. This reading WILL deal with sensitive topics, I will put warnings for each group but DO NOT READ IT IF YOU ARE IN A BAD PLACE OR FEEL LIKE THE TOPICS MAY FUCK WITH YOU. I AM NOT A THERAPIST. TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF PLEASE.

as always this reading is for entertainment purposes ONLY and is not a substitute for professional advice in any capacity.

Pick Group One, Two or Three and head to your reading.

ps I don't know why I'm hearing the Beyond Belief: Fact or Fiction theme right now but I am? Sound off in the comments if you watched that growing up

Group One

Eight/Cups Rx, Three/Wands, Three/Cups Rx, The Devil, Ace/Swords Rx and the Hanged Man Rx on the back of the deck.

Demons (TW): Isolation, Abandonment, Not feeling Real, self-identity If you came to this reading and are having delusions or something about not being real, please find guidance from a professional. As soon as I pulled the first card for y'all I heard 'stop running'. It looks like y'all maybe, possibly avoiding/sabotaging relationships and you don't realize how much this is fucking you over. Some of y'all have friends/relationships but are not truly letting them know you. Others are self-isolating full-stop. I don't know why you're doing this, maybe you've had shitty relationships in the past. Maybe you've just convinced yourself you're a loner and that maybe true, here's the thing though, you're taking loner to an extreme. You never let people know you and then have this inner turmoil because you feel unknown, abandoned, and alone. It's also making you feel like you're not really Here or not Real. (Side note: Yall are TOUCHSTARVED) You're questioning the reality of yourself. Like somehow you're separate from the rest of the world. When you're not being your true self with others they treat you as someone else, so you start to feel like someone else BUT at the same time, your true self is SCREAMING at you inside, dying to come out. Honey, you can't keep abandoning yourself. Now this next bit ain't a call out, but you may be projecting the resentment you feel about not being your true self onto others. Angry and wondering why can't they see you? The REAL you. You may even be feeling like they're asking too much of you, asking you to be someone you're not. (For some of y'all I don't doubt that's the case. ) Thing is, they can't see you if you don't let them. Don't get me wrong, there are a lot of times when people refuse to see you wholly as you are. (wholly is a fuckin weird word) When that happens though, it seems like you're taking others' word as law on who you are. All of this is giving this weird disconnect between you and others. Then it's like, what's the point in trying to build relationships with others? You end up drained and having to keep up a facade, why keep doing that to yourself right? There's a side effect of avoiding (authentic) relationships though. You see, friendships are very good at keeping our inner narrative in check. When we self-isolate there's no one to challenge our downward spiral-shit show (only scrolling, never talking to others online counts as self-isolating btw,) Our relationships help us see the world and ourselves clearer, but only if we can be honest. I'm saying all of this because I'm getting the feeling that y'all are REALLY fuckin hard on yourselves. Ok, ya know what we're gonna take a minute and breathe. Are you breathing? Nice, slow breaths. Cause that was a lot, wasn't it sweetheart? We're on to the easier bit now, alright? Ok, with this energy, I'm betting y'all get told you need to do more grounding a lot, Right? Like, no matter how many grounding techniques you do, you can never seem to actually get grounded? It may have more to do with grounding who you are into reality. I mean, it doesn't matter how grounded in the moment you are if you're not behaving as your authentic self you're not going to feel connected at all. It may be that you only really feel like yourself when you're alone. There's no way around this, babe. You have to try to build genuine connections with people. I'm talking heart-felt, emotionally-connected friendships and relationships. I know, I know it SUCKS. Good thing is, those relationships take time to build. You should go slow and build that type of trust over time. If you have people who you feel like you could start to be more authentic around, take baby steps. Be honest with how you feel. I also just heard 'learn to lean on others' . Spirit's making me a fuckin hypocrite. Y'all know it's okay to receive support right? Connections make you stronger. You can't isolate yourself into being the person you want to be.

random ass vibes: GOAT, papertowels, Justice, swords

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Group Two

Three/Cups Rx, The Magician, Ten/Cups Rx, Ace/wands, Five/Swords Rx and the Five of Wands on the back of the deck

Demons (TWs) Bullying, Negative self-talk/ self-hate

I'm getting the sense that y'all beat yourselves up a lot without realizing it. Y'all seem to think that everyone berates themselves as much as you do and that's just not the fucking case, honey. I feel like y'all are a prime example of if you hear a lie often enough you start to believe it. With the Three and Ten of cups both in reverse, y'all have been around some SHITTY people. And I don't think y'all had enough positive voices in your corner to help combat the shit you were being told about yourself. What's more concerning is some of you, most of you even, don't see how you're shitty inner dialogue is a problem. I'm not going into what I'm feeling y'all are saying to yourselves, that shit doesn't deserve to be voiced. Y'all are so fuckin talented and wonderful but every moment of every day is filled with these thoughts that you're horrible and you wonder why you can't seem to get shit done. Or why you don't feel that motivated to do anything. Then when you can't seem to get anything done, you use that as evidence that those shitty thoughts are right and beat yourself up EVEN MORE. Goddamn honey. Your mind is incredibly powerful and you're using that power against yourself. Maybe at one point you did argue with the shitty people or shitty thoughts but it got so overwhelming that you stopped fighting it. I keep hearing 'take up your wand'. It's time for y'all to push back against the thoughts a bit. One thing I'm getting might be helpful is to listen to positive affirmations. I'm not trying to say that they'll fix your life but if any of what I'm feeling is accurate, some of y'all have NEVER had any consistent positivity in your life and just listening to someone talking positively about you would help balance the scales out a bit. You don't even have to believe what they're saying, it's like that saying I mentioned earlier. You probably disagreed with the shitty things people told you about yourself at first too. Or at least felt like they were being mean and unfair, but you heard it over and over until you believed it. Listening to positive affirmations can do the same thing. I just heard 'don't let it get to you' I feel like y'all were really passionate and cared a lot about what people said, so you fought and you may be told parents/teachers and they gave you the whole 'they're only doing it to bother you, so don't let it' bullshit, instead of helping you. You may have even gotten in trouble when you tried to fight back. Cause people being shitty SHOULD bother you. That's not you being too sensitive, it's you knowing that you don't deserve to be treated like shit. I think it would be helpful for y'all, if you have a therapist or someone kind and honest and who you trust, to tell them some of those lil tapes you have on repeat in your head. Seriously just ask, I have this thought in my head about myself can you tell me if it's grounded in reality or not? Cause, the fact is that y'all don't even fully realize how horrible you're being toward yourselves and need some outside perspective. I'm also seeing you may have a habit of really seeking out romantic relationships because you're really wanting to be treated with some gentleness and kindness but have never been shown that in a platonic relationship and media really only shows that level of intimacy in romantic relationships. I hate how cliche this will sound but y'all need to surround yourself with positivity. Cause y'all are starved for it. I don't mean toxic positivity or the 'live, laugh, love' sunshine and rainbows positivity. I mean kindness. I mean warmth and acceptance.

random ass vibes: bitchy kindness lol, lighthouses, lions, 1414

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Group Three

The Empress Rx, The Sun, Seven/Swords, Ten/Swords Rx, The High Priestess Rx and the Four of Wands Rx on the back of the deck.

Demons (TWs): Abuse.

If you are currently in an unsafe situation the phone number for the abuse hotline is 800-799-7233.

I'm smelling old cigarettes. Which will seem a little random but with it came the image of my great-aunt's house, she was a heavy smoker (and not to overshare) but her house was one of the few places I felt seen and safe growing up. Her house was warm and welcoming, and she was into all the weird dark shit I was fascinated by then (and now). The smell of cigarettes always makes me feel safe, even now. I feel like y'all need to cultivate an environment where you feel safe because you will be a safe place for others. Y'all do or will have an energy similar to my great-aunts Why is this coming out in a 'how to face your demons' reading? All of the reasons I felt so safe at her house were all of the reasons most of our family didn't like her. I think, that y'all have been wounded in a way where people have taken and taken from you. Have convinced you that you're nothing when they're the ones draining you until you have nothing left. My great-aunt was in an abusive relationship before I was born, from what I've been told she was totally unrecognizable, he made her small, meek. As long as I've known her she's one of the loudest, boldest people I've ever known. If someone's made you feel like the only way you're allowed to show up in the world is by being small or hiding yourself, I'm here to tell you that that's not the case. I don't know your situation exactly or at all. The Empress and The High Priestess are in reverse here, I feel like y'all are meant to embody those cards in the upright but whatever you've gone through has made you feel like it's not safe to embrace them. Or maybe apathetic toward them. I'm getting a lot of apathy, actually. The demons you're facing are parts of your past that you feel like broken you to the point where you'll never be able to 'be vibrant' again. I hear the be vibrant part, maybe you feel faded? You will, though. Be vibrant, again. Hell, the Sun came up in the reading, babe you're already on your way. Maybe only in small ways so you haven't noticed yet, but you are. All of the traits you've been told make you unwanted are the ones that will make the right people feel safe around you. I feel like y'all are genuinely warm and kind people and you've been treated like shit for it. Some of you haven't lost those traits but some of you have, that's alright. Lastly, for most of y'all, it seems this situation is over, but you're still sorta living in it. Living as if you're still trapped in it, that you'll never escape, or that they were right. Listen to me, an abuser is NEVER right. Sometimes our bodies just need time to learn that we are in fact out of a shitty situation. Going back to the first bit of the reading, it's time y'all get to learn what safe feels like.

random ass vibes: campy Halloween vibes, cats, ducks, pasta.

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[k111lemall]

𝙈𝙊𝙏𝙀𝙇★𝘾𝘼𝙇𝙄𝙁𝙊𝙍𝙉𝙄𝘼

// 88’ James Hetfield x Fem!Reader

warnings ⚠︎︎: smut!!

(btw this is a remake of the first story that i wrote on this account :))

The cold nighttime breeze blew my hair into my face, I held onto my cigarette between my pointer and middle finger while I used my thumb and other three fingers to tuck my hair behind my ear.

I looked into the practically empty parking lot in front of me. It was a small town so there was no Hyatt or Hilton, just one small motel that had seen better days. The paint was chipping off of the railing that I was standing over and the illuminated sign in front of the motel had a couple of letters not shining.

It was only for one night. It’s a funny story on how we ended up here - James and Lars were arguing over where the band should make a pit stop so they could sleep in a bed for one night, and not on a bus or a plane. So, James comes up with the idea to just throw a dart on a map and wherever it lands that’s where they will do the rest stop. Sure enough, it lands on a tiny little square on the east coast, and when we look at the name none of us had ever even heard of this fuckin place.

But I guess the band's tour manager grew up around there, so we thought one good thing for us one good thing for someone else. The guy would get to see his family and friends, and James and his bandmates wouldn’t have to sleep in cramped bunks or small airplane seats.

Since we were stopping here for the night, the guys all decided “Why not play a show?” and so they found a little bar and decided to play there that night. They sold 350 tickets in a bar with a capacity of 250. I could only imagine how crazy that place must’ve been. I would have gone, honestly, it’s just that I'm claustrophobic, and being in a small space with a bunch of drunk metalheads doesn’t exactly sound… safe, to me.

But, I promised James that I would stay up and wait for him to get back. It was a little past midnight and I assumed that the show was either over or close to being over. I took another drag from my cigarette, in hopes of warming myself and also I had nothing else to do out here. I blew the smoke out and it was quickly swept away by the breeze.

As I watched the smoke move with the air, I heard the faint sound of a car and looked out in front of me. White headlights moved across the road, eventually lighting up the trees as the van turned into the parking lot.

I put my cigarette out on the floor and watched as the back door of the van opened. Jason hopped out first, he yawned and rubbed his eyes before looking up at me and waving. I waved back and then brought my attention back to the car. Lars hopped out next, followed by Kirk right behind him. The two stumbled over to Jason, clearly drunk. I laughed a little at their antics and then looked back at the car.

James was out, staring up at me. Even in the dark, I could see his blue eyes, I smirked at him and turned around to walk back into the room. I closed the door behind me, not locking it, and walked over to the bed. I sat down on the edge of it, watching the late-night news coverage playing on the TV. In seconds, James opened the door and walked in. “How was the show?” I asked, “Good, for a little town they are loud as hell.” he replied as he walked over to me. He sat behind me on the bed, kicking off his shoes and pulling his shirt over his head.

“I’m gonna shower, then I’m coming straight to bed,” he said as he got up and walked into the bathroom. I shot up from the bed and walked behind him into the bathroom. I leaned against the doorframe as I watched him turn the water on and begin to unbutton the top button on his jeans.

James turned to look at me, “You want some company?” I asked, James smirked “If you’re offering.” he replied and grabbed my arm, bringing me closer to him.

The water was warm, it hit my chest and ran down my stomach. I turned around so that I could wet my hair, my eyes met James’. He had a shit-eating grin on his face and his arms were crossed, “What?” I asked, “Nothin, I just can’t remember the last time we showered together.” James replied, shrugging. “Wasn’t that long ago I don’t think,” I replied, James brought his hands up and wrapped them around my waist pulling me closer to him. I brought my arms up and wrapped them around his neck before kissing him.

As we pulled away from each other, I looked into James’ eyes. He had a look that he had never had before. He moved his hands to my hips and gripped them hard pulling the lower half of my body closer to his. His lips pressed onto mine again and one of his hands moved from my hip and down the side of my leg, where he grabbed the back of my knee and brought my leg up.

His kisses moved from my lips to down my jawline and my neck. My head fell back and James let go of my leg, his hand moving up my inner thigh and cupping my pussy. I gasped as I felt him slide two fingers into me, I quickly shot my head up and just as quickly James’ hand covered my mouth. “Shh baby, Lars is next door.. gotta stay quiet,” he said as he began to pump his fingers in and out of me. I nodded and James uncovered my mouth, his hand moved to the back of my neck where he kept it as he moved his face down to kiss me.

His tongue pushed its way into my mouth and I let out a soft moan. I grabbed onto James’ upper arm to try and support myself against the slippery tile of the shower floor. I felt myself reaching the end, and by the look on my face, I think James could tell I was too.

He quickly pulled his fingers out of me, and with a look of disappointment on my face I opened my mouth to speak about my dissatisfaction but I quickly bit my tongue when I felt James pushing his tip through my folds. I bit my lip and prepared myself as James pushed into me, a soft grunt coming from him. I fell into James, chest to chest with him and my head resting on his shoulder he grabbed both of my legs and picked me up allowing him easier access to pound into me harder.

He turned his body so I was up against the wall, his grip was tight on the underside of my legs as he used his strength to pick me up and slam me back down on his hard cock. I tried my best to muffle the sound of pure ecstasy coming from me, but my hand over my mouth could only do so much. “Fuck, harder James please,” I begged, and James listened- the shower was filled with the sounds of water hitting the shower floor and me and James’ skin contacting as he pounded into me mercilessly.

“What do you think baby, should I cum in you?” James asked, “Yes! Please!” I moaned out, James chuckled and began to slow down his pace. James grunted and I felt him twitch inside of me, soon enough he came inside me and I followed shortly behind him leaving me seeing white.

James slowly brought me down and held onto the side of my arms while I took a second to figure out how to use my legs again. James brought his hand up from my arms and used his thumb to hold my face up, “You’re so beautiful.” he said “So perfect.” he added before leaning down and kissing me.

[nolita-fairytale]

comfort & chaos (carmy berzatto x fem!reader) chapter two: covid & carbonara

summary: in a time of isolation, you and carmy find unexpected connection in unexpected places: each other. (the five times carmen berzatto fell in love with you a little and the one time he finally told you)

warnings: swearing, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, drinking & smoking, suggestive language, mentions of covid-19/the pandemic, eventual smut.

word count: 4k

listen to: hot sugar - glass animals | hard to live in the city - albert hammond jr. | alone together - del water gap | foreign girls - bleachers

read: chapter one

March 2020: 

“Carmy, can you hear me now?” you ask, listening carefully for his response. 

“Yeah hold on. Wifi’s shit in this room,” he mumbles. You hear a rustle of sounds and the picture on your phone goes blurry for a second. This is just something you’ve come to accept is a part of your life now as you wait. 

Suddenly, the picture is clear again and it looks like Carmy’s in his living room now. He wears a white t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants as he tries to get comfy on the shitty sofa in his Flatiron apartment. 

“Ok there we go. I gotta-, yeah, I can hear you now,” he says, finally settling in. 

“How are you?” you ask as you grow more sure that you’re going to be able to talk now. “It’s good to see your face.”

“Yeah, no uh. It’s good to see you too,” he replies. “Shit’s so weird right now, huh?”

“Totally,” you agree. “So… what’ve you been up to? I mean… how are you spending your time?”

He sighs, shaking his head, as if to say that he barely knows how to answer that question. He thinks it over before answering with:

“I don’t know. Workin’ on some recipes. Tryin’ not to lose my fuckin’ head. You?”

“Same,” you commiserate. “Though… I don’t know. I’ve kind of been enjoying some of the down time, you know?”

He couldn’t agree less. 

Carmy tells you about the recipes he’s working on. You share with him the plot of the show you’re binge watching right now. He tells you he hasn’t really been in touch with family much and you let him know that you’ve been running errands for your parents where you can. It’s a fairly normal conversation for a very uncertain and strange time, but it brings you comfort – talking to Carmy. 

You talk about the state of the restaurant industry. The state of the world. The two of you wonder when the restaurant might open back up – if they’ll consider doing to-go’s. He’s not sure and neither are you.

It’s almost two hours later when you realize your phone is dying, and that somehow, time has flown as the two of you have been talking. 

“Shit, uh. My phone’s dying. I may have to go,” you say remorsefully. 

“Oh yeah! No problem,” Carmy replies, almost apologetically. “And I uh, if I get in touch with the people at World Central Kitchen, I’ll let you know. I’m sure they can always use more chefs and volunteers.”

“No, that’d be great. Uh… before I go,” you start, knowing that you want to tell him this. “I just wanted to say… I’m glad we did this.”

“Yeah me too,” he agrees, and you can tell he means it. 

“Maybe… we do it again? Keep each other company… you know. Virtually?” you propose, hopefully. 

“Yeah,” Carmy half smiles. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

And as the pandemic drags on, you find yourself FaceTiming with Carmy more and more. Once a week turns into once a week and a consistent exchange of texts. He shares with you the recipes he’s working on. You bounce ideas around with him on dishes he feels stuck on. You send him silly memes and TikToks, even though he refuses to get an account himself. Once a week turns into twice a week, and then phone calls, and soon enough, you don’t go a day without talking to Carmy in some capacity. 

You’re not sure how you’ve done it but you think that maybe you and Carmy just might be friends. 

May 2020: 

“Thanks so much for all the help guys. It means a lot. Especially having two chefs of your caliber,” the volunteer coordinator says, addressing both you and Carmy. 

“Listen, we’re just happy to be a part of something right now. With so much going on… it’s hard to know where to begin helping,” you reply with gratitude. You’re genuinely thankful that you’ve been able to be a part of World Central Kitchen’s COVID relief efforts, and you know Carmy feels the same. 

“We’ll see you guys next Friday?” the volunteer coordinator asks. 

“Heard,” Carmy answers, thanking the coordinator one more time before the two of you leave the building. 

Around the corner, there’s a bench that the two of you find. It’s an easy choice to sit down – neither of you are quite ready to go home yet. You sit on opposite sides before removing your masks as Carmy pulls out a pack of marlboros. 

“You want one?” he asks you, holding out the pack.

“Yeah,” you agree, taking one from him at a distance. You watch him light up, before handing you the lighter he keeps in his jean jacket pocket.

It’s nice to take a moment to pause. Between the chaos of being in a kitchen again to the chaos of the world around you, it feels good to smoke a fucking cigarette on a street corner with the man that’s so unexpectedly become your friend. The two of you sit in a comfortable silence, just enjoying the sounds of the city, each others’ company, and your fuckin’ cancer sticks. 

You break the silence between the two of you, letting out the smallest chuckle.

“What?” Carmy asks you, your laugh garnering his attention. 

“It’s just… it’s almost funny,” you say, continuing your giggle. 

“What?” he asks you again, a look of amusement on his face. He can’t imagine what must be so funny. 

“Just… seeing you here… Mr. Fine Dining…makin’ sandwiches,” you tease playfully. “Thought you were too fancy-pants for that.”

“Fuck off,” he rolls his eyes playfully, sucking on his cigarette as he inhales. You laugh again as he shakes his head, shooting you another look. 

He takes his time, exhaling the smoke out in the opposite direction, before addressing your playful remarks. 

“Nah. It uh-, actually reminds me of my family’s place a little. Back home,” he shares with you. 

It catches you off guard. Carmy rarely ever talks about home, let alone his family. 

“Yeah?” you ask curiously, hoping he’ll elaborate.

“Yeah,” he answers with a nod, before placing the cigarette back in between his lips. 

To your disappointment, you realize that’s all he’s planning to share. You resign yourself, taking another drag of your cigarette as the two of you smoke to the sounds of the city. After a long shift at the volunteer kitchen, your exhaustion begins to catch up with you. It’s been a few months since you’ve had to stand for that long, and as exhilarating as it’s been, you can feel the fatigue in your back and your feet already. 

“So… I was thinkin’ about something,” Carmy says, breaking the silence between the two of you. 

You angle your body towards him before asking, “What’s that?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know. Maybe it’s dumb.” 

He’s suddenly shy, and your eyes flicker over his cheeks that have turned a darker shade of red than they were before. 

“Carmy, what is it?” you ask, leaning towards him, now intrigued.

He avoids your gaze before he replies, “Nah. Nevermind. It’s stupid.” 

“No, it’s not! What is it?” you continue to press him.

You’re not going to let this go. 

“I shouldn't've said anything.” 

He sighs, taking one more drag of his cigarette before leaning forward and tossing it on the ground. His left foot hovers over the cigarette butt as he stamps it out, his forearms resting on his legs as he finally turns to you again. 

“I don’t know how you feel about it, and you can totally say no because like… shit’s still fucked, you know but-,” he starts, shyly. Was Carmy about to ask you out?

 He pauses, his eyes scanning the pavement beneath his feet before saying, “It’s just-, I’m not like, seeing anyone else in person. Except you.”

“Yeah, no me either,” you agree. 

Where was this going?

“Would you maybe wanna-?” he asks, before trailing off, his piercing blue eyes so intense it feels like he’s looking right through you. He nods towards the kitchen before continuing with, “... see each other in person. Like outside of here. As long as we’re being safe you know?” 

You nod, quick to put the poor man at ease, and only a little intrigued as to why it was so difficult for him to ask you that. 

“Yeah no. I’m not seeing anyone else in person either. And at this point if we had COVID, we’d probably already have exposed each other, right?” you reply. 

“Yeah,” he answers. 

“Yeah, I’d be down. To… you know. Maybe move some of our FaceTimes… in person, if that’s what you mean,” you agree, a smile on your face. 

You’re not sure what you expected, but you weren’t expecting for Carmy to ask you to become his quarantine buddy – even if you’d already kind of been doing it anyways. 

“Cool,” he says, taking a breath. 

You can tell that it was a big deal for him – to ask you that – even if he doesn’t want to show it. 

“Can I walk you home?” he asks. 

You smile in return, “Yeah. And if you’re feeling wild… we can… pick something up on the way there. You can come up and hang.”

“No, yeah. That uh-, that sounds great,” he replies, something softer in his eyes this time. “If you don’t mind. I mean-, if you want the company-.”

“Oh shut up, Berzatto,” you roll your eyes at him. You shoot him a look, even though you’re kind of loving this softer side of him. 

“I wouldn’t have offered, if I didn’t.”

July 2020: 

Carmen Berzatto becomes an unexpected yet pleasantly surprising part of your support system, and your COVID-pod. It’s hard to believe that less than a year ago, you thought the man absolutely hated you. He’s still the hot and cold, emotionally turbulent man you met last October, and he’s also become your friend. You’ve learned that he can be soft, that he’s terribly uncomfortable in any and all social situations, and that he’s the most single-minded, driven, obsessed motherfucker you’ve ever met. 

By now, the restaurant has pivoted and reopened for to-gos only. It’s nothing like the fine dining establishment it was before. You’re only open Thursday to Sunday and it’s a much more family style, to-go kit sort of operation these days: to-go cocktail kits, to-go curated menus, to-go assemble your own dishes at home. 

It’s strange. And it’s a strange time for all of you. 

You’re finished with your shift today, ready to head home and spend the next three days off. You’re not sure when you’ll ever get three days off in a row once all of this is over, so you’ve decided that you’re just going to embrace the slower lifestyle right now. You’ve been more creative in this chapter of your life than you can remember. 

“So you layin’ it down for Carmy or what?” a voice asks, jolting you from your thoughts. 

“Excuse me?” you snap, turning your head to a very smug looking Nate Walker, stripping off his face mask.

“What the fuck, man?” Tim exclaims, as he’s changing back into his street shoes. “Not okay to say.”

“What?” Nate defends himself. “I’m just wondering who I have to thank. This is the most relaxed I’ve ever seen the boss man.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, “Really nice, Nate.” 

You shake your head, before slinging your backpack over your right arm, exchanging a look with Tim. 

“Not that it’s any of your business, but Carmy and I are just friends,” you correct. “Ever think that some time off has been good for all of us and that’s why Carmy’s been chill?”

“‘S not like we’re working at the same capacity we used to be. I think it’s been good for him,” Tim chimes in, trying to offer you a little backup.

“Sure,” Nate replies, unconvinced. 

“What’s it to you anyways, Walker?” Tim asks, putting the spotlight on his coworker. 

“Nothin’,” Nate replies, defensively. “Just noticed you guys spendin’ a lot of time together lately. Besides, the guy could use a good lay.”

“You’re a child,” you snap with an eye roll. You slide your left arm into the other strap of your backpack, ready to leave. “Now if we’re done with the girl talk, I’m going home.”

As you begin to walk away, you can hear Nate defending himself as Tim points out how inappropriate it was for him to say that to you. You’re grateful for people like Tim, because you’re not sure that Nate would listen to anyone else lower in the French brigade system – let alone a woman. 

“We still on for tomorrow?” Carmy asks you, as you're on your way out. He’s still in his chef whites because, as the both of you know, he’s going to be the last person to leave. A smile spreads across your face as soon as you see him. 

That’s right. You’re spending your day off tomorrow with him. 

“Yeah,” you smile with a nod. 

“Mine or yours?” he asks. 

You shoot him a look – a ‘I know you haven’t cleaned up your place’ kind of look. 

“Mine,” you reply. 

“Sweet. There’s a cool market nearby I wanted to check out. I’ll pick somethin’ up on the way,” he says back. 

“Heard.”

You wait a beat before adding, “Try not to work too hard, chef.”

He likes that you’re looking out for him. 

He smiles, “Heard.”

*

As much as you’ve tried not to let Nate Walker get to you, you can’t stop thinking about what he said the day before. Did people think you and Carmy were sleeping together? Did the whole staff think you were trying to sleep your way to the top? Your mind races, and you notice the anxious feelings you have have settled deep in your chest. Carmy moves around your kitchen, intentionally, and while you’d like to enjoy how happy he looks when he cooks for fun, you can’t seem to shut off your brain. 

“You sure I can’t help? I went to culinary school too, yknow?” you ask, trying to put on your best lighthearted tone. 

“Nah,” he dismisses, pulling together a sauce in one of the glass bowls you keep in your kitchen for prep. 

As Carmy steals a glance your way, he’s surprised to find that whatever weight it seems you were carrying when he first walked in, hasn’t gone away. He returns his focus to the stovetop, shaking the stainless clad frying pan that holds his precisely-cut lardons. 

“What’s up?” he asks you, keeping his back to you. 

“Uh… nothing,” you reply, trying your best to shake it off. 

He knows you’re lying, and he turns to look at you again, more intently this time. Your lips are pressed together in a thin line and there’s a new tension knitted between your brows that’s not normally there. As much as you’re trying not to let it get to you, your face betrays you and he knows that something’s been bothering you all day. He shoots you an unconvinced look and you sigh in defeat. 

Since when had Carmy learned what that look meant. 

“Just-, you’re gonna think it’s dumb,” you start, almost embarrassed that you have to bring this up to him. 

“What’s up?” he asks, patiently. 

You shrug, “Just something that Nate said yesterday’s been… bothering me, I guess.”

He rolls his eyes, letting out a dry laugh as he asks you, “Well Nate’s a dick. What’d he say?”

“I-, I don’t know if I should tell you,” you admit hesitantly. 

“Why?” he asks, a pang of nerves hitting him right in the gut. 

You wait a beat, trying to figure out how best to convey what Nate said without freaking Carmy out. 

“He uh… he kind of… suggested that everyone thinks we’re sleeping together?” you say cautiously, your voice going up at the end of the sentence, almost as if it were a question. 

“Oh,” is all Carmy manages to get out. 

“Yeah,” you exhale. 

“Well, we’re not,” Carmy replies, simply. 

Right. 

“Right,” you agree. 

You’re surprised by the feeling of disappointment that wells in your chest in response to Carmy’s reply. This had been eating away at you and for him to shut it down so quickly – like it was that simple – doesn’t quite make sense to you. 

Maybe it’s because men never bear the burden of an inappropriate workplace relationship, not that you’re having one with Carmy, but you know it’d be a bigger cost to you than it’d ever be for him.

“I just…” you start, beginning to understand why it’s bothering you so much. “Do you think… like is it a problem that we’re hanging out? I mean, you are kind of my boss and… I don’t know. I guess we never really talked about the ethical implications of… you know. Us. Being friends. And also working together.”

Friends. 

Right. 

Maybe because it’s because he’s never really had friends, let alone a girlfriend, that catches Carmy off guard.

You’re just friends, motherfucker, Carmy thinks to himself. 

It’s like he’d almost forgotten. 

Perhaps it’s the isolation – the way of the world right now – but he’s never thought about what you were to him. Ever since the two of you had decided to start spending time together, it had been you and him against a very scary and uncertain world. Carmy’s surprised to find that, hearing it said aloud, friends, leaves him with a feeling of dissatisfaction – like the word friend didn’t quite describe the way he felt about you. 

But he’s terrified to think about what that could mean. That anything else would probably scare you away – push you out of his life – and there’s no way in hell he’s going to let that happen right now. 

Because he likes this too much. 

Because he likes who he is when he’s with you. 

Because you’re all he has. 

He pushes the thoughts out of his mind for another time, because right now, you’re sitting right in front of him, and he’s got a problem to solve for you. 

“As long as we’re professional in the kitchen… I don’t see why it should be a problem,” he says. 

You’re not sure how it seems so simple for him, because it doesn’t feel this simple for you. 

“Yeah, no. I-, I agree,” you lie. 

Carmy returns to what he’s doing, and you accept that that’s probably the full conversation that you’re going to have with him. At least right now. You watch as he continues to cook, pulling together the sauce as he tosses the pasta and cheese in your frying pan. You open up your phone, scrolling through a few social media posts to try your best to get your mind off of your worries as Carmy finishes up in your kitchen. 

It’s not long before he’s returned to your small dining table. You set your phone down, watching as he approaches you. 

“I remember you mentioning that it’s hard to find a good carbonara so uh… thought I’d make you one,” he says confidently. Carmy hands you bowl containing a perfectly twirled nest of spaghetti, along with a fork he’d gotten from your kitchen. 

“How do I know it’s gonna be up to my standards?” you challenge him playfully. 

He shoots you a ‘don’t play with me’ kind of look and you giggle in response. You exchange glances with Carmy before messing up the perfectly plated nest by digging your fork into it. 

“Make sure you get a little bit of everything,” he reminds you. He watches as you twirl the spaghetti around your fork, making sure to scoop up a bit of crispy guanciale. You lift the fork to your mouth before taking a bite, your eyes closing as the salty, cheesy, bite hits your tongue. 

It’s perfect.  

“Holy fuck,” you practically moan in response to your first bite. You open your eyes and he smiles back at you, proud of the response he’s earned from you. Your face twists into a look that falls somewhere between ‘this is so good I’m angry and hello, I’ve reached nirvana.’ 

“This-, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m pretty sure your talents are being wasted on fine dining, my friend. This is… this is fucking unreal, dude,” you say, as you continuing processing the most perfect carbonara you’ve ever had in your life. 

“No offense taken,” he says. 

You shake your head at him, “Best carbonara ever.”

September 2020: 

“So we go upstate, and we’re searching for outdoor activities we can do, you know, safely, at a distance, with masks on. And we end up at this goat farm,” Maya says, describing her and her fiance’s last few months spent in upstate New York. 

“...Was the goat named Milo?” Carmy asks, a humorous tone to his question. 

“Carmy!” you exclaim with a laugh, shooting him a look. 

“What?” he asks back. 

Both Liz, Maya, and her fiance Patrick send you questioning looks. 

“I-, it’s an inside joke,” you explain, shaking your head once again in response to Carmy’s very silly interjection. 

“Anyways, it’s so nice to be back in the city. Seriously, Liz, thanks for organizing this,” Maya continues. 

“Oh, I’m kind of getting really into this whole cute picnic thing actually,” she replies, in reference to the picnic she’s organized for the five of you. “Plus, the to-go picnic kit has been killing at the restaurant. Thanks for letting me run with that, chef.”

“No, yeah. You’re killin’ it. It was a great idea,” Carmy compliments. 

The five of you spend time in the park, catching up and enjoying time spent in person for the first time in a long time. You, Liz, and Carmy have been back at work, pushing through, what will hopefully be, the last month or so in the to-go only business at the restaurant. As the sun begins to come down, you all agree that it’s time to pack it up and go home. You’ve begun to collect all of the trash in a brown paper bag as Carmy offers to take it. 

“You sure?” you ask him. 

“Yeah,” he answers. 

As he takes a walk, in search of the nearest trash can, your friends are immediately on you about whatever the hell it is that you and Carmy are doing. 

“So what I’m hearing is… you talk every day, you have inside jokes together, and you’re basically quarantining together. How are you trying to tell us that this man is not your boyfriend?!” Maya exclaims. Her partner shrugs in agreement. 

“I know that what Nate said was hella inappropriate, but he’s not wrong… that this is the most I’ve seen him relaxed in… maybe since we met him,” Liz adds in as your friends make their case. 

“He seems into you,” Patrick offers. 

“I-,” you start, knowing you don’t have much time before Carmy returns. “I don’t know. All I know is… I like what we have. And right now, we’re friends so.”

“God, you’re so good at it,” Maya sighs. 

“What?” you ask, looking from her to Liz as they exchange glances. 

The both turn to you, before saying in unison, “Compartmentalizing!” 

Patrick holds his hands up as he says, “I’m gonna stay out of this one.”

“You ready to go?” Carmy asks, rejoining you and your friends. 

You can practically feel Liz and Maya staring at you. 

“Yeah,” you reply to Carmy. 

You say your goodbyes before going your separate ways, and Maya swears when Carmy isn’t listening that you’re not done talking about this. It’s just been you and Carmy for so long that you hadn’t thought about what it might look like to other people. Now that things were slowly reopening… you were beginning to get more questions, and maybe, you were beginning to have more questions too. 

But the last time you’d tried to bring up any conversation about your relationship with Carmy, he’d shut it down and distracted you with the best carbonara you’ve ever had in your life. Not that you were complaining, definitely not, but you were hesitant to bring it up any time soon.  As Carmy looks at you, there’s something about the way you look against the backdrop of the city, the setting sun, and the sparkling lights, that catches him off guard. He’s not ready to part ways with you yet.

“Can I walk you home?” Carmy offers, hopefully. 

“Sure,” you nod.

read chapter three

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite @tpwkkmila @cool-girl-is-hot @nunya7394 @galaxyprincess51-blog @carmensberzattos

[tainted-liquor]

'Perfect Fit !...ft 42Miles ( ⸝⸝⸝ ̫⸝⸝⸝)◦♡︎

...⸝˚₊‧꒰ა ꨄ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚⸝

ingredients: sugar, kisses, n a lil bit of smiles!

TWs: Nothing? Heatwave? Idk

A/N: short luh fic

Silence. What better noise to bask in than the sound of your own thoughts and the actions of those around you? You weren't rude, or disrespectful in any capacity. But you preferred not to speak or avoid long conversations with people you weren't close to. It proved beneficial in analyzing people around you and their behavior, slowly but surely revealing their true intentions and personality beneath the six-foot grave they'd bury it under around certain crowds. One girl would compliment and play in her friend's hair, but turn around and grunt and gag when talking about the same young lady only an hour later when given the chance. So you found yourself to be quiet, and nonchalant when it came to unfamiliar faces.

As of now, you were outside with Miles, perched up in the nook of a tree with both of your guitars stationed on each other's lap. The air was finally beginning to warm up after a frigid ass winter, the pale blue and ghost white morphing into golden orange and vibrant greens. Your school sweater had been discarded somewhere across the school grounds, and the 'prestigious' Brooklyn Visions tie loosely wrapped around a nearby tree branch. "This heat got me mad tight...I can't even play in this fucking heat" you grunted, promptly resting your painted dark-oak guitar on the grassy soil. You looked over to see Miles, your boyfriend, half dead and with his shirt halfway on.

"Nah deadass...and they act like they can't turn the fuckin air on in the building" He groaned before tossing his guitar on the ground, barely wincing at the hollow thunk it made. You side-eyed him, glaring through his soul with a low "I hope you got money to replace that...since you think it's a damn toy." Miles rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to form a rebuttal before getting cut off by an unfamiliar presence. "Hey, guys!" some girl you'd seen a couple times around exclaimed, pulling her hair back into a high pony as she came to lean on the tree. You both nodded simultaneously, going back to your silent and stoic demeanor as she continued to climb up the tree trunk, squishing herself next to you on the already too-small branch. You grunted, feeling yourself grow hotter against her already warm body heat.

You cleared your throat, shooting the girl a stern glare and gesturing for her to get down. "Can you move? It's hot and I really don't wanna be all up on you..." You grunted, attempting to lean further away from her without falling on the floor. You groaned when she gave you a glare, actively staring her down silently before she hopped off your branch. Miles rolled his eyes, immediately leaning back and crossing his arms behind his head as he got comfy on his side again. He chuckled just barely above a whisper, muttering to himself "No reason for you to be pushed up on me in this heat..."

You giggled before lowering yourself down off the tree to collect your things. It was 3:19, and all you really wanted to do was sit under some cool air and chill with an icee. "C'mon. We finna go to the store. 'N put your shirt on you hoodrat." you spat, giggling as you put your guitar off to the side next to your bag before setting off. Miles glared at you, fixing his white button-up with an unamused scowl across his features, but nonetheless still pecked your forehead with the same gentle grace of a baby bird.

"Aight remember that"

Taglist below 🤍

@ashsostrange @chessbox @janaeby @faeriesoiree333 @fivestardior @an1bara @bachirasegoist @milesnanana77 @niaurluv @sp1derw1re @ban-al3x @we-loveebony @kae2kaee @dxrlingcc

[ominoose]

𝐂𝐫𝐲𝐩𝐭𝐨𝐳𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲

Pairing: Jake Lockley x AFAB!Autistic!Reader Summary: Short fluff self-insert with Jake because fandoms gotta become cringe again. Also shout out to Bigfoot enjoyers! Warnings: None WC: 779

“And so like, they weren’t even just screaming, they were vocalising! Phonetically they were forming words, like there was cadence to it, y’know?!”

“Mh hm.” Jake nodded, nursing the coffee mug in his hand, watching the short woman pace back and forth across the kitchen, her own cup of tea completely forgotten and abandoned on the table like many others over the ages. Poor things.

“And- And the University of Wyoming studied the recordings for a year! And guess what!”

The man was an expert at this, and knew well the question was rhetorical, there wouldn’t be enough time to actually get a ‘What?’ in there. Instead, he widened his eyes a little as he took another sip of bitter coffee, waiting expectantly for the next revelation.

“They said the noises were from lungs that were larger in capacity than humans! And it was an actual deliberate language!” The huge grin, wide eyes and shaking of her hands marked the clear importance of the sentence, this was not a finding to be taken lightly.

“No way.”

Coming home from a late shift in the cab, Jake usually would’ve poured a glass of whiskey, kicked off his shoes, loosened his tie and claimed the couch to binge some shitty reality tv. Sue him, it was entertaining to be invested in drama that was less world ending over godly feuds and more Becky's boyfriend kissing her ex. If his girl came to sit beside him and let him use her thighs as a stress toy, it was the recipe for a perfect night.

When he came home tonight to see his beautiful girl practically bouncing on her toes, hands stimming, actively chewing back a smile and practically bursting at the seams with some hot info instead, how could he not walk over and get his fill? After all, she info-dumped with more passion than any gossip the Kardashians could give. As her man, it was his solemn duty to share her burdens, even if that burden was her excitement over some Bigfoot evidence from some random American woods.

“I also heard that the area the sounds were recorded historically had a lot of Chinese settlers- and the vocalisations have a large resemblance to Mandarin! I mean that, like, implies the Bigfoot community only either cropped up at that period or something but, like, it’s still insane I mean can you imagine we haven’t encountered Bigfoot yet because they all speak Chinese and can’t understand us?” How she spewed so much without taking a single breath was a mystery in and of itself, those crypto-whatsits oughta look into that.

“Who’s ‘we’, bebita? There’s only one American in this room and that’s me. Stop trying to steal my guy.”

“Your guy?” The smile on her face grew, adoring that he entertained her info-dumps and enamored with his cheek, “Since when did Bigfoot go to New York?”

The Latino shrugged, completely nonchalant as he drained the last of his coffee.

“When he calls my cab to take him there.” The curl of his lips betrayed his own amusement and the short woman giggled as she bounced into his lap, hands patting his shoulders.

Stimming was still a relatively new concept to Jake. To him, he understood it as needing to shake off big feelings, good or bad, before they drowned you. He could understand that, feelings were a fuckin’ lot even to him, and he didn’t have autism (no matter how much his amor tried to peer review him, he’d dodge those accusations like he dodged the Avengers).

Seeing her stim to him, with him, over him, that was intimate. That coiled into his very soul, snug and warm. Knowing her feelings for him were so strong, so intense she had to literally, physically, manage them before they made her heart explode? It was literally impossible for the thoughts in his head to try and do some self-sabotage. No one could tell him she didn’t love him, not even himself.

That wasn’t even accounting for the obvious fact that she felt safe enough to shake her heart around right in front of him, with that beautiful smile too. She’d kill him before any bullet or cultist ever could, and he’d accept it with open arms.

“You think that Mothman guy and Bigfoot are amigos? Think they’ve ever hooked up?”

The light in her eyes when he casually sprinkled her other hyper-fixation in there, always making a point of showing he remembered each and every detail of her spiels, could lead him out of the darkest black hole.

“You’re weird, Jake Lockley.” Her giggle was girlish, high pitched and sweet as honey, “They’re divorced, actually.”

[bestworstcase]

Are you worried about Viz taking over RWBY? I’ve heard Kerry is still going to be involved in some capacity but that’s ambiguous. What about the other writers and creatives as well? Works like this are never written/realized by one man, it’s the collective hard work of the group. A lot of the intricacies you’ve teased out of RWBY, and their culmination in the narrative, rely on the same team (or some of them) being involved going forward. Where are you at on this rn?

really seems like the best case scenario honestly – kerry being the showrunner is obv the one taking point on the negotiations but it seems like the rest of the core crew and cast are being kept in the loop at minimum, though i’d bet contracts and production logistics are still being worked out behind the scenes. on the viz side they are clearly REALLY excited about the IP and kerry being involved decision-making for the show’s future is a pretty firm signal of intent to preserve the original vision and direction for the show, plus i would assume keeping the crew and cast together to the greatest degree possible is probably kerry’s biggest priority rn now that the first hurdle of finding rwby a new home has been cleared.

the ambiguity is 100% because nothing is settled yet aside from what’s been announced. it is frankly shocking that they closed the deal on the IP this fast—i know two months feels like a really long time when you’re waiting for news, but corporate acquisitions of any kind are not like picking up milk at a grocery store. just from a strictly financial standpoint everything needs to go through accounting and depending on how viz is structured treasury might have needed to sign off too, so that’s financial projections and budgeting that needs to happen and pass through multiple different layers of approval potentially across two different departments on top of legal and whatever specific considerations other departments may have had; there are a lot of moving pieces that have to be lined up just so. i was really, really confident that rwby would get picked up pretty quickly but if you’d asked me after the shut down announcement i would have told you six months to a year because that’s, in my experience, about how long this sort of thing takes if nobody is dragging their feet.

two months is fuckin wild.

but by the same token, yeah everyone involved with this deal is going to be up to their eyeballs in paperwork and meetings for at least a few more months before we get any concrete new announcements, and nothing is getting announced to the public until it’s settled because you don’t want to be announcing things that aren’t locked in yet. that includes basic stuff like whether the original VAs stay on—there is absolutely no reason to think that, say, lindsay won’t keep their role as ruby, but we are not going to hear that until they’ve signed a contract, which may still be months away. similarly there is no reason to think that viz acquired the IP without every intention to greenlight v10, but we are not going to hear a v10 announcement until all the production logistics and legal and financial decisions have been squared away.

just keep in mind that corporations move like glaciers and the two months between the RT shutdown announcement and viz snapping up both the IP and the showrunner means this is all happening at breakneck speed, suggesting that everyone with decision-making power at viz is incandescently excited to get this show back on the road. it’s in good hands, they’re hustling, we’re probably on track for v10 news sometime this fall.