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❥ IN WHICH, Katsuki never cared about the 'bro code' or the fact that his best friend's sister was off-limits, and their secret becomes a dangerous game—one they’re both addicted to playing right under her brother’s nose.
❥ WC : 1171
"That’s just my sister, Y/N. Don’t worry about her—she’s been keeping to herself lately, anyway."
That should have slowed Katsuki down, but it did the exact opposite. Discovering that Y/N was off-limits by some unspoken 'bro code' only made him want her more.
He didn't care whose sister she was. Knowing her relation to his best friend didn't change the way she looked at him, and it certainly didn't change the fact that he had no intention of letting her go.
"Honestly? I'd hate for her to date one of my friends. It’d just get messy, y'know?"
Katsuki simply grunted, shoving his hands deep into his pockets to hide the way his knuckles had gone white.
He knew he should’ve cut things off right there—walk away before the roots dug too deep. But every time he stepped into that house, his eyes betrayed him, searching for Y/N before he could even check his own pride.
She played the part perfectly, acting as if he were a ghost, yet she’d move through the kitchen in those tight shorts that drove him insane.
Every time she brushed past him in the narrow hallway, the intentional friction felt like a risk he was dying to take.
"I'm trying to get some rest." Y/N coldly spoke, leaning against the doorframe with a look of pure indifference. "Can you and your friend keep it down, please?"
Katsuki’s jaw tightened until it ached. She knew his damn name. She knew it better than anyone else, considering it was the only thing she’d been moaning for the last few months behind locked doors.
Watching her stand there, acting like he was just some nameless extra her brother brought home, struck a nerve he had to practically weld shut to keep from snapping at her right then and there.
Once the act was able to drop..
"You're real quiet now." He had his cock buried deep inside of her in a perfect mating press, as she looked completely fucked-out. The sight of her like this—flushed and shaking under his weight—was the only thing keeping his own restraint from snapping. "What happened to that mouth? Say my fuckin' name, Y/N."
With her ankles hooked over his shoulders, Y/N kept her hands pressed against her mouth, desperately trying to keep quiet.
The further he pushed, the more it grew difficult, the sounds of her undoing slipping through her fingers as he continued to wreck her.
Stubborn.. He pulled back slowly, only to suddenly slam back into the hilt, watching as Y/N's eyes clamped shut. A muffled moan slipped past her fingers, trailing off into a desperate whimper. "C'mon, I know you can say it, baby.." He cooed, smirking at how easily he could break her silence.
"Don't wanna wake him.." She whispered into her hands, but the lie fell flat. It was a weak excuse and they both knew it—her brother was a deep sleeper, currently passed out cold on the living room sofa after a marathon of video games and movies.
Then she felt him slowly pull out again, dragging it out even further than before until he was barely catching the edge.
The sudden lack of fullness left her feeling more needy than ever, her hips instinctively stuttering upward to try and chase the sensation he was intentionally holding back.
"K-Katsuki.. Please." His name finally slipped past her lips as her hands fell away from her face and onto his biceps. She couldn't hold it back anymore; the feeling was too much, and the way he looked at her made her want to give him exactly what he was demanding.
The emptiness was too much. As he slowly began to push back in, the first real moan broke through—loud enough to make her heart race in fear of getting caught, but too sweet for her to stop.
"Yeah, keep making those sounds. I bet you were thinking about this all day while you were keeping to yourself.." He could feel her pulse around him, her body telling him she was right on the edge, and he was more than ready to push her over.
He leaned down to press rough kisses against her neck, sucking at the soft skin to leave a dark, unmistakable mark that would remind her of this long after he was gone.
Y/N tilted her head back, giving him better access to her neck as she let out a long, shaky moan. "I was.." She whispered, finally answering his taunt. "I was thinking about you all day—Katsuki, I'm.." The words died in her throat as a wave of heat crashed over her.
He felt how her cunt tightened in that desperate, beautiful way that told him she was on cloud nine. "Fuckin' knew it.." He grunted, his thumb sweeping over her jaw to keep her head back.
He didn't care about the noise anymore; he just wanted more of her, his own thrusts becoming sloppy until he was right there on the edge with her.
"Oh, there you are. I was just about to look for you.." Her brother yawned, blinking at Katsuki in the dim light of the hallway.
They were now just a few feet from Y/N's door, and he was too dazed from his sleep to notice the way Katsuki was breathing hard or how his hair was completely trashed.
He knew he smelled like her—smelled like sex—and if the idiot stepped even an inch closer, the game would be up.
"Bathroom break, huh? Me too, man.." Her brother muttered, giving a sluggish pat to Katsuki’s shoulder as he shuffled past. He was completely oblivious, his eyes half-closed as he navigated the hallway and walked right past Y/N’s bedroom door.
He didn't even glance towards her room, totally unaware of how close he’d come to walking in on them.
Katsuki stood frozen in the hallway, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding once the door shut, the scent of the encounter still heavy in the air around him.
His eyes glanced once more at Y/N’s bedroom door, the image of her wrecked and breathless still burned into his mind. He lingered for only a second before making his way downstairs.
He reached the bottom of the stairs and threw himself back onto the other end of the couch, his chest still tight. Every time he closed his eyes, he could still feel the way she’d pulsed around him.
The way her juices overflowed around him, and the way she was practically sucking him in, never wanting to let him go..
Katsuki knew it was too risky, but as he stared at the flickering TV screen, he knew he didn't regret a single second of it.
He was a dead man if his friend ever found out, but the way Y/N had looked at him—broken and begging for his name—made the risk feel like a damn reward.
All he could think about was how soon he could get her alone again.
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Bodily autonomy (like abortion, anti draft, etc) -> “The government shouldn’t be able to force anything on my body I don’t want.”
Anti surveillance -> “I don’t trust big government/big tech (big brother if you’re feeling frisky) with the ability to spy on me and my family.”
Immigration -> “Next to all of us immigrated at some point, I don’t see why the elites get to decide who’s allowed to be where. What’s to stop them coming for me?”
Climate Change -> “Big oil shouldn’t get to determine whether or not I get to go places. I don’t want to be dependent on some big business to survive.”
State Violence -> “I don’t want the goddamn secret police breathing down my neck! I trust my community a whole hell of a lot more to help me than I do the state!”
The vast majority of conservatives think of themselves as underdogs being repressed by the government/the elite, and they value personal freedom (specifically their personal freedom, they don’t care about other people). The will almost always agree with leftist points if you can find a way to blame the problem on their vague enemies (useful, since rich people are the root of most problems), and tie it back to their ability to say fuck everyone else. NEVER appeal to science, theory, logic, or human goodness. Make it seem as if you are a paranoid lunatic who trusts no one. They love it.
Read this book about how in the 20th century much of the paper record was destroyed by another technology, Mircrofilm.
Double Fold: Libraries and the Assault on Paper is a non-fiction book by Nicholson Baker that was published in April 2001. An excerpt appeared in the July 24, 2000 issue of The New Yorker, under the title "Deadline: The Author's Desperate Bid to Save America's Past".[1] The work details Baker's project to uncover what happened to the thousands of books and newspapers that were replaced during the microfilming boom of the 1980s and 1990s.
My woke take, as someone who has worked in both a public library and a school library, is that we desperately need both more books that are at a higher reading level but a less mature subject matter, and more books that are at a lower reading level but a more mature subject matter, because 8 year olds who are advanced readers are still 8 year olds and don't want to read about graphic violence and torture, and teens and adults who have learning difficulties or who are just later readers for whatever reason are still teens and adults and don't want to read about Billy the Bunny going to school or whatever the hell.
Shoutout to people in the notes also mentioning people learning the language, I should've mentioned that really, given that I've been stuck reading German picture books myself while learning German.
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he was literally right about many things. calling out his more eccentric concepts and entirely writing off his work is absolutely absurd. his theories about the unconscious are incredibly sound and contemporary, and his critiques of modern civilization are pertinent and relevant. He was the first prominent psychologist to argue that women had independent sexuality, and yes he had character flaws but he was incredibly intelligent and constantly revising his work. you simply have to give him some credit like, he was not "making things up," he was making observations based on evidence, and the examples he uses can be absurd, but you're literally missing the entire point if you're like Ha ha he said Men want to piss on fire. Or "Ha ha I don't wanna fuck my mom so he was wrong about everything " even tho that's not even what the oedipus complex is really about it's about our means of identification with the parent at a young age (i.e. pre-language) and the way we consitute ourselves in relation to the social space/symbolic and the family unit. He was literally right about it too, you people are so annoying
had some time to reflect and all i can think about is semi who is SUCH a good kisser. and SO good in bed. that you can't help but assume he has a roster of paramours he rotates through where he's honed all these skills. and you try not to let that upset you, you know that whatever you and semi have going on is casual... amicable if you're being generous. you're not lovers. you met him at a show where he had plenty of people vying for his attention. you just happened to be the one who got it.
and then you find out that when semi's not hanging around venues or dimly lit bars, he's a very normal, alarmingly clean-cut guy who works a government desk job and worries about the upkeep of his houseplants. who shops the flyers for the grocery stores to get the best deal. who has only had a handful of steady, long-term partners, and a few brief hookups in between, who was nervous that night he took you home for the first time—because he liked you so much, and he was worried he was going to do something to fuck it all up.
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