#countering adversity

[cyber-soul-smartz]

The Power of Rejection: Embracing Authentic Expression

Rejection is more than a mere redirection Reflecting on my experiences with releasing my work, “Empowered Journey,” I remembered how I would intuitively and meditatively get the message not to water down my ideas under any circumstances. I thought this was just me being guided not to alter the message, but later, I realized it was more than that. It reminded me of what I had known before. It…

[vilnan]

the way i haven't gotten my periods since last september <3

[kaurwreck]

I think you're right that it's significant, and I think Mori is clever to recognize that Akutagawa is a rook.

Like a rook, Akutagawa is powerful, but generally contained and often undercut by his predictability. However, because he's keenly aware of his own constraints, and because others often aren't (especially regarding variables they've internalized as known), he's able to play into and against his own predictability to paradoxically surprise them.

He moves within the confines of his rigidity to shape outcomes, sometimes more effectively than his more dynamic opponents and peers. Rooks do that too, if you let them.

Me, knowing nothing about chess, probably overthinking the significance of referencing akutagawa in this scene, but is going to look it up later anyways

[sooniebby]

ఌ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

꧁ 𝙎𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙪 𝙭 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ꧂

w.c. › 4.9k

Plot › if you had told yourself six weeks ago, that you would meet the camboy you’ve been faping for a year, you’d laugh. But meeting Gojo was a curse from God. Part 2 of this post!

Warnings › same as before. Gojo is a little shit and very annoying. A bit of dubious consent at first since reader doesn’t say “yes”. Nothing extreme. How yall not notice the porn I linked in p.1 though? Smh

Kinks › size kink, praise, rough sex, lite dry humping, creampie, manhandling, possessive Gojo, groping, brat behavior from reader, lite dom/sub,

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

“Today’s my lucky day, huh?”

Oh, fuck.

You kinda just… stood there for a few seconds, staring at Gojo in shock. Before you screamed out in fear and ran into the back room.

So humiliating.

“Hahaha!!! Put your glass back on, your blue eyes scared (Name)!” Nobara laughed, walking to join you in the back room. Megumi only rolled his eyes.

Nobara found you in a fetal position on the ground, rocking back and forth as she stared at you in shock.

“Okay, I know his eyes are freaky but it couldn’t have been that bad,” she said, kneeling down to get on your level. She ‘comfortably’ patted your hair, twirling a few strands around her index finger.

It took a few minutes before you could really open your mouth.

“I…know…him…”

“How? This is his first time here.”

You sat upright, staring Nobara right in the eyes.

“Camboy.”

Nobara was quiet, her eyes slowly widening as she took in the new information. Her mouth opened as a shriek left her mouth.

“No fucking way?! Him?! You’ve seen his dick?!”

“Nobara!!!”

She lowered her voice. “Him? Really? The one I called a 4 inch? He’s…. The one you had the call with? Holy shit! Do you think he remembers you?”

“Hopefully… not.. but he said it’s his lucky day.. do you think…?”

“Maybe he’s still mad over the four inch comment.”

“Uhm.”

“Or maybe he’s upset that you were a guy.”

“I dunno…”

“Oh! Maybe he wants to fuck you.”

“Oh c’mon. Now you’re just saying shit.” You stood up with a grunt. “If I’m lucky, he was just saying something about getting a discount. Can you do the cake for him? I really don’t wanna talk to him.”

Nobara frowned but didn’t say anything else. She walked away to go do Gojo’s order. It was silent for the most part, the slight muffled voices of Gojo and Nobara talking. Though it seemed Nobara was talking shit about him.

Hopefully, Gojo wouldn’t come here again due to Megumi’s insistence.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“So, can you take my order this time?”

You blinked, staring right at Gojo as he leaned on the counter, grinning at you. It was in the evening and the cafe was mostly empty. So you didn’t feel bad about shaking your head. You had hoped this blue eyed freak would leave you alone but he seemed set on bothering you.

He’d even come on days Megumi wasn’t there yet or was off that day!

You didn’t speak to him directly. Too embarrassed. All you could remember was your desperate moans to know his name. Yup, no way in hell were you going to speak to him.

Nobara came over to the cashier and took over—you didn’t even have to ask. This had been happening for weeks now. Just a simple look was all she needed. Even Inumaki and Megumi knew what to do. Though the two didn’t know why you seemed so adverse to speaking to Gojo.

Megumi believed you hated him for being annoying. He could relate to that.

Inumaki believed Gojo must’ve did something because you hardly hated people.

So he did from time to time purposely put salt in Gojo’s coffee.

And would sometimes put jalapeño seeds into his food.

What could he say? A true friend.

Nobara was the only one to know the truth. And while she did think you were overreacting a bit—she knew how embarrassing your actions were. If you didn’t want to speak to Gojo, so be it. She’s not one to force it.

You were in the back room when Nobara came back, sighing to herself. She plopped down on the chair beside you, staring down at the table before looking over to you.

“That blue eyed slut keeps asking for you it’s annoying.”

“Slut?”

“Affectionately.” She said. “‘Why does he keep ignoring me?’ ‘Why isn’t he speaking to me?’ ‘Let me talk to him.’ ‘Aren’t you his friend?’ Blah blah blaaaah!” She cried, her voice rising in pitch out of frustration as her hands dug into her scalp, moving her hair around.

“What would he even want to talk about?” You whispered to yourself.

“Maybe he’s scared you’re going to tell Megumi.”

“What would I gain from that? The only thing I’ll tell Megumi is to ban him from the cafe.”

Nobara let out a soft huff. “Really though… if he’s making you that uncomfortable, tell Megumi.” She said, her voice suddenly serious. She reached out and rested her hand against yours, squeezing it gently. “You don’t even have to tell Megumi the true reason… he won’t judge. If it comes down to it, we’ll tell Boss.”

She pulled away. Your eyes met hers, a bit shocked at how.. caring she was about the situation. You knew you were overreacting a bit and a normal person would’ve just told Gojo straight up to leave them alone. And you knew she was right.

Megumi wouldn’t judge. He would tell Gojo to stop coming.

But…

It was like you didn’t want him to go for some reason.

In the back of your mind, you truly wanted to know why he kept bothering you.

Was he angry?

Scared you’d tell people?

Well… it couldn’t be good either way.

You just hoped he’d get tired of you soon.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

The sound of loud music was beating with your heart as you leaned against the wall. You, Nobara, and a begrudged Megumi were at a newly opened gay club in Shibuya. It was cool for like the first two hours but now your social battery was practically dead.

Megumi was somewhere… you remembered him saying he needed some fresh air.

Nobara was having the time of her life with some girls on the dance floor. Good for her.

You were dressed way more conservatively than most of the people at the club. Just a t-shirt and pants. You weren’t someone to dress up like that. As you drowned your drink and placed it on the bar counter, you asked for some water.

No one was approaching you which was great. You didn’t know if you could handle talking to someone right now.

But that soon changed when someone was suddenly right beside you.

A taller guy, black hair and brown eyes. He seemed to be looking for one thing. You didn’t look his way at first, believing he was just getting a drink until a shot glass was slid over to you.

“What’s a pretty boy like you doing here all alone?”

Typical…

You forced a slight smile. “I’m here with friends. No thanks.” You said, sliding the shot back over to him. He shrugged and took it himself, downing in seconds.

It was quiet for a moment, even though the music still roared in the background. “Would your friends mind if I steal you for a little bit?” He suddenly asked, his lips right near your ears. You flinched but couldn’t help but grin in response.

“Why? Where are you going to take me?”

“Wherever you’d like, baby.” His hand slowly trailed down your shoulders to your hips, lightly squeezing before his finger teased the slight opening in your pants. Since you were so touch starved and the last time a man ever touched you was a hundred years ago, you didn’t push him away at first.

So what? You were desperate at this point.

Dildos get lonely…

“Mhm, I don’t—”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence because suddenly the man was… gone? You blinked rapidly before looking around in confusion. Huh?! As you reeled in shock at how fast a man could just disappear, you felt a tug at the belt loop of your pants before the hand grasped it entirely and pulled you out of the club.

“Who?! Dude, you’re going to rip my fucking pants off! Get—”

The fresh air slapped you in the face before you were harshly pushed against the wall of the alleyway. Your eyes saw dark spots before you could fully open them, ready to scream bloody murder before you saw who attacked you.

Fucking Gojo!

You groaned, rolling your eyes as you looked away. No way he found you here! Did Megumi tell him? Nobara? No, they’d never do that to you. Oh… he was a fucking stalker!

But you didn’t get to accuse him as he grabbed your face and forcefully turned it so you would look him in the eye. No, your cock didn’t twitch. You’re just horny.

You didn’t speak. More so just because you knew it pissed him off that you weren’t. So you only gave him your meanest glare and closed your eyes, knowing he wouldn’t pry them open. Only to be wrong because apparently Gojo has no sense of boundaries.

He did force open one of your eyes and you quickly slapped his hand away. Fuck that felt weird. You looked at him shock, the fuck was his problem?

But you weren’t going to speak first! No way. You were going to be petty until the day you died.

Gojo was silent for a moment before groaning, deciding he had to be the one doing the talking.

“What’s your problem?”

“My—?!” You clamped your lips shut. He almost got you there. You reached up and began pushing at his chest but you didn’t even make him budge. Gojo rolled his eyes and grabbed your wrists, with one hand, and pushed them against the wall, right above your head.

“You avoid me like I killed your entire family. What the hell did I do?”

You pursed your lips and shook your head. For the next few minutes, it was Gojo spouting questions and you acting like a child being asked if they were the one who drew on the wall. It would’ve been funny if it wasn’t so stupid.

It took a moment before Gojo was finally giving up. He sighed as his hand released his grip on your wrists. You watched as he pulled away and suddenly, you didn’t want him to do that.

So without thinking, you grabbed the belt loops of his pants and pulled him close. Gojo’s eyes widened, his hands quickly moving to rest on either side of you so he didn’t crush into you. You didn’t like the sad look on his face.

But you were about to regret it as his signature smirk appeared. He leaned in close, his mouth pressing against your ear. His light chuckle sent a shiver down your spine, making you unintentionally arch your back.

“I see how it is… you’re into being a brat, huh?”

You shook your head violently, biting your lip. Okay, you were certainly playing into it. But it was the reason your ex broke up with you so you didn’t exactly like the word used in regards to you.

Something something ex boyfriends suck

You gasped as his leg was shoved between yours, rubbing right against your crotch. It happened so fast you couldn’t even think straight.

“I asked you question. Answer.” He said, pulling away so you could see his face. His blue eyes stared straight into yours, making you squirm in embarrassment. You kept remembering the incident. Cumming just from seeing his face.

Gosh, who can say they’ve done that?!

The only sense of light in the alleyway was the moonlight and the blinking neon sign of the club. It would occasionally light up Gojo’s face and you felt your cock twitch when you got a clear view. His eyes staring you down. Jaw tight. His lips no longer in a smirk. You didn’t know he could look so serious.

His eyebrow raised a bit when you didn’t answer. You wanted to see what he’d do and he was quick to show you. His leg began to rub your crotch but it was slow—way too slow for you to get anything from it. It felt like a taste to what you could truly get if you acted like a good boy.

As your cock began to twitch, straining against your pants, he stopped. You whimpered, staring up at him with pity as he tilted his head.

You knew what you had to do to get what you wanted.

“N…no…” You whispered, shaking your head. He let out a sigh, a hand moving away from the wall as it harshly gripped your face, forcing you to look him in the eye.

“I don’t like liars. Tell me the truth. What happened to the good boy on the call, huh? The one who listened and put on a nice show for me.”

You bit your lip and closed your eyes, not wanting to look him in the eyes. When you felt his hand squeeze your cheeks, you slowly opened them only to see him looking at you with worry.

“Do you want to stop?” He asked.

Did you?

Did you want to stop?

You reached up and placed your hands on his shoulder, leaning up on your toes to press a soft kiss on his lips. It was soft, way too soft compared to the debauchery you two were just participating in.

Gojo eagerly kissed you back, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you closer. He kissed you as if he was hungry. Like if you were to pull away, he’d miss his chance. You moaned into the kiss as he grasped your ass, gripping it tightly before moving downward to grab your legs and hoist you up.

He slammed you against the wall, never pulling away from the kiss as you gripped his hair for some sort of purchase. The innocent kiss you had given him was leaning to pure lust.

His teeth biting your lips, earning little gasps from you. You’d never kissed a man like this before. But even though it was pure lust, you somehow felt loved.

“Ahem..”

You both froze. Gojo was still biting at your lip as you both glanced to your right to see a pissed off Megumi.

“I called you to take me home, not fuck my friend.”

Gojo pulled away, though his hand still held you up, “Megumi~~ sorry! I just got caught—”

“—fucking my friend? C’mon, I found Nobara.” Megumi stormed away while you felt like jumping off the nearest bridge.

Jesus Christ!! You might as well replace your middle name with “Embarrassment!”

Gojo only chuckled slightly as he pulled out his car keys and placed it in your hand. He gently placed you back on your feet. “Go to the car, I’ll join you guys in a minute.”

“What are you doing?”

He simply smirked. “Taking out some trash.”

He was so weird…

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Nobara was conked out in the spare bedroom while Megumi slept on a futon in the same room. Gojo had driven you three to his apartment. It was actually quite nice. You wondered what his actual job was because you knew being a cam boy couldn’t actually pay that well.

While Gojo was looking for some spare clothes for you, you decided to take a look around. You found his office and instantly knew this was where he did his cams. It was surreal seeing it in person.

As you closed the door, you shrieked when you came face to face with Gojo. He was smirking, handing you a pair of pajamas he found that could possibly found you.

“How was it?”

“How was what?”

He rolled his eyes. “The room. Better in person?”

You simply let out a huff. “Where’s the bathroom? I’ll change in there.”

“No need—change in my room. You’ll be sleeping there anyway.”

And then he just walked to his room. You stood there for a moment, mouth agape. Sleep? Sleeping? In there? His room?!

If there wasn’t two people already sleeping you would’ve screamed.

You slowly followed behind him, unable to stop the steady rise of your heartbeat. Your stomach felt weird, slightly churning as you thought about what could happen. But it didn’t feel like anxiety, more so like excitement. Though you couldn’t fight back the slight feeling of nausea.

You haven’t slept with someone in over a year.

And Gojo was so experienced.

Would he compare you to others?

Would you disappoint him?

You suck at giving blowjobs, haven’t gotten out of the habit of not using teeth. Your ex complained about that all the time.

Has he even fucked a guy before?

All these thoughts rushed in your head before you bumped right into something. You glanced up, grinning shyly as Gojo raised an eyebrow. His hands gripped your shoulder as he leaned down a bit to look you right in the eye.

“What’s wrong? Nervous?”

You couldn’t find it in yourself to lie. So you mutely nodded.

Gojo chuckled slightly, his hand moving up to lightly caress your cheek. “Don’t be. I’ll lead.”

His hand slowly slid down, his thumb lightly teasing your lips. It pulled down at your bottom lip before he switched to his index and middle finger. They pushed your lips apart before inching their way inside your mouth. It took a moment for you to not push them out—getting used to the odd feeling of them.

Slowly, you lightly suckled on them, closing your eyes to try and keep calm. More than likely, he was going to finger you open. And you felt your cock twitch at the thought.

You almost completely lost yourself, not even noticing the stuttered breath Gojo let out. Your eyes opened slightly, looking up at him hooded eyelids. He almost looked possessed. His throat bobbed as his lips pulled into a slight snarl.

You pulled away, taking his fingers out of your mouth. “What’s wrong…?”

“I wish it didn’t take me so long to fuck you.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“Jeez, you’re tight, (Name), you don’t stretch yourself often?”

The sound of your muffled whimpers was filling the room, moonlight seeping through the curtains as you tried to keep still. You were sitting on Gojo’s lap, your legs spread open as he fingered you. His fingers stretched you deeper than you thought was possible.

Your back pressed against his chest as you had your hand clamped around your mouth. You only imagined his hands inside you. Especially during his streams. It was almost like a fantasy that it was happening right now.

That he actively sought after you.

“If they weren’t here,” he muttered, most likely referring to Megumi and Nobara, “I wouldn’t have allowed you to hide those pretty little sounds.”

You felt yourself blush.

He finds your moans pretty?

If you weren’t too busy moaning, you would’ve been giggling.

His fingers stretched you slowly and methodically, rubbing against your wet walls as if searching for something. You wondered if he was having trouble reaching your prostate. So you shuffled a bit, thinking maybe it was the angle you were sitting in that was giving him trouble.

“Uncomfortable?” He suddenly asked, his fingers stopping.

“Oh.. no… thought you… were having trouble reaching my.. uhm, prostate.”

“I wasn’t. I know where it is.” You felt his finger brush against it, causing you to whimper. “I’m avoiding it on purpose.”

“W..why..?”

A light chuckle left him as he rested his chin on your shoulder, looking down at your nude lower half. He hummed slightly, his free hand trailing downward to tease your leaking cock. It was still taking you some getting used to being fully nude while he was still dressed.

“Because of this.”

Suddenly, his fingers began to harshly target your prostate. Rubbing and teasing it relentlessly. Your body arched against him, toes curling as you screamed out. It was inhumane at how he was able to keep the fast pace with just his fingers.

No wonder those girls in the video practically screamed when he fingered them.

His free hand grasped your cock, thumb lightly teasing your sensitive tip. The constant between the harsh thrusts and slow, sensual movements on your cock was something you never felt before. Your hands gripped at everything beneath you—bedsheets, your leg, but soon found purchase gripping his thigh.

Wow, how often does he work out?

You couldn’t dwell too much on it as you began to feel the familiar sensation in your body. Your cock leaking pre-cum all over your tummy. But just as you almost reached your peak, it was over.

His fingers pulled out.

“Wha…?” You muttered, chest heaving as you glanced over at him.

Gojo only patted your thighs before motioning for you get off. You hesitantly stood up, legs feeling entirely like jelly as you watched him pull down his pants, his cock sprinting out.

It was huge.

That seven inch dildo certainly came in handy…

His cock was possibly close to eight. Seeing it in person was different from any video or live stream. The veins and just how much thicker it was.

“Condom.” He whispered, pointing at the nightstand beside the bed. He began to lightly stroke his cock, spreading the pre-cum leaking from his tip.

You didn’t move to get the condom. He didn’t use condoms when fucking those girls. Why did he need to use one with you?

There was some weird surge of jealousy within you. And it wasn’t because he fucked other people.

It was because he wasn’t going to cum inside you.

Well, what if you wanted that?

“Mhm, no.” You replied, pushing his hand away from his cock.

Gojo raised an eyebrow at this, watching as you moved to sit down on his lap. You grasped his cock and placed it right between your ass, lightly teasing your puckered hole. Your free hand gripping tightly at his shoulder, balancing yourself a bit.

“You cum in all those girls.” You whispered, smirking slightly as you leaned in. “What if I want it too?”

A laugh left Gojo as his hands reached over and grasped your waist, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. You were sure this was going to leave a mark. Any sort of control you just tried to hold was pushed away by Gojo.

“Aw~ it’s okay, baby. You’ll be replacing those girls, no need to think about ‘em anymore.”

“Wh—?”

You screamed out as he pulled you down onto his cock. Your face squinted in pain as you whimpered and squirmed, trying to get used to his cock. It was different seeing it than feeling it stretch you whole. No wonder he spent a good amount of time stretching you out.

Gojo kept his grip on you tight as he bounced you up and down on his cock. You didn’t get no say in how he got to use you. Your voice filled the room, you forgot all about keeping quiet by this point.

“Ngh, sorry, hate this position.”

You didn’t even get to answer him back when you were suddenly picked up from off his cock and dropped onto the bed. You were now on your knees as he got behind you. His cock teased your hole for just a moment before he slammed right back inside.

Your face squished against the bed as his hands moved downward, gripping your ass tightly as he began massaging it. His cock stretched you fool, easily rubbing against your prostate with each thrust.

It was better than any dildo.

“You don’t even know… how much I masturbated to your moans,” he suddenly said.

You almost didn’t hear him at first. “H..hng..?”

“I recorded the sound of your moans during the call. How could I not when it made me cum so fast,” he reached down, pressing his chest against your back. He angled his hips against your ass and began thrusting again, his cock continuously rubbing right against your prostate.

You tried to say something but the only sound that left you was cries of pleasure. The sounds of skin slapping and your whimpers filled the room.

It was weird, totally. But…

You’d look past it.

Dick too good, y’know?

“Then you came from just seeing my face.” He chuckled slightly. “Knew I couldn’t let you get away but you blocked me everywhere.”

He pulled away slightly, his thrusting coming to a pause. You whimpered in disappointment, glancing back at him. Gojo grinned slightly as he grabbed your arms, pulling them back a bit before sliding down to grasp your hands.

The position wasn’t comfortable at all, having your hands behind your back. You couldn’t hold up your face anymore, being forced to just let it lay on the sheets.

“Imagine my luck when I saw you again. You’re prettier in person.” His hips slammed against your ass, earning a scream from you. But he didn’t move again, leaving you to calm down from the harsh thrust.

“But then you ignore me.” He muttered. “Thought I was going to have to give up on you… but today was my lucky day. Just had to throw that guy away and you were mine.”

You felt your cock twitch.

His?

You were his.

He released his grip on your hands and pulled out again. You didn’t even get to whine this time as you were flipped onto your back, staring at him now. He crawled over you, his cock easily sliding back inside. You wrapped your legs around his waist to hold him close.

“Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours…” You whispered, “won’t… run away anymore… promise.”

Gojo grinned slightly as he leaned down to press a kiss on your forehead. His hand patted your head, his finger twirling a strand of your hair. Seeing him like this, so soft compared to his camboy persona was out of a dream.

“I’ll be nice—since it’s our first.” He sat back, his hands reaching down to rest on the curve of your hips.

As he began to slowly thrust inside of you, you couldn’t help but sigh. It felt nice. The soft rhythm of his cock going in and out. But it soon started to pick up, his grip tightening on your hips. You whimpered, gripping at his chest as you wondered how this was going to go.

“G-Gojo?!”

“Hm?”

“H…how is this nice..?!” You managed to moan out.

His hips slammed against your ass, the sound of skin slapping together returning in harmony with your moans.

“This is my nice.” He grinned.

Fucking asshole!

His hand moved up and gripped one of yours, tangling it into a handhold. Your hand was practically engulfed by his. Crap, he was making you feel crazy.

“You know my name now, so scream it.”

You gasped in shock, suddenly remembering when you had whined in the call about not having a name to moan. Your back arched as his pace somehow picked up even more, his hips slamming into you with a force you questioned was human.

If this was his nice… you didn’t want to know what his mean was.

Okay—that was a lie, you definitely wanted to know.

You started to moaning his name which soon turned into screams. Your cock spurted pathetically on your stomach, coating it with your cum. But he didn’t stop. He kept his rough pace as he used you for his own release.

His last thrusts practically took your breath away as he pushed deep inside of you. The only sound left was your gasps as he cummed, coating your insides.

Your hand was still entangled with his and he didn’t seem to want to let go. As he pulled out, cum slowly leaked out of you, coating the bedsheets beneath you. He laid down beside you, wrapping his free arm around your waist as he tugged you closer.

It was silent for a moment, only your heavy breathing as you tried to calm down. Gojo buried his face in your neck, humming slightly. The moonlight shined down on you both through the windows, illuminating his white hair beautifully.

As your eyes felt heavy, you cuddled closer to him and fell asleep with a smile.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“I can’t believe you.”

You and Gojo sat kneeling on the floor in front of a disappointed Nobara and Megumi.

“I can believe Gojo… but (Name)…” Megumi whispered, shaking his head as he looked at you.

Nobara sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “I thought he was killing you at first. Can you imagine the horror of hearing you scream in the middle of the night?!”

You froze, glancing up at Nobara. “Did you…?”

“Head back down!” She yelled, you quickly obeyed. “And yes, I did see Gojo fucking you! So traumatizing.” She whined, wiping at her imaginary tears.

“I wish I didn’t hear it.” Megumi muttered.

“So, were you guys role playing or something?! Why did you act like you hated him for almost two months straight?!” Nobara asked, staring right at you.

You pursed your lips, keeping your head down. “Uhm… I dunno… I just…”

Gojo grinned. “It was a brat tamer role play!”

“I didn’t need to know that!” Nobara screamed, covering her ears as she began to sing to herself as she ran away to the kitchen. Megumi only gave you another disappointed look, one that reminded you of a mother, before glaring daggers at Gojo.

“You still can’t bother me at work.” He said before walking away.

Gojo simply laughed, standing up. He stretched as he held out a hand to help you up. “Don’t mind Megumi, he’ll get over it.”

You nodded with a pout, hoping he was right. As you moved to go join Megumi and Nobara in the kitchen, Gojo suddenly grabbed your hand. He pulled you close, pressing his lips against your ear.

“I wasn’t lying about you replacing the girls, I wanna show you off.” He whispered before releasing you. He gave you his signature cocky smirk before walking away to go bother Megumi some more.

You stood there for a moment, reeling in shock.

Show… you… off…?

Did he mean…?

Holy fuck.

He wanted to make videos with you!

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

No part 3, stop bugging me

Tag list: @teyvat-writer @tehyunnie @the-ultimate-librarian @kiiyoooo @mello-life69 @iwishtobeacrow @remdayz @ofclyde @smellwell @flurrina @tomoeroi @star-3214 @rhetorical-conscience @honey-valentin3 @byul9158 @xiaovrsven7ti @vivian-555 @huboi @a-purple-person

[bountycancelled]

decisions

luke castellan x child of hecate!reader

requested: yep! I hope you like it anon

warnings: allusions about death, but no character dies.

content: yall, it's 1 am rn, and I just wanna go to sleep. it's unedited and nothing bad happens I promise. I'll do a proper content thingy in the morning. pls enjoy while I pass out.

"you know those kids are probably gonna have nightmares for at least a week, right?"

you didn't need to turn to know who was behind you as you leaned against a tree trunk, toying with a twig in your hands. Luke castellan seemed to have an affinity for interrupting you anytime you found solace in being alone. you didnt know how he just... knew, when and where to find you during times like these, but he always did. you found yourself minding his presence less and less as time when on.

"they should consider themselves lucky, I was debating whether or not I should just summon a ghost for them tonight, but I figured they couldn't handle it, and this camp doesn't have any trauma counselling so." the leaves on the twig in your hand withered at an accelerated place in your hands, and a part of you felt bad. you usually kept your distance from anything living since you knew your touch had the possibility of having an adverse, and sometimes deadly affect, but tonight was just one of those nights.

Luke chuckled at your words, plucking one of the now wilted leaves from the twig in your grasp as he spoke up once more. "you know, I actually want you to help me with something, if you don't mind. I need help deciding whether or not I should do something."

you rolled your eyes, giving him a pointed look. "you know I can't make decisions for you. I don't have the ability to know what consequences you'll have to deal with."

"isn't hacate the goddess of crossroads?" Luke countered, a small smirk on his face. you knew that he was only pestering you because he thought it was funny that you always needed to explain your abilities and your godparent to people, but you couldn't just keep silent at his bait nonetheless.

"that doesn't make me some kind of fortune teller, I can't decide for you which direction to go to when you reach a fork on the path. I just have a vague understanding over what you're currently debating if you should do."

"okay okay, no fortune telling. but can you at least point me in the right direction? it doesn't matter how vague." he asked, and you tilted your head to stare up at the starry sky, because you knew that even in the dark, Luke could convince you to help him with nothing but a pleading glint in his deep eyes.

he didn't relent at tour silence or your avoidance of his gaze, uttering a small "please?" which finally broke your resolve.

you took a deep breath, finally looking at him once again, your face deep in concentration. "not a guide either. but I get the sense that... if you don't do what you're thinking of doing, you'll regret it." you felt a bit lightheaded afterwards, but the tree you were leaning against was enough security for you.

Luke on the other hand didnt seem to think so, showcased by how his hands immediately went to your shoulders in an effort to keep you up, while also unintentionally coming closer. a bit too close for comfort, but you were too foggy for the lack of distance to hit you yet.

he nodded at your advice, biting his lip before speaking once again, not missing the way your eyes flicked towards his lips and then back to his eyes, almost instantaneously.

"then I'll just go ahead and say it, I like you. a lot." he had expected a few different reactions, you immediately jumping into his arms and accepting his confession (his personal favourite hypothesis), you shyly stating that you felt the same way, you being shocked that he had feelings for you at all (he liked to believe that he wasn't entirely obvious) but he didn't expect what you did next.

instead, you blew air from your nose, giving him a look he couldn't quite place. "you have horrible taste. and you're also delusional. we've had maybe 4 conversations the entire we've known each other, and you like me?" you rolled your eyes, shaking your head at the words you were about to utter. "but I guess that makes me delusional too, because I feel the same way."

he pouted at your words, feigning hurt with a hand placed on his chest. "you wound me. if I had known you were gonna be this mean... I would've confessed sooner." he added with a slight smirk, trailing his other hand from your shoulder down to your waist, leaning his face towards yours.

you were quick to shut down his advance, maneuvering your way out of his hold. "one thing you're gonna need to get used to, castellan. no touching. at all. at least, not until I'm sure I can control my ability. you have a goodnight though." you called out as you walked away from a now needy Luke, leaving him leaning against the tree.

he quickly followed after you, trying to plead his case. "no touching? that's insane, how could I not touch you? I'm not afraid of death, especially if it comes from my hands on your body, or vice versa. I'll happily forfeit my life for a kiss. come on, I'm fine with just a peck. actually, no. I take that back. if I'm gonna die, we need to make out before I go."

you simply shook your head, reiterating your rule, unable to stop a grin from forming on your face. you stopped abruptly, turning to face him with a serious look in your eyes. "... okay. but just a peck. im serious."

it was not just a peck. but luckily, Luke made it out alive. (though, he seriously wouldn't have minded if he didn't.)

[crossdreamers]

Iman Khelif, the cis victim of transphobic harassment from JK Rowling and Elon Musk, is now on the cover of Vogue

Imane Khelif, a boxer who faced racist and sexist scrutiny during the Paris 2024 Olympics, has achieved a significant milestone by becoming a cover star for Vogue Arabia.

This accomplishment comes in the wake of controversial "transvestigations" directed at her by high-profile transphobic figures such as J.K. Rowling and Elon Musk

The article, published on November 1, 2024, highlights Khelif's resilience and success in the face of adversity.

By securing a coveted spot on the cover of a prestigious fashion magazine, Khelif has effectively countered the negative attention she received during the Olympics.

Khelif's Vogue Arabia cover serves as a symbolic "knockout" against those who attempted to undermine her based on unfounded speculations about her gender identity - speculations based on white, traditionalist and sexist ideas about femininity and what it means to be a woman.

Sources: Out and Vogue

See also: The Transphobic Olympic Travesty, the Imane Khelif Story (Resources)

[tofusfortbhk]

Can we acknowledge how tragic of a detail this is? In ch114?

The fact that Teru views Kunishige (shrine grandpa) as the only one he can rely on despite how their relationship is at-best frenemies and at-worst hostile is downright devastating.

Reason #1: Teru and Kunishige’s relationship is predominantly negative.

In ch79, gramps was making jokes about threatening Teru’s livelihood and while Teru later joined in to counter, the comment was clearly in bad faith — an attempted power play to exert control over Teru and his flippant behavior. It’s a baseless threat stuffed within the carcass of a joke: “your family needs us — show respect.” Teru’s an instigator for sure, but he’s not the adult in this situation.

Point #2: Kunishige has done little to deserve Teru’s faith as an individual.

Shrine politics aside, gramps was beefing with a teenager and snitches on him to his dad! He pulled the “I’m telling Dad on you” with Teru’s OWN FATHER pushing 90 — like DAWG.

I don’t fault gramps for reporting the Red House incident given his past experiences or its history, but it was the professional choice — not the kind one. It doesn’t indicate any affection towards Teru nor resemble how you would treat a child you would go out of your way to support. Teru clearly has an adverse reaction to his father. He’s off-put by the idea of contacting him in ch79 and canonically views his father as absent and not someone he can expect help from in ch114. Not over Kunishige at least.

Yeah, gramps puts on the Santa suit per Teru’s request. That in itself is an undeniable act of kindness. He does care and I don’t doubt that he is there for Teru. But it’s not enough to deny this fact:

Conclusion: The only person (and adult) Teru feels he can rely on doesn’t treat him very well and won’t protect him from his father if it meant going against his shrine duties. A bottom of the barrel choice because it becomes unnervingly evident this child, Teru, as early as 14, grew up having no one else. He chooses Kunishige over his own father, family members, friends, teachers — everyone.

And Kunishige doesn’t even like him.

[thoughtportal]

When Simon Bogemann’s hand began cramping around the steering wheel in a claw position on his commute from Geelong to Melbourne, he began to worry.

Bogemann, then 43, was also getting pins and needles in his feet and fingers every night in bed, and while sitting down during short lunch breaks at work.

His GP put it down to a lack of magnesium and recommended a supplement, in addition to the multivitamin he was taking for a chronic condition.

Bogemann was unaware that both capsules contained added vitamin B6, too much of which could lead to the symptoms he was experiencing – a type of nerve damage known as peripheral neuropathy.

The wellness industry’s marketing of over-the-counter vitamins is leading to an increase in the number of people presenting with peripheral neuropathy linked to excessive vitamin B6 in their blood, Australia’s peak body for pathologists has warned.

Dr David Kanowski, a chemical pathologist at Sullivan Nicolaides Pathology in Brisbane, says most people are unaware they are consuming too much of the vitamin.

Bogemann certainly had no idea: “You buy an over-the-counter supplement, you just think that it’s going to be good for you, not bad for you.”

He says it has been a challenge to change his multivitamin to a product without B6.

“One thing that I have learned is that B6 seems to be added, for some reason, to a lot of over-the-counter supplements.”

It is also in some energy drinks, breakfast cereals, and protein and weight loss shakes.

Magnesium tablets, commonly recommended for cramp relief, often contain B6 because it can assist magnesium absorption. But a person who takes two magnesium tablets a day could consume more than 120mg of B6, far exceeding the recommended dietary intake for adults in Australia of 1.3mg to 2mg a day.

It was previously believed that peripheral neuropathy was caused by doses of hundreds of milligrams taken over periods of 12 months or more but cases have been known to occur at levels as low as 21mg.

The initial symptoms include numbness and pins and needles in the feet, which can spread up the legs. Muscle cramps and pain may be felt in the arms and hands.

In 2020 the Therapeutic Goods Administration released a safety advisory warning. Two years later, still concerned about a lack of awareness, the TGA lowered the limit at which products must display a warning label, from 50mg of B6 down to 10mg – and banned products with more than 100mg.skip past newsletter promotion

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Nevertheless, cases have continued to rise. Between January 2020 and October 2024 the TGA received 81 adverse event reports of peripheral neuropathy associated with medicines containing a vitamin B6 ingredient, with most of them reported in the past two years.

Kanowski says advertising on social and other media promotes the idea that taking more vitamins is good for health.

“It’s understood that if you want to counteract bad habits, like smoking or drinking too much, perhaps that can be counterbalanced with vitamins,” he says.

Kanowski says the TGA has been “fairly hands off” unless toxins are in a product.

Fiona Sammut, a dietitian based in Victoria, says it’s a big ask to expect consumers to read and interpret “tiny font” disclaimers and formulations.

People who see claims that vitamins will “boost their energy” may take several supplements thinking they are harmless, she says.

While foods are commonly fortified with vitamins for “specific evidence-based reasons”, such as vitamin B1 fortified bread, Sammut says there’s no similar reason for B6 fortification because there isn’t a high incidence of vitamin B6 deficiency.

Most people get enough B6 in their diets from foods including fish, non-citrus fruits and starchy vegetables, and high intakes of B6 from natural food sources have not been reported to cause adverse effects.

Sarah* had symptoms of peripheral neuropathy for years, but “never thought anything of it”, because she assumed they were related to her Crohn’s disease.

In hindsight, she says, the symptoms began about a year after she began taking a multivitamin that contained 60mg of B6 after weight loss surgery in 2011, in addition to the magnesium which contained 82mg she had been taking for years due to cramps in her legs.

She had been having yearly blood tests at her dietician’s recommendations but it was only in late 2021 that the pathology lab tested for B6 levels and found they were 15 times higher than the recommended range.

In most cases, once B6 levels return to normal, peripheral neuropathy will slowly improve within six to 12 months but in some severe cases it can be irreversible.

Prof Matthew Kiernan, the chief executive of Neuroscience Australia, has described a case he saw in his clinical practice of a 40-year-old patient who was worried he had motor neurone disease before the doctor linked the gym enthusiast’s symptoms to excessive vitamin B6 intake from the supplements he consumed as part of his fitness program.

Kiernan, who diagnosed more patients with peripheral neuropathy after his article on the case was published in the Medical Journal of Australia, believes there should be limits on the number of supplements people can buy because they are unnecessary for people eating a balanced diet.

“None of this is policed,” he says. “So, if you go down to the chemist and go down the vitamin aisle, they’re all there. You can get a whole shopping trolley full of them.”

[butchcarmy]

Blood Orange (Ch 1: The Walk-In)

Carmy Berzatto x Reader (R18)

Rating: E (7.3k words)

links: fic playlist, pinterest board, ao3 link, ch 2

Summary: Losing your job is the worst thing to ever happen to you. Getting hired by Carmen Berzatto is a close second. You tell yourself that The Beef is only temporary, that it's just a replacement until you find something better. It doesn't work. You've stopped listening. You've had a taste of Carmy, and now you don't think you're ever gonna be able to let go. No matter how bad it gets. 

Content Tags: secret workplace relationship/sex, friends/coworkers with benefits, they/them afab reader, miscommunication, mental illness (carmy and reader), dom/sub dynamics, dom carmy (for now), enemies to friends to lovers (eventually), unhealthy coping mechanisms, dysfunctional relationship

A/N: It's finally here! New series! We even get sex in the first chapter! In my other fic, I'm taking care of Carmy. In this one, I'm making him worse. Of course, here's a disclaimer that I DON’T condone or intend to glorify any of this behavior. It's just compelling to write. Enjoy!

You return to The Beef for the first time in years when you're at your lowest.

The only upside to this abysmal situation is that the job was shitty. The job you just got laid off from, to be exact. Retail was never your passion, and there's a certain relief in knowing you don't have to go back to that windowless place. You didn't play an important role in the ecosystem, but it played a pretty crucial role in yours. It kept a roof over your head.

You're sure you could’ve sued them in some fashion for letting you go without any warning, any parachute, but you didn't have the luxury of time. You needed to figure out how you were going to pay rent, and fast.

After the rage boiled over (not to say that it's resolved, the residual anger's leveled into an even simmer), you pulled your hair back, found your cleanest, nicest outfit, and started your job search. With your updated resume in hand and scuffed sneakers on your feet, you've trekked all over Chicago looking for a new job. You weren't optimistic, nor were you hopeful. 

You suppose the only word you could use to describe yourself was desperate, and it was a matter of finding someone that was just as desperate, if not more desperate than you. To put it politely, the odds of that were low. Very low. 

You got laid off that very morning. The rest of your afternoon has been spent walking from door to door to every establishment you could spot. By some cruel twist of fate, none of them were hiring. The ones that were hiring looked unenthusiastic, even adverse to taking your resume. 

“When would you be able to start?” Some of the workers asked. 

“Tomorrow,” was your desperately honest answer. 

“If all goes well, you'll hear from us in a week,” was their response. The unspoken was, of course, the fact that radio silence was more likely than an email or phone call. Places didn't even send rejection letters anymore. 

“Thanks for your time,” you'd say, bringing out a bright smile from a complete lack of reserves, and as soon as you turned around, your face would drop. 

Your hopes were low, nearly non-existent, but damn. Damn. It wasn't looking good for you.

That's why you enter The Beef. You vaguely remember visiting this place a couple years ago, back when you first moved to Chicago. The owner was…pretty nice, actually. You don't remember his name, but you remember having a pleasant conversation with him. Of course, there's nothing you can do if he doesn't have a job opening, but it wouldn't be bad to see a friendly face. Even if that face is from someone who's basically a stranger. 

The doorbell rings when you enter. It catches the attention of the man standing behind the counter, and with how his head jolts up, you'd think the bell functioned as an alarm instead. 

“Welcome,” he says. Your first impression, other than the fact that he seems very, very, tired, is that he's irritatingly attractive. If anything, the eyebags and the greased back waves only add to whatever the hell he's got going on. 

“Hi. Um…” You're briefly caught off guard by his biceps, but you catch yourself. “I was actually wondering if you guys were hiring.”

“We are,” he replies, and it's the best thing you've heard all day. He lights up like the spark of a lighter, bright and instantaneous. It doesn't shake the pervasive exhaustion that radiates off him, though. 

“Thank god,” you mutter, and you want to take it back (it's far too casual), but he cracks an amused smile that makes you want to dissolve like a pinch of salt in a sea of sauce. “Sorry. Do you mind if I talk to the owner? We met a while ago, and—”

“I'm the owner,” he interrupts, and any other words you had planned fall away.

“Sorry?” You repeat. “I swear it was this guy—he had short dark hair, I think—”

“Yeah, he left the place to me. Didn't want it anymore, so.” He shrugs. The light you just saw from him has fizzled away like the end of a sparkler, short-lived and ultimately disappointing. 

“Oh. Got it. Uh…” To your credit, you don't fumble for too long. You have a lot of questions, but you've got more pressing issues. You pluck out a resume from a file folder. “Here's my resume, then.”

He takes it from you, flips it to face him. He's quiet as his eyes lower down the page, and you wonder if it's going to be a guillotine or a pot of gold at the end of this. The only sounds in the entrance are the passing cars outside, the rickety air conditioning, and muffled chatter from the back. 

“You worked as a prep cook.” He says it like a fact, but you know it's a question. 

“Yeah, nothing fancy. Just at some chain restaurants.”

“Right. I see you worked as a line cook at another location. Which one did you prefer?”

“Uh…” They both came with their separate pains. Your honest answer is that being a line cook was one of the most stressful experiences of your life, but if he has a position open as a line cook, you don't want to fuck it up. “They were both fine. I think I was a little better as a prep cook, but I didn't mind either.”

He hums, satisfied by your answer. At least it’s only half of a lie.                                                                                                                    

“How do you work under pressure?”

“Good,” you answer quickly. “Well enough.”

“Willing to learn?”

“Obviously. I mean…” You think you see a flash of a smile, but you're unsure. “Yeah.”

“When'd you be able to start?” You're surprised he's already asking this.

“Tomorrow,” you say, just like you’ve been, and his reaction is different from the others. He nods. He doesn't smile, not like he did earlier, but you can tell this is a good sign. 

Before he can get a word out, there's a sharp, metallic explosion of noises that resounds from the direction of the kitchen. 

“Uh,” he starts, eyebrows pinched in irritation, the voices come in. 

“I told you, you have to say behind!” A woman's voice. She sounds young, but there's no real way to be sure of that.

“How the hell did you not hear me coming?” A Chicago accent, male. Older, maybe. “I was in the middle of having a conversation with Tina—”

“Great, I'm so happy for you, I don't give a shit, now this has all went to waste—”

“Well, who's fault is that?”

“Who's fault is that? You did not just—”

���Guys!” The man you've been talking to gives you an apologetic glance before walking to the back, pushing through the folding doors. You catch a glimpse of the two people arguing on the other side before it shuts. “I'm tryin’ to talk to a new hire here. We can't be like this right now. Not ever, but especially right now.”

Finally, the first sane person I've met all day, you think. 

“Carmy, talk some sense into her,” the older guy shouts, and it gives you a name to the face. “All of this on the floor—”

“You didn't say behind,” the woman repeats, except with more fury in it this time.

“You didn't say behind,” he imitates back. “Carmy—”

“She’s right. Richie, step out,” Carmy says. “Syd, you clean this up.”

“But—” You hear her start to protest. 

“You spilled it, you clean it,” he cuts through, decisive and firm.

“I know, but Richie—”

“Clean it,” he repeats, firmer, darker this time, and there's a beat of silence. 

“...Yes, chef.”

“I told you to step out,” Carmy tells who you assume is Richie. 

“You're just gonna let her—”

“Step the fuck outside right fucking now!” Carmy screams, his patience shooting away like a gunshot. You feel something shrivel inside you, and not in a good way. “Do the one fucking thing you're good at and get out of the fucking way!”

Yeah…definitely not in a good way.

From what you hear, it sounds like Richie has to get wrestled outside by someone, whom you're not sure. After another minute, Carmy returns to the front. 

“I'm sorry about that. Fucking—” He drags a hand across his face. You swear his eyebags have grown heavier in the 5 minutes he was in the kitchen. “What was I saying?”

“Um, I was saying that I could start tomorrow,” you remind him, although the vigor you had just stated it with is a bit fizzled out. 

“Right. Okay. Uh—” He pats his hands on his apron, searching for something. A pen and paper appear in his hands, and he scribbles something on it. This is when you notice his tattoos. A flower on the back of his hand. Surprising. “You're hired. Here's the paperwork you need to fill out, along with the number and email you'll be hearing from me at.”

“What?” You take the sheets, but the smooth paper doesn't feel real in your hands. His handwriting is hasty and dark, like he was running out of time on a test. “I mean, I'm just surprised.”

“Do you not want it?”

“I want it,” you promise, and you feel your cheeks flush. This is a bad time to yet again notice how attractive he is. His pretty eyes, his nose. The little moles under his left eye. “Y-Yeah, I want the job.”

“Good.” He motions towards the sticky note again. “Come in at 8 am tomorrow. You'll be starting as a prep cook, which you've done before.”

“Okay. Okay, yeah, I'll be there.” The reality is setting in now, and an odd cocktail of relief, apprehension, and excitement is settling in your stomach. “Thank you so much.” I just got laid off from my job this morning, so this means a lot, you want to say, but it's too soon. You don't want to say anything that'll make him change his mind about whatever he sees in you. 

“Thank you,” he echoes back. “We need the help. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“See you,” you reply, and with that, the door rings behind you. A customer comes up to the counter, peering up at the menu. You figure this is your cue to leave. He's not looking at you anymore anyway. 

So, I got a job now, you update your friends, texting them on your way home on the metro. As the relieved congratulations come flying in, another remark seems to resound amongst all of them. 

I can't believe you got the job just like that. That place must be desperate, too, is roughly what they've all said. The thing is, they're not wrong. 

You managed to find someone more desperate than you in the job economy. Just one, but that was enough. It makes you think, though. You think about Carmy's weary blue eyes, his brief smile, and his hand tattoos. You wonder if it's just the restaurant that gives him that bone-deep exhaustion, or if it's a smaller part of a bigger picture. 

You think about it for the rest of your commute, you think about it as you smoke on the porch, you think about it as you lay in bed. You think about it as you fill out the paperwork, fingers tracing where Carmy's written his name, number, and email.

Carmen Berzatto

773-555-0901

So Carmy's a nickname, you think. Not about what type of boss he's going to be, not about what it's going to be like working under someone you are obviously attracted to. 

Maybe you should be more worried about this.

If it's bad, I'll just find another job, you tell yourself, and you foolishly believe it.

. . . . .

Your first day on the job starts with introductions. 

At least, that's about as much as you've figured out so far. When he sees you upon arrival, he pauses and stares at you like he's forgotten. Not a great start. Granted, he does snap out of it. That's when he tells you to follow him, which is where you currently find yourself. You're not sure where he's leading to, only that he's introducing you to others as you pass them by.

“They’re working with us starting today,” Carmy tells everyone. “They’re gonna be on prep.”

Right. So that's what you'll be doing. At least he told you that much yesterday.

The catalog of coworkers expands exponentially. You remember Sydney from yesterday, and to her credit, she apologizes about having you witness her fight with Richie, who conveniently isn't here yet. She seems the nicest out of all the bunch, so you decide to let it slide. 

Marcus is pretty nice, too. So are Ebra, Sweeps, Manny, Angel—everyone seems to be pretty alright. It’s obvious they’re standoffish by you being in their space. You find it hard to hold it against them. You’re not really sure how your relationships with them are going to pan out. There are only three that you’re particularly unsure on.

The first and obvious one is Richie. He came in eventually and didn’t give you the best impression, immediately talking over everyone and oozing arrogance. The only salvageable thing is that he’s not even a chef. At least you won’t have to be in the kitchen with him much. You want to avoid the honor of talking to him as much as possible.

Tina is next. She clearly doesn’t enjoy having someone new in the ecosystem, and she’s spent more time ignoring you than talking with you. As you understand it, she’s close to the rest of the staff since they’ve all been together for a while. Minus you and Syd, as you learn she’s only been there for a week. You think Tina will warm up to you…eventually.

Carmy is the last one, and he’s…he’s…

He’s something else.

He has you doing prep for most of the day. After introducing you to everyone and giving you a brief tour, he brings you to your station, scratched up stainless steel.

“You’re going to be cutting onions and carrots today for the stock. The vegetables are in the walk-in I showed you earlier, and when it’s done, it goes on the first shelf.” Carmy’s to your right, set up at his own station. You swear you keep your eyes focused on the vegetables, not his biceps in that shirt, but… “You should already know this, but label everything. I don’t want to see anything without a date. Got it?”

“Yes, chef,” you confirm, snapping out of it. He’s been flinging new information at you like it’s a war and he’s gunning to survive. But so are you. “I’ll do my best.”

“I expect as such.” He slides over a peeler for the carrots and some plastic bins for trash. “It’s just a stock, so don’t worry about an even cut. Just salvage whatever you can, cut off anything that doesn’t look good.” You nod. “Been a year or so since you did this, right?”

“Yeah. I cook regularly, but I’ll need to get back into the groove of things. And I will,” you add hastily. “I’ll combine them into this one when I'm done, right?” You ask, nudging a large plastic container. 

“Correct.” A brief smile flashes across his face. “You're already following quicker than I thought you would.” You’re not sure if he means it as an insult or a compliment, so you decide to take it as the latter. 

“I haven't even chopped anything yet.”

“I know.” His expression is flat again. You resist a laugh.  He plucks an onion from the bin, puts it in front of you. “Show me a rough dice.”

The knife is sharp. You notice this as you place careful cuts into the onion. It's not quite as sharp as his unnerving gaze, which layers pressure upon pressure. It builds up like a pastry puff, thin multitudes of layers expanding upward. You need to be good. You need to be perfect. You don't want to disappoint him, not this early, even though you've barely been here for an hour. 

It's just a shitty old sandwich shop, you tell yourself, but your dicing is uneven and you briefly think about accidentally chopping your fingers off. 

“Not my best work,” you admit, vaguely breathless. Carmy hasn't said anything yet.

“It'll do.” You're waiting for him to say something else, give you some tips, but he doesn't. Irritation prickles to the tips of your fingers. “I'll be back to check in on you later.”

You stand there, motionless and shocked in the aftermath. You're not sure what you expected from today, but being abandoned an hour in was not at the top of your bucket list. 

Man, what the fuck, you think, the thought clear in the silence around you, and that's the last time you can hear yourself think for the rest of the shift. 

There's a prepared stock from yesterday simmering on the stove behind you. It's flanked by boiling potatoes and reducing tomato sauce. The heat from it’s searing your back like a steak, slowly drawing lines of moisture all over the surface of your shirt. Your coworkers constantly invade your space to check on them. You suppose it's not their fault that the kitchen, but it's still irritating. They're also all shouting over each other like it's a competition.

“Who the fuck touched my stock—”

“No one touched your stupid shitty stock—”

“I am trying to find this cutting board, will someone please—”

You move on from the onions with only a thin layer of sweat collected at your hairline. 

Your hands are shaky as they peel the carrots. You know you're not getting as efficient of a shave as you could be, but the caffeine crash from your morning coffee is getting to you. You don't remember the last time you drank water. A cigarette sounds nice. 

“Clean your station, chef.” Carmy materializes next to you. You hear him before you see his hands scooping carrot shavings into a plastic container. It shocks you so much that you almost cut yourself. 

“Sorry, chef,” you reply reflexively. You look down at your station, straightening your tools. You want to ask if you can take your break, but you don't want to look any weaker than you do already. “So, uh, do we get 30's here?”

When you don't get a response, your head snaps up, irritation on the tip of your tongue, but he's not even there. 

Fucking hell, you think, annoyance simmering into something akin to anger, and you go back to finishing your prep. 

You don't see him for another hour after that. It's not even him that tells you to take your 15, it's Syd, who noticed you were half-way through your shift and on the verge of…something. 

“You finished the prep he gave you, right?” Syd had asked. You told her you finished and put it back in the walk-in. “Yeah, then go take your break. Did he not tell you we get 15's here?”

“He didn't,” you say, too annoyed to bother hiding the disdain in your face. Sydney just sighs, rolling her eyes, and you think you love her. 

“Asshole.” She makes a shooing motion at you then. “Go, get a break from this madness. It'll get better, I promise.”

You're not sure if you believe her, but you do step outside to take your break. 

As you stand outside in the back, you take note of tightness in your body that you weren't even aware of. The cigarette smoke calms you, loosens you. Or maybe you owe that to getting out of that hot kitchen. 

This time, you see Carmy before you hear him. You turn to the door to see him stepping out, a pack of smokes in his hand. 

“Hey,” he says. 

“Hey,” you reply.

“Everythin’ goin’ okay so far?”

“Yeah. It's fine.” Other than everything.

“Really?” His surprise just pisses you off further. “Well, that's good.”

“...Yeah.” You decide if your mouth stays unoccupied, you'll start cussing him out, so you put your cigarette back in your mouth. 

“You're bleeding.”

“What?”

“I said, you're bleeding. Your hand.” 

You look down at your hand holding the cigarette, and sure enough, there's a thin, shallow cut oozing blood near one of your knuckles. 

“Shit,” you mutter, quickly sucking the skin into your mouth. When you pull it back, the red refills. “I didn't even notice.”

“Let's get a bandaid on that.” He puts his unlit cigarette back into his pack. “I have some in my office.”

That's how you end up in the enclosed, dark space of his office, seated on the only chair as he leans back against his cluttered desk. The dingy first-aid kit is propped on top of a shaky stack of papers. Carmy takes out a bandaid from it and peels it open.

“Thought I gave you a sharp knife, it shouldn't have cut you like that,” Carmy comments. 

“It was sharp,” you correct. “Guess I just fucked up.”

“It happens,” he says, which surprises you. He keeps surprising you. You just can't seem to figure him out. “Let me see the cut.”

You only realize that he's putting the bandaid on you when he cradles your hand in his. His hands are warm. 

He has so many hand tattoos. You notice the letters on his fingers first, the SOU curled around your palm. You notice the other tattoo on the back of his hand next, since that's the one carefully placing the bandaid on you. 

He wraps it around your finger just right. Not too tight, not too loose. 

“Is that too tight?” He asks, almost in a whisper. He's so close, and he smells like kitchen oil, cigarette smoke, and a faded cologne you can't place. 

“No, it's okay.” You don't mean to talk so quietly back, but you do. You can't stop staring at his fingers. They're long and marked up with silver scars and burns. If you look carefully, you can place the locations of his callouses. 

“Good.” You don’t know why he does it, but he runs his thumb across the seams of where your bandaid overlaps. Surely it’s just to secure it further…surely.

“Thank you.” He’s still holding your hand. You’re unsure if you’re imagining the tension in the air or not. Everything feels more intimate behind closed doors, especially in low light. “I could’ve done it myself.”

“It’s easier if another person does it.” He lets go, finally, and you try not to mourn the loss. “Did you finish prepping for the stock?”

“What you gave me, yeah.”

“Alright. Let’s go take a look at it, then,” he says, like that isn’t the most anxiety inducing thing you’ve ever heard. 

“R-Right now?”

“As opposed to?” He opens the door to his office, and the muffled noises in the kitchen become sharp and clear again, like emerging from underwater. “Come on.”

You don’t know how it happens, but Carmy gets into five separate arguments on the way to the walk-in. FIVE. To be fair, two of them are from Richie.

“I’ve been telling you guys to sharpen your knives, don’t fucking treat them like this,” Carmy shouts, trudging over to someone’s station. “You see this? This is exactly what we should not be doing! How many times have I said this today?! Don’t—“

“Stop going into my office when I’m not there,” Carmy hisses at Richie next. “You keep fucking up where the papers are put, and I can’t find anything! It’s enough of a mess as it is! No—I said—cousin, listen to me—“

“Everyone shut the hell up, clean your stations, and get the fuck back to work!” Is the last thing he shouts before slamming the door to the walk-in behind you. He slams it so hard the wire racks rattle. You decide not to comment. 

The difference in sound is eerie. You’re always surprised by how sound proof these walk-in fridges are.

“Is this the prep you did today?” Carmy asks, touching one of the clear plastic bins. Sure enough, it’s the one you placed there a moment ago.

“Yeah, it is.” You chew the inside of your cheek. You were hoping he would be in an okay mood when he checked your work. It seemed like he was at first, but now?

“It's on the wrong shelf.”

“What?” You stare at it sitting on the first shelf, just like he told you to. “You told me to put it on the first shelf.”

“It goes on the second shelf.” He's pissed, and there's ice in your veins. He huffs as he takes the container and moves it one shelf up, slamming it down unnecessarily. “I told you—second shelf.”

“You literally said it went on the first shelf.” The ice has melted, and it's boiling. 

“No, I didn't.” You wanna punch him. Badly. You know what you heard. “And you forgot to label it.”

“Shit.” That, you did forget. You’re not above owning up to your mistakes, unlike him. “I'm sorry, I was—”

“We always need stuff like this to be labeled,” he interrupts, rude and abrupt. You can hear the thinly veiled anger in his voice. “I told you.”

“I know, I just—“

“Don’t make excuses. Just do better.”

“It’s my first fucking day!” You snap, finally, and it’s like a firecracker in the dead of night. “I don’t expect to be coddled, but I’ve only been here for a couple hours, and you’re just—“

“I told you to put a label on it, to put it on the second shelf, and you didn’t do either of those things.” This is a different type of anger. It’s quiet, contained. Dangerous. And with your outburst, it’s trembling at the edges. 

“You literally hired me yesterday!” You’re exasperated. “You looked at my resume for like two seconds before hiring me, and you’re mad that I’m messing up?”

“You had enough credentials on your resume. You told me you could work well under pressure and learn quickly. Is that true or not?”

“It is true! You just have to give me a chance first!”

“I just gave you a chance,” Carmy snaps back, “and you fucked it up.”

“Oh my god. I just—“ You take a step back. “I don’t have to take this shit.”

“Are you quitting already?”

“I wasn’t going to.” You move towards the door. “But maybe I should, before you fire me. Doesn't seem like you want me, anyway.”

You were planning on exiting the walk-in after that, to leave on cue, but the door doesn’t budge. You and Carmy notice it at the same time. 

Suddenly, there is a new problem.

“Fuck,” Carmy curses under his breath. The two of you are pushing against the door, but it won’t budge. He slams his fist on it and calls out. “Guys, the walk-in door is stuck! Can any of you open it from out there?”

“Carmen?” Richie's voice is muffled from the other end. There's the sound of frustrated efforts on the other end. “It's not fuckin’ budging!”

“Fuck,” Carmy repeats, seething, and you agree. “Call Fak!”

“I already did! He’s gonna be here in 20!”

“20 minutes?!” Carmy shouts. You close your eyes and sigh, audibly. “Don't we have a screwdriver in here or something?! Just take the hinges off!”

“Why do you think I called Fak?! Shut the hell up and be patient!”

“Tell him to hurry the fuck up,” Carmy barks, and that's where their conversation ends. 

“Just what I needed right now,” you mutter under your breath. Carmy's not looking at you, eyes boring into the door that's trapping the both of you in here with each other. “To be locked in a room with you.”

It's quiet for a minute before he speaks, cutting the silence open.

“...I do want you, y'know.”

“You—huh?” He said it so quietly you're not sure if it was a hallucination. 

“We need you here.” He's still not looking at you. “This place—it's fucked.  We don't have enough hands.”

“I can tell,” you say, and you mean for it to come out bitter, but it's soft. Naively so. 

“I want you here. I do.” He doesn't need to say it like that. You don't want to believe it, neither his words or the way hearing it makes you feel. “I need you.”

“Can you at least look at me when you say it?” 

You’re not sure why you say it. You instantly recognize it for how needy it sounds, but you don't get the luxury of embarrassment. Carmy's already turning to face you. 

“I want you,” he repeats, voice low. You think about the paint you'd need to mix to match the color of his eyes. Blue, white, and the slightest bit of orange to desaturate it. You're not sure what type of orange, though. “I need you.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, despite yourself, and it's too late.

“Are you gonna do better?” You didn't even register him moving closer to you. When did your back end up against the shelves?

“I’m gonna do better,” you whisper, “if you stop being such an asshole.”

“It won't happen again,” he whispers back, and you recognize it for the lie that it is. 

You don't really care, though. 

His face is so close to yours that you can see the separate specks of colors in his iris. You watch his gaze fall from your eyes to your lips, and it lingers there before rising again. Any shreds of self respect or control you were clinging onto disintegrate. It doesn't matter if he really means what it says. All that matters is getting your mouth on his.  

“Okay,” you say, a whisper of foolish acceptance, and you're kissing him. 

Or is he kissing you? You don't know who leaned forward first. It's not important. 

“I saw you staring at my hands today,” Carmy says against your lips. Spit makes your mouths slide easily against each other. “Yesterday, too.”

“What the—no you didn't,” you gasp, appalled, heat rising in your face, “how did you—?”

“You're right. I didn't,” he admits with a cheeky grin. You’re really gonna punch him now. 

“God, you're just,” you mutter, “you're such an asshole.”

“I know.” At first, you think he's being smug, but there's a surprising sense of remorse under it. You don't have time to think about it, though, not when his hand is cradling your face. There's no way he doesn't feel how hot your face is. 

“What're you…?” His thumb passes over your lower lip, and the words fall away. 

“Tell me you want this.” Your eyes flicker to his hand, then to his face. His other hand is at the top of your jeans, fingers resting on the edge of your waistband. Excited arousal hits your gut, sizzling like browning butter, warm and toasted. His eyes are dark, caramel on the verge of burning. “If you don't, I'll pretend like this never happened. I'll never touch you again.”

I'll never touch you again, he says, like it's not the last thing you'll ever want. 

“I want this,” you murmur. “Touch me. Please.”

“Good,” Carmy praises, one quiet word enough to sear your insides with heat, blue flame on the underside of a pan. “That's what I thought.”

His hands slip behind you to untie your apron. The strings fall to your sides, and you tug it hastily up and over your head. It falls to the floor next to you. Surely that's a gigantic health hazard, but Carmy's the one who throws it there, so you don't say anything. You lower your gaze to his fingers unbuttoning your pants. The sight of it makes you woozy. You take note of his other tattoos, noticing the letters on his fingers. You watch as the stabbed hand made of ink on his right disappears under the cloth of your underwear.

“Oh,” you breathe. You didn't expect his hand to be so warm, even though you had just felt his heated palm gentle on your cheek.

“You're wet.” The tip of his index finger dips into where your hot folds separate. It strokes at the fluid that's pooled at your entrance, coaxing it out. “When did this happen?”

“Fuck you is when,” you bite back, but it's all bark. “I don't know.”

“Sure,” he agrees, but not really. His condescending smile shouldn't be hot, it really shouldn't, but your pussy throbs against his hand, and he smiles knowingly. “All you need is me to talk and you get wet, is that it?”

“I—” His finger rises upward, splitting you open and flicking at your clit. You buck against his hand. “Don't ask me a question and then touch me like that,” you hiss, horribly turned on.

“Mm, sorry.” It's barely an apology. You throw your head back in frustration. “I didn't mean to.”

“I have a hard time believing that,” you pant. He's pushed your slick up your pussy to your clit, two slick fingers sliding back and forth on your stiff nub. The pads of his calloused fingers are rubbing you almost where you're too sensitive. 

“Then don't. I don't care what you think of me.” You think he's about to get his fingers inside of you, and your breath hitches, but he pulls back. You regret the frustrated whine that is just audible enough in the back of your throat. He does it again, just barely pushing the tips of fingers in before pulling away.

“You—why—do you want me to beg or something?” Your clenched hands raise by your sides to grip the collar of his white shirt and yank him forward. The shock that flashes across his face gives you a sick sense of satisfaction.

“It wouldn't hurt,” he mumbles. Seeing him stagger like this, even if briefly, sends a rush through your head.

“Is that what it's gonna take for you to get those fucking fingers inside me?” 

Like a coward, instead of answering, he leans an inch forward and kisses you. Or maybe that was his answer. That's when he sinks two fingers inside you, long and thick, pushing until your wet pussy's pressed tight against his palm. 

You moan, a pathetic thing, and Carmy swallows the sound of it.

“You're already begging,” he says quietly. He pulls his fingers out. You whine in protest, desperate and angry pleas on the tip of your tongue, but then he's pushing inside again.

That's the last moment of reprieve you get. His fingers start thrusting into you faster, dragging out slick each time he pulls them out. Paranoia suddenly screams that you’re gonna wet the front of your pants at this rate. The aching pleasure is louder than your fear, though. You can’t help the way his fingers are making you moan.

“More,” you plead, “give me another, I can take it.” Your hips are thrusting forward to meet his hand when they push inside. Your clit slaps against the heel of his palm, and you chase the friction. He must notice, because when he obliges and stretches you out with a third finger, he grinds the heel of his palm into your clit.

“You have to be quiet,” he says lowly when you keep moaning. “They’re gonna hear you.” 

“I—I’m trying,” you whine. You’re squeezing so tight down on him. You feel so full. “Your fingers—“

“You’re the one who asked for more.” He slaps his other hands firmly over your mouth. It silences your sound of surprise. “You said you could take it, so here’s what’s gonna happen.” His fingers are slamming into your now, and your hole spasms around them in pleasure. “You’re gonna come on my fingers, and you’re gonna be quiet. Understand?”

You know how soundproof the walk-in is. You had just witnessed it moments ago. But Carmy’s warnings do something fierce to you, bypassing logic straight into anxious, desperate arousal. He’s right, you think. You need to be quiet. You nod quickly in response, so he takes your consent and sprints with it.

To your credit, you try to be quiet. You said you would. But there’s only so much you can do when he’s fingering you so hard your legs are shaking. You’re whimpering into his hand, the sounds muffled.  Your own moans, his heavy breathing, and the slick sound of your pussy getting railed by his fingers—that’s what you listen to as you come.

“Fuck, you’re squeezing down tight,” Carmy hisses, and for an irrational second  you’re afraid you’re hurting him, but one look at his starved expression changes your mind. His three wide fingers are fucking you slowly through your wildly contracting orgasm. In one of his palms, you're oozing slick, and in his other palm, you're smearing with spit.

You should be thinking about how bad of an idea this all is, having sex with your boss. It’s too bad your orgasm is so potent you can’t think at all.

You lean your head back against the cold metal railings of the wire racks behind you. It’s uncomfortable, but a part of it feels good against the coiling heat that’s unraveling in your stomach. The air around you is cold, but you’re hot, far too hot. You don’t remember the last time you’ve finished this hard.

He finally pries his hand off your mouth once you've stopped clamping down on his fingers. His hand lingers at your face before wiping it on the side of his jeans. His expression has this unreadable, unnamed intensity to it, and you can't tell where that ends and where the hunger starts. Although he is looking very, very starved.

His hand that's tucked into your underwear tugs it upward as it leaves, pulling the fabric taut against your pussy. It sticks like paper mache with the glue of your orgasm, molded to your shape. You make an aroused noise that's a mixture of surprise and annoyance.

You're about to complain, something along the lines of “was that really necessary”, but then your eyes are zeroed in on the sheen of his fingers that were fucking you.

“Don't,” you start, suddenly worried he's going to wipe them on his jeans again, but you don't get to finish. He's pushing his index finger into your mouth, and you taste yourself on his skin.

“Good,” Carmy whispers when he feels your tongue wrapping around him. Fuck, hearing him say it like that does awful things to you.

You don't know why you accept it without a fight, but if you're being honest with yourself, this is exactly what you wanted. You start to suck, but he doesn't linger. When he pulls his finger out, your parted lips expect the other two, but he sucks them into his mouth instead. 

God. What do you even say to that? He even has the nerve to look you in the eyes as he pops his cleaned fingers out of his mouth. 

“Let me touch you,” you decide to say instead, because if you think about him and his fingers in—anyway. 

“It's fine. I don't need it.” He's oddly cagey all of a sudden. 

“Let me return the favor, please,” you insist, even adding in some good manners. It seems to still him for a moment, giving you enough time to lift his apron.

Fuck, you think to yourself, the word resounding like an alarm inside your head. His jeans are tented so tightly it looks painful. All this from touching me, you realize. You can see the shape of his bulge under the denim. The silhouette is vague, but...

It's big.

“Carmy? You still in there?”

A voice you don't recognize calls out beyond the door. As soon as you both hear it, Carmy jerks away. You mourn the loss only for a moment before you remember yourself. You're scrambling to get your pants buttoned and your apron over your head. 

“Yeah, I'm still in here,” Carmy shouts back, instantaneously irritable. His back is turned to you, and you want to feel those muscles tensing under your palm. “About fuckin’ time!”

“You're welcome, by the way! I could've left you in here to freeze and die a tragic death!”

“It's not just me in here, Fak.” A beat of silence. “Are you opening it?”

“Am I fucking—Jesus Christ, Carmen, just give me a second! I'm working my magic!”

That shuts Carmy up. Almost. He sighs before turning to look at you. 

“Sorry for getting us stuck in here.” The apology is equally as surprising as the softness of which he speaks. “Shitty first day, huh?”

“It's cool. It's not your fault.” Other than all the shit that was completely your fault, you think, remembering the way you were shouting at each other just a moment ago. “Kinda shitty though, yeah.”

“Yeah.” He sighs again. “If you wanna leave, I don't blame you.”

“I thought I wasn't getting fired.”

“You're not,” he says quickly. “But I'm—this place is a shitshow.” You're not sure which he really means to say, but you hear both. The restaurant, and him especially, are both complete messes. That much was obvious from the beginning. “So if you wanna take off, just…” He shrugs. “Just go.”

Maybe that'd be for the best, if you left. As far as first days go, you've already broken every rule in the book. You messed up your first task, got into an argument with your boss, and then had sex with him. Nothing about this place is particularly inviting, either. This restaurant wears its dysfunction on its sleeve, unabashed in all the ways it lacks. You had left the kitchen with ringing ears from all the noise and a cut on your hand you didn't even notice. 

But here you are. You're not running. Maybe it's because of the fact that you need to pay rent. Maybe it's knowing that just one more pair of hands here could really make a difference. Maybe you're just desperate to keep food on the table. Maybe it's Carmen Berzatto, beautiful, haunted, and angry. Maybe it's all of that, a combined whole that's become greater than the sum of its parts.

Or maybe it's just that now that you've kissed him, had a taste of him, you refuse to let go. Maybe the reason is as shallow as that. 

Carmy's been waiting for you to speak, tired eyes searching your own. You're still not sure what exact colors you need to perfectly recreate the blue you're staring at. 

“Almost done!” Fak shouts. “Just one more hinge!”

“Heard,” Carmy shouts back. He hasn't taken his eyes off you. “So? What's it gonna be? Are you staying or not?”

Blood orange, you think all of a sudden. That's the orange you would need to make the perfect blue to match his eyes. Just a little bit—that's all you would need.

“I'm staying,” you tell him. “I need to pay rent, after all.”

Yeah. That's the reasoning you're settling on. Rent.

“Right. Of course.” There's a glimpse of that gentle smile you've seen flashes of today. It fades away as quickly as it came. “After this, I'm gonna have you learn how to check produce next.”

“Okay, sounds good,” you say as naturally as you can, given the tonal whiplash.

“There should be some that's about to get washed. I'll show you where that is.” The door's shifting. “But before that…” He lowers his voice, leans in close. Is he about to kiss you?

“W-What?”

“Get a new apron from my office. That one's dirty.” Beams of light stream through the entrance of the walk-in, forced wide open. “You need to keep your apron clean, chef.”

YOU WERE THE ONE WHO THREW IT ON THE GROUND, you want to scream. Just when you thought he started being nice, he does something that makes you want to grab him by the collar and shake him.

But you can't. The walk-in's open again, and you see your coworkers crowded by the door. 

“Yes, chef,” you reply, and the words taste bitter on your tongue.

~

@zorrasucia

[abearinthewoods]

One transmasc to another, please reflect on how your actions may cause actual harm to transfems.

A joke made in anger that is entirely unactionable does not warrant tattling to the organizations that are currently trying to strip all of us of our rights, and are looking for any reason to villainize our transfem comrades.

What’s been done cannot be undone, but please for all of our sakes remember that we’re all under the same boot, and licking said boot won’t make it any less likely to crush you too.

It’s our responsibility to take care of each other, learn from each other, and to look long and hard in the mirror when someone says your words and actions are harmful.

Solidarity. Solidarity. Solidarity.

(Most of this is answered here: https://www.tumblr.com/abearinthewoods/770794163004407808/okay-i-dont-know-a-lot-about-the-situation-but-i?source=share)

I need everybody to understand one uncomfortable but super important truth.

Class solidarity means an end to the oppression olympics.

You should never be looking in your neighbor's bowl to see if they have more than you, only to see if they have enough.

Like lets take a step back for a quick moment and recap whats going on here. She made jokes about killing one of the most unsupported and invisible members of the LGBTQ community, because why?

Like no, lets actually address that.

Trans men want to use terms like trans misandry and trans androphobia to talk about their oppression, not terms like trans misogyny and trans emasculation. and for this they got bomb and death threats from other people in the trans community?!?!?!?!?!?

Because trans men want to use words centered around their their hatchling gender, not their egg gender, to describe their oppression, because they don't want to center their discussions about their issues around some axis of women as the most oppressed, they got hit with a massively outsized amount of hate from (a tiny collection of, lets be very fucking clear here.) mostly trans fems who drunk a little too much of radfem's cis-male hate that they decided to transpose onto trans men. All escalating to bomb threats which my inbox is now also full of.

This is your brain on oppression olympics.

This is the threat to class solidarity.

This is the threat to class solidarity.

This is exactly what they want. For us to be fighting over who has it worse. I don't give a fuck who has it better or who has it worse, and i sure as fuck don't care about any narratives that center this question around one's identity or demographics as some kind of universal truths that overrides individually.

Even when I do bring up ways in which cis or trans men have it worse, or ways in which women commit crimes more than men, I try to focus it on purely countering the opposite narrative, to make sure I am only pushing the pendulum back towards the center, nothing more.

No experience is universal and arguments about stats and oppression and privilege tend to paper over peoples individuality.

Solitary means respecting how we are different. How that changes how we all experience the world. You can't tell a trans man you have it worse than him without disrespecting this because you can not know his life, what he went thru, how his brain's chemistry makes minor changes to how he sees or deals with adversity that build up over time, or how the same difficulties may be harder or easier for somebody to handle or overcome based how they were raised or what other experiences they went thru.

There is a reason why countries who are not at war with each other fly their flags all at the same height; never flying their flag above their ally's flag. They stand as one. United. Because that is what solitary actually means.

We stand at a fork. Down one path is trans men using words like trans misandry to talk about their oppression and trans rad fems on tumblr not interjecting with some bullshit, and down the other path is trans men still using words like trans misandry, but also the hostility comes out and you'll get shit like them telling the same trans radfems to stop calling their oppression trans misogyny, and start calling it trans misandry, and the whole world goes blind. Because i've seen how understandably upset trans women have gotten at me when they've mistakenly thought i was actually suggesting that, its not a blow in the gender war we'll come back from if it enters the discourse.

(as an aside thought experiment, its actually kinda hard to truly only be sexist in one direction. like one could argue that slutshaming is implying there is something dirty or unclean about men/manliness that they 'taint' women with by having sex with them. but you'd rightly call me dick if MRAs started showing up to the local feminism meet and interjecting that every time the topic comes up. And as an MRA, So would I. So please lets stop trying to argue over the "true" direction of acts of sexism and let people be individuals who experience and talk about it in their own way.)

((Final aside, it would make things easier for our intersex and enby brothers, sisters, and gender nonspecific siblings to cast aside this gendered concept of oppression))

[andy-15-07]

The Legacy of House Harkonnen

masterlist ! pairing Feyd-Rautha x reader

Summary: Feyd trains his daughter, Lysandra, while Y/n reminisces about their past joys and the family's enduring bond, showcasing a lineage of strength and love.

Dune Masterlist

The vast training arena echoed with the metallic clangs of swords as Feyd Rautha Harkonnen, the feared and formidable heir to House Harkonnen, sparred with his daughter, Lysandra. She was seventeen, possessing her father's sharp wit and agility, a true reflection of her lineage.

"Faster, Lysandra!" Feyd urged, his voice echoing across the training ground. "You're leaving yourself open."

Lysandra nodded, her focus intensifying as she countered her father's strikes with swift precision. "I'll do better, Father," she promised, determination gleaming in her eyes.

Feyd smiled proudly, his heart swelling with paternal pride. "Good. Now, remember what I taught you about footwork. It's crucial to maintaining your balance."

As they continued to spar, Y/n watched from the sidelines, a soft smile playing on their lips. They remembered the day Lysandra was born, the joy and happiness that had filled their hearts as they held their newborn daughter for the first time. It seemed like only yesterday, yet here she was, a skilled warrior in her own right, training alongside her father.

Memories flooded Y/n's mind, transporting them back to the early days of their marriage, when Feyd was not just the heir to House Harkonnen, but also a devoted husband and father. They recalled the tender moments they had shared, the laughter and love that had bound them together through triumph and adversity.

Lost in reverie, Y/n's thoughts were interrupted by a sudden clash of swords as Feyd and Lysandra engaged in a particularly fierce exchange. With each strike and parry, it was evident that Lysandra had inherited her father's skill and determination, a testament to the legacy of House Harkonnen.

"Feyd, watch your flank!" Y/n called out, their voice filled with concern.

Feyd heeded their warning, swiftly adjusting his stance to deflect Lysandra's attack. "Thank you, my love," he said, his gaze briefly meeting theirs before returning to the fray.

As the training session drew to a close, Feyd and Lysandra stood facing each other, their breathing heavy but triumphant. It was a scene that filled Y/n's heart with pride and joy, knowing that their family's legacy would endure for generations to come.

"Well done, Lysandra," Feyd praised, a hint of admiration in his voice. "You're improving with each session."

Lysandra beamed, her eyes sparkling with gratitude. "Thank you, Father. I couldn't have done it without your guidance."

Feyd placed a hand on her shoulder, a rare display of affection from the stoic warrior. "You have the potential to surpass even me, my dear. Never forget that."

Y/n approached them, a sense of contentment washing over them as they watched father and daughter share a moment of mutual respect and admiration. "You both make me proud," they said, their voice filled with love.

Feyd and Lysandra turned to them, their expressions softening with affection. In that moment, surrounded by the echoes of their past and the promise of the future, they were reminded of the unbreakable bond that bound them together as a family, a legacy that would endure for eternity.

[leroiestmortvivelareine]

Strap in if you dare, I’m going to talk about Riko.

Yes, he is a Bad Person. Nothing I’m about to say counters that. However… evil isn’t always so obvious as to dress in black and torture everyone you love. Evil is insidious and nuanced - it can creep in when you aren’t expecting it and have no defences. We’ve been given this incredibly complex and interesting example of it, and we’ve been given it for a reason. Riko is a character worth trying to understand.

Could Riko ever have been saved, and if so what would it have taken? What if he’d been able to follow the Fox path to redemption instead of the Ravens to perdition?

Except both Foxes AND Ravens were traumatised… the thing that ruined Riko was power. Lincoln said it: “nearly all men can stand adversity but if you want to test a man’s character, give him power.” Who was Riko without power? It’s hard to see.

So I’m fascinated by a different question - how did Riko see Riko?

We know how the Foxes saw him: a low-functioning sociopath with zero coping skills and the personality of a cat trapped in a wall cavity. Presumably that’s not how he saw himself. What kind of headcanon did he construct for himself, what was his own personal mythology?

We know he wanted his father’s approval, he wanted to be number one. We know how badly he dealt with those desires being thwarted.

I know how it feels to be an abandoned child. You feel like the outer edges of a person, with this gaping hole in the centre. It’s not just that you lost a loved one, it’s - how can I say it - it’s like the clasp that lets you hold on to people has been torn out too. Everyone will leave now, and you know it.

(I didn’t cope by turning my bedroom into Abu Ghraib, though.)

It’s the worst of both worlds. His father is far enough away to cause that gaping wound, yet not sufficiently gone for it to ever close over and heal.

But… despite his impossible situation, Riko wasn’t withdrawing into himself. Resentment ate away at him and he liked doing side-projects of revenge, but it was hope driving him on. I see Riko as someone with a very hot flame in them, someone determined to succeed (like Neil). He was driven, even if the goal he chased so eagerly was an illusion. I think he saw his situation as a challenge, an opportunity to prove himself and eventually take his rightful place at his father’s side (surely that’s what Kengo really meant, surely this was a test, a test he can pass if he just wins one more time...)

Imagine something like… the second son of a Roman emperor, sent to some far-off outpost to get him out of the way subdue rebel tribes. A chance to make a name for himself, an opportunity to create an elite unit where violence and skill are everything, where winning is everything. A challenge he accepts with savage excitement.

And the world views them with the kind of awe once reserved for ancient Sparta. Unsurpassed warriors, impossibly focussed. Yes, they endure conditions no one else could even consider but they always win, and everyone loves winners. They are the legends of legends. Surely his father will see.

Kevin was his Lancelot, his shining sword, his right hand. Kevin added to Riko’s status, assured him he must be a hero if he had such a splendid champion at his side.

But Kevin is beautiful, so perhaps Riko’s feelings were more complicated than that, perhaps they were feelings he couldn’t admit he had. He could still work those feelings into the overall picture though… it’s all part of Kevin being his beloved champion.

Until the champion started edging him out of his own story and had to be sacrificed. A necessary sacrifice, but losing Kevin struck a huge blow to the mythology Riko built up about himself. He could no longer look in the mirror, side by side, and see Kevin’s glory (and, yes, Kevin’s dad) reflected back as though it belonged to him too.

Despite this Riko finds a way to keep winning, even without his champion. Surely that is even more impressive? Can his father see that?

Still no response. In the story Riko constructs for himself his father does no wrong, so this towering rage he feels has to crash down on someone else. He tells himself he is punishing his troops for daring to be unworthy.

Then there is Jean, someone from a caste so low as to be unclean, even subnormal, someone it would hurt Riko’s prestige to treat with any kind of respect. But Jean is also beautiful, and those feelings can’t be worked into the myth. Their outlet is the darkness behind closed doors, along with all the other feelings that don’t fit the story of the hero.

Harming his people, his intimate possessions, was Riko’s coping mechanism for rejection and humiliation the way self-harm in many forms is to many others. (Are you hearing me if I say hurting yourself is hurting your own Perfect Court, and there is collateral damage even if you think it’s just you, because people love you and suffer because of it? Are you hearing me if I say stop being Riko to yourself?)

And maybe his enjoyment of that cruelty was, deep down, a form of denial that the cruelty arose from anguish. ‘No I’m not upset, I’m not a loser, I’m in control, I’m doing this because I like it…’ Maybe even to the point where rendition becomes sexual.

But it’s starting to unravel. He’s lost his only friend and can no longer unleash his mounting frustrations on Jean the way he wants to; he’s running out of pieces for his board.

Then he finds the fugitive his family were chasing for so long. This is his big chance. He’ll have a brand new champion for his stable or a valuable offering to please his father, he wins either way.

He captures this feral child who tells him there is no empty throne waiting by the side of the emperor, Kengo never mentions his son’s name, Riko is nothing more than a joke in that far-off capital. So much scorn in those words that the carefully constructed mythology withers before it.

First the would-be rook took the queen, then the wild-card knight escapes again, and now the whipping boy / concubine / bishop is taken by a girl with a cross around her neck. The king has lost all his men… because that’s your REAL story, isn’t it: everyone leaves you.

And then… Kengo dies.

Yes, Riko is a Bad Person. No, I do not like him. But Nora gave us two boys who met their brother for the first time, two boys who cried out their brother’s name only to see their hopes shattered. And in that moment they were one, so I cannot dismiss this monstrous, horrible abomination no matter how hard I try.

I can however dismiss anyone who says Nora is not a goddess of writing.

[merbear25]

With a s/o who doesn’t celebrate their birthday (Luffy, Law, Corazon, Caesar)

a/n: My birthday is later this month, and I haven’t celebrated it in many years. The day isn’t particularly joyous for me for many reasons, so I decided to write something for myself. Idk if anyone else feels the same about their birthday but hope you enjoy this nonetheless.

CW: SFW, gn!reader, fluff, some angst, an ounce of modern au with Cora’s

Luffy

With your birthday drawing near, you were merely hoping that the day would pass without a hitch. However, it just so happened that Luffy got the idea to ask you when your birthday was.

You didn’t want to lie to him, so you gave him the correct date. He looked at you, as if processing how close the day was. When it dawned on him that it was practically just around the corner, he gasped and got excited.

“We gotta celebrate then! We can have a big cake and lots of food!”

“No, that’s okay.” Your refusal was kind, which meant it wasn’t interpreted how you intended.

“It’s fine! We’ll get Sanji to do it!”

“No, that’s not what I mean,” you protested.

“Huh? What’s wrong?” He tilted his head to the side in interest.

“Well, I don’t celebrate my birthday.”

Complete and utter shock washed over him. How could someone as amazing as you not take full advantage of one of the best days for anyone. “What! Why not?” He shouted.

You put your hands up to hush him, so as not to alert the others that Luffy was getting excitable. “It’s just a normal day for me. Not anything worth celebrating in that sense.”

“Not anything worth…” He hopped down from the counter he was sitting on and clamped his hands on your shoulders. “You more than anyone should be able to celebrate yourself!”

The sudden intensity in his eyes put you a bit on edge, although the passion he had in his words struck you to your core. “Thank you but really. It’s no big deal”

Unconvinced by that, his eyes kept their hold on you. With not much else being said, he left the kitchen to join the others.

Unsure how well that actually went, you chose to brush it off.

As your birthday was coming to an end, you realized that the others were nowhere to be found. When you opened the kitchen door, you were met with a table filled with all of your favorite foods and everyone chatting and having a grand time.

“What’s all this?” You asked Sanji

“Hm? Just thought we could indulge a little.”

Taking your seat, you soaked up the atmosphere—your friends enjoying themselves, filling the room with laughter as you shared a meal together. You leaned over to Luffy to express your gratitude.

Even with his mouth full of food, he managed to smile just as affectionately as any other time.

Law

He was observant, which was one of the things you both loved and hated about him depending on whether you were trying to be sneaky. This time was no different; with his eyes focusing on you one too many times, you got the feeling that he’d noticed something was wrong.

“I’m fine,” you broke the silence.

“I didn’t say anything.” His gaze remained fixed on you.

“But you were thinking it.”

He inched closer trying to get a better read on you, his eyes seemingly burrowing into your soul.

“Okay, okay,” you huffed, “It’s my birthday. It’s coming up soon and I just…I just don’t want anyone making a big deal about it.”

As your eyes hesitantly met his, the cold stare he had had shifted into one with compassion. 

“I can relate to that,” his words alluded to more pain than he’d probably anticipated. “Sometimes it’s easier to treat it just like any other day.”

You nodded, feeling the tears build up in your eyes. Of course, you were well aware of the hardships he had to overcome. The adversities either of you faced were your own. The experiences that weighed on you in different ways and yet were still parts of each other you could easily connect with.

“We don’t have to do anything if you aren’t up for it.” Even with the cool tone, the support he was giving you was unmistakable.

Having spent your birthday the way you had intended, Law approached you. Looking up at him, you gave him a meek smile—-the conflict of not celebrating your birthday this year didn’t quite sit well with you.

“I want to show you something.” Offering you his hand, his touch was tender as guided you to the deck.

Stepping outside, you were met with the Aurora Borealis. “We were passing by at the perfect time. Thought you might like to appreciate them with me.”

With the inner-strife you’d been dealing with subsiding, you happily took a seat next to him. Gazing up at the beauty swirling in the sky, you leaned your head against his shoulder.

He rested his head against yours, adding a sincere, “Happy birthday.”

Corazon

He was one of the most attentive individuals who could pick up on how you were feeling before you yourself had even realized. As the days came and went, it became more and more obvious that something was weighing on you.

Coming over to where you were, he sat beside you. With the softness never leaving his demeanor, you couldn’t help but melt from the warmth he radiated. 

When you gave him a smile, he placed his hand on top of yours. “How are you?” Such a simple question yet one that held vague concern.

“I’m alright,” you chuckled. “Don’t I look like it?” Even your playfulness seemed to be a front you were putting up.

He hesitated, taking a moment to notice the subtleties in your voice and expression. “No,” he spoke with sincerity. 

Breaking eye contact, you looked down at your fingers laced with his. “My birthday is coming up, and I’m not quite sure how I feel about it.”

He watched your fingers trace his hand before bringing them to his lips. “I can sympathize with that.” With his eyes meeting yours again, he led the conversation with his heart. “But you of all people deserve to feel special on their birthday.”

“You always know how to pull at my heartstrings.” The smile you wore trembled as your chest swelled with a heaviness.

“Aw, I didn’t mean to upset you!” He pulled you in for a hug.

Holding you closely, he made a suggestion, “We don’t have to have a formal celebration, but what about getting something to eat? Just the two of us?”

“I’d like that.”

When the day came, Rosinante drove the both of you to a secluded spot on top of a hill. Turning to smile at you, you wondered if this was the spot.

“Oh, yeah, this is it!” While he took the glasses and packed food from the back seat, he pointed to the treetops. “When the sun sets, the light peeks through those trees just perfectly enough to shine on the water, making it look like it’s sparkling.”

When he handed you some of the food, you smiled as you pressed it against your lips. 

As the sun set and the water resembled crystals, you allowed yourself to appreciate how special this day could be. 

“Thank you,” you whispered.

Caesar

Humble and wanting to remain out of the spotlight: ways one could never use to describe him. He took full advantage of his special day, wanting to be the main character. After being his other half for a few months and celebrating his birthday, it got him wondering.

“I don’t believe you’ve ever told me when your birthday is.” The careful phrasing was intentional—purposefully pushing off any blame for not asking sooner.

“I haven’t,” your tone was just slightly indifferent towards the topic but was light-hearted enough not to be mistaken as taking offense. “It’s in two weeks.”

He blinked at you, not fully understanding why you hadn’t brought it up sooner, why he had to be the one to ask. “Why didn’t you mention it sooner?”

You shrugged, delivering the answer in a cool tone, “It doesn’t hold many fond memories. It’s just another day for me.”

It was absolutely ludicrous to hear you say that. The one most suited to stand by his side not allowing themselves the proper celebration they clearly deserved had him stumped.

He chose not to pry, instead thinking of little ways he could help you feel special on your day. He easily gathered tidbits of information to make this coming birthday one you could look back on with fondness.

While that day began like any other, Caesar was finishing the small preparations to surprise you. When you finished your work, he went to collect you, guiding you to the kitchen.

“Ah!” He feigned irritation. “Those idiots made such a mess. Wait here.” He turned the corner, shuffling about the kitchen. 

When the lights turned off, you called out to him. Peering behind the corner, you stood there for a moment before you saw a faint glow coming from behind the counter.

“What’s this?” Your heartbeat quickened from the hope that he’d planned something for you.

“I know that you don’t quite like your birthday, but there’s no harm in having cake now, is there?”

There was a faint tightness in your chest from the sweet sentiment. As you came closer, you noticed that it was your favorite flavor. With the soft glow of the candles flickering on top of his unusually kind gesture, you looked up to see him smiling—nervously awaiting your reaction.

“No harm at all.” Although your smile was weak, the emotion held in your voice and the affection in your eyes spoke volumes. “Thank you, Caesar.” 

The heartfelt appreciation made him giddy with joy as you happily blew out the candles.

[ethereal-pie]

bullfrog head cannons

I have seen no fics of this beautiful French man so I have done it myself

just a ramble of my thoughts in bullet point form

he is an american bullfrog, he not only looks like one but also there are tons in France

He enjoys warmth and gets grumpy if he is too cold

I feel like he doesn’t touch you all that much but adores cuddling 

If given the opportunity he will burry himself in pillows and blankets ( bonus if they are weighted) especially during winter cuz of his hibernation instinct

He will insist you join him and promise it’s very comfortable 

He isn’t slimy like his real world counterpart but his skin feels very moisturized 

He gets cold super easy and shove himself under your shirt or jacket to soak up your natural body heat 

You also don’t have to worry about it being too hot to cuddle as he is cool to the touch 

He will insist you let him put his cold ass hands on your bare back to warm them up , he will pout if you don’t let him 

Letting him do this will more then likely result in him having his head under your shirt and his face pressed into your back and his hands on your upper stomach 

He usually avoids conventional touch based pda, the most normal pda you’ll get out of under normal circumstances is a peck on the cheek 

Instead the way he shows touch based pda is by sitting on your shoulders

Although if he is super cold he won’t care all that much

 And  Unless your in a situation where being partners with him would put you in danger, he will be  fairly vocaly affectionate

He will call you his beloved and other pet names 

As well as praise, flirt and compliment you

Some of His pet names  involve your name 

He seems like a darling, my dear, love type of person

He will jokingly call you stupid ones as well 

He has a lot of running jokes with you and will tease and joke around with you all the time, he just likes laughing with you in general 

Some of your jokes might take a second to land with him in the beginning but as your relationship continues he will pick up almost immediately 

He tries really hard to be cool cuz he wants to make friends but everyone being stuck on him being a frog annoys him a lil 

He will complain about this to you at least once 

He is trying to be cool and Poetic!

When he is mad he will begin to speak in a mix of French and English but he doesn’t really yell at all, he does talk faster tho 

He will bath for hours but doesn’t like to shower 

He cannot use certain soaps or he will get sick because he will absorb the chemicals through his skin 

He likes the look of bubble baths but if he sits in them he gets sick cuz of the soap In the water 

Given his accent I assume he speaks French but I think he can speak multiple European language, due to his job 

He is very adverse to the idea of eating bugs, he isn’t scared of them but if someone offers him a bug he will be grossed out.

He is the kind of person to not only catch and release bugs he finds inside but he will have little convos with them too

You’ll hear in the other room “hello there my miniature friend.’’ And as he takes them outside “ I’m very sorry but you cannot stay here.” 

His approach to flying bugs is far different, he will take NO PRISONERS

He is very efficient with a fly swatter and knows all the concoctions to lure and kill flys fruit or other wise 

He avoids using his hands cuz of the bug guts 

If you are afraid of bugs he will find it amusing but he won’t tease or torment you, he will just chuckle at how ridiculous you look up on the counter while he captures the invader.

He is very polite and kind to everyone he interacts with unless they have done something to warrant other wise 

He will use French sayings in English  instead of the English one because he is convinced that “ they are far superior” 

Pins and needles are now ants, it’s raining ropes not animals, forget apples and trees, dogs don’t make cats.

If you use the English versions he will argue the French version is better 

“ bolt of lightning explans the felling of it, love at first sight is so bland.’’

Please convert he will find it unendingly adorable every time 

He does get cuteness aggression and will randomly shove his face into your chest and aggressively nuzzle into you whist squeezing you and violently kicking his legs and making a happy humming 

He will be embarrassed the first few times he does this 

He will get cuteness aggression from your cuteness aggression 

If you bite him he will be very confused but won’t care all that much so long as you aren’t hurting him

You will probably be taller then him and honestly he likes it that way because when you hug him he feels like momentarily  he is a totally encased by you 

You can carry him but only certain ways

No toddler hold, with one arm and him on your hip 

Piggy backs, shoulder sitting and standing are encouraged 

You can only sling him over your shoulder in emergency’s 

Same with under your arm 

He doesn’t like princess carry’s cuz he can’t hold on to much and he wants to touch with  max surface area

Carrying him by his armpits away from you has the same problem, he will struggle 

He does enjoy if you hug carry him with both arms, either his face in on your chest or resting on your shoulder 

I have made a helpful diagram ( I can draw but it’s just stick me cuz I’m lazy)

He will randomly start monologueing if given the opportunity 

He will tell you about being an assassin but only if you ask 

I think he is more likely to be with Someone who has prior experience with fighting

He feels nauseous after producing bubbles 

He will lean on or try to be touching you while he recovers 

You cannot truly surprise him, he will know something is up the moment you even begin to plan 

He knows because you act slightly different 

And hiding  or sneaking something past him is also impossible 

He has to actively try to avoid finding out what your doing 

You’ve snuck something into the garage, I guess he isn’t going In There for a while 

Hiding something behind your back, he isn’t even gonna face your direction while you hide it 

You cannot sneak up on him either 

When you try he will scare you by suddenly turning around and grabbing you 

On the other hand he has  scared and surprised you accidentally many times 

hope you enjoy and this inspires more fic to be written of bullfrog

[quizzicalwriter]

can you please write a dallas winston x fem!reader smut where he likes has super aggressive sex with reader with praise (and a lot of squ!rt!ng) thank you!

PDA

Pairing: Dallas Winston x Fem!Reader

Summary: Playfully flirting to make Dallas jealous? At a party no less? Scandalous.

Warnings: SMUT. MDNI. This is pure, unadulterated filth. Kissing, touching, blowjobs, squirting, mirror sex, all that good stuff.

A/N: Thank you for the request! All these requests have me looking in dictionaries for synonyms. Thank you all for the broadening of my literacy even if it’s centered around filth. Second part can be found here!

Word Count: 2.6k

Three shots, that’s all you’d promised yourself you’d do when you and Dallas arrived at the house. But, as always, you weren’t the best judge of what you’d do when the circumstances shifted into something more chaotic. After all, how could you turn down Two-Bit when he was proudly flaunting his latest creation? You’d have been better off heeding the warning from Sodapop, his face twisted into a grimace as he took a sip. 

“What is that?” He asked through a hoarse groan, words followed by a cough as he placed the remainder on the counter. You’d seen all the guys drink their fair share of straight liquor, but you’d never seen such an adverse reaction before. It made you laugh as you leaned against Dallas’s side, all of you looking at Two-Bit who stood with a proud smile on his face. 

“Everything!” He exclaimed, words already semi-slurred. “Found all the bottles, mixed them.” 

You could hear Sodapop groan, his brows furrowing as he moved from the kitchen. Steve moved in, taking a cup from Two-Bit who’d mixed everything into a punch bowl, which you were fairly certain he’d stolen, but you’d ask about that later. Steve seemed to take it well, only shaking his head with a coughed-out laugh. 

Throughout your relationship with Dallas, you’d grown used to the boys, quickly growing close with some of them as well, close enough to do foolish things alongside them if prompted. Two-Bit turned to you then, extending out a cup to which Dallas quickly put his hand out, blocking the cup with a gruff, “Fuck no, she’s not drinking that shit.”

You looked up at him, feeling rather rebellious that night, so you pushed his hand away and grabbed the cup for yourself. Two-Bit cheered, moving back to Steve as the two conversed over what all went into the bowl. Dallas rolled his eyes, looking away from you as you took a quick sip from the cup. Sodapop was right to make the face he had, yours quickly twisted up as you struggled to keep the mixture in your mouth. 

“See?” Dallas laughed, moving to grab the cup, only for you to pull it back and away from him. “Fine, drink it.” He muttered. 

It was awful, but you were stubborn. You’d drank nearly half the cup before your stomach warned you if you drank another you’d be spending the night in the bathroom. However, whatever had been in the cup had done its job of getting you tipsy, and that’s all you cared about. 

Time always moved odd whenever you found yourself drunk, minutes passing like hours, only for you to look back at the clock and realize it was nearly two in the morning. You’d been dancing with someone you’d presumed was Dallas, only to realize halfway through that it was most definitely not Dallas. For some reason you didn’t push him away, your tipsy mind convincing you it’d be hot to see Dallas jealous. 

What you didn’t consider was how violently jealous Dallas got, the thought not crossing your mind until you felt yourself shoved forward. You turned to see the guy who’d been dancing with you on his ass, Dallas standing directly over him. You cursed under your breath, moving to Dallas's side, grabbing his arm as you tugged him away. 

“Dal-“ You sputtered out, looking down at the poor guy who had a noticeable bruise forming along his cheekbone. “Not his fault.”

Dallas turned to you then, clearly pissed. “The hell were you doing dancing with him? Letting him touch you?”

The plan was stupid from the start, but only now were you realizing just how stupid it was. You swallowed, throat suddenly dry as you looked down at his chest, focusing on his necklace as you replied. “Wanted to see you jealous.” 

To your surprise Dallas sighed, head tilting back as he steadied his breathing. He looked back at you, raising a hand to cup your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him. His eyes were no longer angry, still irritated, but not angry. “You’re mine, alright? I don’t like people touching what’s mine.”

The words caused your stomach to flutter, a smile you quickly tried to hide crossing your features as you met his gaze. He noticed, smiling himself as he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. As he pulled away you leaned into his touch, savoring the warmth from his palms against your skin. 

“Yours.”

Dallas intertwined his fingers with yours, placing his cigarette between his lips as he led you through the crowd. You didn’t know where he planned on taking you, but you felt your thighs clenching with each step, trying to quell the growing ache at the sight of Dallas being so fiercely protective over you. You passed by several couples pressed against the wall, one girl, in particular, you were fairly certain was being fingered out in the open, but you simply averted your gaze as Dallas pulled you into a nearby bathroom. 

“I don’t have to pee.” You stated, looking up to Dallas. Your confusion was precious to him, causing him to stifle a laugh as he exhaled a lungful of smoke around his cigarette. 

“Didn’t bring you in here to piss, doll.”

His words registered quickly, even with your mind in the tipsy state it found itself in. You smiled up at him, feeling yourself growing wetter at the way his eyes raked over your form. 

The noise outside the bathroom was loud enough to conceal anything you two might do, but the risk of being caught, walked in on, being overheard - all of it only served to strengthen the pang of arousal between your legs, leaving you beyond eager to drop to your knees against the cool tile if it meant having him down your throat. 

He turned his gaze to the sink, snubbing his cigarette out against the porcelain, hardly having noticed you’d sunk to your knees until you began undoing his belt. He smiled down at you, tilting his head to the side as he raised a hand to cup your jaw, thumb brushing against your lower lip. You parted your lips, taking his thumb into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the digit as you kept his gaze. 

He whined, brows furrowing as your hands moved to his abdomen, pushing his shirt up to expose his stomach. You leaned up on your knees, kissing down his stomach until you reached his jeans, slowly unbuttoning them in between each kiss. His hands moved to your hair, fingers threading through your hair to grab at the roots, the pain causing you to whine out a breath of air. 

“You that desperate?” He asked through a laugh, clearly not wanting to admit how much of an effect your actions had on him. “Go ahead, doll.” 

You smiled, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as you unzipped his jeans, his cock already straining against the fabric of his boxers, precum dampening the fabric near his tip. You pressed a kiss to his tip through his boxers, the feeling causing him to gasp, his grip on your hair tightening. 

“Stop teasing.” He groaned, hand moving to push his thumb into your mouth, pressing down against your tongue as he pulled down his boxers himself. You didn’t move away from his hold, even as your spit dribbled down your chin and onto your breasts. He pumped himself lazily, causing a whine of need to die in your throat as you shifted on your knees. 

“Open.” He murmured, removing his hand from your face. You didn’t need to be told twice, immediately opening your mouth as you continued looking up at him, feeling yourself clench around nothing in anticipation of the feeling of him fucking your throat. He smiled down at you at the quickness of your actions, seemingly proud as he pressed his tip against your tongue, the warmth of your mouth causing his eyes to flutter. 

Whatever warmth was in his eyes mere seconds prior was gone the moment you wrapped your lips around his tip, languidly licking a stripe up his slit. His grasp on your hair tightened, hips flexing under the flickering fluorescent light above the bathroom sink. His free hand moved to your cheek, giving it a gentle pat, a condescending sigh passing his lips before he roughly thrusted into your mouth. You could feel the burn down your throat, back involuntarily tensing as his navel touched your nose, cock nestled in your throat. 

“Fuck-“ He croaked out, taking in a shuddering breath. “You want to flirt in front of me, doll? Do they know whose cock you’re choking on? Huh?”

Your hands flew behind you, hands clasping each other as you tried to refrain from pushing him away, wanting to be good for him. After all, you’d done what you’d done for a reason, and this was it. He pulled out after a moment, a loud gasp for air tearing its way from your chest. He only smiled, hardly giving you a second of reprieve before pushing into your mouth again, the salty taste of his precum coating your tongue as he gave into his desires, grunting out your name in between broken words of praise as he fucked your throat. 

Your eyes watered, blurring the vision of him pumping himself down your throat. You blinked away the tears, your mascara smearing down your skin. The sight caused him to snicker, thumb gently wiping away your tears as he continued fucking your mouth, tongue flat against the underside of his cock, trying desperately to take all of him. The look of you on your knees with his cock nestled in your throat was enough to make him cum, but he didn’t want to, not yet anyway. With a sharp grunt, he pulled out of your throat, causing you to sputter out a series of coughs, hands moving to wipe away your tears before looking back up to him. 

“C’mon, bend over the counter.” He stated, extending a hand down to help you up from the floor. Before you’d even had the chance to breathe he had you bent over the porcelain sink. Only then did you realize there was a mirror, horribly smudged and cracked in certain places, but you could see your fucked out reflection clear as day. It made you blush, gaze averting from the sight. He caught on quickly, fingers threading through your hair once more, pulling it back to ensure you stared at yourself while he fucked you. 

“What?” He asked, tone close to a coo, the sound causing your stomach to flip with arousal. He pulled down your jeans and underwear, tossing the bundled clothes to a nearby corner before moving back behind you, hand steady on your hip. “Don’t want to watch yourself getting fucked, doll?” 

You’d opened your mouth to respond, but all that came out was a broken moan as he pushed himself into you, burying his cock to the hilt within your cunt. You could see his smile in the reflection of the mirror, eyes set on you as he started moving his hips. The cold porcelain of the countertop bit into your thighs, but the arousal and sight of him fucking you outweighed any feeling of pain.

“That’s it, sweetheart.” He whispered, words breaking off into a grunt as he slammed into you. You were sure anyone near the bathroom could hear you two, if not his words then your desperate moans and the sound of skin meeting skin. Neither of you were trying to be discreet, simply focused on making the other cum. “Taking my cock so good, like you were made for it.”

His arm wrapped around your waist, hand trailing down to the top of your cunt where he began swirling his fingers around your clit, a cut-off laugh leaving him as his fingers slid against your skin, cunt coated in a mixture of your cum and his. A moan akin to a mewl fell from your lips at the feeling, unable to look away from yourself as he fucked you, cock stretching you out and nudging against a spot within you that had your legs wobbling beneath you. 

A feeling you didn’t recognize began to build in your lower stomach, a pressure that had you whining. He only picked up his pace, tip hitting near your cervix with each thrust, shaft brushing against that same fucking spot. Before you could stop yourself you were cumming around him, a drawn-out moan ripping its way from your chest as your cunt fluttered around him. You felt your thighs shaking beneath you, hands shooting out to stabilize yourself against the counter as the feeling flowed through you. 

You’d hardly realized Dallas had gone wide-eyed until you looked up at him, and then you realized just how wet your legs were, as well as the floor beneath you. Dallas laughed then, smiling at you before pushing himself back in. 

“Came so hard you pushed me out, doll.” He murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to your shoulder. “Soaked yourself, got it on my jeans.” 

You could only muster a near-silent apology, words soon cut off by a whimper as he resumed his previous pace, every feeling magnified by overstimulation. His hand moved from your hair to your throat, pulling your back flush against his chest as he rutted into you, curving his hips to push himself deeper inside of you. Your hands moved to his forearm, watching your reflection in a dazed state, any words you tried to utter coming out a slurred mess. 

His grasp on your throat tightened, your breath being cut off doing nothing to deter him as he chased his orgasm. Just as your vision began to blur you felt his cock twitch inside of you followed by a litany of curses as he flooded your cunt with his cum. His hand moved from your throat to smooth down your stomach as he pressed gentle kisses to the back of your shoulders, whispering words of praise against your damp skin. 

“So good-“ He whispered, voice hoarse. “So fuckin’ good, doll.”

You tilted your head back, capturing his lips against your own. The kiss was messy, it made you clench around his cock as he pulled out, cum dripping down the inside of your thighs. You felt him laugh, the noise filling the silence between you two as he grabbed a nearby towel, wiping down your thighs and legs. 

“Can’t believe you did that.” He murmured, looking up at you as he helped you to step back into your underwear and jeans. “Squirted all over me, down your legs. Even got the floor wet.”

His words were laced with gentle laughs, but the faint flush on his cheeks told you enough, he’d found it hotter than he’d be willing to admit. Something told you that he’d be trying to make you do it more often in the future. Before you could linger on the thought a loud series of knocks sounded on the door, followed by an incredibly irritated-sounding voice. 

“You two done? I gotta piss!” Shouted a voice, causing both you and Dallas to freeze. You scrambled to button your jeans while Dallas simply pulled his up, opening the bathroom door with an overtly proud smile. Your eyes locked with Two-Bit, an incredibly drunk and now embarrassed Two-Bit. “Jesus Christ, I’ll go piss in the yard.”

You could only laugh at his words as Dallas closed the door, turning to you with a smile as he buttoned his jeans. His hands moved to cup your jaw as he kissed your forehead, smiling against your skin before pulling away with a simple, “Mine.”

“Yours.” You replied. 

A/N: Thank you for the request and for reading - even if you simply skim over it, I appreciate the interactions nonetheless! As always you can find my work posted over on ao3 under the username “Unscriptural.” I hope you all enjoy this one, it took a while to write and a fair bit of revisions, but I’m happy with it!

[quilly72]

"And don't even think about doing anything sexual while on these pills... Okay?. .. I need to know that you understand me. These pills are still in tesfing and reports of sexual acts while on this medication have led to... Adverse effects. "

Liz smiled as her doctor continued blabbering on about these new hormone pills she was to go on. She smiled and nodded as she imagined how much better off she would be with these pills. Her fertility would double, her estrogen levels would hop up, and she would feel more feminine.

It was a bit weird however to not orgasm while under their effects however given they were strictly marketed towards making sex more fun and increasing sexual energy.

The doctor stared at her till she snapped back to him. "Did you hear what I said"

"yeah, yeah no sex no nothing... Abstinence only just like my school taught me"

The doctor cupped the pills into her hand "1 a day and we see each other in a week to make sure nothing weird happens".

Liz took the pills and walked out as she made her goodbyes. Walking out to her car where she greedily flipped the bottle over and over again. "This will be fun" she chuckled.

Liz arrived home late as she brushed past her bf and into the bathroom. She slipped her cardigan and pants off as she pulled her shirt up revealing her undergarments. She snapped a picture as she sent it to her bf only a couple feet away. Be ready in 5 it read.

Liz smirked as she heard the chair fly back and footsteps heavily run past the bathroom and up the stairs.

She snickered as she reached into her pocket and put her clothes back on. She read the instructions "1 a day... Seems too little l, 2 or 3 won't hurt. " She popped 3 in her mouth as they sizzled on her tongue. Their sweet flavor washing over her tongue and throat as she exhaled.

She clutched her body as she felt it heat up in response. A soft coo leaving her lips as she braced herself against the sink counter. The effects hit her like a truck as she felt her pussy throb and ebb. Her mind clouded by impure thoughts as she rubbed herself through her jeans.

Lizi regathered herself as she opened the bathroom door and flew upstairs ready for her long awaited sexy time.

The door flung open as it banged against the wall. She stepped in hastily as the door rebounded shut behind her. She peered towards the bed her bf laying in. Wait his erection throbbing through his underwear. She crawled towards him leaning on the bed as she crept over him. Face to face she lowered herself down as she crept her hands downward to undo her pants button.

Her bf helped as he drew her shirt off her body and pulled her pants off. Liz lay down on him as her panties were lowered to expose herself.

The pleasure was instantaneous as she felt him enter her. Each thrust bringing her closer to orgasm as the pills did their work. Liz bit her tongue as she clutched his body and pulled taught. Gripping anything to brace herself. She struggled to breathe as she gasped for air in-between moans. "So... Good" she muttered

Liz contorted her face as the pleasure built her body folding to the heat and pleasure. "So close."

She eyed her bf who was also getting close to orgasm as she sped up her moaning. Her toes clenched as he leaned up. Her legs wrapping around his back as she sat on him. She whimpered as she felt her body tense up. The heat rapidly spreading across every inch of her skin. Her body vibrating in anticipation.

"I'm... Gonna... I'm getting close... I'm... CUMMING!"

Liz opened her mouth as she moaned outward her voice billowing throughout the room. Her eyes shut tight as she tried to hold the pleasure in just a bit longer. As she orgasmed. Her body tensed up and seemed to stretch out as if she had just grown. Her panties and bra feeling tighter as she folded on top of him as he shot out into her.

His cum shooting inside of her as her eyes shot open. Something was off but she couldn't quite place it. Her bf fell back as she landed on him. Their heads brushing each other as he drowned in her hair. She sat up his dick still in her as she felt her body tense up. "What is happening... Why do I feel so weir..."

Liz shot up. Her eyesight stretching upwards as she grew. Her boobs bulged over her bra as she clutched her chest. A coo leaving her body as she yelped. Her panties tore slightly as her butt stretched out. Her legs slithering across the bedsheets as she sat up on the bed.

Her bf stared up at her wideyed. "What was that" he immediately started getting hard again inside of her as he throbbed.

Liz folded downwards, collapsing on him as her body felt a wave of pleasure fall on her. His dick pleasuring her as he grew inside of her. Liz moaned and bit her lip as she tried to hold it back. "Feels... So good"

Her body heated up as he continued to lengthen on her. Wave after wave hitting her as she clenched her body. "Can't stop.... I'm gonna... GrOooOw"

Liz shot up again. Her back stretching as her bra strained against her body. Hugging her chest tightly as her panties ripped off of her. Her eyes darted around the room as she tried to adjust herself to her new height. Even sitting on the bed she had to be atleast a foot taller than she had been.

She leaned forward as she exhaled and focused on breathing. Her body swaying from the exertion. She clutched the bed tightly as she looked down at her bf lost in pleasure

"look at me HEY look at me" his eyes snapped to her "I think I'm growing and I need you to focus"

"no shit your growing... Your smothering me"

Liz looked down to see her butt enveloping his legs. His blood flow likely having been cut off. She tried to raise herself up as she felt his dick twitch in the movement. They both clenched their faces as they felt the pleasure grow. Wave after wave of pleasure shot off in her ody as she tensed up again. Her eyes clasped shut as she gritted her teeth. "NoooOOoo" she moaned.

She stretched upwards as she grew. Her feet inching off the bed as she grew further. Her head soaring past his as her boobs going above him. Her bra snapped off on his face as he grimaced. "Can't hold it" his dick heated up as he dare not move a muscle the heat building up as she throbbed and grew on top of him. Her weight smothering him as she hit 7 ft tall.

Liz peered. Down at him as she bent her head forward to see him. "Don't do it." She pleaded. "I'm not sure how much worse this will get.. or if I can stop."

Her bf barely listened as he clenched the bed his teeth gritting. His dick throbbing for release. Liz tried to move herself again. But every movement sent more pleasure through her body and her bf closer to failure. " I can't keep growing... Please" she pleaded. Her body tightened as wave after wave hit her again. She exhaled as her body spasmed for release. Her bf straining himself blue as he struggled. "Almost there... I almost got it..."

Her bf moaned as his body relaxed. Liz felt a warm thick liquid spray inside her. "I'm sorry" he muttered. Liz flew off of him as she stood up. "What did you do to... Me..."

Her voice trailing off as she felt her body heat up. Her knees wobbled and her body spasmed as she leaned back on the wall. She braced herself against it as she began moaning. Her face clenched as her eyes shut again. Her entire body shaking as she felt her body radiate heat. "Oh my god... I'm cumming... Feels so good... I'm gonna groOOow.!"

Liz barely had time to react as her body sprang up. Her head denting the ceiling as she flew upwards. Her feet stretching across the carpet before she fell to her knees. Her bed being pushed aside as she grew against it. Her bf shot up as he rushed backwards. Liz continuing to stretch across the room. Her legs rubbing against the carpet as they slithered against it. Her spamming as she fell to all 4s "I can't stop... Go get the pills in the bathroom... CALL MY DOCTOR!"

Her bf flew out as he rushed downstairs.

Liz leaned back up as her head brushed the ceiling from a kneeling position. She fell to her haunches as she came down from her high.

She focused on breathing as her body tensed up again.

Her eyes shooting open wide as she felt her body heat up again. "No no no.. please stop." She held it back as she bit her lip again. Her eyes clasping shit as she gripped the carpet nearly ripping it off the floor. Her body shook in protest as it tried to lash out. She shook the entire room wobbling as the ground creaked underneath her. She moaned through gritted teeth as she shook. Her body begging for release. She heard her bf run up the stairs as her body released its energy.

Evenon all 4s her head and neck hit the ceiling. She yelped as she felt her head bend it back. She crouched down further as she stretched across the room. Her boobs billowing out as her feet pinned the door shut. Her bf pounded on it as he tried to push it open.

Liz tried to move but even the slightest movement sent pleasure throughout her body. Enough to where she lost strength in her arms. Her body crushing the bed as she fell on it. She tensed up again "oh no"

Liz lurched again. Her head bumping the outer wall as her butt bent the ceiling. "I'm running out of room"

Her feet bent the door till it snapped open her bf falling back as the pills flew everywhere. He picked up what he could as he saw several disappear underneath her growing legs. Crushing and turning to powder as they stick to her skin. Liz crammed herself in the room as she contorted her body. "What happened"

She heard her bf run away as she began trembling. Her body heating up. Liz cooed and moaned as her body tightened. Her body flexing and spasming. Every twitch sending a flurry of pleasure across her. She squirmed as her legs flew in the hallway knocking walls and furniture over. The floor groaned underneath as she made an o face her eyes shut tight. Her arms pinned under her as she struggled to brace herself.

"oh my gooood. It feels so... Fuuuuck... I'm gonna... I'm gonna... Cum"

Her body twitches as she released her pleasure. Her body immediately filling the room as the ground collapsed under her.

Her bf watched from outside as he popped a couple pills back down his throat. All he heard were primal moans as the house bent outward.

Meanwhile inside Liz wrestled her body as she outgrew room after room. Her moans of pleasure mixed in with pain as she grew further and further. Her body tensed up as. Boom

Her feet grew out the front. Her head braced against the attic as she bent it down "please no... Please"

Her body didn't listen her head soaring out of the house as she stared wide eyed outside. Her arms flung outside next as her boobs pushed out of the roof as well. Wave after wave hitting her until the house fell on her body. She stared out into the crowd that had formed as her bf ejaculated through his pants. His body lurching up to 8 ft tall as his clothes ripped off of him.

Liz rolled her eyes as she motioned for the pills. Those are for me"

Her body tensed up as she felt her body heat up. ":I guess I'm not done" she smirked as she felt her body lurch up again.