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#and makes it seem like nothing good actually exists
carmyboobear · 2 days
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Blood Orange (Ch 1: The Walk-In)
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Carmy Berzatto x Reader (R18)
Rating: E (7.3k words)
links: fic playlist, pinterest board, ao3 link
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
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Text
The Crow Road by Iain Banks
I finished The Crow Road and had a little time to think about it. I'll put my thoughts under a Keep Reading in case anyone is trying to avoid spoilers.
As I speculated before, I think it's likely that The Crow Road is more related to Good Omens in philosophy than in plot. I mean, it's not that the plots necessarily have nothing in common, and we could be very surprised in the end of course, but now that I've read the whole book, its philosophical commonalities with GO are both apparent and kind of inspiring. Also, if I were a writer, I'd be more interested in dropping hints about what themes are important than telegraphing my whole plot ahead of time.
So here, I will describe the book and point out themes that I believe may reappear in Good Omens 3.
This is a long post. If you read it, make a cup of [beverage of choice].
Below are mentions of suicide, death/murder, and sexual acts.
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The Crow Road centers around a character named Prentice McHoan, a university student in Scotland who starts to sort out his complicated relationship with his complicated family as he explores the mystery of his uncle Rory's disappearance. Although the book is mostly from Prentice's perspective, the narration jumps around in time with the McHoan family. There are quite a lot of important characters to keep track of; the bare-bones summary I put below doesn't even include some of the important ones. I wanted to make the summary even shorter and simpler than this, but the truth is that this book is not short or simple, and if I made the summary any simpler, it might be downright misleading.
There are at least three major cultural aspects of The Crow Road that I am inexperienced with: the overall culture in the 1950s-1980s (I was born in 1988, so of course wasn't here for the relevant decades), the international experience of the Gulf War (again, born in 1988), and the history and culture of Scotland itself (I'm USAmerican with only reading as a source). As a result, I'm sure there are important dimensions to the book that I've missed. If someone has a different perspective taking some of these things into account, I'd love to know about it.
Also, keep in mind, there is a great deal of descriptive writing in this book. There are a lot of pages about the geography of Scotland, and about Prentice as a kid, and about Prentice's father and uncles hanging out together in their youth, and about various family incidents, and about Prentice spending time with his brothers and friends. At first, these passages seem to just make things more confusing, and in my head, I accused them of being "filler." But they definitely serve a purpose. They're a way of showing and not telling the characters' attitudes and relationships to each other. More importantly, because we get to actually live these experiences with the characters, they are what give all the plot points below their deeper emotional impacts. In other words, the everyday experiences give the plot its deeper meaning. They resonate with one of the core themes in the novel: that our experiences in life, rather than any supposed existence after death, are what matters.
The Crow Road's story is like this:
Prentice is rather directionless in life, and he seems to have trouble investing any energy in his own future as he moons over his unrequited feelings for an idealized young woman named Verity. Soon, Verity ends up in a romance with Prentice's brother, Lewis, and Prentice feels that Lewis "stole" her from him. Prentice has also become estranged from his father, Kenneth, over spirituality. Prentice believes there has to be something more after death because he feels it would be incredibly unfair if people didn't get anything other than this one life; Kenneth is not only a passionate atheist, but is offended by the notion of an afterlife.
Prentice's uncle Hamish, Kenneth's brother, has always been religious, although his religion involves a number of bizarre and offbeat ideas of his own, with inspiration from more traditional Christian notions. Prentice is not really sure about this ideology, but he's willing to talk to Hamish about it and even participates during Hamish's prayers, whereas Kenneth is openly scornful of Hamish's beliefs. Hamish interprets this as Prentice being on "his side."
Prentice has a few opportunities to go back and talk to his father, and is begged to do so by his mom, Mary, with whom his relationship is still good. Mary doesn't want either of the men to give up their inner ideas about the universe; she just wants them to agree to disagree and move on as a family. Prentice says he will visit, but he just keeps putting it off and off and off.
Prentice acquires a folder containing some of his missing uncle Rory's notes in the process of hooking up with Rory's former girlfriend, Janice Rae, who seems to have taken a shine to Prentice because he reminds her of Rory. Using the contents of the folder, Prentice wants to piece together the great literary work that Rory left unfinished, which Rory titled Crow Road; however, it becomes apparent that Rory didn't turn his concepts into anything substantial and only had a bunch of disconnected notes and ideas. He hadn't even decided whether Crow Road would be a novel, a play, or something else. The few bits of Rory's poetry for Crow Road read are bleak and depressing.
Prentice also spends a lot of time with a young woman named Ash. They've been good friends since childhood and seem to have a somewhat flirtatious dynamic now, but they aren't in a romantic relationship; mostly, they drink and hang out together. Ash tells Prentice bluntly to get his life back on track when she finds out he's failing at school, avoiding his family, and engaging in shoplifting. She is a voice of reason, and when Prentice insists to her that he's just a failure, she reminds him that actually, he's just a kid.
Prentice's efforts to figure out Rory's story or location stagnate, and he continues to fail at school and avoid his father. He then receives word that Kenneth was killed while debating faith with Hamish. In fact, Kenneth dies after a fall from a church lightning rod, which he was climbing in an act of defiance against Hamish's philosophy when it was struck by lightning; Hamish is convinced that Kenneth had incurred God's wrath. Ash is there for support when Prentice finds out about the death.
With Ash's help, Prentice returns to his hometown again to help manage Kenneth's affairs. Prentice speaks with a very shaken Hamish, who is handling Kenneth's death with extreme drama and making it all about his own feelings. Hamish tells Prentice that Kenneth was jealous that Prentice shared more in common with Hamish's faith than with Kenneth's lack of faith. However, this isn't really true, and as he contemplates his father's death, Prentice begins to internalize one of the last things Hamish reported that Kenneth had argued: "All the gods are false. Faith itself is idolatry."
As the chapters go on, Prentice is compelled by some of the meaningful items related to Rory that he discovers in his father's belongings. He gains a renewed sense of purpose trying to solve the mystery of where Rory went and what happened to him. Among the interesting items are an ancient computer disk of Rory's that Prentice can't access with any equipment he can find; Ash uses her connections in the US and Canada to find a computer expert who can finally open the files on it. This takes quite a while, since the disk has to be mailed and Ash's connection is investigating the disk only in his free time.
Prentice also discovers that his feelings for Verity have changed. He no longer feels angry with Lewis for "stealing her." At first, Prentice's narration describes this as his feelings "cooling" as a result of the trauma of losing his father, but interestingly, this soon means Prentice gets to know Verity as a sister-in-law without getting caught up in jealous romantic feelings. Verity gets along well with the family, and Prentice is actually happy to discover that she and Lewis have a baby on the way. Prentice's relationship with Lewis improves greatly as well, partly because he is no longer jealous and partly because he realizes he does not want to lose Lewis, too.
Ash's connection who was looking at Rory's computer disk comes through and sends the printed contents of the files to Prentice. The files reveal to him that Rory likely knew Prentice's uncle, Ferg, murdered his wife by unbuckling her seat belt and crashing their car. Rory had written out a fictional version of events and considered using it in Crow Road. I'm not clear on exactly how certain Rory was about Ferg's crime, or whether Rory would have intentionally reported Ferg, or whether Rory even had enough proof to publicly accuse Ferg of murder, but people would likely have connected the dots in Rory's work and become suspicious of Ferg. For this reason, Prentice believes Ferg murdered Rory as well.
Prentice confronts Ferg. He doesn't get a confession and leaves Ferg's home with no concrete proof of anything; Ferg denies it all. But Prentice is soon physically assaulted in the night, and it seems Ferg was almost certainly the culprit, because he hadn't been home that same night, and he had injuries (probably from being fought off) the next day. A day or two later, Ferg's body is found unconscious in the cockpit of a plane, which crashes into the ocean. It's uncertain whether this was a suicide, but Prentice suspects it was. Rory's body is then soon recovered from the bottom of a waterway near Prentice's home, where Ferg had sunk it years ago.
As the mysteries are solved, Prentice realizes his feelings for Ash are romantic love. However, it's too late, he thinks, because Ash is about to take a job in Canada, where she may or may not stay. Prentice also hesitates to approach her because he's embarrassed about his previous behavior, venting all his angst about Verity and his father. He isn't sure she would even want to be in a relationship with him after that. But the very night before Ash leaves, she kisses Prentice on the cheek, which leads to a deeper kiss. They finally connect, have sex, and confess their mutual feelings. Ash still goes to her job in Canada, but says she'll come back when Prentice is done with his studies that summer.
The relationship's future is somewhat uncertain because something could come up while Ash is in Canada, but Prentice is hopeful. The book ends with Prentice getting ready to graduate with his grades on track as a history scholar, fully renouncing his belief in an afterlife while he acknowledges the inherent importance of our experiences in our lives now, and enjoying his time with Lewis and Verity and his other family members.
What's the point of all these hundreds of pages?
Well, look at all of the above; there's definitely more than one point. But the main point I took away is that we get this one life, with our loved ones in this world here and now, and this is where we make our meanings. There is no other meaning, but that doesn't mean there's no meaning at all. It means the meaning is here.
It's not death that gives life its meaning. It's the things we do while alive that give life its deeper meaning.
The Crow Road is described (on Wikipedia) as a Bildungsroman, a story focusing on the moral and philosophical growth and change of its main character as they transition from childhood to adulthood ("coming-of-age novel" is a similar term that is interchangeable, but more vague and not necessarily focused on morality/philosophy). And, indeed, all of the plots ultimately tie into Prentice's changed philosophy.
After his argument with Kenneth, Prentice feels childish and humiliated, and as a result, he refuses to go back home, which leads to a spiral of shame and depression. Kenneth dies and Prentice realizes it's too late to repair the relationship, which also leads him to realize it's what we do in life that matters, and that therefore, his father's argument was correct after all.
At the end of the novel, Prentice outright describes his new philosophy. However, I can't recall one specific passage where Prentice describes the process of how he changed his mind (if anyone else can remember something I missed, do let me know). There is, however, a moment when his narration indicates that Hamish seems less disturbed by his own part in the incident that led to Kenneth's death and more disturbed by the notion that his beliefs might actually be true: there might actually be an angry, vengeful God. In other words, Hamish's philosophy was selfish at its core.
My interpretation is that when his father died, Prentice realized three things: how utterly self-serving Hamish's devout faith is, how Kenneth's untimely death proves the importance of working things out now rather than in an imaginary afterlife, and how much profound meaning Kenneth had left behind despite having no faith at all. After these realizations, a determined belief in an afterlife no longer makes our lives here more profound like Prentice once thought it did.
Also, it's worth noting that this incident changes Prentice's idea of partnership, too. He loses interest in this distant, idealized woman he's been after. In love as in the rest of life, Prentice lets go of his ideals, and in doing so, he makes room for true meaning, both in a sincere familial, platonic connection with Verity and a sincere intimate, romantic connection with Ash.
But what about the sex scene?!
Yes, indeed, at the tail end of the story, Prentice and Ash have sex and admit they want to be in a relationship together. Prentice's narration describes them sleeping together and having intercourse not just once, but many times, including some slow and relaxed couplings during which they flex the muscles in their private parts to spell out "I.L.Y." and "I.L.Y.T." to each other in Morse code. This is relevant because earlier, they had been surprised and delighted to discover that they both knew Morse code; it isn't a detail that came from nowhere.
I didn't get the impression that this scene was trying to be especially titillating to the reader. It was mostly just a list of stuff the characters did together. I felt the point was that they were still anxious about being emotionally honest, a little desperate to convey their feelings without having to speak them out loud, and awkward in a way that made it obvious that their primary concern was the feelings, not the sexual performance. They cared about each other, but they weren't trying to be impressive or put on a show; contrast this with previous scenes where Prentice would act like a clown in front of Ash to diffuse his own anxiety. I've always thought that being able to have awkward sex and still enjoy it is a good sign.
Okay, so what does this all have to do with Good Omens?
Here's where I have to get especially interpretive. I'm doing my best, but of course, not everyone reading this will have the same perspective on Good Omens, the Final Fifteen especially. I believe similar themes are going to resonate between The Crow Road and Good Omens regardless of our particular interpretations of the characters' behavior and motivations, but I suppose it could hit differently for some people.
The TL;DR: I see similar themes between The Crow Road and Good Omens in:
The importance of mortal life on Earth
Meaning (or purpose) as something that we create as we live, not something that is handed to us by a supreme being
Sincere connection and love/passion (for people, causes, arts, life's work, etc) as a type of meaning/purpose
Relationships as reflections of philosophy
The dual nature of humanity
Life on Earth as the important part of existence is a core theme in Good Omens, and has been since the very beginning. We all already know Adam chose to preserve the world as it already is because he figured this out, and we all already know Aziraphale and Crowley have been shaped for the better by their experiences on Earth. But Good Omens isn't done with this theme by a long shot. I think this is the most important thematic commonality Good Omens will have with The Crow Road. Closely related is the notion that we create our meanings as we live, rather than having them handed to us. Isn't this, in a way, what Aziraphale struggles with in A Companion to Owls? He's been given this meaning, this identity, that doesn't fit him. But does he have anything else to be? Not yet.
Partnerships as a parallel to the characters' philosophical development also resonates as a commonality that The Crow Road may have with Good Omens. Prentice's obsession with Verity goes away when he starts to embrace the importance of life on Earth and makes room for his sincere relationship with Ash. Note their names: "Verity" is truth, an ideal Prentice's father instills in him; "Ashley" means "dweller in the ash tree meadow" in Anglo-Saxon, according to Wikipedia, and "ash" is one of the things people return to after death. Prentice literally trades his high ideals for life on Earth. We see in Aziraphale a similar tug-o'-war between Heaven's distant ideals and Crowley's Earthly pleasures, so I can see a similar process potentially playing out for him.
I don't particularly recall a ton of thematic exploration of free will in The Crow Road. However, there is a glimmer of something there: Prentice feels excessively controlled by Kenneth's desire to pass down his beliefs, and part of the reason Prentice is so resistant to change is simply his frustration with feeling censored and not being taken seriously. As the reader, I do get the feeling that while Prentice is immature, Kenneth made major mistakes in handling their conflict, too. And Kenneth's mistakes come from trying to dictate Prentice's thoughts. There is likely some crossover with Good Omens in the sense that I'm pretty sure both stories are going to take the position that people need to be allowed to make mistakes, and to do things that one perceives as mistakes, without getting written off as "stupid" or "bad" or otherwise "unworthy."
Suffice it to say that the human characters in Good Omens will also certainly play into these themes, but it's hard to write about them when we don't know much about them except that one of them is almost certainly the reincarnation of Jesus. This also makes me suspect perhaps the human cast will be 100% entirely all-new, or mostly new, symbolic of how Aziraphale and Crowley have immersed themselves in the ever-evolving, ever-changing world of life on Earth. Alternatively, if we encounter human characters again from Season 1 or 2, perhaps the ways they've grown and changed will be highlighted. For example, even in real-world time, Adam and Warlock have already, as of the time I'm writing this, gone through at least one entire life stage (from 11 in 2019 to 16 in 2024). They'll be legal adults in a couple of years, and if there's a significant time skip, they could be much older. If characters from Season 1 do reappear and themes from The Crow Road are prominent, I would expect either some key scenes highlighting contrasts and changes from their younger selves or for stagnation and growth to be a central part of their plot.
The more I write, the more I just interpret everything in circles. Hopefully this post has at least given you a decent idea of what The Crow Road is like and how it may relate to Good Omens.
I'll end this post with a quotation that feels relevant:
Telling us straight or through his stories, my father taught us that there was, generally, a fire at the core of things, and that change was the only constant, and that we – like everybody else – were both the most important people in the universe, and utterly without significance, depending, and that individuals mattered before their institutions, and that people were people, much the same everywhere, and when they appeared to do things that were stupid or evil, often you hadn’t been told the whole story, but that sometimes people did behave badly, usually because some idea had taken hold of them and given them an excuse to regard other people as expendable (or bad), and that was part of who we were too, as a species, and it wasn’t always possible to know that you were right and they were wrong, but the important thing was to keep trying to find out, and always to face the truth. Because truth mattered. Iain Banks, The Crow Road
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comradekatara · 2 days
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what genres of music do you think the gaang would listen to? what about some of their favorite artists? i think katara would be a big olivia rodrigo fan and that aang would listen to a lot of taylor swift lol
aw come on now be nice to aang. he would have better taste than THAT. i think he would listen to a lot of disco, like donna summer. he would like upbeat funky music that you can dance to. and he’d have a pretty eclectic and varied music taste. like i see him also loving joanna newsom (and not just because divers is about his life). and maaayyybe he’d listen to taylor swift, like one or two songs perhaps, but his ass would NOT be a swiftie.
that said, katara would feel very passionately about her, although whether positively or negatively i do not know. but there is no way she is simply swift-neutral. she would care way too much about pop culture as a phenomenon. i think that even if she really did love taylor swift she’d always preface her name with “famous climate criminal…”
and look, i respect olivia rodrigo, i think she’s a talented performer and makes great songs for amvs (ty lee all american bitch kendall roy brutal nanami vampire, to name a few highlights), but if anything, katara would listen to actual 90s riot grrrl and female singer songwriters, because olivia is simply not as good as her inspirations.
katara would also listen to any music that has a subversive political message or is sung by a woman with eminently powerful vocals. so a combination of punk, folk, some gospel, some heavy metal, and a lot of r&b. also i think she’d listen to very specific shwotunes and defend those musicals with her life.
sokka doesn’t have a music “taste” he has one song that he plays on repeat for weeks until he gets sick of it. sometimes that song is a symphony by beethoven, and sometimes that song is “fireworks” by mitski (okay, it’s often “firework” by mitski). but his one constant is kate bush. he’s fucking obsessed with kate bush.
toph grew up a piano prodigy so she has a lot of opinions on classical music and that’s most of what she listens to for the first decade or so of her life. then she gets introduced to like, tracy chapman and fiona apple through katara and sokka, and realizes that classifying all music with lyrics as “trash” may have been a bit reductive. and when she gets a bit older she gets really into indie rock and begs sokka to take her to concerts. and he doesn’t even really care for the concerts. he just takes her because he knows how much she loves it.
zuko is a mitskigirl thru and thru. i know that ppl say he’d be emo and listen to mcr but that music is too coarse and unpolished for his sensitive ears. he likes music with a beautiful melancholy quality that makes him feel sad yet gorgeous. he also listens to jbrekkie and jay som and other musical equivalents to ocean vuong. he’s literally gaysian what do u want from him.
suki is by far the most into music of anyone in their friendgroup. music is one of her favorite things in the entire world, and if she couldn’t play and listen to music she wouldn’t even want to exist. she’s in an indie folk rock band with her friends called the kyoshi warriors, and they have a lot of followers on bandcamp. she has an incredibly varied and extensive music taste, which is why she’s basically always designated the aux cord. sometimes she’s playing the cranberries and sometimes she’s playing googoosh and sometimes she’s playing otyken. and her taste never misses.
ty lee is one of those freaks who doesn’t really listen to music by choice. instead, she listens to: true crime podcasts, audiobooks (eg, of lacanian psychoanalysis), or sometimes simply has her earbuds in with nothing actually playing so as to seem as if she isn’t eavesdropping on the conversations taking place in her vicinity. but when people ask her what kind of music she likes she just says, “oh, you know…. pop.”
mai is also a mitskigirl she’s even more of a mitskigirl than zuko is (so she claims, although zuko would contest this). she’s very active on spotify because she loves making various playlists for different moods, different vibes, different blorbos from her shows. she likes all different genres, and takes suki’s recommendations very seriously above all.
azula’s two favorite artists are, unfortunately, rachmaninoff and kanye, and that’s all you really need to know about her.
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nateofgreat · 3 days
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"What's wrong with the Acolyte being Jedi critical? It's okay to criticize them since they have a monopoly on the Force don't they?"
Okay, let me break this down.
1: The Jedi do not have a monopoly on the Force.
Say, remember the Nightsisters of Dathomir? The dark side cult that the Jedi tolerate. They even go there to negotiate in the Clone Wars without making any threats to their continued existence. The only time they ever come into conflict is when they leave Dathomir to mess with someone else.
They're not the only ones either. The media doesn't focus on it much, but there are dozens of different Force-based organizations in SW (Legends and Disney canon) that the Jedi Order coexists with. There's also the simple fact that the parents of Force sensitive children can simply decline the Jedi's offer which would indicate that there are people in the Galaxy with the Force who live independently from the Jedi.
As it happens the only organization the Jedi are constantly fighting are the Sith and for darn good reasons.
2: What's wrong with being critical of the Jedi?
Let's not split hairs here. The "criticism" the Jedi get nowadays almost always seems to end with, "and that's why they deserved to be exterminated down to the children via Order 66." So, pro-Jedi fans are a bit on guard when they hear that a project is "Jedi critical."
Now, in theory, there's nothing wrong with characters in-universe having disagreements with the Jedi way or having criticisms of them. However, despite the show's claim to not be about "good vs evil" I think it's VERY likely to posit that the Jedi are wholly in the wrong and to blame for the conflict in some manner. While downplaying the actions of the villain on account of them being a victim.
Why do I think that? Because the trailer.
3: "This isn't about good or evil. It's about power and who's allowed to use it."
Right at the climax of the trailer is this line. Which spells pretty clearly that the show is saying that just, doesn't matter if the Jedi are good, because they're also powerful and influential in their own regard. So in the show's mind that means they're the problem.
They might offer a halfhearted condemnation of the serial killer murdering them for no reason but chances are they'll suggest that they're not really the problem: that the Jedi are for being powerful. I've even seen quotes floating around saying that show will ask the question "what if the Sith are really just the underdogs?" when they go around blowing up planets.
As for the question itself. It's likewise silly as the Jedi don't actually persecute other Force traditions or force everyone to join them. They don't even force you to stay once you've joined. So it doesn't seem like they're attempting to control the Force at all. Meanwhile, the Sith want to dominate the Galaxy and either exterminate or enslave any opposing traditions.
So the question itself is self-defeating.
Oh and while I'm here...
4: There is no "endless cycle"
Slightly off-topic but it comes up a lot as a defense of the anti-Jedi mindset. It goes something like, "The Jedi perpetuate an endless cycle of war because the Sith keep coming back!"
First off, it's not the Jedi's fault that some lunatics keep popping back up to try and control the Galaxy. All they do is stop them every time they do.
Secondly, the "cycle" only exists because new books keep getting written. Stories need conflict and thus the Sith are revived over and over again.
Thirdly, please someone try to tell me that this could be avoided if the Jedi let their members marry or something.
And fourthly, the cycle's honestly not that bad because the Jedi just win every time and restore peace to the Galaxy for a long period.
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thewebcomicsreview · 12 hours
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hey, just wanted to say thanks for the rec for Cat Girl. it is the best kind of extremely uncomfortable! but it's got me musing on your note about the relevance of the cat girl element itself. I agree that it is depicting an abusive relationship, but it's clear that Peter is completely incapable of perceiving that that's what it is, because he's so far down a deeply screwed hole of ideology. (continued in a sec, hang on-)
- so Peter is the way he is because he has accepted a series of small explanations for the things in his life as seeming accurate, that has stacked up into a deeply dysfunctional worldview that he's too deep into to question at all. so I think the Literal Government Issued Cat Girl is very much a metaphor for a society-level case of "you don't question your own idea of normal". rather than address the root of the problem, a wildly unethical bandaid has been slapped on it. in other words; Peter doesn't question that his ideas are correct, when they're obviously very skewed. but the society that gave him Andi doesn't question that it is normal for people to get this twisted up in an effort to make sense of the world. of COURSE there are internet chuds, people like Peter existing is "normal". and in the process of just accepting that some people are unsalvageable, innocent people like Andi get hurt, and that's just "normal" too. Peter isn't unfixable. it's clear he could be better, WANTS to be better, because he is straight up miserable. but he doesn't consciously know that, or how to start. the decision that some people are just fundamentally screwed up and there's nothing anyone can do about it doesn't just hurt him, it lets him hurt the people around him. Andi is, metaphorically, everyone else being tossed under the bus alongside Peter by the simple act of treating him like he's just inherently a shitty person.
Man, this is a long ask! If I were the author of Cat Girl, I'd be honored to see someone spend so much time thinking about it. But I don't think I agree, exactly.
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Peter wants to "be a good person", yes, but his understanding of what a "good person" is is completely self-centered. Him calling Andi "Yua" while talking over her trying to explain that she does in fact have a name is obviously establishing him as a douche, but it's also worth noting that "Yua" is a Japanese name. He's thinking of her as an anime waifu and not a person (or, given the first results when I google "Yua", a porn star, but maybe it's a Breath of Fire 2 reference)
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And while he falls into depressive self-loathing after she complains about not having a change of clothes, his internal monologue is entirely about himself. At no point, ever, does Peter even consider that Andi has feelings or is anything other than a reflection on him.
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When he locks her in a closet, his most overtly abusive act, he starts crying because he feels bad about what a bad person he is, but even while he's crying he's simultaneously blocking the door, which is a very literal depiction of their relationship. His angsting about being a good person is not his way out of the problem, it is the problem. He never even once considers being nice to Andi because she'll like it, it's entirely "I don't want to force her to have sex with me (because that would make me feel bad), but maybe if I'm nice to her she'll initiate the sex". And he doesn't even care about the sex itself, just the implicit validation of being Confirmed Good By A Girl.
Peter is the way he is because his morality is entirely self-centered. Andi is a way for him to prove his morality to himself (well, try to and fail), not an actual person whose feelings he's ever considered except for if she hates him or not. That's what makes him such an interesting villain, he keeps concocting a story in his head where he's the poor sweet babu trying his best and never stops doing that to let his girlfriend out of the closet.
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cum-villain · 1 day
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Yoo Sangah is so much more interesting when you acknowledge that she's just some person.
Because, Kim Dokja puts her on such a pedestal, especially in the earlier parts of orv. She's the kindest woman in the world, she's the most selfless person to exist in the ruined world, she's the most studious person in the comany, she's never ever hurtful in any way and at most is sometimes naive, but that naivety is proof that she's a purer person.
But, she's not the kindest woman in the world, she just happens to want to be kind. She's not the most selfless person to exist, she just wants to help others. She's not a literary goddess, she just works hard to learn things. She's not a pure saint who never does wrong, she has limits that can be pushed (see salt in coffee incident). She may not have experienced a life like Kim Dokja's, but she's had her own painful experiences and struggles. She's really not that special, she just tries her best to be a person who is good to other people.
But for Kim Dokja, who is so so starved for basic human decency, one coworker just treating him like he's human is like a goddess granting salvation to an unworthy mortal. And the way he thinks about her reflects this, she's propped up as such an amazing figure in his mind.
And this isn't to say that she's not a good person, that she doesn't actually have particular strengths or talents. But she's as blessed as any ordinary human, nothing more, nothing less. And to place her on such a high pedestal may seem like genuine appreciation, but it's really just another way of dehumanizing her; the major difference is just that it seems like a positive form of dehumanization.
But in seeing Yoo Sangah the human, the human person who was inspired to live a Sangah's life, the human person who tries to help people when she can, the human person who wants to work hard to make her own life even though her family wanted her to follow the path they set out for her... she's so interesting. And there's something lost in brushing that aside to talk about Yoo Sangah the goddess.
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elftwink · 7 months
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to preface this post i am anti-advertising i think we should explode the entire industry but it's sooo funny when you people make posts like "and they don't even work!!" like. sorry to be the bearer of bad news but yes they do. that's why we have to put up with so many despite everyone hating them and thinking its annoying. because they actually work really well and make a shit load of money
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perenlop · 1 year
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i know i vouched for this but oh my god please let journeys be ending
#ik ash is still going apparently but if this format goes on to paldea and a ton of good paldea mons get shafted#and they give the way home some random half hour special with no build up then im gonna be SO disappointed#everett said this also but yeah it seems like theyve just given up on goh catching em all so like thats kinda whatever#also i do not need them to make ANOTHER cover of 1 2 3 like its a good song but i am so sick of it#also if we are getting a new series can we make the endings actually good again#idk i like goh as a character but its clear that they dont really know what to do with him right now#like project mew just... got him to meet mew again which was cool yes. but hes literally implied to be quitting after one mission#so like what was the point#idk. jn is in shambles rn. while i think i like it more than others in the community#yeah i would be disappointed if it went on to paldea at this point. keep goh if u want bc i like him#but like im sick of it and unlike swsh paldea is crammed with potential and existing story thatd work so good in anime form#watch the professors not exist and for sprigatito to not have a main role until episode60 where it proceeds to do nothing#watch team star get ignored outside of one episode where they dont actually have much to do#all the while we are showing so many ''omg so beautiful landscaping shots of the same 6 kanto pokemon''#echoed voice#i may not have liked galar all that much but yeah it got treated like shit by the anime#which is kinda wild bc leon was so hyped up but it was literally only him and the wild areas that got shown off#most other locations like ballonlea were restricted to the stadiums and not explored or just looked like dogshit for some reason#if u look up several galar pokemon on bulbapedia then youll see that many pokemon either havent shown up at all#or have some low res background shot on there bc its the only time they ever showed up#like man. paldea doesnt deserve that at all. just give it its own anime im begging you
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13eyond13 · 2 years
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.
#half watched the stranger things s4 finale while my roomie was watching it this week#and from the pov of somebody who hasn't rly kept up with it since the first season it was just like#screaming crying teenagers and sentimental speeches and hollywood tearful love confessions and death scenes#and goofy black and white villainy and idk dhdjsksks#every character was on my nerves the entire time basically and idk if its just me being cranky or too old for it or what#like im too young for 80s nostalgia and too old to care about teen love triangles so im just sitting there like...#i just am impatiently awaiting more details about the new show because i have nothing new to say about DN otherwise#and im glad something new is coming but i just get the bad sense the duffer brothers priorities and tastes will not at all line up#with what makes DN good#the vibes are almost opposite and they also seem really corny in a way too#i like sincerity and heart in shows too but idk almost none of the stranger things cast actually feels real to me#and there are far too many of them by now#theyre right saying it isnt game of thrones... like that many characters should only exist in a world that vast#and with that many moving plot points#there is not enough going on in hawkins to warrant populating it with 2 dozen separate guys i have to get to know and also care about#ANYWAY im sorry to be so grumpy im honestly just bored and badly want something new to discuss#duff note#stranger things spoilers#p
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flipflapyoutwat · 1 year
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not gonna lie. dehya leaks not looking great.
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shadowsandstarlight · 2 years
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Fuck Alberta it sucks here
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nanaslutt · 2 months
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Not even god himself
synopsis: Gojo insists day in and day out you let him fuck you raw, and one day you give in. Only when he promises to pull out before he cums, does he actually hold that promise?
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contains: pwp, fem reader, established relationship, clothed cunnilingus, dry humping, fingering, teasing, dacraphillia, so much dirty talk it should be illegal, unprotected sex, rough sex, reatrains, gojo is an asshole but he loves you<3
MDNI
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ
"Baby cmon pleasseeeee, It'll feel sooo good for both of us I promise. Don't you wanna feel me inside you with nothing between us?" Gojo cooed, peppering kisses up your legs as you sat on the couch, thighs crossed as you stared at the man on the floor who was too large to be kneeling in front of you like this.
Satoru had been asking to fuck you raw since the day you got together. The first time you slept together it was "oh noooo, I forgot to buy condoms, sorry baby, looks like we're gonna have to do it raw" followed by a not-so-smooth wink. You made him take a little trip to the convenience store that night that happened to be right across from your apartment before things went any further.
He tried to ask to fuck you raw on any special occasion too, his birthday? You bet. Your first anniversary? Absolutely. Father's Day? He wasn't even a father… The closest you let him get to fucking you raw was when you let him rub his cock on the outside of your cunt, your folds rubbing along his dick as he poked and prodded at your clit with his fat head.
He tried to sneakily press his tip against your entrance, saying he wasn't going to put it in, quickly followed by "Just the tip." You did not let him put "just the tip" in because "just the tip" didn't exist with Satoru. You knew once he got a taste of your raw pussy, not even god himself could pull him out of you, it was too risky.
You did admit the idea sounded wonderful, and it pained you to turn him down every time he asked, but you weren't on birth control, and once again, you didn't trust Gojo to pull out before he came. Hell, he kept his cock buried as deep as he could inside you while he came with a condom on, always pouting when he pulled out saying "What a waste, that could've been inside you" and effectively riling you up from those words alone.
The reason you had waited so long to get on birth control was simply because of your job. You were a jujutsu sorcerer too, and it seemed like every time you started to make the appointment to see your doctor to get on some form of birth control, work interveined. So when you finally got on birth control after over a year of dating Satoru practically cried in your arms begging you to let him fuck you raw now.
You sighed and held the big baby in your arms as you told him that the effects of birth control didn't start fully working until 2 weeks of consistently taking the pill. "So you'll let me fuck you raw in 2 weeks?" Gojo said, perking up instantly. You rubbed your head as you felt a migraine start to come on as you said, "We'll revisit this later."
Satoru had taken your words to heart. He set a timer on his phone for the same time, every single day, for two weeks--and whenever that alarm went off, he dropped whatever he was doing to find you and remind you to take your pill. He had observed the way you said you needed to take the pill consistently for 2 weeks for it to work, so he was going to take absolutely every single precaution to make sure nothing got between you, and taking that goddamn pill.
Sure he had waited over a year with no date in sight of when he was going to be able to fuck you raw, but now that he had a date, or at least a possible date, of when he could? He didn't think he would be able to handle it if you missed a day and had to start over from day 1. Satoru was a very impatient man when it came to anything involving you, this wasn't something he was going to play around with.
So two weeks later, here Gojo was, on his knees as he pouted up at you with those big blue eyes as he begged, tears in his eyes and all, for you to let him fuck you raw. "Satoru… I don't know." You replied, making him perk up. 'I don't know' wasn't no. Gojo turned up all his seducing techniques to the max, he needed to seal the deal before you were turned off by the idea.
"Just think about it baby, my hard cock inside of you…" Satoru said softly, running his long fingers up the underside of your shins sensually, "Imagine how warm It'll feel, hm? You'll be able to feel every vein on my dick, every fucking vein." You looked away in embarrassment, feeling your face grow hot. Satoru picked up on this, he was winning you over, and he had to keep going.
"I'll even pull out before I cum baby, I promise. Just a couple of thrusts, yeah? Just a couple I just need to feel you for a little bit." Satoru begged, his hands sliding under your thighs that were pressed against the cushions as he pulled you closer to the edge of the couch, pulling your legs over his shoulders. "Satoru… we both know you won't be able to stop halfway…" You said, still averting your gaze.
"For this, I can do it, baby, cmon don't you trust me? I'll give you a good few strokes, nice n deep, just how you like it." Gojo whispered, pressing kisses as he made his way up your thighs. "Then I'll pull out and put on a condom before I cum, that way I can still cum inside you, yeah? How's that sound? You wanna feel your boyfriend's hard cock inside you with no rubber?" Gojo cooed, kissing higher and higher up your thighs as he tried to win you over.
If Gojo was honest with himself, he didn't know if he was going to be able to keep his promise. He would say anything to you right now if it meant you would let him hit it raw, and he knew deep down that you knew that too, but gauging by your response and how fidgety and squirmy you got, Gojo could tell you wanted it just as bad as he did.
Gojo sealed the deal by sliding his hands under your hips and pulling your body down from the couch so your crotch was right in front of his face. "Hey, look at me." He pouted, nuzzling your inner thigh as he looked up at you. "Your boyfriend is talking to you down here~" Biting your lip between your teeth you looked down at the man between your thighs.
You kept your hands together over your chest, afraid to move. "Yeah… look at me, don't look away." Gojo cooed, keeping his all-seeing eyes on yours as he leaned forward and kissed your clothed cunt through your shorts, making you gasp in surprise. "Talk to me baby, tell me what you're thinking." He asked, giving your face one more once over before he pressed himself against your mound once more and kissed right where your clit was.
Your hands came to card through his hair as his tongue poked out between your teeth and pressed against your pussy through your shorts, the dull feeling of stimulation only frustrating you, creating an intense fire to burn strongly in your groin. "God… o-okay, okay." You finally said, your nails raking against Gojo's scalp as he mimicked how he ate you out, just over your clothes.
Gojo giggled against your clothed pussy before he pulled his face back, his arousal evident on his face with how red his cheeks were, combined with his blurry, unfocused eyes. "Okay, what baby? I need to hear you say it." Gojo said, nuzzling his head against your thigh once more as he looked up at you like you hung the stars in the sky.
His cock was twitching rapidly against the confines of his boxers as he awaited your words. "You can fuck me raw." You said softly, wincing in embarrassment as you averted your eyes once more, continuing to caress Gojo's head. Gojo released a groan mixed with a laugh as he felt himself leak an alarming amount of pre-cum inside his boxers. "Fuck baby, you have no idea what that did to me," Gojo said, thrusting his hips forward into the air, trying to get whatever relief he could as his erection was pressed against the zipper of his jeans.
"You want it now? Hm? I know how wet you are, I could hear your pussy talking to me when I was teasing her. You wanna feel me inside you right now don't you?" Gojo spoke, slightly projecting with his words. You hadn't realized how much your breathing had picked up as Gojo had been teasing you. The need you felt between your thighs was unlike anything you've ever felt before, he was right, you needed him, and you needed him now.
Looking back at your boyfriend with a pout, you nodded, trying to press your thighs together to emphasize your need before you spoke. "I need it now Satoru. Please…" That was all he needed to hear before he was scooping you up in his arms and making a b-line for his bedroom.
The two of you kissed like it was your last night alive, moans and gasps spilling from the other's lips each time your lips separated in a loud smack. Gojo placed you down on the bed and crawled between your legs, instantly wrapping your legs around his hips as he pressed his bulge against your clothed cunt.
"You feel me?" Gojo sighed against your lips between kisses, relishing in the way your moans increased in volume each time he humped his hips against yours, pressing his hard cock into your pussy. "Yeah…" You moan back desperately, your hands tangling in his hair as you try to pull him closer to you. "All for you baby, so hard just for you." Gojo groaned, emphasizing his words by pressing his hips flush against yours and keeping them there.
The friction felt so fucking good, he was so hard it felt like his knee was pressing between your legs. You sucked on his tongue as his hands wrapped under your back that was pressed against the sheets. His lithe fingers slipped under your shirt and found the clasp of your bra with ease, undoing the metal hooks with just a couple of fingers. You sighed at the relief of the pressure from your bra hugging your upper torso.
"Let me get this off you." Gojo rushed, leaning back a bit so he could pull your shirt off with ease, practically ripping the bra from your body once he had the shirt off of you. Gojo licked his lips as he took your tits in his hand, massaging them and pressing them together as he gave himself a show. Your nippled pebbled under his touch, making Gojo's mouth water.
"So fucking pretty, they're practically begging me to suck them." Gojo sighed, his cock twitching as he felt the softness of your tits in his hands before he leaned in and took one of your hard nipples into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the little bud. Your back arched against him as you gasped, your hands gripping his hair harder to ground yourself as he sucked on your nipple, the other hand toying with the little bud that wasn't currently in his mouth.
"Oh fuck- Satoru fuck-" You gasped, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continued thrusting his hips against yours. He moaned around your nipple, only aiding the warmth you felt between your legs. You were sure you had soaked completely through your panties by now, you felt so hot. Gojo's eyebrows furrowed as his plush lips sucked around your nipple, his soft pink tongue flicking it and rolling around it expertly, sending shockwaves straight to your clit.
Satoru popped off of your nipple with a smile, his lust-filled eyes staring down at your already disheveled form as he placed his hands by your shoulders and pushed his body up, keeping his eyes on yours as he dry humped you like he was fucking you. "You're so worked up." He moaned, his mouth slightly open as he smiled through his noises. "You that excited to feel my cock inside you? Huh?" He teased, rolling his hips in circles the way he knew drove you crazy.
Your hands fell from his hair down to his hips, you bit your lip as you pulled his hips towards yours, making him hump into you harder. "Y-you're one to talk." You shot back, tilting your head to the side against your pillow as you stared down at his hard cock, threatening to rip through his boxers and pants alike.
Gojo giggled before he responded, his head dropping down as he looked down to where the two of you were connected. A small wet patch had formed on the front of Satoru's pants from how much his cock was leaking. "I'm getting to fuck my pretty girlfriend raw, of course, I'm fucking excited." He smiled, his cerulean eyes looking back up at you.
"Satoru… stop teasing me, I n-need to feel you." You begged, moaning each time he rocked his hips into yours, your nails digging into his hips. "Tell me more baby," Gojo begged, pulling his lip between his teeth as he looked at you expectantly. You pouted at his words, he knew how embarrassed you got when he put you on the spot like this, but you were too worked up to be as shy about it as you otherwise would've been.
"Toru, give me your cock, n-need to feel you inside me with no c-condom." You begged, your hand sliding to the front of his body as your hand slid under his shirt, your fingers tracing up the indents of his defined abs as you pushed his shirt up higher and higher, exposing his toned body to your greedy eyes. Gojo groaned at your needy words and touch before he leaned back and crossed his arms over his body, gripping the end of his t-shirt as he pulled it up and over his body, discarding it somewhere on the floor.
Your hands smoothed down his chest, your nails raking over his porcelain skin as you left angry red marks in their wake. Gojo dropped his chin down to look down at you, groaning as you marked him up. He felt his cock twitch against his pants when you got to the waistline of his pants and started unbuttoning his jeans. "Take care of yourself, baby." He smiled, his hands coming down and pushing yours out of the way as he started to take off his pants. "Get outta those shorts for me." He winked.
You didn't need to be told twice. Without a second thought, you slipped your fingers under the band of your shorts and pulled them down your body, panties and all. Gojo's watchful eyes took in how your cunt connected to your pretty panties with a string of your arousal before it broke when you pulled them too far down your legs, kicking them off of your body.
You rubbed your body against the sheets, getting comfortable as you spread your legs for Gojo as he undressed himself. Gojo shook his head as he watched your teasing fingers slide down your body and reach your clit as you slowly started to rub the neglected but in small circles. "Fuck, someone's needy. Don't start the fun without me." Gojo teased, shimmying out of his pants.
His boxers were doing little to conceal the massive boner he was sporting, the pretty flushed tip poking out through the band of his boxers, the tip wet with his pre-cum. "H-hurry then." You replied, slowly slipping a finger inside your wet cunt with ease, thrusting it slowly as you stared shamelessly at his hard cock, wishing he was inside you already.
Gojo let out a long groan as he watched you finger yourself. He quickly added his boxers to the pile of discarded clothes on the floor, his hard cock slapping against his abdomen when he fully pulled them off. His white pubes were neatly trimmed and made a perfect backdrop for his flushed red cock to really stand out. "What are you doin' huh? Why are you fingering yourself?" Gojo asked, wrapping his fingers around his hard cock to ease his arousal as he watched you add a second finger inside yourself, shamelessly getting off in front of him.
9 times out of 10, Gojo was the one to stretch you out, so he was confused about whether you were just needed or if there was another reason. His question was quickly answered when you whined out, "I don't wanna wait for you to stretch me out, n-need to feel you right now." you begged, curling your fingers inside yourself as you massaged your g-spot, scissoring and thrusting them inside yourself as you tried to open yourself up for him.
Gojo stroked himself faster as he groaned watching you, a dopey smile on his face. "Babyyy… you should never have to prep yourself." He smiled, his free hand caressing your inner thigh briefly before he slid his hands down to your entrance. You watched him carefully as he rubbed his fingers on the underside of your hole that was stuffed with your smaller fingers. Each thrust inside yourself made more and more wetness gush out of you.
"Is there room for me? Hm?" Gojo teased before he flipped his hand so it was facing the ceiling and slowly started pushing two fingers in alongside yours. Both of your jaws dropped in tandem as he fully inserted his fingers inside you, feeling how tight you felt with your fingers also stuffed inside your little cunt. "Fuck, you're so warm." Gojo cooed, his eyebrows furrowing as he watched the way your cunt stretched to accommodate his fingers.
You whined and gasped as you adjusted to the stretch--fairly quickly thanks to how wet you were. "C'mon, keep movin' ur fingers with me if you wanna do it yourself so bad." Gojo teased, stroking his cock at the same pace as his fingers inside you. You gasped when he curled his fingers with you, the added pressure of his stronger fingers pressing into you stimulating your g-spot tenfold. "T-toru, enough…" You begged when he sped up, acting like he was trying to get you to cum on his fingers.
"Not yet… I like this, it's like we're holding hands, heh." Gojo giggled, increasing the pace of his hand on his cock as he continued to fingerfuck your cunt with you. "N-no I'm gonna cum-" You warned, trying to slow your own fingers inside yourself to block Gojo from hitting your sweet spot. "So cum~," Gojo said nonchalantly, his cock twitching in interest at feeling your cum around his fingers.
You pushed his wrist away with your other hand, successfully slowing his thrusts inside you. You shook your head before looking up at him once more, your eyes making contact with his, which were already staring at you. "Wanna cum on your cock…" You said bashfully, pouting as you spoke, embarrassed by your own words.
Gojo raised his eyebrows as his jaw fell open in a small o as he stared at you incredulously. He broke out into laughter a couple of seconds after, his fingers sliding out of you at the same time. You winced at the loss, already wishing he was back inside you. "God, could you be any cuter?" Gojo asked, looking at you lovingly. He rubbed his fingers wet with your juices over the top of his cock, mixing his cum with yours.
Soon after he was leaning over you, pushing at your hip as he tried to signal you to turn over on your stomach. You quickly complied, not wanting to make either of you wait any longer. "Up," Gojo said quietly, his hand pulling your pelvis toward the ceiling. You stuck your ass up, creating a gap between your pelvis and the bed for Gojo as he stuck a pillow under your hips, creating the perfect arch for you so he would be able to hit it just right while you laid there and took it.
"Good girl." He said, leaning over you as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, his hand bracing himself on the side of your body. Gojo looked down at your ass laid out for him as he tapped his hard cock on your cheeks, making the fat ripple from the impact. You wiggled your ass at him, whining out his name. "Let me have a little fun pretty girl, I've waited too long for this after all." Gojo cooed, slotting his cock between your ass cheeks as he rubbed back and forth teasingly, smearing his precum on your ass.
You whined in response, irritated with the white-haired man. That should be the exact reason why he should be impatient, so why was he taking his time? You were fed up with his teasing already, you were dripping wetness down your thighs, how could he keep denying you? You bit your lip as you wrapped your arms around the pillow in front of you, rubbing your cheek against it.
Gojo pulled his hips back and pushed the middle of his cock down with his thumb, angling it towards your pussy. "God, I can't believe you're finally letting me fuck you raw." He moaned, shaking his head in disbelief as he rubbed his leaky tip against your folds, catching his head on your clit and making your body jolt from the stimulation.
"I'll take it back if you don't fuck me already." You bit, wiggling your ass back against him, making his tip rub into your folds. Gojo pressed his hips against yours, teasing the entrance of your hole with his tip. "You don't mean that~" Gojo cooed, continuing to tease you, only shallowly thrusting his cock on the outside of your hole, making you think he was going to slip it in at any moment.
You turned your head on the pillow to look back at him through the corner of your eye, a look of serious need plastered on your face as you made eye contact with him. "Try me." You spat, your lip quivering with how badly you wanted him. Gojo furrowed his eyebrows and kept his eyes on yours as he slowly started pushing his cock into you, not wanting to test you right now. He had waited so long for this, the last thing he wanted to do was ruin it by being too cocky.
"Oh fuck-" You moaned, your eyes rolling back in your head as Gojo's cock slipped past the tight ring of your cunt, penetrating you. Gojo's jaw dropped fully open as he gasped heavily into the room, his chin dropping down so he could stare at the place where the two of you were connected. You felt the familiar burn from the stretch as Gojo slowly slid his cock inside you, inch by inch, he was going so slow you truly felt every single vein.
"Holy fuckk- ngh- you're so much warmer." Gojo moaned, feeling his balls already pulse with his release. "S-so soft too, ohmygod-" Gojo was quickly losing himself inside your pussy, his pretty eyes fluttering with how intense this felt for him. The two of you moaned in tandem when he thrust his cock inside you, giving you the last couple of inches all at once so he was now fully sheathed inside your pussy.
You whined at how hot he felt inside you, how soft the skin of his dick was, everything, you felt everything. Gojo wasn't fairing much better, his breath hitching and stuttering as he fought not to cum the second he got inside you. "Tell me I can move baby, I gotta fuck you, I'm not gonna last long like this," Gojo begged, practically crying out the words as he felt your pussy pulse and squeeze around him rapidly.
"Please, move baby ple-" Your words were cut short by Gojo thrusting needily into your cunt, loud squelches accompanied your whines and cries as you gripped the pillow you rested your head on for dear life. "Fuck- fuck you feel so good baby, can feel all of you like this." Gojo moaned, his sounds rivaling the volume of your own.
You silently cursed yourself for not doing this sooner. You sobbed and nodded in agreement against the pillow, squeezing your thighs together to bring your clit some relief as Gojo fucked into you quickly. The second his cock was fully out of you, it was back in you like it never left. Not only was his pace incredibly fast, but it was hard too, he was truly making the most out of this opportunity.
"D-dont forget t-oo pull out when you get close-" You tried to cry out as you felt yourself get pushed towards the edge already. Gojo tipped his head back as he half ignored your words. "Yeah yeah, pull out," Gojo mumbled, shrugging you off, "Give me those fucking hands baby." He growled not even a second later, his hand reaching up by your head to pull at your bicep, making your arm lay behind your back.
You pulled the other out from behind the pillow for Gojo and he quickly pressed your wrists together and locked your arms behind your wrist with his one strong hand. His fingers were so long that he enclosed both of your wrists in just the one palm. He used his other hand to pull your hips up so you were resting on your knees, face up, ass down, as he bullied his cock into your pussy.
Now that he had manipulated your body into such a harsh arch, he was fucking right into your sweet spot, you felt his cockhead ram into it every time he thrust his cock inside you, it made your moans cut off in a choked whine each time. "You're so fucking tight in this position, I can feel my cock hittin' that soft spot inside you that makes you go all dumb on me." Gojo cooed, shaking his head as he tried to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth, not wanting to cum too fast.
Your pussy genuinely felt like a vice in this position, he was barely able to last five minutes in this position with a condom on, so he could only imagine how quickly this was gonna be over now that he was fucking you raw. Your jaw dropped in a silent scream when your high washed over you unexpectedly. In this position, Gojo's cock was rubbing all the right spots inside you, and his heavy balls were slapping right against your sensitive bundle of nerves.
Gojo's eyes shot open in surprise, his hand that wasn't holding your wrists dug itself into your ass as his abs clenched with the intensity of arousal that washed over him. The feeling of you suddenly cumming on his cock caught him off guard just as much as it caught you off guard, his hips stuttering as he fucked you through your high. "Ohshitohshit- t-too tight." Gojo moaned, sucking air in through his teeth as he slowed down a bit, fighting to not paint your walls white.
You cried out Gojo's name like a mantra as your body shook and jolted with your orgasm, your pussy leaking out cum around his cock. Gojo took a deep breath in when you came down from your high, your walls loosening around him significantly and allowing him to breathe. "God baby, almost made me fill you up with that one. How did cumming on my dick feel hm? Bet you felt every inch of me rubbin' inside you." Gojo cooed, his own words working him up.
Your post-orgasm-hazed brain could only focus on Gojo admitting that he almost came inside you, realizing then that he said he promised he was only going to give you a couple of thrusts raw before he pulled out. As good as this felt, you knew he was close by his incessant babbling and his sloppy hips fucking against your ass with no rhythm.
"T-toru pull out n-now" You cried as he fucked you into overstimulation, your legs crossing as his balls continued to batter your sensitive clit. "Hm? What was that? You want me to pull out?" Gojo asked, delaying your request by playing dumb. "I don't know if that's fair though… you got t-to cum on my cock so why do I have to pull out to cum?" Gojo pouted, continuing to fuck his cock inside your pussy, your walls feeling so much softer around him now that you had cum once.
"W-what?" You choked out a confused sound at Gojo's words. That wasn't what you had agreed on, was he seriously going to cum inside you? "Sator-uuu pull out or put on a c-condom, you promised." You cried, trying to wiggle your arms out of his iron grip to no avail. Your body was so weak to the pleasure Gojo Satoru gave you, you weren't getting out of this unless he wanted you to.
"You want me to put on a condom so bad?" Gojo paused his thrusts to lean over to the bedside table, picking up one of the condoms he had placed there for later he got back into position behind you and threw the condom at you, the foil wrapper hitting you in the head softly before it fell in front of your eyes. "Open it for me." He finished, smirking at you mischievously.
You felt like crying, he was being so unfair. Realistically you knew if Gojo came inside you, you would be fine because of the birth control, but you would 100% put him on a pussyban, and a part of your rational brain knew that. Nonetheless, you tried to wiggle towards the condom, shimmying your shoulders against the sheets as you tried to jerk your hands out of Gojo's stronghold once more.
"C'mon, you're not even trying. It's like you want me to c-cum inside." Gojo teased, trying to keep his words composed but ultimately failing as he felt your pussy bring him closer and closer to the edge. "Toru d-don't, please pull outtt-" You begged, shaking your head as your body was manhandled by the large man twice your size that was teasing and bullying you while fucking your pussy raw.
Gojo tsked as he pouted at you, his cock twitching as he took in your teary, defiant face. "You didn't even try~ C'mon, try a little harder I'm about to cum you still have some time-" Gojo faux encouraged, fucking his cock into you harder. You shook your head, relaxing your arms in his hold as you allowed Gojo to do with your body what he would, you knew you stood no chance if he was adamant about cumming inside you.
"You're so fucking cute you know that? F-fucking love you so much." He giggled, his words coming out choked and breathy as your cunt milked his dick right to the edge. It was over, he was going to cum inside you and you were going to have to ban sex for a year… no two years… maybe forever. As you let Satoru yank your arms back so your body met his thrusts, readying yourself to take his load--
--he pulled his cock out at the last minute, "I'm cumming- c-cumming fuck, fuck-fuuuuuck." It took every ounce of strength in his body, but he managed for pull out. Gojo groaned as he jerked his cock rapidly, wet with your juices, over your ass. Hot ropes of his thick cum landed on the skin of your ass and thighs as he milked his cock for all it was worth, his nails digging into your wrists as he came. His eyes fluttered back in his head as his body endured one of the most intense orgasms he'd ever had.
You sighed in relief, closing your teary eyes as you gasped against the pillow as Satoru smeared his cum all over your ass, rubbing his tip along your skin to make sure he gave you every last drop of his seed. He released your hands and your body fell limply against the sheets, Gojo's body chasing yours as he laid on top of you, his cum smearing all over the skin of his pelvis and abs as he embraced your body from behind.
He couldn't find himself caring about the warm stickiness of his seed rubbing along his skin much as he held your tired body in his arms, giggling as he peppered kisses along your arms and the back of your head. "Did I scare you? Heh, did you really think I was gonna cum inside you?" He asked, smiling from ear to ear as he whispered against the shell of your ear.
You felt the veins in your head bulge out in annoyance. Gojo was such a sadist, and he knew exactly how to press all of the buttons that made you want to punch him in the face. "Gojo, I swear to god, I almost killed you." You mumbled, staring at the wall in front of you in anger. Gojo giggled against your head, his arms squeezing around you tighter.
"Awww, don't use my last name, you're scary when you do that." He said, trying to roll his body over yours to get a good look at your face. He succeeded in caging his larger body over yours, forcing you to lay on your back, hands crossed over your chest as you looked up at him angrily.
Satoru smiled softly before he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your lips before pulling away. " Thank you for doing this with me~ I'm sorry if I scared you, you're just so fun to tease~" he cooed. Your expression had softened when he kissed you, but it quickly went back to that of annoyance when he said that last part. You tried to roll over on your side to escape him, but it was futile.
"I was going to put you on a pussyban y'know. Still might, haven't decided yet." You pouted, teasing him back, only your voice was dead serious, making him think your words were too. Who were you kidding, you couldn't last longer than a week without fucking Satoru, you were just as insatiable as he was.
Gojo raised his eyebrows at you shocked as he leaned in to scan your face for sarcasm. "You wouldn't." He challenged, keeping his eyes full of worry on yours. "If you don't get your cum off my ass in the next ten seconds, I might," you responded, turning your head to look up at him. You don't think you've ever seen a man scramble away from you to get a towel so fast in your life.
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angeltism · 5 months
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waa why am I sorta embarrassed abt one of my fragments
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toastsnaffler · 9 months
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i will ALWAYS be salty abt the ed-sheeranification of one ok rock (one of my fave personality-building anecdotes i explain at parties to ppl getting to know me) but the fact is that takas voice is soooo hot he could sing the words on the back of a milk carton to the tune of a t*ylor sw*ft song + id probably still listen to him. sorry
#well actually that isnt true bc i very rarely ever listen to oor anymore. theyve made so much terrible music its tainted their good shit#but like twice a year i go back thru their discography and reminisce over niche syndrome.....a guy can dream#whenever they release new stuff i always get my hopes up theyre gonna go back to their roots and they never do. saaad#but i have this weird grandmotherly love for taka whenever i see him in music videos for his new stuff im like aww how Nice :^)#wish he hadnt outgrown his emo phase but thats ok im glad hes enjoying himself and the band seems to be popular still#.diaries#i do have a big old soft spot for ambitions era even if its kinda mid. its associated w a lot of nice memories i have of my ex#if nothing else i appreciate how earnest their music was around then.... god listening now and i still know All The Lyrics lmfao#still mad they replaced the japanese vers with an english rerecord for release outside of japan tho. that was unnecessary 😐#maaann my ex had VERY different music taste to me but its sweet how many bands are rose tinted for me bc of them#like theres some stuff i would never have voluntarily listened to. but listening to them talk excitedly carved a niche in my ears#they made me a bunch of playlists for things they found that they thought id like.. i still have some of them saved/backed up#im surprised some of the ogs still exist tbh bc they unfollowed me on spotify + privated/deleted a ton of shit like a year ago#but a couple r still standing.. idk id like to think maybe they left them bc they had some nice memories too. i could never hate them man#SORRY FOR TALKING ABT MY EX AGAIN this music just takes me right back. im v glad we're not dating or in each others lives anymore#but also u cant be that close w someone for that long without them having a lifelong impact on u. or at least i cant anyway#and its nice to remember them fondly sometimes even if we were both cunts to each other. hope theyre doing alright wherever they are#god i need to start dating again its so fun i miss it so much. once im settled in the new place + i have a secure job....#i mean ik who id LIKE to date but im pretty sure that aint happening lmaooo. ill get over it i love meeting new ppl anyway#okay enough rambling im gonna go make lunch if ur reading this far ily hope ur having a nice day XOXO aaaaand post
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neopuppy · 4 months
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Pretzel (M)
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pairing. alpha jeno x female omega reader
genre. non-traditional a/b/o AU, and they were roommates, pw-barely any-p, M/F, one shot
warnings. profanity, gamer Jeno, mild e2l, smut warnings under cut. minors DNI.
wc. 8k+
now playing. pretzel//nct dream
smut warnings. unprotected sex, heat sex, masturbation, oral, possessiveness, choking, biting, degradation/praise, knotting, wet messy slicked up filth
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Today is going to be a good day, because today you woke up with renewed motivation despite another restless night.
Your apartment is the perfect walking distance from work. Utilities are included in the rent, there’s an adorable bakery across the street that serves the best almond croissants, and the balcony has an amazing view of the mountains.
Not to mention rent was more than within your budget.
Nothing can ever actually be perfect though, your roommate reminds you as he steps out of his bedroom reeking of pungent Alpha scent, shooting you a wink on the way to the bathroom.
“Morning, Omega.”
Your apartment is perfect, other than one insufferable factor.
Jeno Lee moved in last week after your landlord had promised you ‘no issue’ of housing you with another Omega. No issue until it became an issue, that is.
‘You said Alphas aren’t permitted on this floor!’
Mr. Huang shrugs, blaming his son's lack of diligence. ‘Ah, I give him one task! You kids never listen.’
‘I don’t care! I can’t live with an Alpha!’
‘It will be temporary, okay? Technically he paid the first month’s rent in full along with the entire deposit before you. So unless you want to be out on the street by the end of the day, I suggest you learn to live with it. Besides, it’s not the 1900s anymore, what Omega doesn’t use heat suppressants these days?’
You, of course.
Not that you had reason to divulge your medical history to nothing more than a stranger.
‘How soon can you relocate me?’
‘As soon as another tenant moves out, it’s all yours! I’ll make a note of it right now!’
Mr. Huang, of course, failed to mention the fact that none of his current leases had less than 6 months left to go.
‘Us Alphas get a bad reputation for no reason! Anywho! Jeno seems like a really nice young man!”
“Temporary my ass.” You mutter, picking burnt bits off your breakfast. A really nice young man, or the bane of your existence.
Jeno, your new roommate who makes zero effort to shut the bathroom door before dropping his towel, leaving every inch of skin visible for your puffy half-awake eyes to take in.
Jeno, your new roommate who smirks without breaking his gaze while shutting the door enough for the latch to somehow never lock.
Jeno, your new roommate who has no qualms about how loud his moans bounce off the tile shower walls.
Jeno, your new roommate who strolls through the living room still dripping wet, scrubbing his hair dry aimlessly on his way to the kitchen to sit across from you and take a bite of your uneaten toast while scrolling through his phone, occasionally nudging into your shoulder to point out something he finds hilarious.
Jeno, your new roommate who manages to disrupt your peaceful perfection any chance he gets.
———————————————————
“You don’t get it.”
“What’s not to get? You live with a sexy Alpha, and you’re terminally single. Of course I get it!” Your best friend says, clicking her tongue snarkily. 
“Me being single has nothing to do with this!” You snap back, pacing back and forth through your living room. Occasionally bending to pick up the various scattered belongings your roommate never seems to put away, from different remotes for his numerous consoles to empty snack wrappers. 
“Wait, these are my chips!” You snicker, turning on your heel to storm into the kitchen. “This guy has no respect for me, he thinks I’m an idiot!”
“Oh come on, don’t be ridiculous! He seemed really nice the other day when I dropped you off.”
“You met him for 2 seconds and asked me if he has a girlfriend, you have no right to an opinion.” Shifting your phone between your shoulder and ear, you begin to inspect your cabinet, noticing different items missing.
“I knew it!” You exclaim, glaring before quickly explaining that you need to hang up.
“Jeno! did you eat my ramen again?!?”
Another day of living with an Alpha, and another day full of frustration.
From your toothpaste spilling out because someone continues to lie about using it and never properly closing the tube, to your roommate carrying the faint scent of your favorite body wash combined with his overbearing zesty bergamot Alpha musk. Not to mention the amount of times you’ve noticed your groceries diminishing before you could even touch them.
Jeno has more than just an affinity for your belongings, he either had to be doing this on purpose, to annoy you, or he truly did not comprehend the meaning of ‘invasion of privacy’.
“Jeno!” 
It’s Sunday, the day you both coincidentally always end up staying home. Not that you do go out for much other than for work and to complete errands— something your roommate never fails to mention when taunting you for being a stay-at-home ‘hermit’.
The beginning of your tantrum goes unnoticed, of course, because while every little thing he does manages to itch through your limbs in the most irritating of ways, Jeno could care less. Your presence never fazed him, if anything you only brought amusement to his day the more you’d stomp and reprimand him over minuscule happenings.
“Jeno!” Another shout of his name is the only warning you give before breaking into his bedroom. The crinkled empty packet of ramen gripped tightly in your hold; because why bother throwing out the evidence after eating the last pack? That would mean he gave a shit.
“Jeno! what the fuck is your prob—“
The scent of crushed up lemon hits you first before the familiar bergamot; dripping sticky bitter fruity juice between, staining everything surrounding along the way with acid. It’s more than overwhelming, locking your knees together, melting your feet to the floor, ferociously curling through your gut. 
It’s not Jeno’s usual scent, it’s arousal. His usually annoying scent that clings to every inch of this apartment clouded by raw, depraved, hungry, unmated feral Alpha arousal.
The headphones attached to his head block out the sound of your shrill annoyance, computer screen in front of him displaying a video of a desperate Omega clawing at bed sheets; hurled closer to the camera filming them. Rough thrusts and a fist secured in her hair rip her neck into a painful arch, making the shot of her breasts clapping together much too clear. Tear stained cheeks glow ahead, lifted up by a smile and what you can only assume from reading her lips is ‘More! PLEASE more!’
Jeno grunts from his chest, a loud thwack of skin meeting skin blends with the thick buzz of pleasure filling the four walls you stand awestruck in the middle of, unable to convince yourself to leave and pretend this never happened.
The empty package of ramen drops from your fingers, clutching at your stomach to calm the heat that’s begun to spring, pushing lower the more seconds pass stuck in place; lost to the humid scent of your roommate’s sweat trickling down the side of his face.
Too engulfed with his need to get off, the Alpha has yet to notice you; his profile illuminated by the screen radiating the most light in his dimly lit bedroom. Hems focused, gnawing on his bottom lip with skin folded between his eyebrows, releasing short staggered breaths the faster his forearm jerks. Floppy strands of dark blue hair bounce above his sharp eyebrows, muscular arm rippling beautifully under the shadowed light the more power he exerts.
The deafening obscene sound of flesh meeting flesh draws your gaze lower, choking on a dry inhale at the sight of the tip of his glistening length.  
‘This is an invasion of privacy’ you think, convincing yourself to step back without caution. 
“Ughh, fuck!” Jeno’s voice rings out deep, gravelly and strained as if he’s been edging himself for hours, and maybe he has..
The realization that you’d last seen him this morning on his way to the kitchen flashes across the back of your mind. 
Jeno had paused in his tracks upon spotting you stretched in a split on a yoga mat. Skin tight shorts riding up your bottom, bunched up between your cheeks catching him off guard with his foot stuck mid-air.
‘Uhh..’
Peering over your shoulder, you see his jaws half hung open, his pink lips parted with a lost gaze. ‘What?’
He didn’t respond, continuing to eye from the curve in your stretched foot up to your waist dipping in, unable to neglect a throbbing sensation starting to form inside of his sweats.
‘Jeno!’ You called out annoyed, twisting into another stretch that only arches your back deeper. ‘Do you need something?’
The Alpha straightened up, clearing his throat with a shake of his head before continuing to the kitchen, his hands mindlessly reaching for your half of the cabinet in search of something to munch on; he hadn’t had time to go to the store this week yet, and maybe your food just tastes better than his.
Fuck.
Jeno couldn’t stop himself from sneaking looks over his shoulder, struck by the way you’d gently blot your face free of sweat. The rise and fall of your chest only spurting more thoughts he knows better than to allow himself to have.
It’s been almost a month of this now, of struggling to keep himself collected each time he leaves his room to find you either glaring at him from the kitchen table over a steaming cup of coffee or bent over in some suggestive position. Whether it be with your head buried in a cabinet searching for your favorite ramen bowl that he may or may not have purposely hidden, or your stupid pilates stretches. Those stupid stupid positions you put yourself in, some he had no idea one could even contort themself into.
It wasn’t much at first, Jeno thought sure, yeah, you’re cute. Maybe you’re really cute, especially when you huff and puff around your shared living quarters complaining about your toothpaste again.
It really was a mistake the first time he used it, but the way you bursted into his room screaming about how you pay extra to maintain a pearly white smile tickled him more than it should have. 
Creamy wash dangled from the dispenser of your favorite body wash, the one that blended beautifully with your natural scent and clung to the shower walls even hours after you’d already finished washing up. He swiped it off, dragging the sugary sweet white soap down the center of his chest. A spark of excitement heightened the lower he dragged, easy to imagine you there, taking your time to scrub and rub the bubbly foam over your skin until it felt silky smooth; as silky smooth as your bare arm felt against his bumping into each other in the hallway. Soft enough for an apology to get lost on his lips..
‘Sor—‘ Jeno drifted off, the area you grazed prickling on his arm. A tingle shot up his limb from the slight contact, curling his sock covered toes into the carpet while you glared and cursed him under your breath back on your way inside of your bedroom as if you felt nothing at all.
He tried to stay subtle about it, knowing you threw a fit about getting paired with an Alpha to live with, but it became more difficult with each passing day.
Maybe snatching a pair of your underwear had been a mistake, but as he saw them fall from your freshly dried hamper of laundry he couldn’t deny this must be fate. Not with how soft the cotton material felt against his nose, not with the fresh and airy scent of your wash sticking to his palms. 
Maybe jerking off with a handful of your body wash hadn’t been the best idea, but he couldn’t deny how much easier picturing you on your knees under the showerhead had become, even after cumming on the wall with his face smashed against the foggy tile; sadly watching his need for you swirl it’s way down the drain.
That’s how Jeno found himself once again searching up Omega’s submitting for their Alpha on the heat hub.
Maybe he returned to the search page for roommates fucking during heats and ruts more than once, maybe he never clicked out. Especially from one particular video featuring an Omega with similar features as yours, an added bonus that she too hated her roommate much like you.
“UGH!” Another whined groan snaps you back to reality, stumbling back as Jeno’s hips jump forward, fucking into his fist faster to climax in time with the video playing.
The bend in his neck accompanied with a string of moans shatters your resilience, stepping on your own foot with the other too distracted as you step back. The small shelf near his door meets your elbow and crashes down, pouring out a pile of video games and DVDs noisily; cursing under your breath at your failed attempt to sneak away without notice.
“Shitshitshit!”
“What the fuck?!” Jeno twists fast, too fast, lunging his head back with the headphones still plugged into his computer. He scatters, speedily shoving his length back inside of his sweats with one hand as his other works to shut off the screen. “What the fuck are you doing in here!”
“I—I—“ dropping to your knees, you try to speak. Tongue heavy in your mouth causing you to stutter, aimlessly patting for the door frame to get out. A familiar pang of heat quickly surfaces, screaming for an Alpha to take advantage of you any way they please.
Jeno fumbles to stand, stopping dead in his tracks when it hits him. Stronger than his own scent, the undeniable waft of Omega slick punches through his chest, choking on a deep inhale of your body's release practically begging to be claimed.
“Heat?” He says quietly to himself, jaw slowly falling open watching you try to move away. Crawling backward with your palms on the floor into the hallway. With the little bit of strength you still have, you turn to run on your knees through the hall, coughing against the urge to stay put and let the Alpha in your presence strip you down to nothing. 
Your bedroom door clicks shut just in time to catch sight of Jeno rushing out of his, stampeding over to crash against the door slamming shut in his face.
“You’re in heat??” He asks, sounding it utter awe. Licking across his lips to remoisten them, he’s still too shocked to process everything, groaning with his groin shoved flat to the door to stave off his hunger. The idea that you fell into heat because of him doing more than enough to get him off.
“Aw come on,” Jeno presses closer to the outside of your bedroom door. A smirk evident in his voice as his warm cheek drags against the chilled wood to speak near the small crevice between the frame. “All of this arguing about lack of privacy for weeks and here you are, triggered your heat because you were being a pervert? Naughty naughty.”
“Go away!” You clamber to barricade yourself in even though the doors locked, stuffing a pillow over your face to minimize the pained shriek you let out.
Jeno sighs, softly knocking his forehead against the door. “Promise I’ll be nice if you let me in, it must hurt..” 
“Not in heat.” You croak in anguish, dropping your head back to suppress a cramp spiking between your thighs. 
“Sure baby..” Jeno’s lips tighten, wondering how long it’s been since you last went into heat with an Alpha around; your scent’s dizzying, churning his already aroused brain to nothing but a pile of mush. “Bet it’s been so long since anyone touched you, hmm? you know you can’t get through this alone.”
“I said go away Jeno!” 
The mix of your scents tastes like a drug poured onto your tongue with each struggled breath you take, burying your nose into your pillow harder to keep the Alpha’s more powerful one subdued. It’s impossible with him so close, practically seeping through your walls with each taunting word and delighted laugh he lets out.
“Liked what you saw that much, Omega?” He’s brazen now, fully digesting what this means after weeks of pining for you in secret. Jeno can barely contain a smile, momentarily grateful for the door keeping you divided. “How much did you see, baby?”
He sighs through the door, dragging his knuckles up and down, the sound of it looming above where you crouch and listen. “Did you know I was thinking about you? I always do now. Always think about your soft pretty scent, your tight ass bent over on my bed, teasing me until I stop gaming and fuck the life out of you.”
A gasp collects in your pillow, tightening your legs closer together to stop yourself from squealing as another dollop of slick pours out. The shorts you still had on after finishing your morning workout completely wrecked now. “I know you saw it, you saw everything, didn’t you? Is that what did it for you, baby? Watching me jerk off to another Omega? Did you know I had you on my mind?”
Jeno waits, chewing his bottom lip while picturing your stunned face again; silently absorbing the heavy aroma of slick you left between the hallway walls. “Come on baby, did you know I was thinking about you? Pretending my pretty roommate cried and begged me to go harder, fuck you faster and deeper like some needy Omega bitch in heat..”
Breath lodges in your throat upon his admission, caring less whether it be true or false, he knew exactly what to say to turn your insides upside down. 
“Come on, open the door for Alpha.” 
A minute of silence passes, and you think about it. 
Jeno could help you through your heat, this living situation is temporary anyway. It’s too late to find a clinic to suffer it out at, and your heat wasn’t supposed to hit until next month. You had no time left to prepare, and if your memory serves you right— you need new batteries too.
As much as you try to deny an attraction to your roommate after daily complaints, it’s not as if you have been able to ignore how nervous his presence alone makes you.
Jeno annoys you because you like him, and that’s upset you ever since the day you met.
The tips of your fingers brush around your doorknob, pushing onto your knees with a sniffle into your pillowcase. 
“Go away Jeno,” you say finally, shoving back to curl into a ball as your Omega screams to let him in.
“Fine, suit yourself and suffer in there alone all you want.” He chuckles, tapping up and down your door to create a drum that accompanies his sweet vocals. “I’ll be in my room where you found me, waiting for when you’re ready. Come out, come out whenever you want, Omega.”
Footsteps rain heavily through the corridor, beating against your ear. You sigh defeatedly, returning to press up and listen for the familiar sound of his bedroom door shutting. It takes more than a minute, the Alpha lingering down the hall in wait, expecting you to succumb and claw your way out with your hands positioned ready for prayer and beg for his help.
He sighs quietly, but loud enough to your alert senses, shuffling back to his bedroom with the door shutting but not clicking to lock.
You know he means it, it’s an invitation, precisely as he said to recreate what you caught him watching.
The better part of your conscience commends your ability to stay put and control your natural instinct that craves every inch of the Alphas skin under your tongue, but the devil you ignore clawing at your shoulder chants otherwise.
“Fuck me.” You hiss between grinding teeth, pushing your underwear down for a pinch of relief. The first touch of air-conditioned breeze rustling between your hips aches more than usual. In fact, everything aches more than usual, never once had any heat hit you this hard and left you this aroused before.
This had to be Jeno’s fault. Stupid Alpha leaving his enticing scent everywhere. Stupid Alpha pushing your buttons for weeks until you ended up here on your knees contemplating how much more of this you can take.
Delirium takes over your brain before you can even sweep your fingers between your thighs. Slick aggressively pours down the inside of your legs, sticky and wet down to the pits of your knees making everything all the more uncomfortable. 
Heats had been bearable for the most part, mostly able to handle it yourself, even still showing up to work on your last couple of days with how well you managed to control your Omegas desires and stayed on top of using suppressants.
Jeno just had to show up and fuck up everything for you, with his stupid dark shiny eyes, his stupid attractive smile, and his extra stupid ripped stature that ignited a hint of fear in your gut every time he stood near you, every time his solid flesh so much as rubbed against yours.
As if your Omega could predict your next move, the devil on your shoulder cheered, encouraging you to hurry before ‘our Alpha’ grows more agitated with us.
“Useless.” Banging your head against the wall, you smear a slick painted on your hand across your shirt, shuddering as another pained moan slips out of you.
Silently pleading for forgiveness to no one other than yourself, your last shred of self-restraint evaporates, twisting the knob to collapse out onto the hallway floor. Jeno’s room seems further than ever now as your knees burn to carry you across the expanse of space separating the two of you. The journey down the hall pricks through your bones, cracking and hurting until you finally barge into his bedroom.
The Alphas exactly as you’d found him earlier seated at his computer chair, another video playing on the screen, headphones back on. 
“Alpha..”
A smirk creeps onto his face before looking over to watch you miserably trudge through his room, pathetic with drool already dripping from the corners of your lips.
“Jeno..” Your knees burn and bruise against the floor, slowly crawling deeper in without strength to open the door properly. He fully expected for you to lose control of yourself and find your way back to him, on your knees again as you’d left earlier.
Shifting with his feet paddling against the floor, he swivels side to side waiting until you near close enough to clutch onto his calves, burying your digits along his sweats to hoist yourself higher. “Alpha..”
“You think you deserve anything from me? After I offered you my help so nicely?” Jeno tsks, maintaining an icy expression. Eyes narrowed and jaw locked tight to keep up his cold unforgiving composure even as you pull harder on his sweats to lift yourself between his thighs; even while you drag your face against his upper thigh panting like a thirsty pup. 
“I think you owe me..” he says, sucking in a breath between his teeth, leaning his neck to one side. “How can you expect Alpha to willingly help you after treating me like this?” 
Jeno continues on, pouting when you scratch at his chest. The collar of his shirt dragged down by your grip on the material to pull yourself closer to him. 
“Please, please Alpha, n—need.” You whisper, pressing a wet kiss to his navel that sets a chill of heat down to his groin. The combination of your fierce grip on him and the heat radiating from your fingertips has him fighting to keep calm, slowly allowing his eyelashes to flutter shut as the scent of your prominent thick slick crashes like high-tide waves against his skull.
“What do you need?” Jeno says, lowering his gaze to pan over the distress that’s taken over your beautiful features. 
“Alpha please, please don’t make me..”
The dark glints lining his iris flicker with shards of gold and reds from listening to your groveling, but not enough to break his defiance. “Why should I still be nice? Have you been very nice to me, baby?”
With a clear head you’d probably snicker, bite back and mock him in return, but with heat completely engulfing your body you couldn’t find a care to argue. A coughed wail runs from your throat, stradling the small space left on his lap to wrap around the Alphas broad shoulders and soothe your raging heart with his usual bitter scent that’s ripened, sweet as a bowl of freshly cut fruit; staining your tongue with traces of acidity on a hot summer day. 
Gripping your waist, suckinghe sucks in a breath as he admires the amount of space his large hands are able to cover. Squeezing you tight as the idea of bruises and marks created by his hands showing up on your hips and thighs manifests beyond fantasy. “There there, you know Alpha will take care of you.”
Jeno pinches your chin, having to bite back his lower lip at the way your mouth wobbles; glossy gaze staring back at him pleading to be ruined. “Good Omegas know how to ask for what they need.”
“Jeno!” You whine, sniffling before a tear slips feeling more desperate and humiliated as he grasps your hip with one firm hand to stop you from grinding. “Please! I need you!”
The magic words pour from your lips, returning the Alphas hold to wrap around your waist to drag you closer; rolling his hips up simultaneously to press your bare core against his sweats forming a darkened puddle of slick upon his groin. “Smell so good for me baby, that’s all for me, right?” 
There’s something akin to desperation in the way Jeno’s stares at you while saying your name, pressing the pads of his fingers in your cheeks as he waits for you to speak, to reaffirm that you need him, not just any Alpha but him.
Pawing at his chest, you slowly nod, dipping closer to inhale every bit of him. For a small sliver of his taste to meet your lips. The scent you’ve begun to grow accustomed to feels even more overpowering now, aromatic and lucid inducing; hypnotizing your hips to roll faster for any type of friction against your center. 
Jeno forces your lips into a pout, allowing three breaths to pass between you before closing the small distance with his soft pink pout swallowing yours.
He kisses with equal hunger, nestled between your lips to suck and rub. The end of his tongue finding space inside of your mouth as you let out a gasp of surprise. Jeno’s big hands run down your back, kneading your ass over your shirt on the way to grip your thighs. 
The Alpha effortlessly moves to stand, lifting you with a secured hold around your thighs to set you on an empty space on his desk. Warm hands roam over your body, pushing beneath your shirt to clutch onto your waist again, this time with his digits sinking directly into your flesh. 
“You feel so good, so soft.” Jeno says between breaths, mesmerized by how smooth you feel. His hips rut up between yours, further smearing around the mess of slick coating his sweats. 
Bending lower, Jeno lays you back on his desk, licking the spit that's ended on your chin, rubbing his nose against yours before returning to your parted lips to plunge deep inside of your mouth; tongue gliding along yours. 
“Al-alpha..” moans continuously spew between strokes of his tongue, losing comprehension with another piston of his hips. The Alphas growing bulge presses stiff against your center, rubbing impatiently on your clit. “please, need you, n—need you now”
Jeno grunts, chewing your lips with his hands exploring, from squeezing your thighs and ass to tracing your shape up to your chest. He’s everywhere, mauling your mouth as he grinds harder, massaging your breasts with a strong hold, fingers tweaking your hardened buds. If not for his unrelenting will to not immediately fuck into you, you’d be sure he’s in rut.
“Need you too.” Jeno whimpers, winding the fabric of your t-shirt around your waist as a handle to grip and jam against you harder. “Need to taste you, feel every part of you.”
“Please, y-yes, Alpha please.”
Jeno nods rapidly, breaking into a sweat still fully clothed above you, large and powerful with his demanding empty thrusts that spiral up your chest, craving for more, more of the Alpha to consume you, more more more.
“Can you cum like this?” He asks breathlessly, a hint of whine singing from his throat as he bends to lick up your jaw, trailing up your ear to suck on. “Cum for me baby, wanna taste you.”
“Alpha, n-no—” his pace is unforgiving now, pushing your shirt up to stuff into your mouth muffling your moans. Jeno grunts listening to the nasty wetness between you, slick dripping down between his thighs leaving his sweats soaked. The table under you a complete mess of arousal smearing its way up to your lower back.
“Oh fuck!” With gritted teeth he pulls away to watch your chest heave, hips lifting up in desperate need. A stream of slick pulses out, squirting onto his shirt and the space under you, landing with a loud obscene splash. “Fuckfuckfuck.”
He can’t wait any longer, dropping to his knees quickly, his mouth attaches to your entrance before you can finish. Swallowing and sucking the last spurts of slick, the shock of his tongue dipping in shooting your spine rigid; bowing up into an arch with your feet scrambling to settle on the desk. “Alpha!”
Jeno groans from deep within his chest, his tongue working in and out of your convulsing heat instantly unable to get enough of the slick pouring down his throat. “Do you even know how good you taste?” 
The Alpha growls between slurping slick and licking between your folds, his nose covered with a layer of wetness from dragging up and down your exposed center. The tip of it rolling your clit into a mind-numbing circle as he takes a deep breath, slick filling his nostrils leaving him with hardly any space to breathe.
“Fuckfuck.” Jeno feels out of his mind, days of jerking off to the thought of you all leading to this moment. Ravenous with hunger to swallow you whole, he sucks on your labia folds, alternating the velvety flesh with light nips and pointed licks. Fat stripes of his tongue drag from your rim to your clit, lips pursed around the bundle of nerves to make you shriek.
A repeated chant of ‘so fucking good’ between deep intakes of wet breath sounds between your moans, heated palms squeeze your hips pushing onto the backs of your thighs to lift your lower back from the desk. Jeno stays bent over driving in deeper at this new angle, his tongue pushing in and out stretching your walls purposefully. 
Heat licks through your stomach when the Alpha pushes two digits in alongside his tongue, the stretch torturous as he falls into a fast-paced pump. Long thin fingers scissor way inside of you against the strain his tongue works up to, wiggling in deeper until his jaw hinges and locks. The tension in his muscle eliciting a grunt that fills your insides with toe curling vibrations.
Jeno imagines he could die with his face buried between your thighs, wondering how he went this long without your slick lathered on his tongue. His nose rubs back and forth against your clit the more he attempts to push in, slipping another finger into you. 
“Jeno! I’m—fuck!” You keen, wrinkling between your eyebrows as a shout and another wave of pleasure crashes over you. White heat filled with lust blacks out your senses as climax fully hits, having to reach for chunks of the Alphas hair to yank at between wailing for him to stop.
The Alphas ears feel foggy, clouded with fuzzy cotton and the screams of your pleased moans. He works past your orgasm, tongue gliding out to only focus on your clit, striking it in repeated motion with lick after lick; long fingers gaining momentum as he buries a fourth in and jackhammers another orgasm out of you. 
Your next release hits faster, his arm stiffening to push the tips of his digits against a spongy spot deep inside of you, splaying his other hand under your bellybutton with a harsh suck around your bundle of nerves. 
“Jeno!” 
Screams sound around the room, eyes rolling to the back of your skull with the assault from the Alphas merciless fingers and mouth. Slick rushes out viscously bursting past the digits lodged deep inside of you, coming to a still as he enjoys the stream smacking him across the face. 
“Holy fuck.” Jeno sighs, licking the mess off his lips before dragging out and kissing from over your slit to your entrance, hips twitching up with a whine from the oversensitivity.
“So perfect..” the Alpha mumbles quietly, not loud enough for you to hear over your euphoric daze; still lost in heat and addictive gratification.
He’s quick to strip himself, kicking off the sweats you’ve ruined and coming to stand up straight above you, looming large and broad.
“Never seen a prettier Omega.” He flatters, holding onto your knees to keep you spread open. Another embarrassing wad of slick leaks at the visual of the Alphas built frame hovering above you, his chest defined and abdomen etched in solid muscle, inching closer to your core. “With the prettiest pussy too.”
“Alpha, fuck me already, please!” You preen, squirming in his hold. His praise only does more to heighten your impatience and despair, squirming against the desk impatiently.
“Want me that much hmm? You going to cum that hard on my cock for me too?” Jeno clicks his tongue, sucking a breath between his teeth to lessen his Alphas rage to take you right now. The thought of fucking you for the first time anywhere other than his bed not sitting right with him. Leaning over, he kisses you softly, savoring the pilant moans you share between licks across the seam of your lips. Trailing his tongue inside to twist against yours and pull, drawing your neck and waist to arch up and allow his arms belt around you. 
Surprising you with his strength, he squats to haul you off the table, his bed not far off to lay you flat even with his legs shaking after staying hard for this long. Jeno can feel his last semblance of power disappear as he helps you out of your shirt, fully exposed beneath him with your face hidden and ducked against your shoulder as you flush. Suddenly shy with the Alphas dark glossy gaze taking his sweet time to scan your figure and caress your delicate curves.
“So pretty for your Alpha..” Jeno whispers, completely enraptured. Sleek eyes glazed over as they pass across every inch of skin, tickling down your sides to grab onto your hips again. The hiss you let out lets him know it hurts, bruises surely forming in the shapes of his fingers, an image to revel in until he can properly claim you.
“Alpha, fuck me.. please fuck me.” You whine more feverishly now, reaching to scratch and pinch his waist and meld your bodies closer, his thighs forming more space between your hips to settle his length against your core.
“Do you even understand what you’re begging me to do baby?” Jeno questions, lapping his mouth clean as his palm flattening around your throat. “Begging for Alpha to ruin you.”
“Wa—want you, want you to ruin me.” His grip tightens, snaking your throat with a chokehold when you plead for him to make it hurt, make it hurt good enough to remember. “Pl—please..”
“What if I need everything, what if I need every part of you?” He breathes harshly, hips rolling forward to drag his size between your gushing folds. “Will you give me that? Give me everything.”
“Everything,” tears spring free as your hands reach to wrap around his forearm, trembling head to toe with each pass of the Alphas cock from your navel to your clit, the stimulation pushing your mind deeper into an abyss of heat and desire. “I’m yours.”
Jeno’s throat jumps, cursing under his breath as he litters a path of kisses down your jaw, nipping your chin on his way to your chest. Perfectly straight pearly teeth bury into the pert mound of your breast with a growl, shaking his head to sink deeper into the fleshy meat and leave a mark. “So good, so fucking good.”
Loosening his hold on your neck, he traces upward, nestling the end of his nose along the column of your throat in search of your scent gland. His lungs lock dry and tight as he takes a deep long inhale of the sweet fragrance he’s become infatuated with; nipping at your warm skin, teasing you with the threat of marking you to be his. Threat of taking a chance to easily claim you as his mate. Sharp canines dig in enough to break the skin and leave indentations, staying still for seconds to let your scent flow down and fill his lungs.
Thrill races through your spine, having the Alpha this close to your scent gland. Arching for more movement between your bodies, your nails dig into his sculpted sides scratching down leaving viscous red lines in their wake, encouraging him to leave a mark.
Jeno sucks using more strength, raising blood to the surface on your neck in the pattern of a necklace, one for his hand to latch onto and deepen later.  
“Jeno, c—can’t—” ragged breath lodges between your lungs with his palm returning to constrict your throat, fingers digging into the sides congesting your next inhale. He growls roughly, like shards of glass have ruined his vocal chords. 
“You like that baby?” 
Barely able to nod, your body speaks for you as another glob of slick runs down the Alphas length leaving his balls dripping wet onto the bedding. “Get so wet for me, you get wet like this for anyone else?” 
“You, you Alpha.” You cry, desperately horny enough to say anything he wants at this point. Brought down to nothing but a pile of putty in his ruthless rough hands, willing to hand over your world for him to destroy.
He hums pleased, licking at the sweat blanketing his upper lip and using your throat to push his shoulders up, gawking in awe at the area you’ve drenched between your lower halves. Slick coats his thighs, abdomen shining under soft light reflecting off of him, the bed topper beneath you ruined. “You like me that much?”
He kisses at the backs of his teeth, rutting between your folds without control, losing his breath as he watches the tip of his size reach past your twitching navel with each swipe up. “Fuck, you gonna be good for me? Be a good Omega for Alpha and take it all?”
“Yesyesyes! Be so good, anything—” you blubber, coughing with your thighs clenched around his hips to lure him in. Hands scrabble on his wrist and forearm to loosen his hold on your neck, wheezing for air. “So good for you Alpha, a—anything.”
Jeno grabs a hold of his length, gripping snuggly around the base to calm himself, leisurely dragging his tip between your folds. “You’re so beautiful, baby.”
The thick aroused scent emitting off of you only grows heavier with his murmured flattery, a fresh dollop of slick bubbling out and drenching Jeno’s heavy sack. Tears cling to your eyelashes, a watery plead to be fucked echoes out, blurring past the Alphas ears when another waft of your scent spins his head into an alternate universe; mindlessly dipping the tip of his cock past your tight entrance.
“W—want you inside,” you say, fluttering your eyes shut nervously. “Want all of you inside Alpha, wanna be full of your pups.”
Jeno’s chest tightens, grinding his teeth as he inches deeper into your heat. The wet warmth makes the room spin, compressing his lungs in a way that brings him closer to what can only be described as death, and he knows he’s fucked. He’ll never be able to get enough of you after this.
“Feel you s—so deep,” you stammer, sliding a palm down to your navel to rest against the skin that’s begun to distend as the Alpha stills, head drooping between his shoulders to lower his uncontrollable moans. “Wanna feel your cum.. drip out of me.”
Jeno can’t stop himself from shouting, cursing under his breath while throwing back his head. Wet walls clamp around his size, the pressure shooting through his balls to fuck you with a renewed feral urgency. 
Shifting back, the Alpha gazes down between your bodies where you connect, jaw hung loose mesmerized by your cunt refusing to release him. Your walls squeezing, milking his length to your content until he finally sees the tip only to ram forward and fall into a brutal pace.
Hunching forward he bounces you deeper against the bed, exactly where he’d always planned to have his way with you. Fuck you until you cry and beg exactly as you are now. The nonsense and pleasured sounds dripping off your tongue playing like a tune to the rapid volume of flesh meeting flesh. Sharp hips barrel against your thighs, meeting fierce enough to leave bruises in their aftermath. 
“What am I gonna do with you?” Jeno whimpers, pushing his mouth against yours, melting into a messy kiss that’s more drool than lips meeting. Teeth clink together, swallowing shared breaths between failed attempts of locking lips. “How are you this perfect for me?”
The Alphas hands cup under your ass, groping to lift your bottom up and meet his furious speed. Tingles explode throughout your limbs from his praises, searching for refuge in his shoulder to hide the undeniable burn racing across your cheeks.
“Don’t hide from me, baby.” Jeno commands, pressing his nose against your cheek. “My pretty Omega.”
Raspy sweet vocals sing everything you need to hear right now, the constant mine mine mine twisting up your gut. The Alphas thick length works fast, thrusting into you at a spine-breaking pace, lifting your waist up to arch.
“Pl—please, please,” you croak, biting down on Jeno’s shoulder as a blood curdling scream tears through your chest. His cock catches on your entrance with each pull out, wrapping your legs tighter to lock your ankles around his lower back.
“What are you begging for?” the Alpha mouths at your jaw, nipping and licking sweat off your cheek. 
“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” 
Jeno can’t believe what a slut his roommate is, already fucked stupid and still demanding more. Moving to slide his arms under your back, he sets a violent pace. The scream you let out scratching your vocal chords up, urging him to fuck you faster. Fuck you until your heat breaks.
“Yesyesyes! Alpha!”
“God,” he gasps, disoriented. Disbelief of how well you take it rocking his brain side to side. Taking it like you belong to him already. “Made for me, aren’t you baby?” 
He’s fucking into you even faster, harder, every inch meticulously dragging inside of you. The room humid and hot with a combined heat building off your bodies, skin beating against yours all sweaty, sticky, covered in slick.
“Fuck baby, how are you still so f-fucking tight.” Jeno preens, his voice cracking the more you clench around. “Feel too good, feel too damn good..”
Planting you with another sloppy kiss, he straightens back to push your thighs against to chest. Weighing more on your air passage as his hips drop faster, knees bracketed around your distraught face adding to how delirious and lost you feel.
“Al—alpha.. br—..” with a lifeless sigh, you crumble. Angled perfectly to watch his length bury in and out of you. The thick size of his girth spreading your cunt open more than you’ve ever seen, breaking you to never need anyone else. No one would ever come close. “Breed me.”
Jeno’s eyes snap open, his hands squeezing roughly along the backs of your legs. He can’t stop now, not with how you gaze up at him like he’s a God. The hazy stare you focus on him, admiring the man above you so full of list, sending him toppling over the edge. 
Tears, drool, and sweat spill past your lips, huffing empty breathless cries. The Alphas cock burying into you to the brim protruding your stomach out again. His massive size rearranging your insides, erasing the last shred of sanity you had with another roll of his hips.
Incoherent noises break from your parched throat, the most painful and satisfying orgasm ripping through your body, strong enough to leave you feeling brainless. Eyes rolled back as your lower half jerks, squirting aggressively enough for Jeno to nearly break into tears as he stays rooted inside of you against the pressure trying to rip past his length and push him out of the way.
“God damn..”
He fucks you through it, dragging your limp body higher up the bed as he races to completion. A gutted growl slices through the thick air around you, his knot expanding as hot white ropes painting your insides. Teeth gritted as he leans down and lays a pathway of kisses up your chest, licking over your scent gland again, more desperate to bite and have you as his mate.
The Alphas knot continues to stretch you open and grown, instinctively lulling another weak orgasm out of you the more your tight muscle pulls around him. Locked together with half-lidded eyes lazily taking in the afterglow painted over your expressions, the heat subdues enough to at least feel half-awake and process reality for the moment.
“Thank you..”
Jeno smiles, adjusting his arms to loop around your waist and position you both more comfortably on your sides until his knot deflates. “Why are you thanking me?”
“Because..” you mumble, tucking in your chin to hide as warmth rushes to your cheeks. “..I wanna be good for you..”
His cock pulsates watching your expression shift to a demure innocent one, stifling a groan by biting on his lip. He nudges your forehead with his nose, pressing a gentle kiss on your lips.
“You are the best for me.”
Jeno’s affirmations reach deep with your heat feeding off the Alphas energy, the ache between your thighs stinging again, punching through your gut. Tightening around his length as he slims down to a normal size.
“Alpha..”
“My baby needs more already?” He smiles softly, pecking away the pout you give him as he maneuvers to slowly pull out of you.
“Come on, present yourself, show me how much you want it. Show me how good you can be for your Alpha.” Jeno says with a hint of cockiness laced through his tone. Slapping your hip enough to sting and have you lazily turning over, hissing as your knees drag on the wet bedding; lowering your chest to shove your ass out with a defined arch in your spine. 
He can’t believe how wrecked your cunt looks already, swollen and coated in his seed. His fingers smear the mess of your mixture up to push more inside of your hole, drawing sad little whines out. “Perfect Omega for me. Mine.”
Sniffling, you nod, swaying your hips for more even if you feel ready to pass out. “Yours.”
The Alpha sits up on his knees, slapping the underside of his length against your rim and slit creating filthy sounds of wetness around you. His cock coats in the remnants of his release and slick that won’t stop flowing out of you. “Fill you up with my pups, like my good Omega deserves.” 
Sheathing back in, he lets out a guttural groan, eyes rolling back as blunt nails dig into your sides. His cock throbs against your swelled walls, wasting no time to fuck and breed you full of cum again and again. The reminder that you belong to him now never failing to sing from his lips release after release with his hands tangled in yours. 
“Mine, meant to be mine.”
The Alphas aroma shifts the air around you before he can settle back into bed, humming as he plops back onto the space next to you.
“You’re not going to believe this but..” Jeno laughs bitterly, nuzzled against your side with his phone in hand. “Mr. Huang emailed about an eviction on the Alpha floor..”
“Hmm? Eviction?” You question lazily. Still drowsy with your nose buried in Jeno’s pillow to quell your heat for a moment.
“Yeah.. looks like I can move out by next week..” he trails off mournfully, clearing his throat as he locks his phone.
“Move out?? What?” those words are enough to have you shooting up to sit, hissing from the way your entire body stings. “Wht?!”
“Uhm, because you want me to move out?” Sitting up on his elbows, he cocks an eyebrow, the one he recently put a slit in that you absolutely hate(love). “Weren’t you just ranting to your friend about how insufferable and disrespectful I am?”
“See, eavesdropping is disrespectful,” rolling your eyes, you lightly smack his tight stomach, returning to cuddle into the Alphas pillow. An instant blanket of calm wraps around your limbs with one inhale as his trademark scent consumes your senses. “Do you want to move?”
“Not really..” Jeno admits, laying back down to meet you at eve-level. “I doubt a new roommate would buy the same great snacks and ramen you always manage to find.”
“Do you see how you’re insufferable?” You tut, rolling your eyes playfully. 
“As long as you’re willing to live with me.. I’d like to stay.” He smiles genuinely, draping an arm around your waist to press closer. “..and maybe see where this goes..”
“This?”
“Us.”
“..when’s your next rut?” 
Jeno cracks into a wide smile at that, tickling up your back to make you curl into yourself and expose your throat for him to kiss and lick.
He may or may not have made all of that up, who knows really. It’s not as if he doesn’t proudly carry the title of being your insufferable Alpha roommate without good reason.
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writingwithcolor · 4 months
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A Careful Balance: Portraying a Black Character's Relationship with their Hair
@writingraccoon said:
My character is black in a dungeons and dragons-like fantasy world. His name is Kazuki Haile (pronounced hay-lee), and his mother is this world's equivalent of Japanese, which is where his first name is from, while his father is this world's equivalent of Ethiopian, which is where his last name is from. He looks much more like his father, and has hair type 4a. I plan to make his character very finnicky about his hair, both enjoying styling it, but also often being unsure how to style it (not in that he doesn't know how to, but has so many options for how to style it, he has trouble choosing). However, I know that there are some very harmful ways to write black hair, especially in regards to how the black character themselves feels about it. Kazuki does not hate his hair, in fact he takes joy in it, and I'm researching black hair and hair styles to be as accurate as possible. But I'm unsure if portraying a black character as occasionally overwhelmed by or vain about his hair is negative. How would you suggest either changing this or making it work? Does it need to be changed in the first place?
Black Character Overwhelmed by Curly Afro Hair
Your Black character wanting his hair to look its best and at times feeling overwhelmed seems reasonable and natural to me. It appears their challenge comes with how to style it. Not so much with struggling how it looks or how hard it is to manage. That is good, as this further helps avoid placing a strong negative focus on Black hair. 
Him caring a lot about how it is style should not be deemed vain or frivolous, either. In any case, hair care is self care. There’s nothing wrong with having pride with your hair, especially hair that mainstream society, historically and present, might say is not beautiful. This still matters, even in a fantasy world, since your readers still exist in this reality. It’s empowering and a welcome change to see someone who loves their afro hair, actually.
There are unique factors someone with coily afro hair would experience vs. straight, wavy, or looser curls, but people struggling with their hair (too frizzy, too flat, too limp, too thin, too thick!) is universal. 
There is a delicate balance to achieve.
Avoid Writing a Black Hair Journey Experience 
An overall negative Afro hair journey might be the reality for many, especially when society deems Afro hair as unacceptable and slaps so many uninvited opinions, laws and policies over its existence and on certain styles (again, historically and very much at present), but that’s the kind of story that is best handled by someone with the background. Someone willing to commit to the research might also be able to pull it off, although it’s truly not the kind of thing an escapism novel needs in my opinion. If the story is not meant to delve into “A Black /Black Hair Experience” then I'd avoid going that route. That is moving a bit towards a struggle narrative, depending on how much it defines your character’s story.
Add positive and neutral hair language and interactions
For your writing, I’d avoid using unchallenged negative language about his hair. Being overwhelmed at times and frustrated is one thing and expected. If his hair is constantly brought up, and is associated with uncontrollable, ugly, or too [insert struggle here], then rethink the direction you’re going. 
Add some positive or neutral terms, reactions, and interactions in the narrative towards afro hair, such as describing color and texture.
“His fine coils bounced in the wind.” 
“Hair black and shiny” 
“She wore her hair in two large, fluffy buns.”
“He admired his fresh, neat braids in the mirror, smiling at his reflection, before turning to leave.”
Another tip: It may have been for research purposes, but leave out any hair number categorizing in the story and rely on description. I’d say this goes for any story, as reading the number would feel off. 
“He had coily 4a hair.” Nahh! :P 
Also, I would suggest sending all passages that focus on his hair to a Black sensitivity reader for review.
More reading:
~Mod Colette
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