#anyway I can SEE this argument in my brain

[pomefioredove]

@hxney-lemcn said more cater fics and I am here 2 deliver ✌️✌️

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ friends kiss, too

type of post: short fic characters: cater additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, friends 2 lovers ON TOP! a little making out

Every time Cater drags you through one of these things, you ask yourself why you let him, and every time, the answer is the same: he's your best friend, and you love him.

It's the very same reason you let him spam you with texts and annoy you with surprise selfies. It's the reason you rarely hang out with anyone else, because you know it makes him jealous, though he'd never admit that.

It's the reason you're here, now, awake in your room well past curfew.

Despite the threat of a Housewarden who would flay you alive if he caught you and Cater sneaking around in the dead hours of the night, your bestie was absolutely insistent on this all-nighter.

It's a trend on Magicam, he said, and he had, of course, pouted and whined like a sad puppy until you agreed to "support him" by keeping him awake.

By two in the morning, you were more bored than tired.

"Pass. Pass," Cater says, swiping through dating profiles on his phone. "Hm... no, pass."

You sigh and slump against the headboard of your bed. "You've said that word so many times, it doesn't sound real anymore,"

"Ughhhh. Is Sage's Island where hotties go to die? I just want a cute holiday romance!" he exclaims. "Think of the pics!"

You roll your eyes. You'd heard that exact string of words probably ten times in the past few days.

"You can't date someone just for couple photo ops,"

Cater pouts. "Oh, yes I can. I specify "nothing serious" on my profile! It's not like I'm lying!"

Another eye-roll. He's technically right, as always, which just makes you even more annoyed.

But you don't want to get into an argument about the morality of flings right now.

"And it's cold out. Who am I gonna hold when it gets even colder? It's cuffing season, hon,"

Something about the way he says that bothers you. You try not to think about it so much.

"Well, you'll always have me," you tease.

Cater giggles, and sets his phone down on the bed, a subtle way of showing you that you have his full attention now. "Oh? What's this? Sounds like you're offering,"

"Not what I meant," you counter. "I'm your bestie, not your bae."

"Boooo. What are you, a nun? Friends cuddle all the time,"

Again, he's right. He likes being right, and you can see that on him now, too. He has that competitive glow on his face.

You smile. "Sure, sure, but we all know that cuddling isn't what you're looking for,"

Cater gasps, feigning offense with a hand placed delicately over his heart. "I am not that easy! I'm starting to think you really do want me all to yourself,"

If anything, it's the other way around. Since befriending him at the start of the school year, you'd always had the feeling that he took up all your time on purpose. But you don't say that.

"Besides," he goes on. "There are a lot of things that besties can do that are perfectly friend-like. The segregation of romantic and platonic is a totally oppressive amatonormative structure, anyway."

You roll your eyes. "You have got to stop reading those infographics. Do you even know what any of those words mean?"

"Not the point! I'm saying that there's lots of cute stuff we can do while remaining besties,"

He's very enthusiastic about this. You can't tell if it's his penchant for being right, or something more.

"Pfft. Okay. So, what, friends can kiss?"

"Obviously," Cater crosses his arms over his chest, giving you that smug look of his. "Friends kiss, too."

"Then prove it,"

The words that had you had been holding in the back of your mouth for the past few minutes escape before your brain can stop them.

Even Cater, who's never surprised, pales a little.

Your mouth opens, then closes, then opens, again without your thoughts offering any support.

"I didn't mean-"

"Okay,"

You blink. Something hot and cold at the same time runs through your body- adrenaline, anxiety, maybe it's just your own blood heating up at the way Cater leans closer, cupping your face in his hand, his fingers curled under your jaw and thumb gently brushing against your cheek.

His hands are kinda sweaty. You don't really mind, and even if you did, it wouldn't have mattered, because his lips are now sweetly pressing against yours.

You fit together quite nicely. As if he was just meant to kiss you.

It's hard not to think about everything all at once; his warm hand moving to cup your chin and hold you close to him, his hair brushing against your face, the way his lips still linger with spice from whatever he'd eaten earlier...

It's not perfect. But it's him, which is close enough.

Cater pulls away, his breath dancing across your lips, but he gives you no time to recover before he's closer, kissing you again with a sort of heat that matched the taste of his mouth.

He holds your face in both hands, shamelessly pinning you against the headboard and sitting in your lap as if he belonged there, always.

Minutes go by. Maybe hours. You wouldn't have noticed, or cared, either way. When you finally part from one another, it's felt like years.

You feel like an entirely different person. As if the world had ended and begun again in the six minutes you had been kissing him.

Cater sits atop your thighs, panting, his face redder than his Housewarden's hair, that of which would have flayed you both if he were to catch you like this.

Luckily, it's just the two of you.

"See?" Cater finally mumbles, dismounting you and scooting back to where he left his phone. "Platonic."

You're too breathless to argue.

You suppose you'll let him be right again.

[emotionoitme]

i didn’t know

i didn't know - skinshape

final part of don’t call my name

warnings: some fighting at the beginning, but it’s mostly just one big love and fuckfest, mommy issues, slight mention of disordered eating, carmy is a PERV!! unprotected sex throughout but what else did you expect, shower sex (water off for SAFETY), teasing, play fighting (like shoving), brat/brat tamer themes, f receiving oral, fingering, major voyeurism (while otp with richie because i have a crush on him), spanking (and mention of skin being red), slight dacryphilia, sexy pictures, face fucking (m receiving oral), he spits in her mouth, kind of rough handling (thank u dom carmy), but it’s sweet and sappy too, breeding kink oop, bittersweet ending, pls let me know if i missed any warnings my brain is fried from looking at this for so long.

wc: 21k - but tumblr has a 1k "block limit" so this chapter is broken into two posts

a/n: sorry that took me so long i took a grippy sock vacation lol. wow i am so excited for all of you to read this. and the only way i can apologize is with 21k words of the nastiest smut i’ve ever written. LET THERE BE LIGHT!!! (part two of this chapter will be linked at the bottom! no more waiting i promise!!)

playlist

knock knock 

he calls her name. 

she rolls her eyes, brushing out the tangles in her hair. “i need to talk to you.” his voice comes sternly.

she cracks the door, continuing to detangle. the plan was to ignore him, yet she can’t help but seethe at the fact that she had to deal with claire again.

“go talk to your girlfriend” her retort comes sharply.

“can you not start this shit?” his face scrunches.

“i’m not starting anything,” she defends, “you’re the one who keeps inviting that girl over here.” 

“she forgot her scarf,” he states, “she just came to pick it up. that’s it.”

the girl scoffs. 

“i’m sure she wanted a lot more than her scarf from you, carm.” 

“you-,” he rubs his forehead, sighing, “i told her that we’re together, okay?” his eyebrow twitches from the argument.

“you only told her that because she saw me in your shirt,” the girl argues stubbornly, “if i didn’t walk behind you, you wouldn’t have said anything.” she turns the shower on.

“yes i would have,” he contests, “and even if she didn’t see you, i’ve got these fuckin’ things all over my neck,” pointing to the dark purple hickeys that lay on his skin, “thanks for those, by the way. gotta go into work tomorrow like this.” 

she bites her lip to hide a smirk. 

he catches it and raises his eyebrows in response. 

“payback.”

“what?” he stutters, shaking his head. 

“those are nothing compared to what you gave me.”  

he scoffs and crosses his arms. tries to push away how roused he becomes when they bicker like this. 

“i didn’t hear any complaints while i was giving you them,” he counters. 

she rolls her eyes.

“can you get out? i need to shower.” 

“m’not done talking to you,” his eyes lock on her face. 

she puts her hand on her hip and scoffs, staring at him for a moment, studying his features. cursing how her body tingled from the argument. deliberating. 

“fine,” she concedes, threading her fingers under the hem of the borrowed shirt, lifting it up over her head to reveal her nudity. if he won’t leave, she’ll just shower anyways. 

carmen fights a groan at the sight, instead forcefully exhaling through his nose. 

she was right, the marks on his neck were nothing compared to the bruises littering her skin, trailing from her neck all the way down to her chest, ranging from red to purple to brown.

the girl turns to open the glass door of the shower, stepping in, watching as the man shamelessly admires her figure. she goes about her business as if he’s not there, submerging her head under the stream of water, carding her fingers through her hair to scrub her scalp. 

he’s not done talking to her, yet he can’t seem to remember what he even wanted to say, transfixed by her nude, wet body just feet away. she begins to hum a tune and lather up her hair with shampoo. 

carmen approaches the glass. 

“hey,” he tries with a knock, eyebrow twitching. something else twitching, too. 

she glances at him, suds dripping down the side of her face, sliding down her breasts. she smirks knowingly at the sight of his flustered face, pushing her chest out slightly before drenching her face underneath the water again. 

he knocks on the glass door again, jaw tightly clenched. she rubs the water out of her eye and turns to him, cracking the door of the shower open. 

“hm?” she questions, gazing up at him. 

“we gonna finish talking?” he asks. he looks angry, but she knows better. the way his chest puffs out. the way his jaw clenches in that certain way. he looks hungry, and she’s tempted to keep pushing.

“i can’t. i’m in the shower,” she bites down on her lip to refrain from smirking. 

“why-” a sigh, running his fingers through his hair, “why you being such a brat today, huh?” he strains, giving great effort to keep his gaze from trailing down. 

“because i want you to myself,” she bites, “i’m tired of sharing with claire.”

“will you knock that shit off? y’not sharing me with anyone.” 

“uh, i beg to differ,” her eyebrows scrunch, “you’ve been fucking around with her since i moved in.” 

“fucking around?” he scoffs, “she was getting her scarf.”

“there was the other time, too, carm,” she reminds him. 

“that’s because-” he lets out a sigh of exasperation, hand carding through his hair. “listen. she’s the last person i wanna be with. we just…weren't good together.”

“why not?” she presses 

“there just wasn’t…i dunno, sparks? it was like dating a friend.” 

“okay.” she’s still mad, but she likes the words that come from his mouth. because if she has one thing with carmen, it’s definitely sparks. 

“yeah?” he tries, leaning to see her face, “you know i’m yours, right?” 

“yeah. whatever.” she doesn’t want to concede, too fired up about claire coming back over. “you should’ve told me.”

“i knew it’d make you mad,” he defends. 

“not as mad as it makes me thinking that you invited her,” she scoffs, “fucking hate seeing that girl bat her eyelashes at you.” she lathers shampoo between her hands and begins to wash her hair. 

“yeah?” he raises his eyebrows, “feeling jealous?” 

“shut up.” she can sense the stupid smirk on his face. 

carmy’s concentration breaks, and his gaze flits down to her sudsy chest. fuck. he clears his throat before speaking. 

“didn’t know girls like you could get jealous.”

“girls like m-what? what is that supposed to mean?” she cracks an eye open. 

“means you’re too fuckin’ pretty to worry about that shit. so just lose the attitude.”

his answer catches her off guard. the pulsing between her legs catches her off guard too. so she just turns away from him, scrubbing her scalp with her soapy fingers and shutting her eyes tightly. 

he chides her name and pushes the glass door open further. 

she ignores him, soaking her hair under the stream of water, muffling his voice. her eyebrow twitches. 

carmy steps partially in and turns off the water, getting his shirt wet in the process. the girl’s eyes shoot open and she whips around to face him.

“what the fuck, carmy?!” 

“i need you to fuckin’ hear me.” his comes louder than he anticipated. “i don’t. want. claire.” 

she doesn’t even care anymore. his lips look so inviting, she thinks. his white shirt clings to his chest in the spot that got wet. 

she just looks at him for a moment. studies his frenetic expression. looks at his lips again. 

“are you gonna keep fucking fighting with me or are you gonna take that wet shirt off?” 

it takes him a half second of firm deliberation before he’s yanking his shirt over his head and pushing his sweatpants off. she grins as he roughly grabs her face and slams his lips against hers. 

he kisses her with a hungry frenzy, like he has something to prove.  

and they apologize to each other with their bodies yet again, as carmen lifts her against the cold tile and fucks her, coaxing and kissing and thrusting an orgasm out of her. 

he fucks her until it feels like all the hurting is gone. until she gets lovey and desperate for him. until he gets so worked up he groans promises about finding her in california and giving her a ring. 

by the time they finish, the water is cold and the girl begins to shiver. so the two quickly finish washing up and carmy wraps her in a towel. 

he retrieves one of his sweatshirts for her to wear, smoothing his hands over her arms to help warm her up. 

without many words exchanged, they decide to cuddle up on the couch and watch a movie together. she lays her head on his lap and he cards his fingers through her hair absentmindedly. exchanging tenderness to help mend the argument. forgetting feelings of jealousy and shortcoming and guilt. 

they cozy up in carmen’s bed that night, taking a moment before falling asleep to just lay staring at each other. joking softly, touching each other sweetly.

he asks her about california, and watches with fascination as she lights up telling him about the beach she grew up next to. tells him about how when things would get bad at home she would sneak out her window and spend hours swimming in the salty water. letting the waves lap at her skin. letting the sun kiss her better. how it seems so dangerous looking back at it, but as kid nothing ever seemed that dangerous. it felt like nothing could hurt you. 

carmy enthusiastically agrees with her. follows her memory with his own anecdote of when donna took him, mikey, and nat to lake michigan and little carmy got separated from everyone. how he would have otherwise panicked and ran around and made the situation worse, but it was such a beautiful evening. so he decided to just sit on a rock and watch the waves roll in. 

a big smile grows on the girl's face as he recounts the moment when his mom found him. how she threw her arms around him and cried. how he was too young to understand why she was so scared when it was such a lovely evening. 

she wraps her arms around his shoulders and their chests press flush together. she kisses his neck, and they stay quiet for a moment. 

“i wish i didn’t have to go back,” she whispers her admission.

“me too.” he keeps playing with her hair.

it’s quiet for a moment. there’s a heaviness that fills the room. 

“how long you gonna have to end up staying?” carmy asks softly, leaning away from her to study her eyes. her face. trying to memorize every detail. he doesn’t miss the way her expression falters at his question. 

the girl doesn’t answer, and her eyes become glossy. 

“shit,” he breathes. her eyes dart to his. “you’re not coming back, are you?” 

“my whole family is there,” she whispers, “my friends. there’s nothing for me here.” 

“really?” he scoffs, “nothing at all?” 

“don’t start, carm.”

“y’know i fuckin’ love you,” he harshly whispers. she flinches slightly at the word. it feels so much heavier without the haze of lust. 

“all we ever do is fuck and fight.” 

“that’s not true,” he argues. 

“it is.” 

the man lets out a sigh of frustration, studying her eyes. her face. her lips. 

“it just…it feels right with you,” his tone softens. 

she doesn’t say anything for a moment, and fantasizes about leaving everything behind and building something in chicago, no matter how much she had grown to hate the weather. she fantasizes about the man in front of her. how she wants to build a life with him. how makes her feel like no other man ever has.

it’s hard to verbalize as her mind racks back and forth, so instead she just leans forward and kisses him softly, fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck. 

carmy reciprocates hesitantly, mind racing with the things he wants to tell her. how he doesn’t care about the distance. how he’ll call her every night. how he’ll keep her room vacant incase she wants to come back. he softly groans into the kiss when she slips her tongue into his mouth, feeling her press her chest flush against his. it feels so good, but he knows it’s wrong to keep pushing the hard conversations away with more sex. 

the girl finds his hand and softly guides it under the hem of her shirt. carmen lets her, fingertips finding the softness of her skin. but when she tries to pull his hand up to her breast, he stops the attempt, fingers firmly pressing against her ribs. 

the girl whines against his lips, moving closer. 

carmy indulges in the taste of her for only a moment more before pulling back and saying her name. she ignores him, chasing his lips, hand moving to grasp his strong bicep. 

“hey,” he turns his head and her kisses land messily along his jaw, “c’mon.” 

she ignores him, knowing he’ll want to keep talking about california, pressing herself closer, wanting to indulge in the feeling of him without thinking about the end. 

he calls her name again, voice coming out strained. she can feel his erection pressing against her, and keeps peppering kisses along his jaw and face. 

“just make me feel good,” she begs against his skin, “please.”

carmen feels himself throb against her, wanting nothing more than to give in. knowing it won’t fix anything. knowing it’ll only complicate things more. 

“thought you said all we do is fuck and fight?” his fingers grip into her, jaw tightening, feeling his resolve begin to crumble beneath her lips. 

“mhm,” she breathes into his skin, “so fuck me again,” trailing her hand down his bare abdomen.

he grips her wrist before she can move any further down. her eyes come up to meet his, taking in the stern look on his face. 

“i know you wanna,” she breathes, a small smile tugging at the edge of her lips, “can feel you throbbing against me.” 

carmen harshly exhales, trying to keep his mind focused. she’s completely right, he thinks, he’s stiff as wood. but he has to stay strong, prove to himself he has control around her.  

“stop fucking around. i wanna talk to you.” his voice comes more sharply than he means. 

the girl stiffens at his tone, pulling away to sit up and retreat. he doesn’t release her wrist. 

“let me go,” she tells him. 

“no. we’re gonna fuckin’ finish this,” his eyebrows furrow, “i didn’t even know you weren’t coming back until now.”

“i don’t wanna talk about it anymore.” her throat feels tight. 

“no? just want me to make you feel better? that all this is to you?” he can’t help the harshness of his tone. 

“carm, i-”

“y’know i’ve never fuckin’ felt this way about anyone? never said ‘i love you’ to anyone but you?” his nose scrunches, eyes appearing glossy. 

“we’ve only known each other for a few weeks.” her tone comes hushed as her chest painfully tightens. 

“yeah, well, i know you enough to know that this is real. that i don’t even-” a sigh, “ i don’t want anybody else but you.” 

“everything you’re saying is just gonna make it harder when i leave.” her voice breaks. 

his furrowed brows soften at the sound, releasing her wrist. she says seated on the bed, trying to take deep breaths and stave off the hot tears that threaten to form. 

“fuck, i-” he pauses, harshly rubs his hand over his face, taking a moment before meeting her eyes again and saying her name. “i like you. a lot.” 

“i know. i like you too, carm.” she rubs the tears away harshly.

“so why can’t we just…enjoy it? while you’re still here? go all out on this?” 

she stares at him blankly for a second as a cue to elaborate. 

the man exhales and shakes his head, trying to piece together what to say. he can’t seem to find the words. she thankfully cuts in. 

“go all out on this?” she asks.

he nods. 

“like, you wanna be my fuckin’…. boyfriend?” 

carmen can’t help the small smile that flashes across his face at the title. he tries to turn his head to hide it but she catches it, playfully shoving his arm. his smile turns to a chuckle. 

“shut up,” she grins, wiping the last stray tear away, “you so wanna be my boyfriend.”

he bring his arms to rest behind his head, staring up at the girl with a lazy smile. he studies her smile. her pretty face. they way in which she’s leaned in closer. 

“fuck yeah, i do. you kidding me?” 

her eyebrows raise at how assertively he says it. her head falls back, and she begins to laugh. partially out of joy and partially out of disbelief. the sound is hearty and sweet, and carmy finds himself wishing he’d make her laugh more. 

the girl leans over him, smile still gracing her face, and she plants a tender kiss against his lips. 

carmen gazes dreamily at her as she sits back up and tucks her hair behind her ears. her face is flushed, and she’s wearing an expression he can’t quite read. they keep staring at each other silently. 

“this is gonna be a bad idea, huh?” she asks after a moment. 

“why?” 

“why wouldn’t it be?” her eyes take in his handsome face. she thinks about how hard it’s gonna be to leave. 

“well…i like you,” he clears his throat, “a lot. actually i’m kind of fuckin’ crazy about you.” 

her gaze softens at this. he continues. 

“and i’m very attracted to you. and we, uh… we have great sex…”

“yeah, we do,” she concedes, “these are all good points.”

“so then, you’re my girlfriend.” 

“carmy…” she sighs, pausing. thinking of what to say. “i don’t like it here. i’ve felt homesick for the past year. i’m really not coming back.” her voice is quiet.

“yeah.” he nods, clearing his throat, “i know you’re not.” he knows, but it’s still hard to be reminded of. 

“so, you’re gonna be okay with that?” 

“i mean…i��m not okay with it, but i’ll deal with it if it means we get to spend these next few weeks together.”

she thinks for a moment, studying his genuine expression.

“okay…but if we do this, we have to promise each other that we’re not gonna get too attached. i really don’t want this to be messy. i like you too much.”

“it won’t be,” he assures, although it feels more like a prayer than a fact. 

“okay,” she whispers, “then you’re my boyfriend i guess.”

his eyes light up a bit at this, and a boyish grin breaks his face.  

“nice.” 

“you’re stupid.” she laughs at his response, lightly shoving his chest again. 

he reaches up and shoves her shoulder back playfully. 

“you are.” 

she scoffs and goes to shove him again, harder this time. he catches her wrist and pulls her forward so she can’t. the girl lets out a yelp of surprise, splaying out over him, face inches from his. 

the simple display of dominance makes her feel dizzy, placing her free hand on his firm chest to center herself. 

“why you like fighting so much, hm?” he asks, his breath ghosting over her lips, “you’re always testing.” 

she tries to pull her wrist away, but his grip is firm. 

“cause you’re…sexy when you’re mad,” she admits, eyes drooping to his lips. 

“i’m sexy when i’m mad?” he has a slight mocking tone. 

“mhm.” she can’t keep her eyes off his lips. “if i worked at your restaurant, i’d probably mess shit up on purpose just so you’d yell at me.”

“jesus,” he lets out a laugh, rubbing his free hand over his face, “what, you like when i get a little rough you?”

“n-no,” she blurts out. the way she averts her eyes immediately reveals her lie.

“yeah, i think you do,” he grins. 

she goes to defend herself again, but shuts her mouth when she can’t think of anything to say. it is kind of true, anyways.

“shut up,” she pushes his face away from her gently, “or else i’ll break up with you.”

this makes him fully laugh. it’s a really nice sound. she watches the way his face crinkles with the big smile. when his laugh fades, he reaches for her chin and pulls her into a gentle kiss. she sighs into the feeling, settling her body closer to his. 

“m’tired,” she mutters into his lips, “you exhaust me.”

carmy rolls his eyes at this. “c’mere.” he says, pulling the sheets back for her. 

the girl slips in next to him and presses her back against his chest, resting her head on his bicep. 

carmy reaches behind him to turn off the lamp, then wraps his arm securely around her. he plants a kiss on her neck and nuzzles his nose into her hair. 

boyfriend. 

he could get used to the title. 

-

carmen gets home late from work on a cold night, late into november, crashing down onto the couch and basking in the silence of the apartment. 

it was a long day in the kitchen, followed by meeting with a contracting crew to update some structural components after hours. 

he had finally taken off after being there for almost 12 hours straight, begrudgingly leaving the renovations to be overseen by richie after having snapped at the crew for the third time. 

he hears soft footsteps padding down the hall, and opens his eyes to see his girlfriend. his sweet, perfect, sexy fucking girlfriend. and it’s like a breath of fresh air, especially after not having seen her the past few days. and she’s wearing a tiny pair of shorts with a crop top that barely covers the curve of her breasts. 

it’s like a reward, he thinks to himself, for all the bullshit he put up with today at the restaurant. 

“welcome home,” she greets, walking past the couch and into the kitchen. 

“hey,” he returns, eyes following her, gaze raking down her backside as she gets herself a glass of water. 

“how was work?” she’s oblivious to the way he’s hungrily looking at her, oblivious to how pent up he feels. 

“long,” he responds, eyes trailing up the length of her legs. 

she lets out a hum of acknowledgement, turning to face him and taking a long sip of water. she catches him watching her intently, his arm stretched out over the back of the couch and neck craned. 

“enjoying the view?” comes her tease.

“y’look good,” he defends. 

“yeah?” 

“mhm.” 

the girl sets her glass down and begins to saunter to the couch. carmen’s eyes follow her closely. 

“how good?” she stops in front of him. 

“good enough to eat.” a small smile twitches the edge of his lip. 

“yeah? wanna taste?” her hands come to her hips, and she pushes her chest out slightly. 

fuck. he shamelessly looks her up and down. this was getting to be dangerous territory. 

“do you wanna go to out to dinner this week?” he changes course, watching her brain stutter for a second. 

“wh-dinner?” 

he nods, resting his head against his hand. she pauses for a moment, studying his face. 

“where?” 

“wherever you want.”

“like…a date?” 

“mhm,” a smirk tugs at the edge of his lips, “cause you’re, uh…my girlfriend now.” 

a grin breaks her face. she thinks for a moment. 

“can we go to your restaurant?” 

“uh…yeah, i guess we can.”

“you guess?” she asks. 

“yeah, we can go. but you’re probably gonna get a lot of, uh…attention.” he admits hesitantly. 

“from who? your staff?” 

he nods. they would probably lose their shit seeing him bring in a girl to eat dinner with. not to mention a girl that looks like her. 

“okay,” she nods, “i’ll dress cute. you can help me pick.”

“yeah?” he likes the sound of that. 

“mhm. whatever you want.” 

carmen rubs his hand over his face then locks his eyes on her again. this girl is going to be the death of him. 

“c’mere,” he beckons.

the girl gently steps forward, standing in between his spread legs. his hand comes to the back of her thigh as he sits forward, gazing up at her with those big blue eyes. he looks so handsome, and she can’t help but place her hands on his face and lean in to kiss him. 

it’s gentle and sweet, and it only makes him want more, tightening his grip on her leg as she pulls away. 

“you taste minty,” she says softly, still leaning over him, stroking her thumb across his face. 

“you sure?” he’s fixated on her lips, “might wanna check again.” he definitely is minty from the nicorette gum he’d been chewing. but it’s worth a shot.

this makes her smile. and she does check again. decides it’s spearmint she tastes. 

before she can pull back, carmy pulls her forward to straddle him. she makes a sound of surprise, but leans into it, wrapping her arms around his neck and continuing to kiss him.

“missed you today,” he slips in between kisses.

“liar,” she smiles against his lips. 

his hands come to her hips, pulling her against him. 

“nah, it’s true,” another kiss, “couldn’t stop fuckin’ thinking about you.” 

“prove it.” she grinds against his bulge, making him tighten his grip. 

“lay down,” he growls, pulling away. there’s a dark gleam in his eyes. 

“or else what?” she challenges 

he grabs both sides of her thighs and stands up with her still straddling his waist, turning and dropping her back onto the couch. 

okay, he’s not in the mood for arguing anymore. good to know. 

carmen cages her with his arms and kisses her deeply before trailing his lips down her jaw, neck, collarbones, only being stopped by the neckline of her shirt. he glances up at her, and she eagerly takes it off. he smiles at the silent act of obedience and continues kissing down her body, barely giving any attention to her breasts before his lips come to her stomach. the girl huffs at this, and he pretends to not notice. 

“what are you doing?” she strains, watching as his lips come to rest just above the waistband of her shorts. 

“m’getting my taste,” he replies casually 

“carmy,” she chides, face becoming red and hot. 

“what?” his fingers hook her waistband, “you embarrassed or something?” another kiss on her hipbone. 

she is, inexplicably. and vulnerable and exposed and horny all at the same time. she hides her face in her arms instead of responding, feeling him slide the shorts down her legs, left clad only in a thin pair of panties. 

carmy hooks his arms around her legs and pulls her closer to his mouth, pressing slow, firm kisses to her covered mound.

the girl lets out a labored breath at the heat of his lips against her clit as he begins to place wet, open mouthed kisses on her covered pussy. her cotton underwear becomes damp with his tongue, and she arches into the feeling with a sharp breath in. 

carmy nuzzles the fabric and deeply inhales, letting out a low groan.

“ah- don’t do that!” the girl tries to clamp her legs shut out of embarrassment, but he holds them firmly in place and presses his face closer to her core, continuing to kiss and suck her through the fabric. 

“you smell good,” carmy defends. “and these are cute,” he snaps the band of her panties. 

she can hardly even process the statement before he starts sliding them down her thighs, bunching up the fabric and putting it in his pocket. 

“hey, you can’t have those,” she strains. 

there’s a delay in carmen’s response—too busy studying her soft pussy up close, lips gleaming with wetness, bundle of nerves twitching under his gaze. 

“i’ll, uh…make it up to you,” his eyes stay fixed on the glorious sight upon him. 

he leans in, flattens his tongue against her clit, and begins to gently lick. 

the girl gasps, and her hands fly down to grab his hair as she releases a whine of pleasure. 

the tantalizing licks to her clit are gentle. almost not enough. she tugs on his hair and tries to scoot forward, so he eases his tongue back. 

when his eyes flicker to her face. her skin is flushed, lip clamped between her teeth, and she’s looking at him hungrily. 

“y’so pretty,” he presses a kiss to her clit, “taste so fuckin’ good.” 

her head falls back and she breathes out sharply. it’s too much to keep making eye contact with him. the slow, teasing licks are the only thing she can concentrate on. 

“you gonna say thank you?” it’s more of a demand than a question, as he glides his finger over her entrance, collecting her syrupy wetness. 

“n-no,” she struggles, face hot and red. 

thank you, really? how embarrassing. 

his tongue flicks over her clit repeatedly, his finger dips inside of her opening ever so slightly. 

“no?” his lips close around her clit and he sucks, cherishing the sound of the first moan she allows to slip out. 

“mmm,” she whines in response, beginning to pant at the feeling of his mouth. 

“c’mon, be a good girl for me?” unlikely, but he asks anyways

“i am,” she argues, pulling his head towards her needy heat. he scoffs at this and continues to swirl his tongue around her clit.

“then say thank you.”

“carm, i’m not saying-ah thank you!” she cuts herself off with a moan as he sinks his finger inside of her. “y’welcome” he replies lowly, a smirk fighting to break his face. 

“shut up. i didn’t-mmh! …mean it like that.”

she sits up onto her forearms, watching him curl his digit upwards inside of her, trying to keep it together. 

“you’re so fuckin’ cute.” he growls, then dives forward to taste her again. his fingers curl rhythmically, tongue lightly swirling her sensitive clit, giving her barely enough stimulation to get by. 

“more,” she whines, bucking her hips up slightly. he gives her a disapproving glance, so she adds a “please”. 

“yeah?” he kisses her clit. 

she frantically nods her head, trying to scoot closer to the man, trying to buck her hips against his hand. 

carmen speeds up the pace of his fingers, sucking her clit into his mouth, free hand gripping onto her thigh. 

“yeah,” she moans, “fuck, you’re so good at that.”

he preens at the praise and swirls her clit with his tongue, beginning to lap at her pussy. when he adds a second finger she cries out his name.

the view above him in combination with how sweet she sounds leaves his cock pulsing beneath his denim. he reaches down with his free hand, undoing his belt buckle and unzipping his pants. he just needs a little something to keep him from fucking her into the couch. 

as he goes to wrap his fingers around his cock, he’s interrupted by the harsh buzz of his phone on the table.

the girl startles at this, and both of their eyes dart to the contact tag. 

fucking richie. 

he doesn’t stop the movement of his fingers, and leans back in to taste her again, ignoring the loud vibrations. he begins to softly stroke himself, groaning into her pussy. 

“do you need to-ah… to get that?

“no,” he replies sharply, “y’taste too fuckin’ good to stop.”

the girl whimpers at the sound of his voice. at how low and raspy and hungry it sounds. 

“let me taste,” her plead comes breathily. 

carmen nearly groans at her request, more than willing to happily oblige. he licks a long stripe up her pussy, collecting her slick on his tongue, then leans over for a kiss. the girl eagerly (and messily) accepts his lips, swirling her tongue around his own, tasting her juices. she tasted herself before off his fingers, but it’s so much better off his tongue. she moans appreciatively and holds the sides of his face, pulling him in for deeper, sloppier, wetter kisses. the vibration of the phone stops, and his fingers continue their pace, curling into her heat, beginning to produce a squelching sound from the slick of her arousal. 

“yes!” she cries into his lips, eyes nearly rolling back into her head. 

“so perfect, y’know that?” he punctuates his words with the thrust of his fingers, gently biting at the girl’s bottom lip. 

she’s only able to muster a moan in response, trailing her hand down her stomach to circle her neglected clit, babbling out a string of “yes yes yes yes.”

the phone vibrates harshly atop the edge of the table again, falling to the floor with a loud thud. 

“fuck!” carmen exclaims, ripping his hand out of his pants. he stops curling his fingers inside of her and leans down to angrily grab his phone. the girl lets out a cry of protest. 

“carmy m’so close, please,” she begs pathetically. grabbing at his arm. 

“be quiet,” he hushes her, scooting back down to his previous position between her legs, “can y’do that for me?” 

she nods eagerly, biting down on her lip. 

carmen answers the call with a harsh “what?” and rolls his eyes at the voice that blares through the other line. 

his fingers remain engulfed in her heat, and he begins to slowly curl them again. the girl lets out a sharp breath and he shoots her a warning look, mouthing a stern “quiet.”

he puts the call on speakerphone, then places it on her stomach, leaning down to softly lick her clit. the girls eyes widen in surprise. a loud voice begins to come through the phone. 

“-that he was going to do it anyways, but i said ‘no way, carmy would have a fuckin’ bitch fit if we didn’t ask!’ so don’t answer the phone all fuckin’ mad, it’s not my fault,” the voice at the other line loudly rambles. carmy lifts his mouth from her pussy to respond

“jesus, richie, just look at the fucking floor plan.” 

“you don’t think we tried that? the vents aren’t lining up with the floor pla- what is that sound?” 

carmy curls his fingers a bit faster, pressing his tongue flat against her clit instead of answering. the girl gasps, convinced her lip is going to start bleeding from how hard she’s biting down on it. 

his eyes flicker up to her, and she mouths a “what the fuck?” 

like an asshole, he just grins in response. 

“hello?? earth to asshole,” richie’s voice cuts in loudly, “what the fuck are you doing over there?” 

carmen pulls away from her pussy with wet lips. he looks pretty, she thinks, like he has lipgloss on or something. 

“m’eating dessert,” he responds truthfully. the girl’s faces grows incredibly hot. 

“you wh- dessert? what is it, is it good?”

“fuck, richie, you-” he sighs, “forget about the vents,” he begins to rub gentle circles around her clit, “just have them do the pipes and go home. and stop fucking calling me.” 

“you think i wanted to call you, you fuckin’ baby? it’s gonna be an extra $200 for them to come back tomorrow and…” he continues to ramble on. meanwhile the girl holds onto carmy’s shoulder, digging her nails in, trying to anchor herself. the feeling of his fingers plunging into her is incredible, and there’s an unexpected rush at the risk of being listened to. of being caught.

carmen laps at her pussy, then closes his lips around her clit and sucks gently. he keeps doing this rhythmically, curling his fingers up into her core, continually switching between gentle licks and slurping and sucking. it’s a particularly deep thrust of his fingers that make her release her lip from her teeth and cry out loudly.

“ah-!” 

carmy’s eyes dart upwards at the moan, watching as she claps a hand over her mouth in shock. 

“what the fuck was that?” richie’s voice sounds after a pause. 

carmen, without a care that they could be caught, continues eating the girl out, giving her a look that says “you are so getting it.”

“hello?? are you watching porn or something, you fuckin’ weirdo?”

he rolls his eyes at the accustation, why would he be watching porn while on the phone? 

“no, i’m not watching fucking porn, richie. finish the vents tomorrow, i’m not arguing about this anymore. goodnight.” he grows increasingly impatient, and it reflects in the quickened pace of his fingers. 

“wait, wait, one more thing-”

“fuck, what?!” carmen snaps. 

the girl lets out a sound of exasperation, coming up on a perpetual orgasm then being denied every time he removes his mouth. the pressure is growing to be unbearable, and she softly whines a “carmyy.”

“i know, baby, i got you,” he whispers back, barely loud enough for her to hear. he brings his mouth to suck on her clit again while richie continues yapping about the fucking vents. fuck the vents. 

carmy just watches the girl’s face, tuning out the voice from the phone. he studies how flushed she is—from her cheeks all the way down to her chest. how she seems like she’s barely holding on. how her legs begin to tremble. how she tries desperately to keep from making noise, pressing her lips together firmly, eyes screwed shut, breathing ragged. 

the wet, squelching sound from her pussy begins to sound again, juices flooding down his fingers, soaking his hand. it feels unbelievable and she begins to lose patience. 

“carm, hang up,” she cries, much louder than she means to. richie’s voice stops in its tracks. 

“are you f-what the hell are you doing?” he asks, “who is that?”  

“none of your fuckin’ buisness,” carmy snaps, “the central vent is the one that’s the most fucked up, so get it sealed and go the fuck home. and don’t fucking call me again.” 

“yeah, yeah, whatever. you have fun over there, assh-” carmy hangs up the phone and tosses it onto the floor. 

“what the fuck, carm?” she asks exasperatedly, face fully flushed. 

“you’re not very good at staying quiet.” 

“you were- ah!” she loses her sentence as he dips back down to swirl her clit with his tongue. 

“i was what?” he mutters into her wetness, slipping his free hand back into his pants. 

“you were doing that!” she cries, tangling her fingers in his curls.

“it feel good?” he laps at her cunt, rhythmically curling his fingers. 

“yeah,” she cries, “please don’t stop again. please.” 

a small smirk breaks on his face at how nicely she’s able to ask, even after being tormented with interruptions moments ago. he rewards her by continuing his steady pace, keeping everything constant, coaxing an orgasm out of her. 

he squeezes the head of his cock, stroking the length of it faster now. she tastes so good, and the sounds she’s making are so pretty, it’s easy to lose himself in the pleasure. 

she bucks her hips against his face, getting his nose wet. her grip on his hair tightens. her body feels hotter, hotter, hotter and-

“carm-!” she gasps, “fuck, baby, that’s so good. m’gonna cum. please keep doing that pleasepleasepleasebabyyesyesyes,” she babbles, grinding her hips against his face, practically riding his fingers which curl so deliciously inside of her. the man has to force himself to not stop and make a snarky comment about how cute she sounds when she’s all fucked out like this . 

with a final few curls of his fingers and another swirl of his tongue, she’s coming completely undone. her head falls back and she rides out the orgasm shakily. 

he bucks his hips into his hand with fervor, groaning into her pussy as he feels himself approaching an embarrassingly easy climax. 

she clenches around his fingers, and he wriggles them as deeply as he can, swirling her clit with his tongue. 

the girl lets out a cry, feeling herself be pushed far past her peak, hand flying down to grab his wrist. 

“ah-carm, s’too much.” 

“you can take it, yeah?” he growls, rutting into his hand. he’s so close. just needs to taste her for a little longer. there’s a hot pulse surging throughout his body. 

the girl’s breathing becomes loud, a rapid inhale exhale inhale exhale. 

at the labored sound, he takes some mercy on her and stops moving his fingers, focusing solely on lapping at her throbbing clit. his cock twitches in his hand, and with a few final frenzied pumps, he cums into his palm.

“fuck,” he groans, resting his head on her pelvis for a moment. the two of them bask in the post-orgasm high, catching their breaths. carmen’s jaw aches a bit. he plants one last kiss on her oversensitive clit, then pulls away, easing his fingers out slowly.

“kiss me,” she pleads breathily, feeling slightly dizzy from the orgasm. 

“yeah? wanna taste yourself again?” his voice is low, kind of raspy. 

she nods eagerly.

he leans over and, to her surprise, shoves his fingers in her mouth, swirling them around her tongue, making sure she gets every drop she left behind. the girl enthusiastically cleans his fingers, taking them deeply into her mouth. 

the moment he eases them out, he dives into her lips hungrily, shoving his tongue in her mouth, tasting the heavenly mix of her saliva and arousal. 

she grabs his face and licks her cum from the side of his lips, from his chin, gathering it before kissing him frantically again. 

“mm, thank you,” she mutters against his lips sweetly. 

“y’welcome.” he loves how she thanks him. 

the taste is intoxicating, and he’s tempted to lick her pussy again just so the both of them can continue to indulge. but there’s a sticky mess on his hand and the inside of his boxers, so he pulls away from her lips, and grabs a tissue from the box on the coffee table. 

the girl’s eyes widen in surprise as he eases his cum-covered hand out of his boxers.

“is that- did you..?”

he wipes the white substance off his hand, small small teasing the edge of his lips. 

“uh…yeah. that was, um… that was really hot,” he admits.  

“yeah, except the part where you put me on the phone with your employee.”

“nah…” he shakes his head, a smirk on his face, “i think you liked that.”

“wha-no i did not,” her eyes widen, “it was so embarrassing.” it was embarrassing, but it really turned her on—not that he needs to know that.  

“embarrassing?”

“yes, embarrassing! get that dumb grin off your face, it was!” 

this only makes him smile harder, beginning to laugh. 

“yeah? that why you soaked my fuckin’ fingers?” 

she sits up and reaches for her tank top, a bashful expression on her face. 

“no. that’s just because it felt good.” 

“you were squeezing me like crazy trying to stay quiet,” he continues to try and provoke her, liking how feisty she becomes. 

“give me my panties back.” the girl rolls her eyes and ignores his statement. 

“what panties?” he asks cluelessly. 

“carmy.”

“yeah, baby?” 

she scoffs and mutters a “whatever” before standing up and slipping on her shorts. pantiless. there’s a creeping blush on her face as she wonders what he even wants them for. 

“so, tomorrow?” he asks before she can walk away, “for our date?” 

she pauses, then nods. 

“but we’re not going to your restaurant.” 

“why not?” there’s a small smirk on his face. 

she gives him a look that says, because you just ate me out on the phone with the guy that would probably be serving us, dumbass, but stays quiet, beginning to walk to the stairs 

carmen lets out a chuckle, and stands to follow her after cleaning his hand off. he hooks the waistband of her shorts and pulls her back. hands coming to her hips to steady her, his chest flush against her back. 

“c’mon, don’t be like that,” he leans down to kiss her neck. she can feel his smirk against her skin, “you hungry? y’eat yet?” 

she shakes her head no, closing her eyes at the sensation of his kisses. 

“no you didn’t eat or no you’re not hungry?” he asks, nipping the skin below her earlobe. 

“both,” she exhales, leaning back against him, her hands coming overtop his. she suddenly notices how big they are splayed out over her hips.

“you haven’t eaten dinner yet?” he stops kissing her. 

“m’not hungry,” she breathes, “keep kissing me there.”

he removes his hands from her hips and steps back. she lets out a noise of disappointment and turns to face him with a pout. he doesn’t see this, though, already walking to the kitchen and turning on the light to make her something. 

“carmy,” she calls, following him, “it’s late. let’s just go to bed.”

he ignores her, opening their cabinets to retrieve a box of spaghetti. 

“hey,” she grabs his arm, leaning to meet his eyes, “come on. i wanna cuddle.” 

“we will. but i’m gonna make you dinner first.” his voice is firm. he pulls his arm away from her and reaches down to grab a pot. 

he’s so demanding. but the gesture makes her feel incredibly affectionate towards the man, so it’s hard to be mad at.

as he fills the pot with water, the girl snakes her arms around his waist and hugs him from behind, pressing herself flush against his back. 

“thank you,” she mumbles into his shirt, taking a deep breath of their shared laundry detergent. her hand sneaks under his shirt and she drags her fingers into the deep cut of his v line. 

carmen reaches his hand behind him, caressing her hip without saying anything in response. 

she pulls away after a moment and he puts the pot of water on to boil. 

“you eating enough?” 

his question catches her off guard. 

“i- what?” 

“you heard me.” he crosses his arms.

she stares at him for a moment, studying his tightly set jaw. the way it twitches a bit.

“yeah, i am.”  

“yeah?” he looks like he doesn’t believe her. 

and maybe she had been a bit forgetful lately, missing breakfast, oftentimes coming home too tired to make dinner and opting for a snack instead. she didn't think he had been so observant, though. 

“yes.” her tone is quiet. 

he just stares at the girl silently, striking blue eyes boring a hole into her. she crumbles under his gaze. 

“i’ve just been…stressed. i don’t know. haven’t had much of an appetite.”

“what are you stressed about?” 

“going back home i guess,” she admits quietly, shuffling on her feet. 

he doesn’t respond, giving her the opportunity to elaborate without pressure. 

“i just- it’s gonna be hard. y’know when i told you my mom and i have a complicated relationship?” 

he nods, and she continues. 

“yeah, that was like…understatement of the year.” 

he nods, a knowing look on his face. 

“yeah, no. i, uh…i know exactly what you mean.” he really does. 

“and um, she’s sick. like, not entirely there,” she points to her head, “so she gets really mean. but then she can also be the nicest, most motherly person. its just…really unpredictable.” 

it was almost uncanny, the way in which he pictures donna as she gives her description. 

“i, uh…yeah. i get it,” he clears his throat, “i’ve dealt with someone like that my whole life.” he intently locks eyes with her, wishing he could say more to alleviate her dread. 

“how did-how do you deal with it?” she asks quietly, after a moment. 

“i, uh…i don’t really?” he rubs his neck, letting out a sardonic chuckle, “i haven’t talked to her in…months probably.”

“really?” 

“yeah, i’ve, um…been kind of an asshole, actually. my sister is really the only one that deals with her.” 

“you’re not an asshole,” she locks eyes with him, “well, sometimes you are. but not cause of that. that’s more like a…i dunno, a defense response.”

he laughs at her bluntness. 

“so i am an asshole, just not for that?” 

“correct.”

“how am i an asshole?” 

“you’ve been trying to make me jealous since i got here.” 

“not trying. it actually worked very well.” he has a stupid smile on his face when he says that. 

“shut up!” she laughs, shoving her hands against his chest as hard as she can. he barely moves from it, grabbing both her wrists firmly with an amused look on his face. she struggles against his grip, trying to shake the feeling of arousal that comes with how easily he’s able to overpower her. 

“why’re you so fiesty, huh?” he grins, pulling her closer. 

“cause you’re a fucker, that’s why.” she tries again to pull her arms back, but to no avail. her face feels hot, and she becomes hyper aware of the fabric touching her skin, the hair on her neck, the tingle of the rough grip on her wrists. his face is much closer now, and she fights the urge to lean forward and indulge.

“yeah?” 

“mhm,” her response overlaps his. 

“what are you gonna do about it?” he mocks, “huh?”

her eyes flicker down his face. he has a stupid fucking smirk plastered on his lips. fuck, she wants to kiss him. 

an idea pops into her head. 

the girl leans forward, gently ghosting her lips over his own. her tongue darts out and she licks his bottom lip, then sucks it into her mouth and bites softly. then she gives him a soft and gentle barely there kiss. 

she feels his grasp on her wrist loosen, so she splays her hand over his chest. 

her lips hover over his for just a moment more, and then she shoves him. 

carmy stumbles back slightly, less prepared that time, hands coming behind him to steady himself on the counter. when he meets her eyes again he has a dark glint in his eyes. almost like anger, but hungrier.

the next thing she knows, he yanks her into his chest, grabs her hip and roughly bends her over the countertop. 

she just thinks to herself, finally. 

carmen tugs her hips back until her forearms fall to the counter and she arches her spine. until she’s flush with his pelvis and he’s pressing his achingly hard cock against her ass. 

“such a bratty fuckin’ girl,” his tone is rough, strained.  “you know that? fuckin’ had it with you.” 

“i’m n-” she cuts herself off with a gasp as he harshly tugs the waistband of her shorts up, wedging the fabric between her cheeks and giving himself a nice view of the supple skin.

“you’re what?” he smooths his hand over her ass, watching her arch into his touch. watching as she opens her mouth to say something, then close, staying silent and shuffling her hips against his groin. 

carmen lets out a groan—half frustration, half arousal, smoothing his hands over her hamstrings and firmly squeezing the soft flesh before trailing back up to her ass. 

“you doing this on purpose?” both hands grab her ass, kneading, pulling her closer against his hardness. 

no response. she can’t, not without moaning. 

“hmm?” he shoves his hips forward into her, “you trying to get a reaction outta me tonight? or are y’really just that fucking bratty?” the hand gripping her flesh squeezes harder. 

“i-mmh…that-…keep doing that.” she chooses to ignore his question. 

“answer me.”

still nothing. 

“you want me to spank you? cause that’s what’s gonna happen if you keep this shit up.”

his words make her stomach flip. of course she does. she hides her smile in her arms and stays quiet, pushing back into him. hoping he’ll stick to his words. 

carmen raises his hand, and cracks it down on her right cheek, grabbing the flesh immediately after to ease some of the sting. 

“ah-!” she grips the countertop, arching her spine. his hand leaves behind a hot, tingling sensation, flooding through her body like a wave. 

“y’okay?” he tries to sound caring but his tone comes out rough, heavy with arousal. 

“yeah.” better than okay. incredibly horny, actually.  “that hurt?” his hand smooths over the reddening skin. 

“no,” she shakes her head, pushing back against him again, “thought you were gonna spank me.”

she cranes her neck trying to get a look at the man. his pupils are blown, face is rosy, and when she meets his eyes there’s a dangerous glint to them. 

he wedges her shorts up higher, exposing more of her ass, then smacks her in the same spot without warning. harder this time. 

“fuck-!” she gasps sharply. it hurts, but in a way that has her pressing her thighs together desperately to try and get some relief. 

“can you take one more, pretty girl?” 

“yeah,” she whines enthusiastically, shuffling her hips back against his groin. 

“yeah? y’so tough, baby.” his voice has a slight mocking edge to it as he does everything in his power to not yank the shorts down her legs and fuck her into the counter. 

“just…shut up and do it.” she tries to mask her eagerness, but it doesn’t work very well. 

he scoffs, and rubs his large hand over her supple skin. when he feels her relax, he raises it and cracks down on her other cheek. 

she partially muffles the loud cry by biting down on her forearm, feeling a few tears begin to form in her eyes. 

“you have such a cute ass, y’know that?” he squeezes both of her cheeks in tandem, pulling them apart, pushing them together, “can already see the handprints forming.” his voice is low and rough.

“wh-really?” her brain feels fuzzy with desire as she tries to switch gears. 

“you wanna see?” 

she nods her head frantically, butterflies arising at the thought. 

carmen pulls his phone out of his back pocket and holds it over her, snapping a picture with a low groan. 

“look back at me,” he demands softly. 

she does, peering over her right shoulder to see him holding the camera facing her. the embarrassment makes her face feel hot, but she lets him take the picture anyway, looking into the lense with a small pout on her face. 

“so fucking pretty,” he growls, lowering the phone and clicking on the picture he took, admiring it for a moment before turning the phone so she could see. 

it was quite the picture—cherry red handprints over her round ass, shorts wedged up so far they look like underwear, the curves of her body accentuated by the angle. 

carmy swipes to the left and reveals the photo of her looking back at the camera, all flushed cheeks and pouty lips and misty eyes. she knows she should probably feel embarrassed, but seeing herself like that just makes the throbbing between her legs intensify. 

carmen turns off the phone and puts it back in his pocket. he leans over and grabs her face, studying her with furrowed brows before leaning down kissing her firmly. 

“you okay?” another kiss, “really?”

she nods, eagerly reciprocating the kiss, moaning a soft “mhm” against his lips.  

“didn’t hurt too bad?” his brows are furrowed, their movements beginning to quicken. she slips her tongue into his mouth and she begins to kiss him faster, losing herself in his lips. 

carmy reciprocates for a moment before muttering a gentle “hey,” pulling back a bit, “answer me.” his gaze flickers over the sheen on her cheeks, left behind from a few stray tears. 

her eyes flutter open, fighting the urge to not chase his lips. 

“it didn’t hurt,” she affirms hazily, “felt good. can you put it in? please?”

“jesus, christ” he groans, dipping back in for another kiss, “want me to fuck you? needy fuckin’ girl.”

she nods with a small, bashful smile and softly nips at his bottom lip, fighting the urge to bite harder. 

carmen straightens to his previous position behind her and slips his fingers beneath the hem of her bunched up shorts. he pulls them to the side to reveal her glistening pussy, letting out a sharp exhale at the sight. he’s about to reach out and touch her when she gasps.

“carm, the water.”

it angrily bubbles and pours down the sides of the pot, sizzling when it splashes onto the flames. 

“fuck,” he pulls away from her, quickly moving to turn off the burner. “stay right there.” 

and she would’ve, had another fucking phone not started ringing. 

the girl cries out his name frustratedly, just wanting him to come back over and fuck her brains out. 

“it’s not mine this time,” carmy defends, adjusting the tent of his pants. he’s so hard it’s almost painful, increasingly eager to get back behind her. 

she huffs and straightens, readjusting the uncomfortably wedged-up shorts as she follows the sound of the ringer. when she retrieves her phone from between the couch cushions, her heart drops at the contact name. 

mom.

in a single moment it’s like the air gets sucked from her lungs. her skin stops tingling with that warm heat, body stops buzzing with pleasure—all the good feelings flood from her suddenly. 

carmen wipes down the stove, drying the water that had boiled over before refilling the pot and turning the heat back on. his roommate talks in a hushed, urgent tone in the living room, and he tries to refrain from curiously moving closer and eavesdropping. curiosity almost gets the better of him, but a few more moments pass and he hears delicate footsteps approaching. 

he looks up, and catches the sight of her tear-streaked face. her big, sad eyes. a pit forms in his stomach. 

“everything okay?” he’s unable to hide the concern in his tone. 

she doesn’t say anything. she can’t. so she just rushes forward and crashes into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. 

“hey,” he soothes, tightly reciprocating the hug, “what happened?” he kisses the side of her head. 

it takes her a minute before she’s able to verbalize, just wanting to nuzzle herself as far into his chest as she can, wishing she could just disappear into him completely. 

he says her name, pulling away slightly to get a look at her sweet, sad face. “what’s goin’ on, huh?” 

“i’m going back next week,” it’s hard to make eye contact with him, so she looks to the side with blurry vision. 

“what?” it’s like a punch in the stomach. 

“i-…my mom,” she sighs exasperatedly, “she’s just getting worse,” at this point the tears stream down her cheeks. 

he cups her face with both hands, wiping them away with his thumbs. he just stares at her, not knowing exactly what to say to make this shitty situation better. 

“i’m-….fuck, i’m sorry.” he puts his forehead on hers, “m’so so sorry.” he doesn’t know exactly what he’s apologizing for—the state of her mother or the dread of her sudden departure. either way, there’s this overwhelming feeling of loss trying to wrap his head around how soon next week really is. 

“m’gonna go to bed,” she mutters, tightly closing her eyes to stop the flow of tears, nose brushing against his. 

“you don’t wanna eat with me?” 

she gives a small shake of her head, having lost her appetite at the news. 

carmy wants to push it. but she just looks so tired and sad, he figures it’s better not to. his hand comes to the back of her neck, and he pulls her into a bear hug, kissing the side of her head. 

“go wait in my bed for me,” another kiss, “i’ll be up in a bit.”

“i need a shower,” she mutters into his neck, “you made me all…sticky.”

he can’t help but let out a humorous exhale, finding a small bit of relief from her words. 

“yeah? sorry about that.” he has a soft, barely there smile on his face. 

“you know i love you, carmy?” 

her quiet confession stops his train of thought. stops the noise of it all. it kind of feels like it even stops his heart, just for a second.

it was something she hadn’t yet said to him without the hazy high of lust. something she had been waiting on until it felt real. 

carmen eases away from the tight hug, getting a good look at her face. she’s entirely genuine, brows furrowed and eyes glossy, searching his expression for reassurance. he dips forward and kisses her softly, hand caressing her cheek. 

“i know,” his thumb traces along her jaw, “i love you too.”

she turns her head to the side and kisses his hand.

“you gonna come to california with me?” she softly bites his thumb. 

“yeah, baby.” he nods. it’s a lie, and they both know that. 

sometimes it’s easier to fantasize about what could be than accept what never will. 

-

it’s far too late into the night by the time carmen has eaten and showered. he blearily trudges down the hall and pushes his door open. and like a breath of fresh air, there she was. cuddled up in his blankets, face buried in his pillow. it feels incredibly domestic, and he finds himself wishing he could come home to this every night of his life. 

carmen eases into bed slowly as to not wake her, shuffling his body against hers. then he just watches her for a bit. 

he watches her chest rise and fall. watches the way her lips slightly part with her heavy breaths. she looks so peaceful unconscious, like there isn’t a worry in the world. 

he thinks about how selfishly he wants to keep that placating expression on her face. wants to keep her to himself. thinks about how selfishly he wishes she didn’t even have a family to return to—how fucked up is that?  it’s almost surreal, staring at her sleeping form, mourning her loss while she’s still in front of him. tangible and soft and beautiful and sleeping right there. 

carmen reaches out and strokes her cheek at the thought, then leans in to press a gentle kiss to her resting lips. it doesn’t make him feel better like he thought it would. 

he turns off the light and pulls her in close. 

-

pt 2 of i didn't know

[bleue-flora]

speaking of lore inaccuracy I have been seeing people saying that c!sapnap dragged c!tommy into the first war with c!dream because c!sapnap stole c!tommys stuff and I can't find the clip for that but I take their word for it but c!tommy would have attacked c!dream regardless of that or not. Like if i remember correctly, c!tommy was talking about how he's sick of wars and doesn't want to be involved only to then go ahead and steal a bunch of stuff and kill people without giving back gear. c!sapnap may have dragged him into that fight with c!dream where they end up 2v1ing him but I think in the grand scheme of events it doesn't matter because he would have attacked him in another time somewhere else, nothing changes

[context]

Anon, please. I’m so triggered as it is but I also have like 700+ something pictures of dsmp map and I’d like to talk about some more of it before we hop subjects. I know, I’ve seen, I’m going do a post on it soon as I feel like someone needs to set the record straight and apparently my first [post] wasn’t enough (in fact, I may or may not have actually spent the better part of yesterday rewatching those streams). But I plead mercy, I have a Lot of different brain rots going on all at once from the time dilation we talked about the other week [post], to finally knowing what these maps are [post] [post] and the enchants of Quackity’s tools [post], to learning more about the prison [post], staged duo note [post], Dream’s hand writing and the letter to Techno [post]… etc… I am losing it… please send a medic, the brain rot is too strong.

Having said that though, I’m answering this incase you are in an ongoing debate with someone and need it, here is the [clip] you are talking about I believe. The argument that Sapnap pulled him into it only goes so far as Tommy can make his own decisions the same way Tubbo can. Also some of what made that conflict bigger was specific things Tommy did so blaming it on Sapnap is kinda ridiculous. It’s not like that’s even his first war or something anyways, Tommy is always down to kill Dream all on his own (and if you need proof of that, here is just one example [clip]).

Plus in this instance - as in the instance that starts the disc saga - Tommy is high off of his kill and says ‘we should kill more people whilst we’re at it’ and Dream just logged log on so Sapnap is like ‘should we kill Dream?’ and Tommy answers ‘Yeah let’s kill Dream!’ which hardly seems like Sapnap pulled him in to it. And if they are referring to the war prior to Dream logging on, that doesn’t matter anyways. The disc saga didn’t start when they went after Alyssa and Ponk, the disc saga started when they killed Dream unprovoked and refused to give back his stuff afterward [clip] [clip].

[whatsfourteenupto]

In an effort to prove that his sleep habits are moving toward being relatively normal for a Time Lord, Fourteen has pulled out an old medical text on their physiology.

When he reveals that the TARDIS library has dozens of similar texts, their sleep schedule quickly becomes the least pressing topic of discussion. There is a lot of yelling.

[sttoru]

Honestly ur being disrespectful as fuck. Like if men were to say "all women are the same" after getting treated wrong by one yall would bitch and cry over it. Guys have insecurities too but you obviously can't seem to notice that. If roles were reversed and it was guys being r*ped more that girls and guys were saying fuck girls insecurity's and their feelings you'd be mad. Your never gonna have a guy actually want to talk to you atp. Your gonna be a virgin all your life and have to wright stories online just to make urself feel worthy cause no man will ever want you.

LMAOOOOO u dont understand that thats the goal STUPID 😂 . threatening me w a good time, thank u very much

[thecryptidenthusiast]

Title: willingness to bend

Rating: PG? Nothing much but some arguing further in. Abby is stubborn and not thinking straight, and Nate isn’t helping his case.

Pairing: Detective Abigail ‘Abby’ Brùn/Nate Sewell

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: how the post-forest argument would have actually gone between Abby ‘fiercely independent and stubborn’ Brùn and Nate ‘worries SO MUCH but terrible about talking through things’ Sewell. Also known as ‘these two care a lot about each other they’re just bad at saying so’

I was disappointed there was no sort of conversation or confrontation with these post-trapper, especially picking the dialogue option that gets you the famous “i won’t allow you to endanger yourself” line. so I’m rectifying it by making things worse <3 no spoilers really this all takes place in the timeframe of the demo, but I’ll tag it just to be safe.

Abby wasn’t expecting Nate to be waiting for her.

She’d lingered behind at the Facility after the debriefing. Longer than she probably should have, given the circumstances of…everything going on. But she’d needed some kind of respite, a little time to process without Unit Bravo looming over her shoulder.

Getting food with Vieno had been the perfect excuse for some time away.

Unit Victor had been an unexpected surprise, but ultimately a pleasant one. The group had no problems dragging chairs over and making themselves comfortable. Willing to talk about everything and nothing, they had little regard for personal boundaries.

Apparently news about her traveled far, and she wasn’t sure how she felt being at the center of it.

It seemed positive, at least.

The conversations were light. Nothing more than gossip to fuel the rumor mills. Was Adam as hard headed as everyone claimed, something Abby only gave a noncommittal shrug to because the last thing she needed was her answer somehow cycling its way back to him. They’d reached a tentative peace, she didn’t feel the need to argue with him at every comment, and he seemed to tolerate her being around. No need to upheave that progress.

They’d asked about Nate afterwards. About her relationship with him, and she couldn’t bring herself to answer around the sudden lump in her throat. Vieno steered them off by calling them a bunch of ‘nosy gossips’, and it was all Abby could do to give them a grateful nod at the intervention. Conversation still flowed afterwards as they all talked amongst themselves, and she happily let herself drift to the background.

But the lump never eased.

It’s- ridiculous. Selfish, even. Everything that’s happened in the past 24 hours, and it’s her own personal problems sitting on her mind like lead weights, something she couldn’t shake off. Added salt to the wounds of everything else.

Maybe it stung because Nate had been her point of peace. Someone that could help keep her afloat even when it felt like she was spiraling. She didn’t have that now and she felt- she felt alone.

Too lost in her own mind to be considered anything remotely close to ‘good company’, she gave a distracted good-bye before excusing herself and somehow managing to find her way to her car.

The drive back, trapped in the silence, hurt more than it helped.

She couldn’t stop herself from replaying everything over in her mind, trying to pick out where she’d gone wrong to make him so frustrated. Outside of the level of danger that was becoming a regular occurrence in her life, she’d come out of the attack fine. Stressed, a little shaken, but unhurt. She hadn’t even fought, technically. The thorny mess of underbrush had done the work for her; she’d just taken advantage of her…familiarity with the area.

Not that it mattered. Nate still hadn’t been happy she wasn’t willing to let him hide her away while everyone else fought in her place.

So, he yelled. Sort of. As much as Nate ever raises his voice.

And in turn, she yelled back at him. And if she hadn’t been so caught off guard, she would’ve been embarrassed that it all happened in front of the rest of the team.

No, that didn’t settle in until afterwards. After the chaos settled and the adrenaline faded, forced to sit through a debriefing with as much distance as she could manage between her and Nate. It mixed with the slow burning anger she’d tried to swallow down until it formed something toxic that left a bitterness in her throat.

It wasn’t Nate’s frustration that stung. Or the yelling - though that hadn’t helped. That, alone, she could have taken; sat with and picked apart into pieces of something that made sense, given enough time.

I won’t allow you.

No, the anger came even before they’d been reduced to shouting at each other. It was the declaration of what she was allowed to do, as if that’s a decision he had the right to take away from her. One sentence, buried in her mind like a splinter. The more she dug at it, the more raw she’s left afterwards.

It’s not rational, not really. One panicked phrase, said in the heat of a dangerous situation, shouldn't have struck her as hard as it did. But whether or not it was sane or fair didn’t matter - it left her feeling angry and constricted.

She doesn’t register the drive until she’s sitting outside the chain link fence of the Warehouse. It takes effort to uncurl her fingers, idly rubbing out the cramps brought on by the white-knuckled grip she’d had on the steering wheel. Staring up at the decrepit facade, with her headlights painting shadows in the gloom of the night, a part of her considers turning around. Peeling out before she has to face anyone, although…she has nowhere to go besides here. A stray thought passes through her mind about crashing at Tina’s, but she squashes it before it has a chance to take root. It’s well past 2 in the morning, and while Tina would open her door to her, Abby wouldn’t put her out like that. And she isn’t sure she wants to deal with the line of questioning that would bring on, either. And, Adam had been clear about her order to come directly back to the Warehouse afterwards.

Another order. Another decision made for her. Only this one smarts less, because she’s used to Adam telling her what to do.

So, against every nerve in her body, she forces herself to shut the car off and climb out. Mentally talking herself into taking each step forward, more mechanical feeling than anything natural. She’s not in the right headspace to handle anything more than collapsing into bed.

It’s late, anyways. Maybe she’ll be lucky and everyone will be busy doing whatever it is that keeps vampires busy throughout the night. They’ll hear her arrival, she’ll be able to get to her room and push off dealing with anything for at least a few more hours.

She wasn’t planning on Nate being up and about. Even if she shouldn’t have expected anything less from him.

“You’re back.” He startles her out of her thoughts. Perched on the couch in the living room, a book in hand, it’s clear he’d been waiting for her return. He’s smiling, doing his best to look relaxed, but she knows him too well for him to hide the tension in his body. The concern in his eyes as he looks her over.

Both get worse when she chooses to stay rooted to her spot by the door instead of moving to join him.

“I was at the Facility.” She says, words stilted and awkward as she debates her chances of making it if she were to just rush through the room and leave. She’d thought- a part of her hoped her aggravation would ease, if she gave herself time, but seeing him has it trying to claw its way to the surface again, settling like a burning coal in her chest.

Maybe he’ll let it go. Maybe he’ll just say goodnight and let her go-

“I was worried.”

He means it, that’s the worst part of it all. A passing remark made with nothing but genuine care in mind, because he always worries when she’s away. When he can’t be around. He just wants her safe. And there’s a small, logical part of her that knows that. The part that’s fighting and failing to pull her temper back knows it’s meant in kindness.

But the threats she’d been desperately grasping onto snap, all the same.

“I was with Vieno. And another Unit.” Her tone is flat, bordering on harsh. “Do I need your permission so you can allow me to go anywhere without you?”

She’s lashing out now. Feeling twisted up too tight, throwing barbs in the hopes of something sticking. There’s no pleasure when her words hit their mark though, no enjoyment in the way she sees him flinch. Just a building pressure under her skin, a rolling nausea in her stomach.

She hates this. Hates everything she’s feeling, but is too far in to pull back now.

He sighs as he pushes up from the couch, and she shuffles the rest of the way into the living room to take a place in front of the fireplace. Just- to give herself somewhere to stand besides the front door, so it didn’t seem like she was seconds away from bolting. She keeps her eyes on the ground though, just to find something to look at that isn’t him. Still, she feels him take a place beside her, even with the deliberate space he’s kept between them.

“I suppose we need to talk.”

“Yeah, we really do.” As if drawn by a magnet, her eyes flit in his direction, unsure of what she’ll find. Frustration on his face? Exasperation in his eyes at her attitude? She’s not being kind, it would be deserved.

She isn’t prepared for the deep crease between his pinched brows. She isn’t prepared to find him looking so incredibly sad.

“I know I didn’t handle the…situation with the Trappers properly.” He starts after a brief pause, clearly trying to gather up his thoughts. She lets herself relax, just a little. At least this seems like a step in the right direction. “Seeing them close in on you, while I was too far to help, filled me with terror. Every worst case scenario went through my mind, and I shouldn’t have raised my voice.”

He sounds properly contrite, at least. His shoulders are drawn, hands pushed deep into his pockets. It's only her own stubbornness that keeps her from reaching out to him though. “It worked out, though.”

“That it did.” He smiles, but it’s a wobbly thing. Brittle. “All it takes is once, though. As I said, they will stoop to whatever means necessary to take you and I- I cannot bear the thought of that happening.”

“And I can’t handle sitting back, doing nothing while everyone else fights my fights.” She turns to face him now, and he mirrors her movement. “And I can’t handle you telling me what I’m allowed to do.”

“It’s our job to protect you, and we don’t mind-“

“But I do!” She snaps, cutting him off. She knows they’re making no progress. Two steps forward, three backwards. Unlike before though, she can see him trying to figure out a way to diffuse the rising tensions before they can come to head.

“We’re getting off point, and I’ve upset you again. I apologize, for then and now.” His apology soothes her annoyance, if only a little.

“Thank you.” He takes a few tentative steps forward at that, trying to close the distance. “But again, Nate, it’s not just the fight. It’s you trying to tell me what you’ll allow me to do.”

He pauses then, and she realizes he’d been hoping she’d just pass that point over in favor of being angry about everything else. “I shouldn’t have phrased it that way,” He says finally, carefully, and she narrows her eyes. “I misspoke, I’m not trying to make every decision in your life.”

Just certain ones, the thought is a cranky, nasty little one. “You’re going to have to let me help. If I’m going to be part of the team, let me act like it.”

His brows furrow at that. Reaching out, hesitating just long enough to give her a chance to push him away, he cups her face in his palm. Cradling her like she’s something precious, she can’t help but lean into him as his thumb traces her cheekbone. “Being a part of a team also means accepting your limitations and allowing us to help you, though.”

Any warmth from his touch vanishes then, chilling in her veins as she shakes him off. “What does that mean?”

“I told you to hide because, at that moment, that was the best thing you could have done to help us.” His tone is gentle, but Abby knows him well enough now to know he’s picking his words with care, working up to his point in a very Nate-like way. Kind, always so kind, but unwilling to budge. “Your safety is my priority, always. At times, that means you have to be willing to let us protect you.”

He’s not listening. He’s not hearing a word she’s saying, and she can feel her anger rising again.

“I handled myself though.” She’s trying to be reasonable. To quell the part of her that wants to snap, and snarl, and fight. “I didn’t even fight, I was able to handle it my way.”

“And what if you couldn’t? What then?” Nate crosses his arms, as if he isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do with his hands now that she’s out of his reach once again, and Abby has never thought he looked more stubborn. “I just wish for you to be safe, is that a bad thing?”

“It is when you expect me to sit back and let my family fend for themselves!” She won’t let herself focus on the fact that was the first word that came to mind, slipping out before she could stop it. Not here, not now. Not with so much tension, or with the storm of emotions making her chest ache. Or with Nate’s face lighting up, even in the midst of her yelling at him. She’ll dissect it later, with nothing but four walls watching her and the safety of an empty room around her.

“I’m simply asking for you to trust us,” He says slowly, as if to placate her, though all it does is further stoke her temper. “I- We can handle threats against ourselves, but you-“

“You almost didn’t before!” She shouts, throwing her hands up in exasperation. Memories of Nate, battered and bruised, laying in his own blood, flash in her mind, too quick for her to block them out. As if sensing her distress, he reaches out on instinct, but she jerks back before he can make contact.

She can almost pretend like the flash of hurt on his face doesn’t make her ache.

“I was taking care of myself long before you guys showed up.” As soon as the words are out there, she wants to snatch them back. Bury them, stuffed away in the dark where they belong. Panic and embarrassment has her pacing now, too much of something buzzing just under her skin. She was prepared for fighting, yelling she- she’s not ready to see pity from him.

Because maybe, that’s the true, awful core to all of this. Why Nate’s protectiveness feels like an ill-fitting coat, clinging too tightly. So long with no one, pushed to grow up too fast. She doesn’t know how to let somebody else care for her.

Would she even want to? To let herself be that vulnerable with someone else?

And Nate knows. Of course he does. Even with ehr pacing, and her stubborn refusal to meet his eyes, she can feel him watching. Picking up on every little thing she wants to hide from him but can’t, because he’s always seen too much of her. He’s close to hovering, she’s sure, wanting to provide comfort but unsure how. The thought makes her cross her arms, as if she can make herself a smaller target.

That’s what makes him finally move, though. A gentle hand on her arm to stop her in her tracks, providing a warmth she can feel even through her layers of clothes.

“You shouldn’t have had to.” He sounds so soft, so sure of himself. Steady, where she’s drifting. “And if I could, I would mend that for you. But you don’t have to now.”

Let me care, the words are there. Unspoken, left to hang between them, but there nonetheless. I would if you’d let me. I want to.

And it would be so easy to let him. To drop her guard and let him in. To let him take the few final pieces of her heart she has hidden away, because he’s already taken the rest. Given to him willingly the first time they’d kissed

She could.

She wants-

I won’t allow you.

But she won’t. Can’t.

“Well, I did.” She cuts through the silence that had grown between them with sharp precision. Squaring her shoulders, she turns to face him, trying not to miss his touch as his hand slips away, and forces herself to meet his gaze head-on. Whatever he sees when he looks at her has his shoulders slumping, ever so slightly. “Which means I don’t need you panicking over every little thing that could potentially go wrong, or you deciding what I’m allowed to do.”

There’s a rare flash of frustration in his eyes, there too fast for him to be able to tuck it out of her sight. “It’s not about permission, Abigail.”

“That’s exactly what all of this has been about!” She snaps, barely resisting the urge to yank on her hair in frustration and instead settles for pulling at her sleeves to give her something to dig her nails into. Her tone is rising again and she can’t stop. This is falling apart in front of her, too fast for her to do anything but embrace the inevitable crash waiting for her at the end. “You’re trying to tell me what you’ll allow me to do, stressing over things that might happen. None of this is going to work if you don’t trust me to know my own limits.”

“You ask me to trust you, yet you have an alarming pattern of paying little regard to your own wellbeing. So forgive me if I’m inclined to doubt your choices.” His tone is harsher than she’s ever heard it, words sharp enough to make her wince. He notices, immediately softening as he scrambles to backtrack. “I care about you Abby. So much.”

That’s all this is about. Everything it boils down to. But it’s not enough to fix anything. And that realization has her deflating, a sadness creeping in to replace the anger.

“But I’m human.” It’s a quiet sort of admission. One that hurts, because it doesn’t matter what she does in the end. How much she prepares herself, or tries to help. She’s still the weak link, and Nate will always treat her as such.

Half a dozen emotions flicker across his face in that instance, almost too fast for her to recognize. Fear. Frustration. Affection. Something- something heavier, deeper than the others, and she feels her heart thumping painfully against her ribs.

“That-“ He cuts himself off, tearing his gaze away to look at the wall. There’s something more there, that much she’s certain of. Something he’s barely bitten back, and part of her wants to grab him. Shake him and demand an answer, an explanation, anything to tell her she’s wrong. “You are.”

Nothing more. No deeper answer. Just a heavy hearted agreement, that hurts more than her own words had.

A bitter part of her wonders why she expected anything any different.

The fight leaves her as quickly as it had come. The exhaustion of everything suddenly presses down on her with such a fierceness that she’s left aching. So she crosses her arms again, like she can hold herself together a little while longer as she shuffles backwards. Desperate to space between them.

“I can’t do this right now.” She’s speaking more to herself than to him at this point, turning towards the door. “I can’t- I need to go.”

“Abby?” There’s a thread of alarm in his voice now, and she hears his muffled footsteps on the carpet as he keeps pace behind her. “Wait, we can talk-“

“All we’ve been doing is talking, Nate. And I’m done.” There’s a hollowness in her, like something carved out a piece of her, and she rubs her chest as if she can massage the ache away. A chill has seeped through her clothes, settling all the way down to the tips of her fingers, and she chooses to blame it on the lack of sleep.

“Please.” It’s one word, practically begged, but it’s enough to make her stall. Enough to have her spare one more glance at him. Frozen halfway from touching her, panic and desperation have brought a sheen to his usually warm eyes. Torn between having her stay, and afraid of pushing her further away has him teetering on an edge. “Please, stay?”

It hurts. So much, more than it should, and it isn’t fair. Leaving him like this, when a part of her wants to turn around and let him soothe away everything. Let herself be lost in him awhile and pretend like everything is fine between them. To take the easy path.

But she knows how that will end. Another fight, sooner rather than later. She knows she can’t keep burying things away, as much as he wants to when things get tough.

So she shakes her head, pulling the door open and forcing herself to look away before he can notice the tears she can feel burning her eyes. “I just need some time, okay? Give me some space.”

She doesn’t wait for him to answer. She can’t, not if she’s going to keep her resolve. So she leaves, letting the door slam closed behind her. And maybe, everything will feel a little less painful when the sun rises.

[queenerdloser]

me, sharing my personal book tbr wishlist with my family so they don't end up buying me books i already have for christmas: i am going to get a good grade in what kind of books i want to buy which is normal to want and possible to achieve

[brick-van-dyke]

Huh I forgot there's a lot of social justice on here, which is weird bc I started sj-ing from Tumblr so idk why I didn't just assume that obvs it still would be the same lol. I guess I was just so used to the popularity and mainstream-ness of Twitter that I forgot that Tumblr also could reach a lot of people and is a great way to write social commentary and fight for equality as well...

Maybe I should revive "NoahsNibNook" or formerly NoahSnzPolitics back on here? This time with a focus on not just politics but writing and such? I'm unsure. I'm also wondering if I should copy the trend from other writers of having the name I'd use when publishing a book + author in the format but idk. I still don't feel stable or secure enough irl to be out using my full name or anything when being so open with my political stuff.

[tan1shere]

Okay

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: angry sex is all I can say 😩 enjoy 😇

Summary: she's mad at you, but it doesn't last long.

Warnings: smut ! Car sex, angry sex, RED ROOTS BILLIE ! Rough billie 😋

Masterlist

She was mad. Angry. But that didn't even begin to explain it. But so were you, she didn't have a right to be mad at you. You two were on the brink of an argument, only moments before one of you breaks. Hence why she dragged you out of that club. The Audi was speeding through the night when suddenly she speaks up. "You shouldn't of done that." Her voice was stern. "Billi-" "No. It was stupid." Your eyes roll. "Oh please give it a break, I needed some space." She's silent. No reply. "I'm sure you did too." You look out the window, when you see your surroundings blur as she speeds up.

You turn your head to face her. Her left hand was gripped tightly around the steering wheel eyes glued infront of her. Fury radiating off her body. Your nerves pick up, you had to admit it was thrilling. She always made you feel that way and would never ever put you in danger so you trusted her. Her nuckles flex, veins popping in the night lighting. "Billie." You then say trying to get her to either slow down just a tiny bit or talk to you. There was no telling what could happen as her foot presses harder on the accelerator. "Billie." You repeat more forceful. Feeling your heart rate pick up.

Nothing. As the car speeds up her anger only increases. Her eyes darken, her brows furrowing. This is the most mad you've seen her in forever and it frightened you whenever you saw it. But at the same time, it made her look even more attractive, sending you hot. Your eyes dart to her hand, everything more prominent because of her grip. "Bills.." You whisper, and that's when she looks at you. The exact same look on her face. Still nothing, but a slight smirk.

Try to stop me, I'm like no way.

She could see slight fear, but with the past incidents, she knew that you knew she would never do anything but protect you. Just some harmless fun. It was turning her on. Even more so when you squeeze your thighs together, her eyes move to look. Noting that the dress you wore was ridden up very high. "Scared?" You shake your head. But you do get a bit scared as she keeps looking at you, pushing down all the way going far over the speed limit. But what was going to happen? It was 3 in the morning. There's nobody out.

Speeding like this shit was stolen.

Your eyes knit together with worry. "Billie-" Your eyes look to the road making sure she's still going straight. She surprisingly was. Your head looks back at her, her eyes on you intently, tilting her head a bit. "Tell your eyes that." Your breath catches in your throat. "Im still mad at you." She chuckles dryly. "Ditto." Her voice was dripping with venom. Your body shifts in the seat, causing her to look down at your thighs, biting her lip. "Fuck it." She mumbles. "Wha-?" But you were cut completely short as she slams on the breaks, putting her arm infront of you to make sure you don't fly forward.

Confusion strikes you as you're in the middle of nowhere. "Backseat. Now." Even though you were still slightly mad at her, your brain was telling you to do it. Wanting to see where this would lead. "Gunna show you just how angry I am." She says getting out the drivers seat and slamming the door. You flinch just slightly not expecting it. But my god was she sexy this way. You climb into the back, not caring if your dress moved more. She was just going to move it anyways. She opens the door, getting in and grabbing you. "Come on baby get on top, there you go."

She grabs your face instantly kissing you with absolute fire. Your mind shuts down. Forgetting even why you two were arguing. She was still very well aware, grabbing one of your hands and placing it on her belt. "I'm still pissed, you undo it. Kay?" "Okay." Your fingers fiddle with it, unhooking it and grabbing her zipper. "Good, good." She says observing. "Keep going." Your breath stills, moving her jeans to get the fake dick out. On full display. "Don't see why I have to do all the work. Sit." She stares into your soul, your heart rate still picking up. You felt like her prey in the little game. "B-" You begun but immediately shut up as she raises a brow. Tongue visibly poking into her cheek.

I got dirty in my own veins.

Fuck. You were so incredibly screwed. "Sit." She repeats. Your hands quickly try to take your underwear off, finding everything more difficult especially with her God damn eyes glued on you. You go to grab it again breathing out shakily. Lining it up perfectly and slowly sinking down. And with how wet she had you it wasn't hard. "Good fucking girl." Your mouth hangs open at the feeling of the slight stretch, causing both of you to bite your lips. Your hips move on her with need, everything about it was hasty. Gripping her shoulders for support. The feeling of how deep it was going straight to your stomach. Literally. Her hands make contact with the straps.

Pulling them down and letting your breasts spill out. "You're going to apologize." And that's when you give her a look. "The fuck I'm no-" Her hand comes flying to your jaw causing your mouth to close shut. "You want this right? You want me in you correct?" You whimper out as her fingers most definitely leave marks but you gave zero shits. You wanted that, you wanted her to mark you all over. "Speak." She orders. You gulp back a moan as she ruts up into you, making sure you're focusing. "Y-yes." "Apologize." She warns you with her eyes. "But-" Her hands instantly move.

Picking your hips up off of her making you whine out, her trips to the gym really paying off. "I'm sorry!" You screech. She gives it a second but she didn't need to. She had you exactly where she wanted you. "I'm sorry Bills, I'll talk to you next time just please. Please, need to feel you so bad." You felt pathetic, but you needed this desperately. She slowly puts you back down, making a moan slip into the car. It soon smelling of sex. Her hands continue their previous actions. Grabbing both your tits and kneading them. "Speed up baby, atta girl." Your eyes roll back as you feel her pinch your nipples. Moving up and down on her. Her hands moving down your body.

I can feel it in my brain.

Gripping your sides and helping you move even quicker. "Fuck!" You say falling against her, letting your head land on her shoulder. Her leg lifts up, bringing the one straddled on her up aswel in the process, getting a perfect angle. Your brain fogs up, squeezing your eyes shut as you feel it deeper. "Billie.." You breathe. She doesn't respond, only rutting her hips up into you. Causing you to almost scream but your mouth turns and bites the flesh on her shoulder. Her teeth sink into her lip as you do so, finding every action of yours attractive.

She grips your ass tightly, slamming you down with more force onto her dick. "Cum on me baby, do it. Know you can." Your head turns to the side, still having it rested on her shoulder. Moving so you can watch just a little of what was happening. Your breath uneven, having it warm against her neck as your fucked out state comes closer. And closer. And within seconds your juices are leaking all over her, moans floating into her eardrums. She was in heaven. "W-was that a good apology?" You tiredly speak.

She smiles to herself stroking your hair, soothingly. "Yeah baby. A very good one."

"I'm sorry too." She then says, kissing your head. "It's okay Billie. Trust me. We gave eachother a pretty good apology."

"Agreed."

[baby-yongbok]

My Forbidden

Hwang Hyunjin x afab!Reader

-`♡´- Genre - Smut - Forbidden Love -`♡´- Word Count - 4.4k

He's tall in front of you, his smoky aura suffocating you with a temptation you've fought to ignore for months. You told yourself you didn't want him. You told yourself that you couldn't have him. 

-`♡´- Warnings - So like, it isn't step-cest. I mean it. it isn't, but I will say that to some people it could look like it. It isn't, I swear but I will leave this here because I can see how it could look that way, Oral (f&m rec.), thigh riding [that's all??] -`♡´- a/n - Okay look, I had to write to these picture because Hwang Hyunjin tried to kill me when he posted them. True story. Anyway, I wanted to write a more unusual forbidden love story and this is where my brain took me. I tried to keep it away from being step-cest and I think i succeeded? It's like a step before it. Anyway this is the first fic I've written since having writers block so, enjoy! + reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡

✧ Masterlist ✧

The art of control is a medium that Hyunjin wasn’t familiar with until he met you. He’s always been ambitious in his desires and exercises the drive to aim and shoot towards whatever he wants no matter the consequences. When he saw you for the first time his scope was set and locked. He watched and studied you. He longed for you. 

It was only a matter of time before fate worked in his favor. He was a model looking for a photographer and you were a photographer looking for a subject. What a coincidence. 

Hyunjin wasted no time charming you. He pulled out all the stops and you were impressed to say the least. You just clicked. It felt like a perfect fit, and then things got complicated. 

He had fallen for you, face first in a rosy smoke that he couldn’t resist. He knew that you weren’t far behind so he thought it would be a good idea to have you meet his mother. You thought the same, asking your father to come to dinner with you and your lover. The night went well, too well. 

Your rising interest seemed to be contagious at the table that night. Hyunjin knew from the excessive batting of his mothers lashes that she was into your father and vice versa. You’d never seen him smile like that, ever. 

“Hyunjin.” His name dances across your lips with each muffled exhale against the palm of your hand. Your other hand works lazily to pry his head from the crook of your neck. The gentle smack of his lips against the supple skin echoes through the open space. “We can't, we can't..”

The structure of your protests crumbles when his kisses trail down and over your shoulder. The thin strap of your tank top is pulled down with a hooked finger and his lips fill the now empty space with wet kisses. “Why not?”

He knows the answer. He knows that this isn't a dynamic that would be smiled upon. It's complicated. 

“You know why.” Your hands roam his body slower than they should until they settle at the waistband of his jeans. You stick your thumbs into his belt loops, using them as leverage to push him back. “You'll be my brother soon.”

“I will never be your brother.” His stare is heavy, his lips kiss bitten and sloppy with his own spit. He looks unhinged, desperate. “I wanted you first. They weren't part of the plan.” 

You push him back towards the set in the middle of your apartment. He complies, eyeing you as he backtracks one step at a time. “They'd be pissed.”

You push him into the chair in the middle of the photo set and he slumps against it. His sweater rides up his stomach, exposing the toned muscle and you steal a glance before retreating. 

“We were talking before they ever were.” He argues, letting his head fall back to stare up at the ceiling of your living room. “I kissed you, remember? We went on a date. Several dates.”

You grab your camera, distracting yourself with the settings to avoid Hyunjin's argument. He's not wrong, the two of you were seeing each other months before your parents got together. The two of you even reminded them about your evolving relationship the day after they announced theirs. You asked that they respect your connection but you were only guilted into breaking it off. 

Hyunjin didn’t give up as easily as you did. He fought, he protested but when it all seemed to be overwhelming for you he stopped. He settled, only because you asked him to. Hyunjin paced the space of his living room that night. He was seething, fuming, crushed. He tried his best, whispering to himself to keep his cool, keep it together, be your friend. Just your friend.

But he couldn’t. Not when he’d give you more than any other friend ever could, ever would, ever should. 

“I remember. I also remember our parents asking us to call everything off so the family dynamic wouldn't be weird.” He scoffs, sitting straight to look at you. His eyes have a piercing shimmer to them, you point your camera and click. 

“You mean when they tried to gaslight us into thinking that we aren't actually into each other?” He smiles, it's wide and somehow condescending. It makes you hot. “They aren't going to last you know? They've been fighting more. My mom seems to be getting fed up.”

You click another picture. “This wouldn't be the first time.” You mumble, unfazed by the information.

“She took her ring off.” You freeze, lowering the camera to get a good look at Hyunjin. The grin on his lips says it all. “She hasn't worn it in a week.”

“My dad hasn't said anything.” 

“He doesn't want you to get any ideas.” Hyunjin is standing tall with a simple push forward, his sweater rides up, his jeans sitting low on his hips as he stalks forward. “He knows that if they broke up at noon you'd be in my bed by one.” 

He's tall in front of you, his smoky aura suffocating you with a temptation you've fought to ignore for months. You told yourself you didn't want him. You told yourself that you couldn't have him. 

“We should wait until the break up is official.” 

His fingers dance along the skin of your exposed shoulder. He brushes your hair back, lingering over the spot that he knows drives you crazy. “We've waited long enough, don't you think?” His words manifest in a whisper and linger in your head as if they were your own. 

“Aren't you sick of waiting?” His other hand is on your waist, pulling your body against his own until you can't feel where you end and he begins. You've always just fit like that.

“You're here for photos.” You're breathless, eyes locked on his lips that are dangerously close to yours. It's tempting, intoxicating. His cologne lingers around you, dragging you down further into the forbidden bits of your desire. 

“Let's take some then.” His lips are on yours in an instant. It was the quickest slow motion you'd ever experienced. The gentlest storm you could ever be swept into. His arm wraps around your waist, holding you against him while his free hand reaches for your camera.

His lips take you in with a palpable yearning that Hyunjin has worked hard to tame. He tongue parts your lips with expert precision that makes this seem practiced. Your arms wrap around him, resting on his shoulders and fisting the flimsy fabric of his sweater. He licks into your mouth and you moan in time with the shutter of the lens. Hyunjin breaks the kiss, just barely pulling away to show you your debauched reflection on the screen. 

“We look good together don't we?” His lips just barely brush over yours. His breath fans over the tender flesh and you forget all that you were weary about. The complications evaporate with his touch just as they always have. 

“If we do this… If I give myself to you I don’t know that I can take myself back.” You whisper, eyes capturing him in a stare that could halt a bullet. “You’ll have to keep me if you take me.”

He pauses, the weight of your words hanging in the air like a promise, and in that moment, An intense longing flickers in his eyes, consuming him. “I wouldn’t dream of letting you go,” he replies, voice low and steady, a vow etched in every syllable.

Every part of him is drawn to you. Every night that you’ve been limited to the bounds of his imagination, every time that he’s had to contain his desire to sculpt you into something glorious beneath him. The sacrificed nights of sleep and months of sanity just to keep his control tight in his fist led him to this. To you. 

He dives into you like your waves would recede if he didn’t dip into you now. You spill into him, melting against his touch and letting your desire run rampant in the space around you. He clicks another photo, capturing the desperation leaking between your lips. You push against him, backing him towards the chair in the middle of the hommade set yet again. He sits when his calves hit the seat, breaking the kiss reluctantly to stare up at you with the honey he calls eyes.

“What if they don’t break up?” The concern in your tone is countered as you kneel before him, slotting yourself between his spread legs. He’s silent for a second, taking in the view that he’s dreamt of for months. The camera clicks. 

He smiles, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I don't care." he says, his voice a low rumble. He reaches out, sinking his long fingers into the thick curl of your hair and coaxing you forward. You lean in and just barely brush your lips against his naked hip, before pulling away. "I’m not sacrificing us again."

His hand moves to cup your face, the pad of his thumb runs over the apple of your cheek in gentle admiration and you reach up, your fingers brushing against his wrist. “What’re you doing on your knees, baby?”

“I’ll show you.” You lean back into his hip, brushing your lips over the skin and exhaling a heavy puff of hot air before placing a gentle kiss. Hyunjin watches you with the tip of his tongue caught between his teeth. A single strand of hair falls forwards to frame the shimmering brown admiring the lithe move of your lips against his skin.

Your hands roam the expanse of his denim clad thighs, your manicured nails dig into the fabric with a soft bite that makes the man above you hiss with a gentle flutter of his heavy lids. He slouches a bit more into the black framed chair, giving you better access to where he’s throbbing for you beneath the fabric. 

“You’re so pretty.” His voice fails him, the tension of the moment lays thick on his vocal cords and forces him into a rough whisper. A blush runs over the glow of your swarthy skin, it matches the rosy red that’s creeping up and over Hyunjin’s ears. He points the camera and clicks, another one follows when your eyes meet the lens and he groans at the preview on the screen.

“You, you’re the one who looks like…” Your eyes scan up his frame to take in the gray sweater pulled tight over his frame. The defined dips and curves of his arms are highlighted by the clinging fabric and his chest is teased through the deep V of the neck. And the buttons, the fucking buttons, they’re barely doing their job. “God, Hyunjin.”

His head falls back slightly, a muted groan escaping him. “Don’t do that.” His voice breaks at the final word. His eyes are shut tight. “Don’t say my name like that.” He sounds tortured, stuck between a dream and reality and it makes your heart skip. 

Your fingers work the button of his jeans and Hyunjin moves to watch. The brush of your fingers against the bareskin of his stomach makes him dizzy and the sound of his zipper separating to expose his black briefs to you only makes it worse. 

Your lips are on the dip of his V-line. Your tongue traces the flesh, one of your hands presses over his bulging length while the other works to lower his jeans. He lifts his hips, allowing you to get the fabric around the thick of his thighs for better access. His hand sinks back into your curls, his fingers scratch at your scalp delicately electing another moan of his name. His breath hitches at the sweet sound on your wet lips. 

“Take it out, please.” He mumbles, low lids fluttering softly at the sight before him. “Please, baby.”

That’s all that you needed to let it all go, the sediment of your reluctance was washed away in an instant and his bare cock was in your hand even quicker. He’s better than you dreamed of. 

“Oh my god.” You take him in with a moan. Arousal pools in your panties and your hands drag over his length on their own. The camera clicks. You lean forward, taking him in your mouth without warning and Hyunjin nearly drops the camera. 

“Shit, baby.” His mouth falls open, his brows furrowed and his fingers fist in your hair. This is insane. You sink the length of him into your mouth until he hits the back of your throat. You drool around him, slurping and sucking while your eager cunt throbs between your sticky thighs. Your panties are doing a horrible job at containing your excitement. Your jeans are surely ruined but so are you. 

“Fuck, that mouth. Your mouth feels so good, so so fucking-” His own body betrays him, interupting his ramble with a groan and a small buck of his hips. His cock leaks against your tongue as you swirl the muscle around the head. Drool pools at the hilt of his length and runs over his balls. It’s messy. You take him deeper, gripping his hips and scratching over the rising red marks that you’ve sucked into the skin.

“Just like that, baby. Just like that.” Your own arousal starts to become unbearable. Each ragged breath and groan from Hyunjin sends shocks to your system and you need something. With your thighs squeezed tight you buck your hips to match the bob of your head over his cock. You match the rhythm, imagining the head of his cock bullying your swollen walls instead of your throat. You clench around nothing at the thought.

“Get up, c’mere.” He guides your mouth off of him with his hand in your hair, a string of spit connects you to his cock and he lifts the camera lazily to capture the debauchery. “Sit on my thigh” Hyunjin guides his jeans the rest of the way down, taking his underwear with the denim and kicking it off. 

You move to unbutton your jeans quickly, fumbling with the button in a clumsy pursuit that Hyunjin interrupts with his long digits. He hooks his pointer finger into the front of your jeans and pulls you closer into his waiting hands. They settle on your hips, moving up slowly to squeeze the fluff of your waist.

 “How are you this fucking fine?” His fingers pop the button of your jeans with ease, he peels the fabric down your curves at an eager pace that’s translated through the sloppy kisses planted along the hem of your messy panties. Your hands thread through his raven locks, combing his hair back out of his face. You watch him, he’s a vision in your blissed out haze. A dream personified. 

“Do you know how hard it’s been…” He mumbles against your skin, his dark eyes peer up to meet yours in a vulnerable soul gaze. “Do you understand how badly I’ve wanted to touch you...” His fingers trace a soft line up your leg and stop at the print of your pussy through your panties. He can see the dark spot on the gray fabric. He can see that you’ve felt the same. 

Hyunjin runs his pointer and middle finger over the soiled fabric of your panties and rubs a soft circle over your clit. Your breath hitches in your throat. You lean up on the ball of your foot and shift your weight from one leg to the other. Hyunjin continues, rubbing harsher circles and spreading the stain of your slick further as his lips and tongue work at the expense of your stomach.  

You strip yourself of your tank top to give him more access, leaving you in only your panties since you chose to forgo a bra this morning. You gasp a moan when he presses up against the swollen bud. It throbs against the contact and you squirm, whining at the harsh touch. 

“Please, don’t stop touching me.” You plead, pushing yourself further into his touch. “More, please.”

Hyunjin’s eyes shut with a furrow. Your words make his cock jump. He hooks the fingers that are teasing your clit into the hem of your panties to move the ruined fabric to the side. A string of arousal follows and he groans at the sight. “Baby, you’re soaking. You’re, you’re fucking…” He’s leaning in before he allows himself to finish his sentence and places a soft kiss against your exposed center.

You moan, the grip you have in his hair tightening as the simple kisses against your clit turn into desperate kitten licks. “Jin... Hyunjin, fuck.” He hums as he continues, the small licks quickly evolve into long drags of his tongue through your folds while one hand palms your ass and the other holds your waist.

He blindly reaches to the side where he’s discarded the camera, detaching from your core for just a second to grab it and hand it to you. You take it, clumsily putting your arm through the attached strap and situating the device in your hands. Hyunjin dives back in, his lips wrap around your clit and you point and click with a loud moan. 

“You’re gonna make me cum.” Hyunjin moans at the admission, this would be the first time he makes you cum. The first time he sees your beautiful body fall apart for him. “Oh, god, I’m gonna cum in your mouth.” Moans follow, tumbling forward with clumsy thrusts of your hips against his tongue and chin. You’ve never gotten to orgasm this fast. You’ve never fallen apart this easily for anyone but him.

His eyes are closed as he laps at your pussy, sucking and licking like his life depends on it and you snap another picture before falling apart. You're gushing into his mouth with a choked sob. The camera falls from your hands and is saved by the strap around your arm. Your grip in Hyunjin’s hair is punishing as you ride his face through your high. He groans at the pain, pulling away from your core after a second and forcing you forward to sit on his thigh.   

He presses the muscle of his leg up against your core and the squelch of your drenched sex against his skin echoes between you. “Listen to you, angel. Fuck.” Hyunjin licks his lips but you catch them in a heated kiss before he can clean them completely. You taste yourself off of his lips and he melts into you, moaning at the force of your tongue against his. 

His fingers dig into your hips, guiding you over the naked skin of his thigh. “You feel so good in my hands.” He presses his forehead against yours, listening to each heavy inhale you take. “Your pussy is fucking - you’re dripping. God, I can still taste you.” 

“I need you, now. Can’t wait anymore.” You cup his face with one hand while your free one grips the backrest of the chair. You kiss him, it’s soft and slow. Your lips move against each other with a rhythm that only the two of you can access. His tongue pushes against yours, milking moans from your chest while you grind over him. “Wanna feel you, wanna be yours. Please make me yours.” 

“Baby.” He shivers, taking in the slick feel of your arousal dripping over his leg. Your hard nipples brush against the fabric of his cardigan and he suddenly wants it off. Now. “You can’t say shit like that to me. You can’t say that and expect me to not fucking fall apart.”

His breath fans over your lips with a heavy exhale. His swollen pink lips brush against yours with each word. “Don’t you dare hold back.” You tilt his head up, driving his hazy gaze towards your own. “Give me what they wouldn’t let you. Give me everything.” 

A rumble rips through him, something akin to a growl as he shifts you into his lap. Your words, they lit a new fire in him and he needs to feel you now before it goes out. He needs to make you his. “I’ll give it to you.” Hyunjin scoops you up, your core rests over his cock as he stands with you in his arms. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, squealing softly as lifts you. He silences you with a kiss, swallowing the sound while moving across the room to try and get you to the stairs. He wants to take you to your room. He wants to lay you on your bed and finally fuck you the way he’s dreamt of when he fucks his fist to your memory. But he can't make it. 

He only gets a couple steps across the open space of your living room before the aching of his cock betrays him. You barely even make it to the couch, he stops right in front of it, lowering you so that your back rests against the front of the sofa. 

Your hands roam and grab in a hungry attempt to feel his chest against yours. You fist the gray fabric and pull, popping the first two buttons of his cardigan. He groans, sliding his hands under your thighs and pulling your core to his. Your panties are in the way and he moves to change that instantly. He pulls at the fabric, ripping it at the seams and working it down the plush of your thighs. 

“Turn around.” Hyunjin is moving fast, helping you turn around to face the couch. Your knees dig into the fuzz of the carpet, your forearms rest against the couch cushions. You reach your hand back, taking his dribbling length in your hand and spreading his slick. 

“Do you - Do you have a condom?” He pants against your neck, trembling with the brush of your hand over his cock. “Cause I can’t… I won’t pull out.”

The thought of him stuffing you full of his cum has you keening, your pussy clenches and the answer to his question almost vanishes. “In the drawer of the table behind you.”

Hyunjin turns, reaching back to fish through the drawer. He finds what he’s looking for just as your phone starts to vibrate on the coffee table. Hyunjin sees the caller ID before you can turn around. His heart skips and falls to his stomach but he hides it. He moves quickly, kissing you in an attempt to distract you from the call until it goes to voicemail. “Focus on me, baby. Focus on feeling me.” 

He rolls on the condom and breaks the kiss to bend you over the cushions in front of you. You sit up on your knees and he sinks into you slowly, easily splitting you open. You moan in unison, Your eyes rolling back with gasp. “Holy shit, baby.” Hyunjin’s head falls forward, resting on your shoulder. 

“If I move I’m gonna cum. You’re too much, too good. Shit.” Your pussy clenches around him and he hisses, just barely grinding his hips into yours. “I’m gonna have to fuck you again.”

“Please, have to feel you again...” You turn your head to the side straining to see him. “Move, I wan’ it. Please, baby.”

“I got you.” He pulls back, setting into a steady pace. “Oh god, baby. I got you.”

You’re falling apart in an instant. Crumbling in his arms as he wraps them around you and sits you up so that your back is against his nearly bare chest. He whimpers in your ear, kissing the shell of it as you bounce in his lap. Sloppy squelches and skin slapping drown out your moans. 

His fingers dig into the flesh of your hip and thighs and yours reach back to claw at whatever you can reach. “Hyunjin.” One of his hands dips down to rub tight circles into your clit. His moans pitch higher with each passing second. The rumble of his desperate satisfaction clawing up his throat drags him closer to the edge. 

Your spit gets caught in your throat with a sharp gasp when he hits a spot deep inside you. He angles his hips a bit to hit it again and again and again until you're creaming around him. “Baby, baby, ‘m gonna - fuck - please.”

You’re trembling in his lap, shaking like a leaf in his hold. “Me too.” He pants, biting his tongue with his eyes shut tight. He wants you to cum first. He wants you to fall apart. He wants to watch.

“Right there, right there.” You’re chanting to him, singing and sighing praises mixed with his name. “Mine, mine, you’re -” It hits you, it’s blinding and hot and so fucking good. Hyunjin uses his free hand to tilt your head back against his shoulder. He watches your mouth drop open in a scream. He watches the small drop of drool run over your bottom lip. He watches you fall apart around him.

“Yours.” He finishes your sentence, his rhythm falters, his thrusts get more sloppy by the second. “I’m yours yes, yes I am baby. Fuck, oh god, look at you.” 

He holds you close while you ride out your high. You’re moaning louder now, still shaking in his arms at the overstimulation. Your pussy clenches and throbs around him and it drives him to his end. His arms wrap around you tighter, holding you firm against him as he stills behind you. He moans your name, repeating it like a prayer as he unravels. 

 His breath is hot against your neck, his cock twitches against your pulsing walls and a comfortable silence fills the space for a couple heartbeats until he whispers in your ear, “I love you.” You feel your heart flutter and you whisper back, "I love you."

You’ve both waited. Waited so long to say it. 

“No one is going to keep me from you. Not anymore.” Hyunjin pants, his grip around you loosening and his heart swells with something that goes beyond his longing. It’s a step above needing your presence. It’s deeper. Intangible. “I’ll talk to them. We’ll work this out.”

The vulnerability of the situation floods back in at his vow. A tear escapes you. Blurring your gaze all over again. “Okay.” You leave the conversation there and shift. He pulls his softening cock from your sensitive sex and starts cleaning you up. He finds your clothes and helps you dress before he pulls his jeans back on.

You find your phone as you wait for him to dress, checking to see who called. Your heart skips a beat. “Hyune.” He reads your tone, looking over to you as he zips his jeans. “Check your phone.”

He moves over to the kitchen counter, grabbing his phone and unlocking the device. His heart skips a beat. His eyes meet yours from across the room.  

“They broke up.”

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[stonebutchery]

it's kind of baffling to me that entire sub-groups of queer folks endured a decade of being singled out and targeted for being asexual, aromantic, bisexual, pansexual, nonbinary, polyamorous, etc. and i have yet to see any substantial apologies from people who were directly responsible for causing genuine harm. i find it completely bizarre that there are so many people who want to sweep their past contributions to widespread lateral aggression toward specific queer groups under the rug like it didn't happen so they can wash their hands of it... there are people who are irreversibly traumatized because of this. there are people who took their lives because of it.

i'm wording the post like despite the fact that exclusionism targeting these groups (and more) continues to persist partly because it was a really frighteningly common trend to harass people just because they were ace, aro, bi, pan, nonbinary, poly, etc... and it's crazy to me that many of the people who were affected by this massive multi-pronged public online bullying campaign against the 'unacceptable types of queers' are the ones still receiving messages like "my url got put on an aphobe blocklist in 2016 because apparently a post i made making fun of asexuals got some teenage asexuals harassed and i still distrust asexuals to this day because of that" ...are you fucking kidding me?

we will never achieve any kind of unity as a queer community while we are insisting upon ignoring the hurt that lateral aggression has caused, and acting like the burden lies on the shoulders of the people who were harmed to forgive the people who harmed them and 'just move on', many of whom are not sorry for what they did! or they don't consider what they did to be wrong! how is that not deeply disturbing and troubling to more of you?

03/06/2024 edit: i’m putting a complete moratorium on this post because i am really sick and tired of having my point not only completely misconstrued and distorted entirely but also weaponized against transfems (particularly in replies i have decided to delete about how “ugh yes, exclusionism, and now transfems are bullying transmascs”) i find that really sickening and i’m demanding that it stop, and i can make it stop by turning off reblogs. so i have.

my objective in writing this post was never to request an apology from people who have been laterally-aggressive exclusionists in the past. i don’t think we’ll ever get more than a handful of apologies from those people, anyway. my point was that it was pretty terrifying to witness and experience a lot of lateral aggression that transferred from the real, in-person world to the deeply online spaces back into the real, in-person world in a really fucked up feedback loop and being a young queer person during this time and having that shape me, snd shape the experiences of my queer friends who have been traumatized by it.

however, it is absolutely unacceptable to me that the issue of transmisogyny is so blatantly overlooked by our entire community. for decades, transfems have experienced oppression and exclusion from transmisogyny-exempt women and queers. their exclusion from political queer liberation movements has caused many of the major schisms within our community we are still having arguments about to this day. if you want collective queer liberation, you must uplift transfems. there is no other option. you don’t get to write off all transfems just because one person who happened to be transfem was mean to you online or something.

i have answered and responded to way too many conspiracy-brained transmisogynist reactionaries to allow this post to keep fucking snowballing with people writing paragraphs in the tags about “transmisandry” or “transandrophobia.” please get your heads out of your asses.

this absolutely is the transmisogyny website, as always, and the place where all basic textual comprehension skills go to die, apparently.

[ahsxual]

Stu Macher x Fem!Reader where they are dating but the readers parents hate him so one night are 2:33 am Stu knocks on the readers window and she opens it it tells him to leave but before she can get a word out Stu is kissing her and telling her how much he misses her and one thing lead to, and so Stu had to push the readers head into her pillow so she didn’t wake anyone.

Sorry if the store request does not make any sense i’ve been wanting to request something from you for a while and this idea kinda came to my brain as I was falling asleep at four in the morning so I am very sleep deprived lol anyways I love your story. I hope you have a great day

Surprise Baby

Genre: Fluff & Smut

Warnings: +18 content, clingy and soft Stu, dirty talk, degrading, cursing, dom!Stu, p in v (w/o protection), sad Stu at the end (reader comforts him)

Word Count: 1,8k

A/N: This was actually a very interesting request and Ik very well that our daydreams before we sleep are the best 🤭 I added something to the plot at the end, so I hope you still like it! Tysm, I'm so glad you like my writing! It always feels so gratifying whenever you guys tell me that &lt;33

Right now you're lying on your bed crying, while hugging your favorite bunny plush that Stu gave you for Valentine's Day. You'd just had an argument with your parents, since they weren't the biggest fans and supporters of your relationship with your boyfriend Stu Macher. You didn't understand why they didn't like him and didn't even make an effort to, even though Stu always made you happy and made your life more colorful and enjoyable from the moment you met him. Of course Stu had his flaws like everyone else, since perfection is impossible to achieve and that was fine by you. But not for your parents. They said that Stu distracted you from school, that he "lived" for parties and didn't give you your "precious" time to concentrate on your studies, because he always took you on dates so that he could spend more time with you, even when you said you were busy.

You perfectly knew that Stu wasn't a guy who would take "no" for an answer. Maybe it was because he'd always been spoiled by his parents and didn't understand the meaning of that word? Maybe he hated the fact that you would say "no" to him, because if you truly love him as you always say, why would you reject an opportunity to go out with him? Both answers to those questions are probably correct, because you knew that Stu didn't know how to respect your personal space either, not that you minded anyway. But your parents did and that was the problem. They even told you once that Stu was obsessed with you and that your personal life has also become his, as if it were his property. Maybe they were right about that, but that's how Stu showed how much he loved and cared for you and it always worked well in your relationship. And you really missed him.

Sleep didn't want to make its presence known, so you decided to watch your favorite show on your new tv. However, you still couldn't stop thinking about the argument with your parents. Of course you defended your boyfriend and were always on his side to protect him against anyone, even your own parents, but it did made you very upset... all you wanted was for your family to see how genuinely happy Stu makes you feel, how he always admired you and treated you as if you were the only woman to walk on earth and how he's so funny that it's practically impossible not to laugh because of some silly joke he's made until your cheeks hurt. You just wished your family accepted him and loved him as much as you did...

Your thoughts were suddenly interrupted when you heard your window being knocked on repeatedly. You screamed for a second, because you weren't expecting that to happen in the middle of the cold night. Nevertheless, you immediately felt relieved when you saw Stu standing there with his puppy eyes and big smile on his handsome face you loved so much. A wide smile appeared on your face the moment you realized your boyfriend wanted to surprise you and that he had actually made an effort to see you.

His giant body barely fit through your window and the way he clumsily tried to get into your room, like a cartoon thief, made you laugh until your belly started to get sore.

"Baby, what are you doing?? It's cold outside!" you asked worriedly, before you watched him fall face down on the floor as he let out an "ouch". You couldn't stop laughing at his poor attempt to sneak into your room, as he already knew that your parents would never let him in, especially so late at night. You looked over your bedside table, where your alarm clock was, to see what time it was, as it marked 2:33 am.

"Surprisee baby!" he shouted excitedly, with a contagious smile that didn't leave his face for a moment. His breathing was accelerated, which made you realize he had some trouble climbing up to your window. You felt your heart warming at his romantic gesture, yet you didn't want your parents to find out and kick him out of your house or worse.

"Be quiet babe, you're not supposed to be here! You need to leave Stu, my parents are gonna ki-" you were really worried about your boyfriend's safety, but Stu didn't give you a chance to finish your sentence, as he grabbed you firmly around your waist and began kissing you passionately with his long, skilled tongue. His hands were all over your body and his grip was tight, not allowing you to move away from him.

"Shh- don't worry about them. It's just us now. I've missed you so much, baby." he admitted, before kissing your neck eagerly. When he he'd had enough, he pulled you up by your hips and laid you down on your bed, his mouth never leaving yours. You couldn't help moaning as you felt his sweet, loving assaults on your body, his lips and big hands making you melt into his addictive touch.

"Love, we have to be quiet... and you're making it hard for me." by now you were feeling breathless, unable to contain your desire for your horny and needy boyfriend. Instinctively, you rubbed against Stu's crotch which made him groan in pleasure, as you could feel him already hard under his jeans. He began to gently pinch your nipples through the fabric of your short pajama top, enjoying and closely analyzing your reactions to his teasing touch.

"Looks like I have to shut you up so we don't get caught, baby..." the last thing you saw was a mischievous grin on your boyfriend's face, before he firmly turned you around so that you were on all fours for him. He pressed his erection against your ass, while his eyes rolled back as he put his head back from the stimulation and his mouth was slightly open. You were starting to enjoy this game way too much, to see who couldn't hold back their moans, and you made sure you would win this battle. You pushed your ass against him and started rolling your hips in a provocative way, knowing that Stu wouldn't be able to hold it much longer. He bit his lips at this and frowned, realizing what you were trying to do to him.

"My girl really wants to get some, huh? You wanna play dirty, doll? Do you really think you can win this game against me?" he laughed trying to mock you, making you feel pathetic if you really thought you could stay quiet with the way he was about to fuck you.

"Just fuck me already Stu, I can't hold it much longer..." you quickly gave up and decided to beg him for mercy, so you could feel him inside you for once. You were dripping by now and the thought of having to keep quiet so no one would catch you at such a vulnerable and intimate moment turned you on even more for some reason.

You finally felt him give you want you wanted, since Stu himself wasn't a very self-controlled guy when it came to you. You felt his tongue lick a long, firm strip from your throbbing clit to your pulsing, empty hole. This made you grip your pillow as hard as you could while he ate you out from behind. Unfortunately, it didn't last much longer like you'd hoped, as you didn't realize how horny and impatient Stu was feeling that night. Suddenly, you felt his fully erect cock enter you without any resistance, sliding easily into you because you were so wet with your cum and his saliva. He didn't give you any time to adjust to him as he usually did and started pounding you hard and fast. He knew you all too well, so he pushed your face against your pillow to prevent any sound coming out of your pretty mouth and kept his strong hand on your head. You prayed that no one would hear you both fucking like horny teenagers who can't control their sexual hormones. It wasn't your fault that you and Stu were so fucking attracted to each other and that your shared love was considered obsessive, right?

"You like that, don't you babygirl? You love it when I fuck you like this... You needy slut, can't get enough of your boyfriend's cock inside your tight hole. I bet your parents would be so embarrassed if they saw you getting fucked this good." he whispered in your ear before changing his angle to fuck you deeper. Wet sounds, your muffled moans and his heavy breathing were the only sounds being heard in your room, turning you both on even more. It didn't last much longer when you both came at the same time, since Stu was way too horny to hold his orgasm. He was so glad he'd made you cum before he climaxed inside you.

After the moment of ecstasy you both experienced, you lay there trying to catch your breath while staring at the ceiling. It was then that Stu pulled you closer to him and hid his face on your neck, clinging to you more than usual. He was acting way too needy and clingy, and wasn't trying to be the "dominant" one, which made you worry about him.

"Are you ok, love? Do you wanna talk about it?" you asked him softly as you caressed his hair and cheeks. You knew him too well to recognize whenever he wasn't feeling good, even when he was trying to hide it.

"My girl knows me so well." he chuckled weakly, trying to find the right words to tell you what was had been bothering him. After a moment of silence in which you tried to comfort him with your tender touches, he finally spoke. "My parents won't be able to make it for my birthday. Again." your heart ached for him, because you knew this problem had happened before. Although Stu's parents loved him and treated him right, they had never been very present throughout his life and that took a tool on his emotional behavior. That explained why he was so addicted to your attention and wanted you all to himself, all the time. It made you really sad that you couldn't help your boyfriend properly, because the presence of anyone's parents is irreplaceable.

"I'm so sorry to hear that, baby. I'm sure they're extremely busy with work and that's the only reason for their absence on such a special day. We both know that they love you and I'll be there for you to make sure you have the biggest party ever." you gently grabbed his face and smiled warmly at him, admiring his ocean eyes that reminded you of the maldivian water, as he stared back at you with pure love.

"I know you will. What would I do without you? You're the love of my life, you know that right?" you chuckled as you softly kissed his cute nose.

"I love you too, Stu... so much. You have no idea of how much love I have for you and no one ever will."

[grison-in-space]

I'm genuinely sorry, I was really tired and couldn't think of the word that mad pride movements use. I'm new to all of this. I thought you would be more open to it because you've reblogged from radical leftists (anarchists and communists both) within the past couple of weeks and they're all for Veganism afaik. The argument that all brains are different but equal and should be treated the exact same is a primary aspect of mad pride from my understanding, and that speaks to me about animals just having different brains, and that they don't deserve to be exploited and killed for us just because they're different. I'm not spamming people with it, but I was inspired by an ask by a nonvegan and started asking popular bloggers why they weren't vegan to open up conversation and potentially change people's views on animals. If I've made you uncomfortable I'm sorry, though I admit I'm really confused by your standpoint. You do know that the only reason communism hasn't succeeded is because of America? Anyway, sorry again, I'm also autistic and I didn't mean to dismiss your legitimate dietary needs. Can I recommend acti-vegan's posts? While I understand that you can't go vegan, perhaps their blog will at least help you understand our points, they're much more well-written than my asks and they have plenty of legitimate science resources at hand. Thanks for listening, I'll take your advice into account. I'm not trying to not listen, it's just frustrating because so many people say they get it but they don't change, and if they truly got it they would, you know?

Okay, I get that you didn't mean to be offensive, and fuck knows I shouldn't throw stones when it comes to forgetting specific words. (This happens to me fairly frequently; it's a thing.)

The argument that all brains are different but equal and should be treated the exact same is a primary aspect of mad pride from my understanding, and that speaks to me about animals just having different brains, and that they don't deserve to be exploited and killed for us just because they're different.

So yesterday I actually wrote out and then deleted a whole paragraph to the effect of "part of my deep, deep frustration with animal rights activism hooks into my commitment to the phrase 'nothing about us without us,' because I frequently see the same kinds of emotional projection without making the effort to listen to animals on their own terms from animal rights activism groups."

The first thing I need to make clear to you is that this--veganism and animal rights activism (ARA) more generally--is not new to me. I am in my mid-thirties and I have never had a job of any kind that did not revolve around animals in some way, I've spent time in rescue spaces and vets and universities, I'm queer and I have spent most of my life in leftish progressive circles, so it's kind of hard to miss.

Essentially, you are proselytizing to me as if you were a newly baptized evangelical convinced I had never heard of Jesus, because if only I had heard and understood his holy word, I would be converted instantly to his light! It's not any less irritating when the belief system isn't explicitly a religion.

More under the cut, because this one is long.

Disclaimer one: Veganism isn't synonymous with ARA ideology, but it's deeply entangled with it, and ARA ideology drives the movement of veganism as a (theoretically non-religious) ethical decision. And I object very strongly to the framework imposed by ARA activists. When I say I am not vegan, I am saying that I have considered the ethical framework that underpins veganism as an ethics movement and I have deliberately rejected it.

The second piece of context you should know that when I talk about being a behavioral ecologist, I mean that I'm a researcher who works on animals and that my framework is rooted in trying to understand animals in their own natural ecological context, without necessarily comparing them to humans. There's a lot of ways to study animal behavior you might run into, including attempts to understand universal principles of behavior that transcend species (animal cognition) and attempts to understand how to better treat animals in human care (animal welfare). You know Temple Grandin? Temple Grandin is an ethologist (the field that gave rise to behavioral ecology, also focused on animals within their species context) who worked on animal welfare (finding ways to make slaughterhouses less stressful to livestock, among other things).

Third point: my profession also means is that I work directly with animals--in my case, currently mice--and that I do not think research with animal subjects is wrong as long as all efforts are made to ensure maximal welfare and enrichment for the animals involved. This is another major bone of contention politically between my entire field and ARA groups, and you should know that I have also spent my entire professional career under the shadow of, well, people who care strongly enough about those ideas to invade my workspace and potentially seize my animals and "free" them into a world they do not have the tools to survive in.

So there's where I am coming from. Let's get back to what you're saying. Here, I'll quote again in case you have the same crappy short-term memory I do.

The argument that all brains are different but equal and should be treated the exact same is a primary aspect of mad pride from my understanding, and that speaks to me about animals just having different brains, and that they don't deserve to be exploited and killed for us just because they're different.

Point the first: Even within humans, I don't think that all brains should be treated the exact same. Especially in a disability context! After all, what is an accommodation if not an agreement to treat someone differently because they need certain things to access a space? Accommodations by definition fly in the face of this "treating everyone the same" understanding of fairness. I think all (human) brains are equally valuable, and I think all brains are worthy of respect, but I do not think that it's wise or kind of me to assert that everyone should be treated in the same way. For one thing, I teach students. If there's one thing teaching has taught me, it's that a good teacher is constantly assessing and adjusting their instruction to meet students where they're at, identify failures of understanding, and keep the attention of the classroom.

Point the second: animals do have different brains from humans. That does not mean that animals are inferior, but it does mean that they are alien. There's a philosophy paper, Nagel, What Does It Mean to Be a Bat, that you might find illuminating on this front. Essentially, the point of the paper is that animals have their own experiences and sensory umwelts that differ profoundly enough from humans' that we cannot know what it is like to be a different species without experiencing life as one, and therefore we must be terribly careful not to project our own realities onto theirs. That is, our imagination cannot tell us what a bat values and what it experiences. That is why we have to use careful evidence to understand what an animal is thinking, without relying on our ability to identify with and comprehend that animal. I have watched ARA groups deliberately encourage people to shut their reasoning brains off and emotionally identify themselves with animals without considering within-species context for twenty years. This is a mainstream tactic. It is not an isolated event and for that reason alone I would be opposed to them.

Point the third: there is a definite tendency in lots of people to care deeply and intensely about both animals and people who are seen as "lesser" in status--children, poor people, disabled people, etc--just as long as those groups never contradict the good feelings that come from the helper's own assessment of themselves and their actions. In humans, when the "needy" point out that some forms of help are actually harmful, the backlash is often swift and vicious. This is why animals are such an appealing target of support and intervention. They can't speak back and say "in fact, you are projecting my love of this frilly pink tutu onto me, and I think it's uncomfortable and prevents me from walking." They can't say "I kind of like it better when I don't have to worry about getting hit by a car, actually?"

(By the way: this is also why it's offensive to compare disabled people to animals, because this is generally done at least in part to silence the voices of disabled people speaking for our selves and our communities. We have access to language, and we use it, thank you.)

All forms of animal welfare intervention going right back to the founding of the first RSPCA have been incredibly prone to being hijacked by classist, racist, and otherwise bigoted impulses. This is because animals offer an innocent face for defense that conveniently cannot criticize the actions taken by their champions, and they therefore provide a great excuse for actions taken against marginalized members of human society. Think about the very first campaign the RSPCA ever did, which was banning using dogs as draft animals: a use that is not inherently harmful to dogs, which many dogs actively enjoy, but also one that was specifically used by poor Londoners and which in fact immediately resulted in a great butchery of the dogs that Londoners could no longer afford to feed rather than allowing poor people and their dogs to continue working together. No one was, of course, challenging the particular uses of dogs or any other animal favored by the wealthy. This kind of thing is so, so, so common. Obviously it doesn't mean that all interventions to prioritize animal welfare are inherently bigoted, but it does mean that we have to be critical about our choice of challenges.

On top of everything, the animal rights activist movement's obsession with "exploitation" is a function of the idea that humans are sinful or otherwise Bad in how we interact with animals by definition. For example, take the chicken rescue near me that is so obsessed with the possibility that some human somewhere might benefit from an animal in their care that they implant every hen they adopt out with hormonal implants such that the hens no longer lay eggs--a function that is normally a natural byproduct of a chicken's reproductive system, fertilized or not. A mutualistic relationship involves both parties benefiting, and that is the case for an awful lot of human relationships with animals. In general, the idea that associating with animals is a thing that can only harm animals rather than being a trade between two species to enrich one another is all over these groups. It's just so myopically focused on human shame that it prevents practical interventions that might benefit everyone, and often promotes interventions that don't directly benefit animals but sure do make humans miserable. For example, this kind of thinking is why groups like PETA are absolutely awful at effectively rescuing unwanted dogs and cats: they think pets living in "bondage" with humans are an essentially sad outcome, rather than one that might be mutually enjoyed by all parties.

I'm tired and my meds haven't kicked in, so I'm not currently going to handle the communism thing except to point out that while the US absolutely did destabilize a number of leftist regimes in South America and Africa, Russia and China between them have certainly not treated their own people kindly, either (and more so their own client-nations, as with the former members of the USSR). Please do some reading about the Holodomor and Lysenko in Russia (and frankly all of the details of Stalin's regime) and the Cultural Revolution in China in particular. Khmer Rouge might be worth looking into, too. I am not saying the US's hands are clean, you understand, because they are not; they're as steeped in red as anyone else's. What I am saying is that for people living on the ground, communist revolutions have this nasty habit of turning into bloodbaths and arbitrary slaughters. Do not let your distaste for the US's bloodsoaked imperialism (which, yes, is and was bad) let you fall into the trap of becoming a tankie.

And if you don't know what a tankie is, you really, really should take some time to learn.

[woodle-isbae]

i feel like there’s lots of fics on here about art and his breeding kink but i wish it was more so on other stuff.

sure, art and his breeding kink are cute + yeah, he’s prolly a switch/service top.

but what about art and his need to be in control? in a non abusive way ofc, in a “i need to feed my girl” “need to make my girl cum daily” AND his mindset of “need to empty my cum inside of her” type stuff ykwim

cuz wdym art is jerking off to the thought of you? girl, fuck that! he’s cumming and keeping the sperm incubated and stuffing u full of that shit, no seed goes to waste.

Ok im rambling bye

Art Donaldson whose just a giver , he always wants to see you happy. Never in the mood to argue , he will always find a solution to an argument.

Art Donaldson who spoils you rotten , giving you access to his card and accounts , glad that his basically rich.

Art Donaldson who can't say no to you , even if your arguing he'd find a way to have you face down into the sheets , pleading for more. And who is he to refuse you of such a thing?

Art Donaldson , whose a straight giver , always giving himself up to you in anyways possible , never pulling out just to stuff you full of his cum

[] Holding you so , so close to him , kissing any part of your skin he can get. Both your brains mushed from overstimulation yet content with how you ended up. []

Art Donaldson whose ready to take you anywhere , finding any remote or private area and trying his best to be quick with it.

[] Hiking your dress up to your waist before you slid in , thrusts passionate yet fast , lips placed between your teeth to suppress any sounds that could escape your mouth. The thought of getting caught just fueling you both on.

"Shh , keep it down f'me..yeah?"

His large frame overshadowing yours , which was bent over a bathroom sink , clit bumping against it with each thrust. Sending waves apon waves of pleasure to your whole body []

Art Donaldson who believes his soul purpose is to keep you pleased and happy , keeping you fed and full. Having a whole book of planning which involves kids.

Art Donaldson who knows how dirty of a thought it is but still holds you down as you squirm , stuffing his fingers into you to keep anything from dripping out

[] his fingers slipping in so easily as he kept the mix of both your juices trapped inside you , his face growing hotter than ever at the thought of getting you pregnant []

Art Donaldson whose honesty a good man , and makes other women Jealous of you just by a single glance at you two together

[neptunesyellowsands]

I don't know if this has been done before, but I've got a Merthur alt ending/prompt boring holes into my brain and I can't let it go. So, in DotD:

Merlin, realizing they won't make it to the lake in time, decides to try one last thing to save the king: to trade his own life for Arthur's via the power of life and death, a la Nimueh. It's a bold move, and it's unpredictable, but Merlin is both desperate and slightly ruthless when it comes to Arthur. Because he loves him.

However, since he wants to sacrifice himself, he needs a third party to work the magic. So when Morgana finds them, Merlin doesn't kill her. She's a High Priestess, like Nimueh. She could wield the magic herself. She might be the only one who can, actually, because Merlin has killed the only other two High Priestesses we know of - Nimueh and Morgause.

So he asks her to do it. He makes a convincing argument. She could be rid of him, Emrys, the bane of her existence, and they both know that he's the only thing keeping her from defeating Arthur. Once her army is rebuilt, she could return and take the kingdom for good, if she wanted. If not, she could live the rest of her life in peace, knowing she has defeated the greatest sorcerer of all time.

But Morgana is a seer. She sees that Arthur now knows about Merlin's magic and is accepting him. That Arthur is accepting Merlin, magic and all, because he loves him. That Arthur would likely, if he survived, return to Camelot and legalize magic, now that he knows. For Merlin. Because he loves him. For the first time, she looks in Arthur's eyes and believes he actually might have turned a corner, and in a wild fit of nostalgia and hope, she agrees -

But it doesn't work. The gods won't kill Emrys. It goes against the prophecy. Arthur and Merlin are to build the Golden Age together. One cannot exist without the other. They won't make the trade.

Instead, she explains, they demand something else in exchange for Arthur's life. Something that will allow them to replenish the dwindled population of magic-users without draining the earth's coffers and throwing off the balance once more. They will restore Arthur's life, but in return they will accept only one thing:

Merlin's magic.

In the end, it's not a hard decision for Merlin to make. Of course, he agrees. Of course, he would die for Arthur. He would kill for Arthur. But when he sacrifices his magic, it's something different altogether. As Morgana performs the spell, as the gods take back what they gave, as the golden magic pours out of Merlin's hands and ears and skin and trickles back into the earth to be dispersed elsewhere, Merlin gives away a part of himself he never thought could be separated. A connectivity that tied him to the ground. It's like going blind. It's like coming apart, atom by atom, and then being put back together with only half the pieces.

And Arthur watches it. He’s glad, at first. This will be easier anyway. None of them have to die today, and Arthur can keep Merlin’s secret. They can forget about the magic. They can go back to the way things were before. It might be hard, but their friendship might survive. And Arthur won’t have to protect Merlin. He’ll be safer, really.

He’ll be normal.

But then the thing happens, and Arthur watches, and he’s horrified. He's seen death. He's seen injury. But he's never seen this rending of a person from their essence, never seen the torment and pain of someone's magic being ripped from their body. He's never seen Merlin looking so gray as he does now. The golden light that he was taught to despise flickers in Merlin's eyes, like it's alive and trying to hold on, like it wants to stay, and then it's gone, and Merlin's tears aren’t rivers of gold anymore. They run tired and clear, and Merlin is a shell on the ground, fragile and hollow.

As the pain in Arthur's side begins to fade, as he takes the fullest breath he has in days and feels the vitality come back to his body, Arthur feels like he’s the monster here. Not Merlin. Not even Morgana. Him. His father. Everything he was taught to believe in.

Because he’s seen now what his father’s Purge did to his land. He’s watched Uther’s great vision for Camelot come to pass in the body of his best friend. The stripping away of magic. The destruction of this special, beautiful part of a person. 

And he’s seen what’s left. The shell. The empty gray.

Morgana disappears into a cloud of smoke. There is no place in Camelot for her now, but she has at least accomplished her goals. She's safe. She's free.

Arthur rises from the ground and picks up his sword. Merlin lies unconscious, and Arthur does the obvious: he carries him home.

Once he's back home, and Merlin is asleep in bed, and Gaius is digging out spellbooks and potions and all manner of incriminating truths, Arthur learns a few things:

Merlin is still Merlin. The magic was a tool, not his personality.

For those who possess it, magic functions like a sixth sense. Everything is learned and experienced through it, like any other sense. Everything. Moving through the world, seeing it, understanding it. 

Merlin was never actually clumsy.

Merlin was only ‘accident-prone’ because he had to suppress his magic so often. Sometimes, he played it up for his own advantage, but sometimes he just tripped because it wasn’t natural to walk around without reaching out with magic to find the floor first.

Now he has no magic.

Merlin is crippled, physically, once he wakes. He can move his body, but he can’t figure out where to put it.

He has no magic, but he is still Merlin. He’s still prone to fibbing, overwork, and sitting up late into the night to read. Still holds onto hope when he shouldn’t. Still tries and tries. And when he gives up, Arthur tells him he needs him, and he tries some more.

Because Arthur does need him. He wants to heal the rift in his land. He wants to stitch the wounds of his people put there by Uther. He never wants to see what happened to Merlin happen to anyone else. And he wants Merlin to be there, because he trusts him. Relies on him. Loves him.

Merlin has no magic, but he used to. He knows what’s needed by the people, the Druids, the land. When he drafts the documents needed to legalize magic, Arthur asks for Merlin’s help. And Merlin gives it. Of course he does. He’s still Merlin. He’s still too ready to give himself away. Still cheeky, to Arthur’s delight. 

Still wise.

Over time, Merlin learns to use utensils again. Two crutches come next, then one. Over the years, he is able to reduce it down to a staff, which he uses to find the floor. He trains a bird to go longer distances for him, across town or even just down the many flights of stairs in the castle. His mind rewires itself, relearns, but he will never have the wrist strength to buff armor again. 

Arthur wouldn’t have had him as a servant anyway. He makes him an advisor to the king, and he sits at the round table, at Arthur’s right hand. 

He sleeps, of course, in the king’s bed.

They call it the Golden Age, because all the magic Merlin poured into the earth comes back to the kingdom in waves. You can almost see it sparkling in the air sometimes, when the light hits it just right. Harvests are full and free of blight. Orchards blossom and hang heavy with fruit. More babes are born with magic in three years than have been in the last thirty. It’s Merlin, woven into every inch of the kingdom. It’s his gift to Arthur. To Camelot. To himself.

Merlin becomes a legend in his own right, known for his far-seeing eyes, his trusty staff, his surprisingly robust beard (Arthur is astonished and openly jealous). The kingdom benefits from his kindness and his ability to judge risk vs. reward. And the dragon helps, too, occasionally. 

Above all, Merlin is known for his wisdom, his council, and his unwavering love for Arthur.

Is it sad that Merlin had to give up his magic? Yes. But he never actually wanted it to begin with. Not really. Not to the extent he had it. He never wanted the burden of the prophecy. Like Arthur and his dream of relinquishing his reign and running off with Merlin to live on a farm, Merlin wanted to set aside the burden of being Emrys and return to himself. He wanted a life surrounded by love and peace. That was why he came to Camelot in the first place. He never, not once in his life, actually wanted power. He wanted the Golden Age. He wanted Arthur.

And he gets him.

[tomasweetheart]

TWENTY TWENTY VISION — m. atsumu x gn!reader

sypnosis: atsumu needs glasses, but why on earth would he make his & your life easier by wearing them?

warnings: i'm gonna beat the shit out of atsumu oh my GOD he irks me so bad, post-timeskip atsumu, eensy bit of angst if you squint super super hard, osamu mention, i can't write the miya accent™ for the life of me but i tried so sorry, petnames such as baby used, he calls the reader pretty

notes: inspired by the fact that i just recently got my new glass and haven't had a pair since i was 14 so seeing the world focused fucks with me a lil bit, ALSO, atsumu with glasses has been flooding my brain, osamu is farsighted cause i said so

"I'm not wearin' 'em."

"Atsumu, please, you need to wear them, you have astigmatism in both of your eyes! And you're nearsighted!"

Atsumu lets out a soft huff as he crosses his arms, as if he isn't the reason you've been having this argument essentially since you brought up him even getting his eyes checked.

It all started when Osamu had gotten new glasses, that's what Atsumu thinks anyways, that this is all stupid Samu's fault.

Osamu came over one afternoon for a harmless visit, with new glasses on. You had asked Osamu about them, and commented that you never knew he needed glasses to which he responded:

"Oh yeah, me and Tsumu both do, he just hasn't worn his since junior high."

You swear you've never seen Atsumu react so quickly, his head snapping to Osamu and immediately telling him to shut up through gritted teeth. The subject gets dropped instantly, but now you're giving Atsumu side-glances throughout the night until Osamu leaves.

After you two are settled into bed and Atsumu is almost asleep, until your voice rings out in the dark.

"Is that why you squint so much?" you ask in a voice barely above a whisper.

"...What are ya on about?" Atsumu asks, turning to face you with a soft expression.

"Is that why you squint so much?" you ask again, "Because you don't wear glasses like you're supposed to, so the world's all unfocused for you all the time, is that why?"

Atsumu's silence and stunned expression is all the answer you need.

"That's what I thought," you mumble before turning away from him, "your eye appointment is Saturday at four."

And that puts Atsumu where he is now, sitting at the island connected to the kitchen in your small apartment, staring down the thick black lenses as if he was trying to explode them with his mind.

"I said, I ain't wearin' 'em," he huffs again vehemently, looking at you with an unwilling expression, "and that's final. I don't need no stupid glasses, I can see just fine."

"Oh yeah?" you challenge, palms resting against the island as you stand on the opposite side of it, "If you don't need your glasses, read the paper on our fridge. Without squinting."

Atsumu's face goes a little pale, his eyes widening slightly. He looks over your shoulder at the paper held onto the fridge with a stupid magnet in the shape of a volleyball.

"It, uh..." he trails off, trying to not squint as much as possible, "...it...it doesn't matter what it says! I'm still not wearin' those glasses! I don't need 'em!"

"Atsumu that paper is no more than four feet away from you, and you can't even tell me what the bolded title says," you responded in an almost pleading tone, "baby, you need your glasses, so I am begging you, please put them on."

Atsumu's face softens slightly at your pleading voice, before it turns unwilling again as he looks down at his arms and mumbles something you can't quite make out.

"What was that?" you ask.

"...They make me look dumb," he repeats a little louder, looking back up at you, "they make me look like an idiot, and since my eyes aren't used to being focused, I feel like a baby deer learnin' how to walk."

"Tsumu," you reply gently, your own expression softening, "if you didn't like the way glasses look, why didn't you ask for contacts?"

"Because they scare me," he rebuttals, "which I know is stupid because they're an easy solution to my problem, but they rip and get stuck and...I don't know, that just scares me."

You stare at him blankly before taking a deep breath, "Atsumu," you start, "I'm not...trying to make you look stupid, okay? I just know that you need them, and you know that too. It might be awkward at first, but won't it be worth it to see the world a little more clearer? So you won't have to squint to read traffic signs or drive through menus? And, glasses aren't a permanent solution, we can work our way up to contacts, but you need to wear these for now."

Atsumu looks down at the glasses again, letting out another unsure sigh as he picks the thick rims up, and places them on his face.

It's weird at first, everything is clearer. The titanium fridge, that stupid volleyball magnet and the paper it holds, and more importantly...

You.

The way your entire face shifts into focus leaves Atsumu speechless. He knows how pretty you are, he doesn't need glasses to see it, but god do they make it better.

You give Atsumu a weird look, "What?" you ask puzzled, "Can you see better?"

"Yeah," he responds with a small smile, "I can see real good, pretty."