#I keep getting myself into these situations

[yavieriel]

This does not have to be a cry of desperation. You do not have to accept the 24/7 deluge of information from for-profit news agencies that want your attention. You do not have to accept despair as the only valid response to the state of the world.

Drastically restricting your news intake is one of the best things you can do for your mental health. Block out a specific amount of time that you are willing to spend on current news, say one hour a week, and mute, block, unsubscribe, etc. from any news sources that you would see passively. During that one hour a week, actively seek out news from trustworthy sources. The rest of the week, if you see something, block it.

During that hour of engagement with the news, when you see something upsetting ask yourself, can I do something concrete and finite that will meaningfully impact this situation?

Not “can I raise awareness of X” or “should I reblog content about X”. Those are not concrete or finite and 99% of the time they're really just shouting into the void pointless.

Concrete and finite means things like:

Donate to a reputable charity

Vote for a specific candidate

Volunteer with a reputable non-profit

Write to my government representatives

You may need to do some research to find out what your options are.

If you cannot find anything to do about a problem that fits these constraints, then put it in the mental box of "not my circus, not my man-eating tigers" and accept that this problem is not yours to solve.

If there is some act you could take that passes the test of 1) concrete action 2) finite 3) meaningful impact

Then ask “Do I have the resources to do this without causing myself harm?”

If yes: Do the thing. Put it on your to-do list, check it off, be at peace with yourself. You have done a Good Thing. Reward yourself in some small way.

If no: Do not harm yourself, physically, emotionally, or mentally. Be kind to yourself and acknowledge that right now you are not in a place to tackle this particular problem. That is not a failure on your part. It may be a limitation imposed by an illness and/or disability, or the fact that you are yourself a victim in some way, or simply the fact that you're not wealthy. None of these things are your fault.

Ask yourself if there are things that you can work on instead that would help you develop the resources you need to help others at some point in the future. Focus on improving your own well-being. Learn to put your own oxygen mask on first. Stop setting yourself on fire to keep others warm. Talk to a therapist about creating healthy boundaries.

Whatever choices you make, let go of the fear, the anxiety, the despair, the panic.

Your negative feelings are not improving anyone else's life. Your suffering in and of itself is not benefiting anyone through some metaphysical balance sheet of suffering. Your unhappiness is not changing the world for the better. All it is doing is keeping you paralyzed and exhausted so that you cannot do anything positive.

The only people benefiting from your despair are the ones who want you beaten down and hopeless. Don't let them control you.

And for the other 167 hours a week, ignore the news. Do the things on your to-do list, take care of your home, spend time with your loved ones, work on your hobbies. Plant that pear tree and watch the pears ripen. Get to know a local sheep farmer and go watch the sheep and learn to card and spin their wool. Talk to your neighbors. Be kind.

[whatifitis]

♡ i wish you would've stayed - LN 4 ♡

Summary: you and lando had a fling and things end but did he lie? he found someone new when he said he wasn't ready.

WC: 2636

CW: angst, very small mention of weight loss, overuse of song lyrics, use of quotes i found on tiktok

How can it be that everytime someone says they aren’t ready for a relationship with you, they always end up ready for the girl after? 

You and Lando had been friends for a couple of months before you ended up developing feelings for him. Like, who wouldn’t fall for him? He’s funny, cute, and charming. You guys would talk for hours on end. Everytime you two would find something in common, it felt like the invisible string between the two of you was real. Maybe all these things were signs that you had finally met your person. 

When you were able to talk to him, it felt like everything was okay. When it felt like no one wanted you around, he did. It didn’t matter if you just had a hellish day or not, he was always able to bring you back to joy and contentness in a second. He showed you how it felt to be loved, for the first time in your life. 

When you’d confessed to him about your feelings for him, he’d said he liked you as well. You remember nearly bursting into tears as giddiness swirled in your chest. This was the first time your feelings had been well received, and it was someone who you had really grown fond of. He didn’t want to be anything yet so as to not feel pressured so early in this relationship and you understood, you were fine with it. The two of you often joked about what to call your situation as neither of you liked the term ‘situationship’ and ‘casual’ definitely wasn’t it. It was just two people who really liked each other and wanted to see how things went.

Everyday, the two of you spoke for hours at a time and it was fun. You’d shared music with each other and you’d actually grown to enjoy music from his favorite artist. When you asked him to make a playlist of all his favorite songs by the artist, he was genuinely so excited and got to work instantly. You loved seeing him so happy and you’re glad it was because of you, selfishly so. When he’d sent you the playlist, he’d named it one of the verses from a song that you had sort of dedicated to him. You really fell hard for him. 

Even though it had just been a month or so, you were excited to picture a life with him. The two of you had even planned out your future home together. The colors of the walls of every room had already been picked out and it was the happiest you had been in a long time. 

“We’re gonna have a house by the beach, yeah? And we’re gonna have a dog that’s practically our baby. And we’re gonna name it ‘Lando’.”

“Lan, why are we naming it after you?” you softly laughed. 

“Well, when I was a kid, my family had gotten a dog and it was my job to name it. As the uncreative child I was, I named it after the best thing ever. Myself.” he smiled cheekily.

“No way. Oh my god.” you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Hold on. I’m not done painting the scene.”

“Alright, apologies, my love. Please continue.” 

“So our dog, Lando, will lie in the sheets with us. The sun will always shine and there will be a ring on your hand. On your ring finger specifically. And I’ll hold you every night.”

But he lied. He made a promise he could never keep. He tried and tried until he couldn’t. 

As time went by, his texts began to slow down. But you weren’t upset. When the two of you began this whirlwind of a relationship, he’d mentioned how with work and his mental health, he’d often go days without having the energy to talk to anyone. You understood, you’d been there before, you told him as long as he would talk to you whenever he was able, that you were going to be okay. And you were. Your days would go by where you wouldn’t get a text from him and it was okay. You were productive during the days and while you did miss him, you knew his struggles and you let him be with the occasional messages to check on him. 

Then one Thursday in the fall, your world came crashing down. You sort of knew it was coming. There were signs that you chose to ignore, hoping it wasn’t true. But then you got the text “I don’t think we should talk anymore.” You really tried to understand. He said he felt guilty for dragging you along and that he didn’t want to keep doing it to you. He said he was tired and he wasn’t able to maintain a relationship of any sort. So you said ok. That was the last time the two of you spoke. 

For weeks, you cried over this loss. It wasn’t just about essentially getting dumped. To you, he was your best friend and you lost him. That was the worst part. Not the fact that you didn’t have anyone to love anymore. Not that he just up and left. It was the fact that he was your friend before everything and you don’t have any part of him now. 

You knew you had some fault in the ending though. You’d said things that weren’t the right things to say at the time. You had messed up often. You just wish you could take those back though. You wish you could’ve said something different. Then maybe he’d still be yours. 

You told your friends what happened and it’s safe to say they all dislike him now. After everything, they started stating their opinions and talked shit about him but it didn’t help. You didn’t hate him, although you should have. You wished you could hate him and be angry, but you’re not. You’re just sad. 

Everything reminds you of him. Every song is about him. Every poem is about him. Every book is about him. The blue in the water is him. The sun shining through your window is him. His face is everywhere. His voice is everywhere. His laugh is everywhere. The laugh you thought you would get to listen to for forever, is now a stranger. 

You would find yourself still imagining things with him after the end of everything. You’d think of him in the stupidest things. You’d think of him while in the shower, how it’d be nice to have your things with his sitting along the edge of the tub. You would even imagine running out of soap so you would end up using his. You would go to work and the store wearing it. Only when in the night, when you would lay next to him in bed, would you smell where all your missing soap had gone. 

It was those stupid little things that made the healing process so much harder. 

He forgot you overnight. Meanwhile you lost your head and appetite. You ate a lot like a fly. Your anxiety had also gotten worse, making your heart race every second of the day. You thought of giving up everything. It was a dramatic thing to consider considering you couldn’t even classify what happened as a breakup, as he was never yours. 

After some time, the tears stopped. The heartbreak didn’t, but you were able to continue with your life and get through some days. Every so often, you still check on him through social media, just to make sure he’s okay. Of course, that came back to bite you in the ass when you found out he was talking to someone. 

The day you found it, your heart dropped and it felt like that Thursday all over again. All that healing had gone out the window because now everything feels like a lie. Was he making fun of you with some esoteric joke? 

He said he wasn’t ready for a relationship, that he couldn’t maintain any relationship. He said he cared about you. You believed it. You were stupid to believe it. A fool for thinking any of it was real. The house, the songs, every little thing was a lie. All you ever thought about was there the hell he was and if he was okay but he didn’t give two shits about you. There was never a you and him. And there never would be. 

You go back and forth between being angry and sad. You can’t tell if you’re making everything up in your head whether it was your relationship with him or the events after. 

Every page you wrote, he was on it. Every word you wish you could say to him. 

After letting you sulk for a few months, your friends dragged you out of the house so you could all go to a club and just have fun. There was no pressure to meet someone or walk away with someone. They said that all you owed them was to show up and have fun. So you went. 

The night was beautiful at first. After pregaming a bit, you ordered yourself a drink at the club and just let loose with your girls. Dancing the night away and not caring about tomorrow. All that mattered was right now. 

You could feel arms moving around you, your heart beating to the music, the alcohol working its magic through your system. You were glad to be there with your favorite people, when everything felt like it was falling away, you still had them. 

It was truly an amazing night until there were whispers spread across the room. Lando was there, with his new girl. The two walked hand in hand towards the back corner of the club with their group. 

What the fuck was he doing here? He could be anywhere in the world, why is he here? 

You didn’t know what to do. For the longest time, you’d imagined what you would do if you were to be in the same room as him again. You composed a hundred ways to tell him the reasons why you could’ve played for keeps, all of which would sit collecting dust, rotting in your house. 

You watched as they settled into the rhythm of the club, when Lando looked straight at you. He looked different. He looked lighter. 

Your friends caught this moment and immediately grabbed you and tried to get you to ignore them. They wanted you to show Lando that you’re better off without him, that you’re okay. So you tried. You tried to keep dancing, to keep your heavy feet moving, to act as if your heart wasn’t being dragged through you. 

You needed a minute. Telling one of your friends you were going to the restroom, you pushed through the crowd. Squeezing through a mess of entangled, sweaty bodies. You kept pushing until you found yourself on a balcony, trying to catch your breath. You moved to a more secluded spot so you could try and recuperate. 

Resting your arms on the railings, you lowered your head to try and figure out what to do. Did you want to confront him, ask for closure? Or did you just want to let it go and try to be free? 

You were caught up in your head when you heard someone clearing their throat somewhere behind you. Looking up, you were met with those hazel green eyes that you had fallen for all those months ago. 

“Hey,” Lando started “didn’t know you were here. Small world, eh?”

“Yeah. Crazy.”

“Come on. Why you being short with me?”

“Nothing. So, uh. Who’s the girl?”

“Oh, yeah. Hannah is my girlfriend. She’s pretty great.”

“Good for you. I’m glad you found someone who can love you the way you deserve. We all need someone to hold and now you found your person.” “Thanks. She helps me a lot and she knows how it feels to be alone in the rain. I guess I just needed someone to stay.” he shrugged, smiling at you. He wasn’t trying to be malicious, he was just happy that he’d found his love.

I stayed. 

“She seems great. I’m happy for you.”

Please, keep me close. 

“Yeah. You’ll find someone too. I’m sure you will.” Couldn’t you love me most?

“Yeah. Sure.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, savoring the silence for different reasons. You knew this was gonna be the end of your story with him. This was going to be the last time you would see him. He thought it was great that everything could remain civil. 

“Well, I gotta go back in.” he said, pointing behind him towards the dance floor, “I’ll see you around. Take care.”

“You too!” you shouted back before he disappeared into the blinking lights and mess of music. 

At the end of the day, you’re hopeless. He found someone better. He found someone to love. Someone to love him. 

So here you sit in the bedroom of your apartment, just missing him and wishing things were different. And you can wish all that you want, but it won’t bring you two together. No matter the things he said or did, you still loved him. 

After all this time, you would still bend back to him if he left the door open. All he had to do was say the words, and you’d play again. But who were you to ask for more? You were just a little chapter in his story while he was more to you. 

If he needed someone, he could’ve picked you. You would’ve given him everything. All he had to do was ask. And you know that can’t solve everything. You just wish he chose you. For once, you wish you had been chosen. You wish he had chosen to love you. You wish he chose you even if it was just to toy with you for longer. 

You still can’t hate him. You honestly wish the best for him. You want him to be happy, even if it means it’s not with you. You want him to have the life he’s dreamed of, with the walls of his house painted blue, red and pink. You hope he gets to go to the city his favorite artist was born in and have a drink at the bar they used to perform at. You hope he’s okay. 

You now know, you’re just not that girl. It was your own fault for not being good enough. She won him, the girl with the gold hair. That’s the girl he chose. So one day, when he walks down the aisle to complete his great love story, you hope he remembers that you’re glad to see him win. You can’t claim to be on the side of love if you can’t even support it in someone you love. It’s not fair to him. 

Your birthday falls on the 29th night of December and you stand in the middle of your kitchen surrounded by your family who say they love you. A birthday cake sits in front of you, coffee flavored, a flavor you never liked. Everyone sings you a happy birthday as you stand there, not letting the tears fall from your face. No one can see the ache in your heart and the way it feels like it’s being dragged down your body. So you just smile. 

You close your eyes to make a wish, but no wish appears as you blow out the candles, just the thought ‘Only three more days left living in a year where you loved me. Only a few more days left in a year where I've allowed myself to love you knowing you don’t’.

Wishing only wounds the heart, after all.

[teaboot]

I’m sending this anonymously but this is NOT anon hate

You are such a good person, i think. Your latest post(as of 4:10pm Arizona, US time) spoke to me really hard. My father is a cop, in the united states, arizona, duh. And he used to be such a good person, he was a security guard and a damn good one too, and later in he became a prison guard because it paid better, and then he joined the police force.

I’d like to think that hes one of the good ones, and for the most part he is. A lot of my delinquent friends over the years who’ve had run-ins with him say that he gets them breaks, he takes care of them, hes a good cop. I’ve even seen body camera footage of him in the field and i’m proud to say that hes my dad. He calls out bad actors where he sees them, and he gets punished for it. He doesnt see the system or how his punishments are by design. And he continues turning in his cog, begrudgingly, and slightly out of time, but he thinks hes making a difference

Sorry for the ramble and essay, i just wanted to say that i really like your blog and i think you are a very nice human being. Thank you for sharing your perspective.

P.s. i’m totally basing an oc off of your outlook on security. You strike me as more of a superhero than a security guard.

-🦕 anon

Oh, that’s a super flattering take and a valuable perspective- so thank you! But I’m a gullible dumbass, and not even an incredibly smart or fit one- I just want people to be happy and safe. That’s all. And I don’t want to BE a cop, I’ve NEVER wanted to be a cop, but every time the request comes around I feel like I’m wearing down.

I keep wondering if I could help MORE in a position like that.

Probably like your dad did.

Here, people know they’re safe with me because I shut down the gunhappy jerks, but I don’t know how long it would take to truly make a difference in public security, or how many of my morals I’d have to compromise to get to that point

I feel objectively like a system so archaic and flawed can’t be changed from the inside, but another part of me says that you don’t need to change an entire system to make a difference where it counts

I believe that so many bad situations and life-changing moments can be diverted or changed by a single person in the right place at the right time- and I figure, if I trust myself to do the right thing and BE the right person, shouldn’t I do my best to put myself in those places?

But good intentions, roads to hell, you know? I don’t WANT to be a cop. But I want to be able to DO SOMETHING about the thinks I dislike seeing in conflicts. SOMEONE has to be willing to do that, right?

I’m not religious, you know? But the devil can be very convincing

[jinxyjinxer]

˗ˏˋ SLUT ˎˊ˗ fucking the bratiness out of you

⟢ characters : Jayce Talis

⟢ warnings : fem!reader, semi-public, p in v, usage of "slut" and "whore", degrading, creampie

"Fuck, if you can't keep your pretty mouth shut we'll get caught for sure", Jayce groans as he drills his dick deeper and deeper into your tight core, his hips slamming against you, your moans and the slapping of skin on skin bouncing off the walls.

The two of you weren't actually supposed to be in this position right now, fucking like wild animals in a cramped storage room at a gala hosted by the Kiramman family inside their mansion. You had been such a teasing brat all night that Jayce couldn't help but take you to the next best room to fuck your sassiness out so the two could resume with the celebrations in honor of the young Kiramman girl's birthday.

It all started with some innocent gestures, rubbing your chest accentuated by your dress against his arm as you hugged it, bending over so the fabric around your ass would stretch when you picked up a snack from one of the tables and letting your hand "accidentally" brush over his sensitive spots.

As the evening progressed and the more alcohol you had in your system you grew bolder, your hand resting on his thigh dangerously close to his hardening cock trapped within its confines, letting the tips of your fingers roam over his clothed skin as the two of you conversed with other nobles of Piltover at one of the tables. When no one would look you'd get onto your tippy toes, whispering sweet nothings into Jayce's ear.

"You look so good in that suit, but I know you'd look even better without it."

"Imagine bending me over one of the tables and showing the whole room who I belonged too, how does that sound?"

"Do you like the dress I chose? It's showing off everything so nicely, I wonder how many of those old geezers wished they were in your position right now."

These and other teasing words left your mouth whenever your breath fanned over his ear when you leaned in.

Your initial plan was to tease Jayce until you two came home so you'd finally get that rough pace you had begged him to put on whenever you two fucked, but to your chagrin — or should you say thanks to your luck? — he granted you your wish way earlier than you had anticipated, dragging you into some empty storage room in a remote area of the Kiramman mansion, not even caring to look or even properly close the door before he hoisted up your skirt and let his pants and underwear fall to his knees, slamming his dick into your already wet cunt without any preparation, his thickness splitting you open painfully but Jayce didn't care, not when you've been such a slutty brat all evening long.

"This is what you wanted, no? Wanted me to fuck you in some dirty chamber for anyone who's walk past to hear?", he growled into your ear as he set his thrusts at a brutal and relentless pace, fucking you like he had never before.

"Yeah, you slut can't even talk right now. You're really just all bark but no bite", Jayce mused at how fucked dumb you already were, his lenght slamming into your cervix any time he pushed back in, making your eyes roll back and drool drip down the corners of your mouth onto your cleavage.

"Better keep your fucking mouth shut or I'll have to shut it myself", he growled as loud moans kept slipping past your lips from how dizzy his penetration made you feel.

"Fuck we're going to get caught because of a slut like you", he rasped, dick throbbing between your walls from how tight you were gripping him. Every word that left Jayce's mouth somehow degraded you, calling you various words he'd never dare to say to anyone, not even you, if it weren't for the situation the two of you were in.

"I'm gonna fucking fill you up and you'll walk around with my seed in your pussy, got that? And don't you dare to try to get it all out of you behind my back. When we're home I expect you to be still filled up so I can remind you once again what a fucking dirty whore you are", he leaned in and whispered into your ear, hips beginning to stutter as he nearest his orgasm, his hips thrusting into you at an inhuman pace and making you tip over the edge, creaming all around his shaft.

With a last groan leaving his mouth he buried himself until the tilt, painting your walls white in thick ropes.

[siggiedraws]

I like your essay but does it really irk you if Sonic is Ever portrayed differently even somewhat in other media? He can still have great character even if it doesn't always fit your ideal for it

Thank you, I'm glad you like my essay! My response to this will be quite long-winded, so bear with me.

I am not oblivious to how irrational it may come across for me to essentially admit I dislike all different interpretations of Sonic. But personally speaking, if I am to be completely honest with myself, yes, it does irk me. Their differences almost always compromise Sonic’s appeal, making them unlikeable to me.

My question is, if you are going to remove what makes pre-existing material so special in an adaptation, why is it even an adaptation of pre-existing material? This is a rhetorical question; I know the answer is purely due to cynical marketability reasons. Media is almost guaranteed to generate money if it features a popular, recognizable character. For obvious reasons, I do not think prioritizing marketability over artistic integrity is a good thing that should be defended or encouraged.

My argument is simple: Is it possible for a different interpretation of Sonic to be a good character? Sure, in a vacuum. You can replace any beloved character in fiction with Sonic instead by doing nothing but slapping some blue spikes on it and calling it a day.

My issue is that wouldn't make it a good interpretation of Sonic the Hedgehog because there is no reason for it to be Sonic.

I feel that now is a good time to finally talk about this.

My wariness of divergences in Sonic adaptations, is in part, based in the knowledge that the people at Sonic Team had their creative vision completely disrespected and dismissed overseas.

(SOURCE) - Yasushi Yamaguchi's Twitter

(SOURCE) - Masato Nishimura's Twitter

(SOURCE)

(SOURCE)

(SOURCE)

Sonic Team had no say or power in how Sonic was depicted in the U.S. In some cases, they had no idea that changes were even made until they were told by someone.

There is this distinct sense of cultural superiority coming from Sega of America. Did you know that Sega of America considered Sonic's design "unsalvageable" and insisted it needed to be changed? Did you know that Sega of America tried to "educate" Sega of Japan at character design because they saw them as incompetent at designing good characters?

(SOURCE)

Yes, this is primarily about Sonic's design being "too Japanese." This is corroborated in Sonic the Hedgehog Gametap Retrospective.

As an artist, it is really devastating to hear this story. Putting myself in Sonic Team's shoes yields nothing but sorrow. This flagrant disrespect towards artists' creative visions is odious to me.

Now compound this with the fact that Sonic has had a consistent lack of fidelity in adaptations since he was created, especially in the West, and I hope you can see my perspective here.

To go back to my initial topic on Sonic's characterization, I think that my position can come across unreasonable if you are a person who does not feel particularly strongly one way or another about it. It is completely fine to feel this way. Everyone can enjoy media however they please. For the vast majority of media I consume, I do not pay nearly as much attention and devotion to character consistency.

Sonic is different.

Sonic as a character is extremely important to me. He has gotten me through many hard times in my life and he continues to endlessly inspire me. Whenever I am faced with a tough situation, I hear Sonic’s voice in my head, encouraging me to be strong. Encouraging me to do my best. Encouraging me to keep living. Sonic is my favourite fictional character of all time. He means so much to me that it’s impossible to put into words.

I don’t want to get too emotional here, but I believe that a character like Sonic should continue to propagate and stay culturally relevant because I think kids nowadays really deserve a character like that in their lives. How he is characterized and used in the narrative in Sonic media really matters. There are Tailses in the world who need to learn how to be confident. There are Blazes in the world who need to learn how to accept help. There are Elises in the world who need to learn to let go of the responsibilities that burden them. There are Shahras in the world who struggle from having been in abusive relationships. And there are Merlinas in the world who are afraid of death. These people would benefit from a positive figure to guide them out of dark places.

My feelings about Sonic are far from an anomaly. See an excerpt from this artwork by sludgetoons, in response to this video essay:

"This one fucking video finally has made me realize WHAT Sonic is to me. he's my hero he's my inspiration hell hes a role model yes but none of those terms ever felt right to place onto this character that is so beautifully painted to be this characters free from the shackles of humanity and a need to be "relatable". He's not a hero or a role model, hes a DIRECTION. Sonic himself is an impossible goal to reach as a person, but just trying to live my life in a way that is free, appreciating the world that is around me, exploring and climbing and running and rebelling, lending a hand where I can but understanding ultimately im free to do as I please and I owe no one anything as they owe me nothing. as long as i am FOLLOWING him in those big footprints those red sneakers leave I am becoming a better version of myself. The goal is not to become Sonic, that's impossible. But by ignoring that impossibility and pushing on anyways I still WONT become Sonic. but I'll inadvertently become this better version of myself.

There's no way I can explain it properly how much this character means to me. When I picked up the pencil to draw for the first time it was because I thought he looked cool and inspired me and I wanted to replicate that magic. When I was feeling trapped in my past relationship and thought I had no say in what was happening to me his voice was in my head telling me this wasn't right and that "I could do anything". Start of 2024 I found myself asking "what would sonic do" more often than ever and 2024 was the best year of my entire fucking life. I couldn't give a fuck if it makes me seem insane he made who who I am and I love myself and I hope someday somehow, in another time or space, I can meet him just to say thank you."

This is just someone spilling their heart out on the internet about how much they love Sonic. It has over 9,000 likes at the time of this post.

I do not like different interpretations of Sonic.

None of them inspire power in others quite like this.

[cherryswisherz]

GLORIA [verse one]

♱ CONTAINS: kissing and cursing das it

♱ NIYAHSPEAKS: PAZZI MINI SERIES ONNA HOE okay so like the vision is pazzi reminiscing on memories of their relationship. shoutout anon for the request

♱ ♱ ♱ ♱

❝i met her when i was off the porch as a teenager, she said one day i would right my wrongs and see paper❞

“BUECKERS!” Micah yells my name as I approach the benches near the basketball court. 

I’m 15 minutes late but everyone should be used to that by now. By now, being late is my trademark so none of my friends look bothered. In fact, almost everyone is smiling as they dap me up and say hello. 

Everyone except the only person in the group that I hadn’t seen before. Some girl with bug eyes. 

Okay, so they aren’t big eyes. But they are big, brown eyes that look at me like she wants nothing more than my head on the chopping block. 

“Yo, who’s this?” I nod my head towards the girl who’s shooting me the literal death glare. 

“This is Azzi.” Micah slings an arm around Azzi's shoulder and she shrugs him off with a huff. “She’s my cousin. She just moved here.”

“Can she hoop?” I ask. 

“She’s standing right here and she would appreciate it if you didn’t speak about her like she wasn’t.” Azzi snatches the ball from my hands and begins walking to the court. “And I thought the movie was White Men Can’t Jump?”

I have no choice but to laugh at her insinuation. Meeting her on the court, I snatch my ball back. “It’s a good thing I’m a woman then, huh?” I say.

“Oh? You got game white girl?”

“Like you’ve never seen before.” 

“Show me then.”

“Check.” 

And the game began.

❝we started out young, lookin' for some identity, made a thousand mistakes, but never did we lack chemistry❞

“PAIGE!” Azzi’s chasing after me. “Will you just wait for a a fucking second?”

Every fiber of my being is telling me to keep walking and never stop, but we’re in a hotel for state and she’s screaming my name. If someone complains, coach is gonna kill me. 

I stop walking and shut my eyes, taking a deep breath. 

Relax, Bueckers.

I pivot on my foot and stare at the girl in front of me.

If I wasn’t such a pussy, I’d tell her how beautiful she is. With her frizzy french braids and her tie-dye t-shirt and her St. Patricks Day socks. But complimenting her would only make this whole situation even more awkward, and if it gets any more awkward I might off myself. 

So, instead of telling Azzi everything I’ve wanted to tell her since I’d met her, I speed walk back to our room grabbing her arm in the process. 

I’ve never been one for serious conversations and Azzi and I’s friendship isn’t necessarily one where we have too many of them. But tonight, I thought I saw something. 

Something in her eyes said, ‘it isn’t just you.’ 

God, I couldn’t have been any more wrong.

Shutting the door, I turn to her and make it a point to never take my eyes off the lamp behind her. 

“I’m sorry.”

She furrows her eyebrows and cocks her head a little to the side. “You’re sorry?” she sounds confused, which is confusing me. 

If she doesn’t want an apology then what the fuck does she want?

“Yes?”

“For what?”

For kissing you. For reading this whole thing wrong. For ruining our friendship and possibly losing us State because there’s no fucking way I’m gonna be able to focus tomorrow.

“For everything.”

All of a sudden, she’s not across the room for me anymore. She’s right in front of me, smacking me hard on the back of my head.

“OW!” I duck my head and slid under her raised arm. “What the fuck, Azzi?”

“You’re so stupid!” She shouts.

“How the fuck am I stupid for apologizing to you?”

We’re both yelling at each other, which to anyone else, may seem like a bad thing. But Azzi and I get our best communication done during our screaming matches. 

Don’t ask me why… It just is what it is.

“Because I don’t want a fucking apology, Paige!”

“Well, the fuck do you want then?”

“YOU!”

Record. Scratch.

“What?” I’m not yelling anymore. I’m actually speaking so low that I almost don’t hear myself. “What did you say?”

“I was trying to tell you, but you kep-”

I cut her off, “Say it again, Azzi.”

She grins like the Cheshire cat, “I want you.”

“What does that mean, though?”

“Holy fuck, you’re actually dumb.” She rolls her eyes, “I like you too, Paige.”

I’ve waited to hear that for almost a year. 

A year of staring when she isn’t looking. A year of moments that I wondered if she held as close to her as I did. A year of wanting her- no, needing her in ways that seem too mature for a 17 year old girl.

A part of me thinks she’s joking. Or she’s just trying to make me feel better…

I think about the kiss we shared 2 minutes ago. Her soft lips on mine, her in my lap on the bed next to me, grinding on my lap, driving me insane. 

I think of her scrambling off me and saying stop and the guilt that has sat on my chest since.

“But-” The sentence dies in my mouth and tears well in my eyes, “But when we kissed-” I point at her “You said stop.”

Azzi’s arms fly up before plopping back to her side, “Because I don’t wanna fuck you the night before the state championship!”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Azzi mocks me, “If you would have just waited 30 seconds, I would have told you that.”

Azzi Fudd likes me back. The girl I’ve been feining for, likes me back.

Suddenly, I’m aware of the chance to be a jackass, and of course, I have to take it.

I walk over to her and nudge her shoulder, “You liikkkee meeee.” I sing

She laughs and shoves me away, “Get away from me.”

“You liiikkke meeee and you liked when I kissed yooouuuu”

She crawls back in bed and uses the comforter to hide her smile, “Go to bed, Paige.”

I crawl in bed, on top of her and kiss all over her face, relishing in the fact that Azzi fucking Fudd likes me back.

❝i was in love with you, didn't know what it was with you, kiss you in back of the class just to get a buzz with you❞

“Ms. Bueckers.” Ms. Jackson says. “Put your phone up, before it becomes my phone.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Jackson.” I flash her a grin and slide my phone into my pocket. I don’t even need to me on my phone anymore anyway. 

Azzi and I’s plan is already set. 

My eyes never leave the clock. Counting the seconds until they become a minute, until eventually a minute begins five. 

My hand shoots in the air. “Can I go see my counselor?”

Ms. Jackson never turns from the board, her back still to the class as she groans before saying, “Get out, Paige.” 

“Love you too, Ms. Jackson.” I smile and dip out of the classroom, making my way across campus to the gym.

“Finally.” Azzi groans, ball already in hand. “How do you make the plans and still come late?”

“Shut up,” I throw my bag down and walk over to her. ‘Gimme kiss.” 

She ducks away from me, laughing, “I thought we were gonna play one-on-one?”

“We were.” I nod my head, “But you look so good,” I smile and grab her hips, pulling her closer. 

She gives me a peck and tries to pull away, but a peck is never enough, so I chase her lips and she drops the ball, wrapping her arms around my neck. 

In a few months I’m gonna graduate and go to UCONN and she’s still gonna be here. We’re gonna be almost 2,000 miles apart, and I don’t know how I’m gonna survive without her but I’m not gonna think about it right now. 

Right now, I’m gonna do everything but fuck my girlfriend in the middle of my high school's gym.

♱TAGLIST @patscorner @riyahtheballer @mattslolita @thaatdigitaldiary @janaelalfysblunt @kmoneymartini @sageworld

@darkskinchristiandiorpostergirl @justliketoreadsowhat @pb524830 @pb524830 @dnftpn @sierrale8ne @numberonepartyanth3m

@pppaaiiiggggeeeeee @uwupaige @paigeluvvr @colorthecosmos444 @authentic-girl03 @makethemhoesmad @lovegalor333 @mrsarnold

@sellasstories @heart4caitlin @avvwritesstufff @st4rrzynight @bueckersp @paxaz535 @thelightknight21 @paxaz535

@darlindayss @his-loss @dreatopia

[bengals-barnesbabe]

Players

Pair: LSU!Joe Burrow x LSU basketball player!reader (friends with benefits), minor LSU!Joe Burrow x OC

Descr: You just want to focus on your career and have a good time in college. Do you make some mistakes? Sure, but why is everyone you know trying to change your mind?

TW: 18+ MINORS DNI | toxic relationships, cheating, lying, language, smut/its nasty, oral (f & m rec), fingering, unprotected sex (don’t try this at home), public sex, cocky/fuckboy!joe, commitment issues, betrayal, arguments, gaslighting (SO MUCH).

Main Masterlist

WC: 6.7k

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚ 💔 ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

I don’t know how I keep getting myself in this situation.

The situation: It’s late, no one else is in the gym. The perfect setting to get in a quiet workout. That’s all I wanted and had for the first hour before catching his reflection in the mirror in front of me.

Joe Burrow. He’s not nearly as sweaty as I am, meaning he’s not here for this kind of workout; the lip bite, the fiery look in his eyes, and the way his gaze travels my sports bra and tight shorts-wearing figure says it all. He smirked when our eyes locked in the mirror and walked towards me until his chest was against my back.

Without breaking eye contact, I bent over and placed the dumbbells I had held on the ground. His hands quickly clutch my hips as my ass accidentally pushes back on him before leaning back up and removing myself from his hold.

In an attempt to regain his composure, Joe keeps himself busy putting away my weights and other equipment while I pack up my stuff. While he’s distracted, I leave the weight room and turn the corner for the lobby. But before I could walk any further, a large hand reaches out and pulls me back into a secluded locker room and I’m pushed against the lockers. I barely have time to laugh before his lips are shoved onto mine, and his hands are gripping my ass.

“I texted you.” He groans, sucking on my neck.

“My phone must’ve died. No marks!” He picks his head up and rolls his eyes. Then he pulls out his phone and calls my number. The sound of my ‘dead’ phone ringing makes him clench his jaw while I snort. “Whoops.”

“Yeah and so was that hickey.” He smirks as I turn to find a mirror.

“You fucking didn’t, what the hell Joe.” I curse finding the shiny purple marks littered on my neck.

“Next time, you’ll pick up when I call.” Then, he pulls me from the back of my neck onto his lips. I wrap my arms around his neck, feeding his needy lips and slowly succumbing to lust building between us.

“I don’t have to do shit.” I moan against his lips as he wedges a thick thigh between my legs.

“But you want to.” He groans as I grind down on his thigh, providing my own friction as well as for his bulge. “That’s enough of that.” 

He removes his thigh and palms his erection through his sweat shorts. “On your knees.”

Biting back a smirk, I start to let my hands slowly drag down his body as I kneel for him. My eyes stay locked on his. His pupils are blown out with the thinnest blue outline, my painstakingly calm actions testing his limits, while my face shows the most pure wide-eyed doe, staring up at an unknown danger.

My touch trails down his thighs to his knees while my face is at eye level with his desire. “What do I do now?” My voice, painfully innocent, only makes him grow harder.

One of his hands cups my jaw, his thumb gently padding on the fat of my lips. “I think you know.”

His voice was raspy and low like gravel. Softly smiling, I lean into his hand, slip his thumb in my mouth, and twirl my tongue around it. Joe sucks in a gasp, his teeth gnawing at his lips as I let his thumb go with a slick pop. 

“Is that what you want?”

That’s how I ended up where I am now, with his hand gripping the back of my head as I bob up and down his cock on the locker room floor. With his deep curses and praises, along with my light gags and the sound of my slick mouth welcoming his pretty pink dick echoing throughout the vacant room.  

“Fuck you’re such a good girl.”

“Doing such a good job sucking my cock, you like that don’t you.”

“I can never get enough of this mouth.”

His whines and groans only fuel me to take him in deeper, his tip now well bullying the back of my throat as I moan around him. “Oh shit.” I open my eyes to the clang of his head hitting the metal lockers, and an overwhelming sense of pride fills my belly.

“I’m gonna come, shit just like that.” 

He tries to hold on for a moment longer, not wanting the warmth of my mouth to disappear, but he makes the mistake of looking down at me.

The slight bulge of my throat, the streaks of tears running down my pretty face, my pouty lips coated in his slick and spit, but the final straw is me looking right up at him that has him letting out the deepest moan and releasing his load down my awaiting throat.

I waste no time swallowing as much of his cum as I can before he comes down from his breathtaking high and pulls out.

“Holy shit, I’ll never get used to that.” He sighs, pulling up his shorts and leaning back on the locker, happily spent.

“You’re welcome, tell your friends.” I croak reaching for the water bottle in my bag.

“I will not be doing that. Your mouth is for me and me only. Best fucking head I’ve ever gotten.” He snorts as I roll my eyes.

“Better than your girlfriend?” 

He smirks and crouches down to my level. “You know it, baby.” Then kisses my swollen lips.

“Joe,” I sigh, pulling away. “We should get out of here.”

“Yeah, it's pretty late, huh?” We both nod, and he helps me to my feet, swinging my bag on his back.

“So, my place or yours?” 

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳*°:⋆ₓₒ

So, the cycle doesn’t stop; the purely sexual desire between us never goes away. It doesn’t matter that we’ve had the same routine of me ignoring him only to end up back in his bed days later. Or that our thing takes away the time he could be spending with the one he claims as ‘his girl.’ A girl I’ve gotten to know well, considering we’re teammates and we live together. Do I feel guilty for what’s going on? Sure, but it’s not like I have feelings for him. We just like to fuck around; I mean, we’re young, so who’s gonna stop us.

Amaya doesn’t have to know.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳*°:⋆ₓₒ

A month later, we all get invited to a Halloween-themed frat party. It’s the last big event before my Junior season, and the entire team is going. We decided to go with a Tinker Bell/ Pixie Hollow theme. I’m Iridessa, the light fairy, wearing a satin pastel yellow strapless crop top, a matching skirt, and a gold flower crown. Amaya’s supposed to be Silvermist, the water fairy, and even though he was never supposed to be a part of it, Joe took it upon himself to be Peter Pan like the drama queen he is. We all doubt he’ll do the costume any justice, but no one can stop him from wearing whatever he wants.

As I’m finishing up my makeup, I notice Amaya still in her pjs, sitting at her computer. “Hey, aren’t you going to the party tonight?”

She sighs and leans on her hand. " I can’t. I have a paper due at 8 a.m. and am barely halfway done.”

“Aww, I was excited for us to be fairies together.” I pout, fixing my crown.

“I know, I just put this off forever, and I can’t let my grades slip- it’s a midterm. But have fun without me.” She smiles, but it doesn’t meet her eyes.

“I get that. We’ll definitely miss you, though. After we take a group picture, I’ll photoshop you into it.” We both chuckled as I grabbed my bag and headed towards the door.  

“I appreciate it, oh Y/n!”

“Yea?” I turn back with a grin.

“If you see Joe, can you tell him we need to talk?” Something inside me trembles, but my smile stays intact.

“Yeah, of course, I hope he’s not in the doghouse.” I giggle, then walk out the door. “Fuck.” I huff, leaning against the wooden door and letting the situation weigh on me.

Why does she need to talk to him? Does she know something? Did someone tell her something? I don’t remember getting suspicious looks from anyone who didn’t already know about my thing with him. It was probably Ja’Marr trying to be a pain in the ass. He walks in on us one time and decides to use it as ammo for the rest of my life.

As I continued to think about every possible situation, I felt my phone buzz.

From: American Deli💋

I’m outside

Was it a horrible idea for Joe to give me a ride to this party that we were initially supposed to attend with friends? Yes, but somehow this shit was working out in my favor. For some reason, he wanted to see me before the party, and Amaya backed out. As far as I know, right now I’m in the clear.

I took one last breath and stood up straight to leave when I heard Amaya’s voice from outside the door. 

“Yeah, I’m coming. Give me some time; she just left. I know we have to act fast, but we can’t catch them together if she suspects something’s up. Yes, I know we’re talking about my boyfriend here. We don’t even know what happened that night; just because you saw them leave the gym together doesn't mean anything happened. Maybe his friends aren’t telling you shit because there’s nothing to say. I live with her, Ryan; I think I would know if she was fucking my boyfriend.”

Oh I'm in trouble.

As quietly as I can, I run down the stairs of my apartment and hop in his truck.

“You took your sweet ass time.” Joe rolls his eyes, then registers my outfit. “Oh shit, baby you put that on for me.”

“Not now Joe. Drive, just drive. We need to talk.”

“Better be about how much of that outfit I can ruin. If it’s not, I don’t wanna hear it.” He purses his lips, trying to peak at how short the skirt is.

“Joe, she knows.” I roll my eyes as his spare hand plays with the light fabric, barely covering my thighs and skirting as far away from his reach as possible.

“What are you talking about?” He stops at a red light and reaches over to pull my body closer to the middle console.

“Your girlfriend, asshole. She knows about us.” I sigh, letting him caress my warm caramel skin. 

We lock eyes for a soft moment. “I’ve never been an asshole to you.” 

“You were when we first met.” I challenge, making him chuckle and continue driving.

“Yea then you somehow landed on my dick after that. So I guess you liked it.” He winks in the rearview mirror.

“Oh fuck off, we shouldn't even be talking about that right now.”

He groans, one hand white-knuckling the wheel and the other clutching my thigh. “Why else are we going to this dumb party? Neither of us can drink or have any other kind of fun.”

“My season is literally about to start, Joe. Not everyone is the underdog right now.”

“Which is why we’re just going to have sex.” He says, completely ignoring the obvious.

“Joseph, your girlfriend is literally getting ready right now to catch us at this party doing exactly that. We can’t go.”

“Y/n, who gives a shit? You’ve been in the gym torturing me for a week. Now you’re saying we can't fuck tonight?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” I nod, crossing my arms. “And you don’t need me to get your dick wet, go ask your girl for some.”

“Fuck that, I’d rather be fucking you than dating her any day.” Then, instead of turning on the road for the party, he pulls into an empty parking garage.

This is why I block him every couple of weeks because he loves saying stupid shit like that.

“Oh my god, you can’t say that. Why are you dating her then, huh? You barely go out; you’re only ever hanging on our couch. You don’t even invite her to your games. What’s this fucking for, then?” I huffed, my fuse shortening.

Joe puts the car in park and turns his attention to me. “You.” 

My eyes widen. “Excuse me?”

“You’re right. I don’t need to be with her. I want to be with you.” 

“No the fuck, you don’t.” Shaking my head as he goes on about his feelings.

“How are you going to sit here, in my truck, and tell me what I don’t want? I’m only with her because she’s your roommate. If I’m with her, I get to be with you.”

“You’re being dramatic. If you wanna break up with her, don’t use me to justify the fact that you’re a shitty boyfriend.” I spat, my nails digging into the seat.

He scoffs and slouches against the car door. “Look at who’s being dramatic now. This is the shit you never wanna hear, so I don’t say it.”

I groaned. “Please just stop. I told you-

Joe rolls his eyes. “No labels, no feelings, no commitments, just sex. Just mind-blowing, gravity-defying, amazing sex.” A mantra everyone should live and die by.

“Exactly, so why are you trying to fuck it up?!”

“I’m not. I’m here to have sex- you’re here to argue. You never cared about me having a girlfriend, and now that she might catch us, you want us to stop.” He scoffs.

“I never said we should stop Joe.” I look down and play with the yellow mesh of my skirt. I could hear the way he huffed into the air and unbuckled to free himself from restraints.

“What would us getting caught do, Y/n? Make it so I can fuck you at your place without having to worry about getting yelled at? What are you so afraid of?” He spat.

“I’m not trying to lose my scholarship, Joey!” I huffed locking eyes with his slightly dilated crystal blues.

“That’s bullshit. Having an affair with your roommate’s boyfriend does not threaten your scholarship. If it did, half of the school would be gone.” He deadpans.

I look away from his face and stifle the laugh in my throat. “Not like that. Don’t you think it will cause a rift within the team? What if she tries something?”

“You really think she wants to risk her scholarship over me? I am not that important- to her. She would've already found out if she wanted me as badly as you’re making it seem. Why hasn’t she called? Checked up to see if I was actually going to the party. She’d rather believe rumors from her friends than ask me this shit; shows how much she cares.” Joe snorts running his hands through his hair.

He has a point, but since when does he make sense?

“Fine, whatever. Take me back- wait, where the fuck are we?” He smirks.

“Well, if you’re done being a jealous little princess- or fairy.” I side-eyed him, but he continues. “You said we couldn’t fuck at the party, so…”

My eyes widen. “Joe, absolutely not. In your truck? The seats don’t even recline.”

“Who told you that?” He smirks, adjusts the driver’s seat to go all the way back and flips the headrest so it connects with the seat in the back. Then he pushes the middle console back for more room in the front. I just blink at his new transformer features that were not there a week ago.

“What the fuck?”

Then he lays down. “Yup, now come sit on my face.”

“In your truck?”

“Yeah.”

“On top of your face?”

“That’s what I said.”

I kiss my teeth and try to imagine his request. “No way, we won’t fit. Joe, there’s no way to do this comfortably. Can’t we just go to your place? I’ll do that thing you like?” I wiggle my brows and rest my hand on his jean-clad knee.

He lifts himself back up with a playful smirk. “First of all, I like everything you do, so I have no idea what you’re suggesting. Second, all you have to do is sit or lay back. I’ll put you in the backseat and get on the floor if you want.”

“Why are you being so damn persistent about this?” I chuckle.

He looks down as a flush coats his face. “Joe, did you have a dream about this?”

“You left me on delivered for a week. I had dreams about a lot of things.” He hesitantly laughs while scratching his neck.

“Okay, when did you have the one of me riding your face in your truck?” I smirk, sliding myself onto his lap and wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Tuesday, right after I reclined the seat to move some equipment.” It’s Saturday.

“You’ve been thinking about this all week?!” He drew his lower lip between his teeth and looked away from my eyes as his hands gently massaged my hips.

“No, my dick has. Which is a part of me, so, yeah, I have.” I may have let out a chuckle at that.

“How was this supposed to work with the party?” I ask, very intrigued, and I can sense his hesitation. 

“C’mon, tell me, " I murmur, studying his face enlightened by the shallow lights outside.

“It was technically supposed to be an ‘after I fuck you in the bathroom so everyone can hear you’ thing.” He shrugged.

I snort and rake my hands through his hair while holding his gaze. “Please tell me you put this kind of thought into your school work too.”

“Yeah-and football-it really helps.” He says in a rushed breath as his pupils dilate and his hands move to massage my ass. “So are you gonna stop yapping and sit back or what?”

I bite my lip to hold in a moan from his grip hardening. “I'm gonna try it your way first, if it doesn't work, we’re leaving.” 

“I’m tearing that tiny costume off of you no matter what, so it better.” His eyes flickering between your lips and eyes.

I mirror his look then smirk. “That’s enough chit-chat. Kiss me.” 

His brows raise as he pulls me closer. “Who said you were in charge here?” He whispered against my waiting lips.

I roll my eyes and reach for the door. “I could just leave.” He snatches my hand and starts kissing my wrist. My breath hitches as his lips travel up my arm to my neck, then sucks hard beneath my ear. “Joey..”

He grins against my skin and licks over the mark he definitely left there.

“Are you gonna be a good fairy and sit on my face, baby?”

༉ 3 orgasms later ༉

Joe’s cool hands caress my heated, sticky skin as I lay on his chest, recovering from an intense high. A deep chuckle wakes me from a post-high dreamscape. “What?” I mumbled, looking up at his satisfied grin.

“I think I broke your wings.”

“JOE, those took me four hours to make!” I exclaim, but it sounds more like a whine.

“Well, you weren’t exactly complaining when it happened. In fact, I think I recall you saying ‘don't stop’ over and over again while I… ” He trails off with a smirk and jerks his hips up.

“Fuck! Cut it out.” I gasped and smacked his chest. “I hate you.”

“Then get off my dick.” He chuckles.

I smirk, shifting my hips, causing him to groan and grab them. “No, I want you to suffer.”

“Or you just like being on top of me.” Then he raises his stupid eyebrows.

I scoff and climb off of him into the other seat. He has the nerve to laugh and grab my ankle. I try to yank it back, but his long fingers curl around me.

He spreads my legs, and his lips trail down my inner thighs until his face hovers-

My eyes widen, and pull him up by his hair. “What are you doing?” 

He smirks. “What does it look like?” Then moves up and puts his hand next to your head, effectively trapping me between him and the door.

“Right now…

He looked like a man who’d been starving for ages when he was really just insatiable. His lips are pink, slick, and swollen after an hour of abuse to my skin. His eyes were dark, filled with lust and endless need. His skin flushed almost the same pink as his lips due to exertion, but he showed no sign of stopping. Don’t get started on his neck or shoulder and how they resemble what getting mauled by a baby bear with no teeth would look like.

“You got an answer for me, princess?” Despite his casual tone, his stare sent a shiver down my spine. I shake my head as he frees me from my thoughts. “What, cat got your tongue?” 

He chuckles and dips down to my ear. “All that talk, and here you are, laid out all nice and innocent for me. But you’re not, no… You’re a dirty little slut, aren’t you? Answer me, y/n.”

My breath hitches as he kisses down my neck, then wraps his hand around my throat. “You can’t, can you?” His other hand trails down my body, stopping at the bottom of my top. 

“Wearing this damn costume like the teasing minx you are. Like you don’t know what you do to me… and you thought I was gonna let you walk into a frat house like this.” He scoffs, pulling down my strapless bra.

“God, I love your tits.” His mouth finds my nub, immediately lapping and kissing around it. 

“Joey…”

His gaze meets mine, and he chuckles. “Oh... so, now you can speak?” His hand tightens around my throat as his lips return to mine. 

“Please.” My voice muffled against his demanding lips. The kiss is harsh, his lips attacking mine with a hot, bruising force that has me gasping for air when he pulls away. 

“Are you going to be a good girl now?” He growls, releasing my neck from his grasp. I nod as he sucks on my pulse point and trails his free hand down my body. “I need to hear you say it, princess. Tell me you’re gonna be a good girl, and let me have my way with you.” 

As I’m about to respond, his fingers graze my sensitive nub. “Ahh Joey, please…”

“No, not until you ask nicely. Say you want me to ruin you, pretty girl.” His deep, authoritative tone caused my body to ache even more for his touch.

“Please…” I whined breathlessly. “Take me, use me, ruin me Joey…”

“I love pretty your voice is when you’re begging for me to fuck you.” He growls, sinking two fingers into my slick cunt. My moans permeate the car as I tangle my fingers in his hair while he slowly strokes my tight walls.

“Princess, how can you barely take my fingers when 15 minutes ago you were bouncing on my cock?” He laves the skin of my neck as my hips jerk up.

“And you still want more? You just can’t get enough of me, can you?” He gruffly chuckles.

“Yes! I want more… Please Joe…” I pull his head up and suck his lips into my mouth, letting him feel just how much I need him.

“Mmmm, such a good girl for me. So I’m gonna give my sweet fairy a choice.” He pecks my lips once more before leaning back up, his fingers still massaging my inner walls. “Tell my pretty girl, you want me to pick how I make you come, or do you want to?” He already knows the answer; the second I relinquished all control, I’d be weak for him.

His thumb rubs lightly on my clit, making me whine out. “You! Please Joe…”

“God, I love hearing you beg… Love when you sound so sweet, needy, whiney,” he chuckles, kissing down my breasts. “I can’t get enough of you, angel.” 

He flips up my skirt and groans, watching his drenched fingers pump in and out of me. “And you always get so goddamn wet for me. I wonder what you’d do if I just…” He smirks slowly, pulling his hand away.

“No no no no… Please please please…” I grab his wrist desperately, trying to pull it back. My core clenching around nothing, the pleasure being ripped away by the hollowness. “I’ll be good. I’ll be so good for you, Joe.”

He faux pouts and kisses the tears streaking down my face. Fuck, I’m pathetic.

“Don’t worry, princess. I’ll take good care of you.” He smirks, then lifts my legs over his shoulders. “You think I’d let this pussy go unsatisfied? You must not know me then.” He mumbles to himself before using two fingers to spread my lips.

“I’ll never get used to how pretty this pussy is, but god, do I love ruining her.” Were his last words before absolutely devouring me.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳*°:⋆ₓₒ

Another 20 minutes late, he dropped me off at my apartment and watched with a ridiculous smile as I slowly walked up two flights of stairs. Before walking down the hall to my door, something told me to check if he’d left yet. And, of course, he was still sitting in his giant truck, waving at me with my broken fairy wing.

To: American Deli💋

Asshole I can still see you! Stop it lol

Joey drive awayyyy

From: American Deli💋

I did you good huh?

Gonna be feeling me for a week!

But don’t worry, I’ll see you before that 😉

To: American Deli💋

LEAVE, i need to wash this shit out of me

From: American Deli💋

You better answer when i call you

To: American Deli💋

😋

From: American Deli💋

Want me to come up there 😏

To: American Deli💋

You already did like twice lol

From: American Deli💋

You know what I mean, this time I’ll put you to sleep

To: American Deli💋

Maybe some other time 

From: American Deli💋

Bet, I’m gone.

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

I had to calm down my ridiculous giggles before entering the apartment. I did not want Amaya to see me and get the wrong idea. But upon opening the door, there was a very “shocking” picture: Amaya in her Silvermist costume grabbing her car keys.

“Um hi, where are you going?” She looked up at me with wide eyes, genuinely stunned by my presence.

“Y/n, what are you doing here?” She chuckles hesitantly.

I tilt my head with a pout and limp over the kitchen bar stools. “I took a spill at the party and decided it was time for me to go. I didn’t want to leave early, but shit happens. I didn’t even see Joe or the girls, so I couldn’t give him your message. Now back to you, where are you going Ms. I’m So Busy, I’m Bailing On My Friends?” I question swiftly, taking the heat off of me.

She chews her lip, analyzing the bruises on my legs that were definitely caused by a chair and not her boyfriend’s hands or truck.

“I feel so fucking bad, maybe I should stay and help you.” She offers, but I shake my head.

“Amaya, what’s going on?”

“Don’t be mad, please.” She takes a deep breath and lays her head on the granite countertop. “Ryan saw you and Joe leaving the gym one night, and she’s been convinced that y'all have been sneaking around behind my back for weeks. Tonight, she overheard someone saying you were meeting up with him at the party, so I lied to you and said I wasn’t going so I could catch you with him. I’m so sorry, girl; I’m such a terrible teammate. I knew nothing was going on between you, I mean Justin talks about you all the time, and you always come back with hickies after hanging with him. I should’ve just stuck to my gut. Joe and Justin are literally friends and teammates like us, so it makes sense that you might’ve been seen out together. I feel horrible.” She sighs at the end of her rant.

I try not to appear incredibly shocked by the scenario she concocted, but it's insane. “Wow, me and Joe?”

“I know, I know. You don’t even like white guys, no less the ones I’m dating. And I know you hate talking about your sex life because of your fear of commitment and all that, but I think you and Justin are really cute.”

Did she just say-

“I don’t have a fear of commitment.” My face deadpans while she chuckles.

“Oh, my bad, I used my psychoanalysis skills on you. I know you don’t believe in labels. But he is a really good guy.” Huh, the good guy.

“I think I’m gonna go to the party now. I should apologize to Joe for ignoring him for the past few days. He was really irritable this week, and I can’t help but feel responsible.” 

“Have a few drinks for me, just kidding. But seriously, have fun, get laid.” I cringe as the words fall out my mouth, but thankfully her back was turned when I said it, so she didn’t see my face. 

“Hopefully he’s not too pissed, take it easy. You can use my new bath bomb.” She smiles and then leaves the apartment. I waited a couple of minutes before letting out a sigh of relief. If she hadn’t left any sooner, she would’ve picked up on the squirming I was doing behind the counter. That’s the last time I let him come inside me without being close to a bathroom. Because proximity is definitely the problem here.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳*°:⋆ₓₒ

Joe walked into the frat house and immediately went to find his teammates. Thankfully, they weren’t far from the entrance and called him over. Justin and Ja'Marr also adorned green shirts and khakis, their valid attempt at portraying Clank and Bobble, the friends of Tinker Bell. Justin showed some effort and found glasses resembling Clank's in the Tinker Bell movies.

“Well, look who it is,” Ja’Marr smirked, looking over the quarterback for any evidence to incriminate him.

“Fuck off, I already checked. There’s nothing that you can see right now.” He said almost bashfully, then peeled the collar of his shirt to show them exactly where he was marked up. Justin just shook his head. 

“Yall are so stupid. Why don’t you just get together already? I can’t get bitches if everyone thinks I’m fucking the MVP of the women’s basketball team.” He scoffs.

“You don’t think I want that?” Joe rolls his eyes. “She’s set on making it big in the WNBA before settling for anyone, and I don’t blame her. Everyone knows she’s going to be in the first round, maybe even first pick. I just need you to lay low for now.”

“Lay low, how?” Ja’Marr asks for his fellow wide receiver.

“Amaya’s on her way to pick a fight with me, so I was never with Y/n. In fact, Jefferson saw her fall off a stool in the dining room and get banged up. She never saw me, and I got here a little after she left, got it?”

The two men look at him incredulously.

“That’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard.”

“She’s not going for that shit.”

“She already did, Y/n caught her in a lie and made her fold. All we gotta do is let her feel the remorse, then it’s over.” Just as Joe finishes, Amaya walks in the door.

Justin’s brows furrow. “Wait what do you mean, then it’s over?” 

Joe puts on his best unbothered look as Amaya approaches him. “Hey baby.” She smiles.

“Hi.”

“Hi guys.” She waves to the wide receivers. “Um Justin, did you bring Y/n home? I know she said she fell off something, but I know there was more to that limp and her tiara was missing.” She chuckles.

Justin awkwardly smiles while a smirk grows on Ja’Marr’s face. “I knew y’all were being nasty upstairs, ain’t no way she was that clumsy.”

“You know me.” Joe’s spine goes rigid as Justin joins in the joke. “We like to get it in wherever we can.”

“Everything makes so much sense now, including why she came back early smelling like sex.” Amaya adds.

“Oh yea, she just wanted to go home after that. I offered to help her in, but you know she is, just crazy independent.”

Ja’Marr pats his friend on the back. “But the best part was when you gave your costume to Joe because he showed up without a costume.” He says smirking at the taller guy.

Joe grits his teeth and clenches his jaw. “You gave me the shirt you fucked her in to wear all night?” Playing along as best as he could.

“You didn’t seem to have a problem with it before.” Justin smirks.

Amaya butted in before they could keep going at each other. “Joe, can I talk to you?”

He shrugs and leads her away from the boys. “What’s up?”

“I know I haven’t been the best girlfriend lately, and I definitely haven't had the best judgment as of today-

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Amaya looks down and mumbles. “I thought you were cheating on me.”

“Wow, so you pretend to be single for a week, and I’m the one with the allegations.”

“I let my friends get in my head Joey, I know you would never do that to me.” Then he lets out a chuckle. “Joey, come on. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She pouts.

“Don’t worry about it, this thing between us was getting old anyway.”

“Joey! No I apologized, this is when we leave and go have great makeup sex.” She whined tugging on his shirt.

He pushes her hands off of him and grimaces. “Ooo, I don’t know if the sex has ever been good. But you can keep your apology, maybe if you hadn’t ghosted me for a week your friends wouldn’t have been right.”

Her eyes widen and lips part. “What do you mean? What are you talking about? What’s happening!”

“Maya, why are you so fucking slow? You really think you were the only one. Everything we did was shit- I’d leave your place and go straight to the gym.” He smirks with a wink.

“You cheated on me?”

“And now I’m breaking up with you.” He says as if it's nothing.

“Why would you do this to me?” Her eyes brim with tears.

“Why are you being so goddamn dense? You weren’t enough. Now go cry about it somewhere else.”

“How could you!”

He bites his lip to hide his grin, “players gonna play, and you’re not good at the game.” Then he started to walk off.

“WHO WAS IT?”

His mouth curls up, “I don’t kiss and tell.” Then he winks and shuts the door behind him.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳*°:⋆ₓₒ

* 2 new unread messages *

I had just gotten into bed when my phone went off. After Amaya left, the rest of my night calmed down significantly. I had a luxurious bath, devoured a 10-piece wing, and read a book on the couch, which led me here—sitting in bed staring at the two texts on my lock screen. Amaya’s was first, and Joe’s text came seconds later, but both brought worrisome thoughts.

I decide to open Joe’s first.

From: American Deli💋

Thanks for making me go to that party. I had lots of fun😉

“Oh no.” He didn’t do what I think he did, right? There’s no way.

Then, opened my roommate's message.

 From: AmayaBaller

This night sucks, wanna watch Brotherly Love🥺

“Fuck he did. That motherfucker.”

To: American Deli💋

What the hell is wrong with you?

I told you NOT to break up with her dumbass!

From: American Deli💋

You snooze you lose.

How’s that limp btw 😏

To: American Deli💋

See you at playoffs asshole😒

From: American Deli💋

You’re not doing this again

Read

BABY

Read

Y/N COME ON

Delivered

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

Why does he have the be the biggest fucking player? Why do I like him? Wait- no. I don’t like him, he’s a good fuck. One I'm giving up for a few weeks, which will be missed. But I don’t feel anything too heavy for him. He’s a dick. It's as simple as that.

I didn’t have to respond to Amaya’s text because she decided at that moment to walk into my room and slump on my Queen Sized Bed.

“Hey, I saw your text. Wanna talk about it?” I ask as she begins to sob into my comforter.

“Why wasn’t I enough for him? It’s not my fault he was my first. He could’ve taught me stuff or told me to watch porn to get better!”

“Maya, he’s a man- an ungrateful, selfish, cocky, self-absorbed-” she picks her head up with both brows raised, but in a somewhat grateful way. “He’s a heartbreaker. A player.”

She scoffs and climbs into the spot next to you. “Tell me about it. He won’t even tell me who it was.” She says, laying her head on my shoulder. 

“I wish he loved me like Justin loves you.” Alarming sounds start going off.

“Let’s not talk about that right now. Didn’t you wanna watch a movie?” I remind her just as my phone starts uncontrollably buzzing. Great, I knew I should’ve blocked his ass.

“Not anymore; Justin’s probably here to take you to pound town again. He told me y'all hooked up tonight, not that I needed it confirmed after that limp and messy mascara.” She giggles, reaching for my phone. My eyes widen as she grabs it before I can get my arm from under her.

“Oh my god, he’s in your phone under American Deli!” Her giggles turn boisterous. “I’m glad there’s at least a kiss emoji next to his name. Did you really have to-” As she stops a questionable look develops on her face.

“What?”

“Jetta2Smooth, just texted you.” Looks like the whole crew plotting my downfall tonight. 

“If Justin is Jetta2, who is American Deli?” She puts the phone down and turns to me. I have to actively try not to lose eye contact with her while putting together a logical reason for the contact. 

“I told you he wasn’t my boyfriend.” I mumble, taking the phone. At least it’s true.

“You’re using him? But he’s the nicest guy on this campus, maybe in the city! What the hell Y/n.” She crosses her arms.

“Maya, come on. We’re in college, we’re about to have the best season of our lives. I don’t wanna be tied down-

“You don’t want to be committed!” Here she goes again with the damn commitment issues.

“Amaya. My dream is almost here! When he goes to NFL, what’s gonna happen? We date, then drafted to opposite sides of the country? I don’t want that. Even worse, what if he gets me pregnant.”

“Oh my god, long-distance relationships can work! Maybe have protected sex for once! These are all just excuses because you don’t want to face your problems head-on! You love him but are too scared to accept that fact.” 

“I don’t love Jo-ustin!” 

“I don’t believe you. Whoever American Deli is, I hope he knows he keeping you away from a great guy. Justin deserves better than a liar.” She gets off the bed then scoffs, “Oh my god, you’re just like Joe.”

I immediately shake my head, a gritty distasteful sap coating my mouth. “I’m nothing like him.” 

“Yeah, like you said, he’s a player too.” She slams the door behind her, leaving me with my thoughts. 

The only player I am is a basketball player, it’s why I’m at this school and why I know all these people. Joe plays with people’s feelings, I tell them what I want head-on. She’s just upset he did the same thing to her that he did every other bitch at this school. Except for- but we don’t feel that way about each other. We can’t.

There’s no way I’m in love with Joe Burrow. None.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

a/n: y'all heard her, absolutely no way. just like there's absolutely no way I'm making a part 2 of this fic 🤫 as always, like, reblog and comment your favorite line ♡

[sagekjs21]

I never called it a natural consequence, so I'm not really sure where you got that idea from. But no, you're absolutely right, it would be a choice, not a consequence. The natural consequence would be to leave my kid in the street and let them get hit by a car. Would that be better? 

Keep in mind one very important factor. I said that I would never hit my child with an item and also that I would not hit them hard enough to leave a bruise. Those are exceptionally important circumstances too. And how often is my child going to run out into the road if they are an average kid? It's not like this is going to be happening every day. This would probably only happen a maximum of three times in the amount of years that I'm talking about this type of punishment being warranted. Will it cause a mild amount of pain? Yes, but a mild amount of pain versus their life? Why is there even a question here?

I'm not talking about spanking my child if they're throwing a temper tantrum, spanking them if they broke a vase or a dish, spanking them for talking back to myself or their father, spanking them for fighting with their sibling. Like I said, that's all going back to lazy parenting. And, most importantly, I would never spank my child out of anger. That is where the abuse factor comes in. I'm talking about strictly in like an exceptionally dangerous or life-threatening situation. So yes, I have in fact made up my mind. Knowing that I'm putting my child's life above their emotions will help me sleep very well at night as a mother. I mean, I can't honor and validate their emotions if they're dead, can I? 

When people get pregnant, they will give up smoking, give up alcohol, give up coffee and soda, give up fondue and raw cheese, give up cold cuts and sushi, all because they have heard somewhere, from someone, that these things can be bad for the baby. They don’t know the research, haven’t looked at the studies, can’t talk about sample sizes and control groups. But their dedication to their future child’s safety is so strong, their caution is so overpowering, that they give up these things just in case. 

So it baffles me when those same people will insist on spanking their kids. 

Even when they are shown the research.

 Regardless of what the experts in the field say. 

No matter who says it. 

Or how it is said. 

People are so invested in this ability to hit their kids without judgement or consequence, that it absolutely confounds me. 

[ramp-it-up]

Peach, Part II

Part I

Summary: Steven Grant Rogers is Bucky Barnes' best friend and business parter in crime. He has decided to get out of the life with Bucky because it's the right thing to do. When Steve meets you at one of his businesses and lies to you about a myriad of things, It becomes a sticky situation, especially since the attraction you feel for one another is so sweet.

Pairing: Bartender/ Art Dealer (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)

A/N: I love these two and there is so much to say. More parts to come.This fic is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and occurs up to the events in the Bucky Barnes fic You've Got me Thinking. I'm so done for with Steve and Peach. The next part will be published next week! ☺️

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. Angsty angst! Steve is called ‘Steve’ and ‘Grant’ alternately, depending on POV. Mutual pining, masturbation, financial difficulties, mild stalking/surveillance, Steve lying, Steve using an alias, exotic dance life; wild thoughts, flirting, hand holding, intense sexual tension, kissing, making out, feeling each other up, third base, dirty talk, voice kink, praise kink, fingering, finger f ucking, betryal. Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-----

November

“Peach…” 

Steve whispered it like a prayer, or a spell, trying to conjure you to appear next to him in the king sized bed with Egyptian cotton sheets at the Four Seasons. His voice was a gravelly groan and he tried to keep his hands off himself despite the lurid thoughts playing behind his eyelids.

He couldn’t stop thinking of you and he couldn’t calm down. 

And it was all your fault. 

Steve felt as if he had a hangover although he hadn’t had a drop of alcohol. His mind was clouded with dreams of you all night. Your eyes, your voice, and your wit were drawing him to you. 

The image of your body and that pole, the sway of your generous hips, the swell of your breasts made him breathless and made his cock thicken under the covers. It rose and pounded to the beat of his heart when he thought of those eyes. 

The fantasy of those eyes blown with lust as you opened your mouth wide to deep throat him impelled his hand to his thick staff and tight balls.

“Fuck!”

He wasn’t going to do this. 

Steve flung the sheets away as he stood up to pull on some basketball shorts and a t-shirt, grabbing his key card as he left his room on the way down to the hotel gym. He only nodded politely at the hot brunette who smiled at him as she got on and stood too close. Steve shifted away and stared up at the floor indicator panel as he thought of you.

There was no one else in the world as he floated to the treadmill on a cloud of thoughts of you. As he increased his speed, he replayed all of the different colors in your eyes as you talked to him yesterday. He ran toward an impossible dream of you and him together.

Yeah. Steve Rogers, known to you as Grant Stevens, was screwed.

—--

You woke up with a gasp as your body convulsed from your wanton dreams. You sat up in bed and tried to capture the wisp of your vivid imagination that had gotten you there. You were so wet for a certain new bartender at your night job.

The only thing you could remember from the dream was the image of Grant’s lips and the sensation of his fingers on your hand from the day before. You ran your hands down your body and tried to imagine what his touch and those lips would feel like everywhere you wanted them to be. 

Your fingers found your clit and your tight nipples, squeezing, pinching and rubbing in time with your desperation for Grant. You came quickly as you imagined those lips replacing your digits and his deep voice in your ear. 

After, you lay in bed a moment longer, satisfied for the moment, yet yearning for the real thing. It had been too long since you’d had human romantic contact.

But you barely knew the man. You shook your head as you padded to the shower to start the water and then to the coffee maker to turn it on. 

Your real-life daily routine had no time for Grant Stevens. 

Sorry to that man.

—

Steve sat in the coffee shop at the corner of Peachtree and West Peachtree street at 10:30 am. He grumbled to himself thinking of all the streets similarly named in Atlanta which also reminded him of you. 

But the streets weren't making him stalk you at your day job. He was there to research his investment. 

That was it.

He looked down at his laptop, open to the file that his tech guy, Miles, was able to send over to him in just under two hours. Thanks to the information therein, Steve knew that you would be in at any moment to get the typical online pick up order for your morning break. He also knew that you’d been at work since 8:30, which was amazing considering you got home at 3:45 am. 

Steve learned that you worked as the Adult Dance Coordinator at the Atlanta Ballet, which seemed like a high end job, but when he saw your salary, 40K a year, he realized that was just a little over $700 a week. Your bank balance was at zero and your student loans were astronomical. 

He understood why you worked your second job.

Your degree was in Dance Performance and Choreography from Spelman, and based on the look on your face when you went into Regine the day before, the way you were immersed in the music when you warmed up, and the way your body moved, he knew that you were good at it.

Steve looked back at his laptop to see that you also had your own fledgling dance school, Peach Preserves. The photos on the website made him smile. He could feel your energy with the kids through the screen. It warmed his heart to know that you were trying to make your dream work.

He happened to look up at the moment that you entered the cafe. He almost ducked under the table, but you didn’t see him, just went to the counter, picked up your drink and chatted briefly to the barista. Then you headed out of the door, in the opposite direction of Atlanta Ballet headquarters.

Five minutes later, Steve was tailing you on a walk around the huge Atlanta city block as you sipped your coffee and smiled at almost everyone.

You were such a cutie, from your sickeningly cute, sensible heels, to the fucking cute pencil skirt that conformed to your curves and caused more than one person to crane their necks as you passed them, to the damn cute cashmere sweater that wasn’t tight, but still molded to the body that Steve itched to feel for himself.

As you went back into your place of employment, Steve felt a loss at you being out of his sight. He felt like a 14 year old kid watching his crush go to class. 

But this was not that, he thought. He had to know what type of employees Regine had, and you were the sample. He was just handling business.

That was all. 

—-

Steve was busy the next couple of days straightening out the finances and employees at Regine, especially Sully, who had taken a sudden leave of absence in the middle of the night and would not be missed.

Steve decided to keep the club, and that would be far more work than getting rid of it. Bucky was annoyed, but he wasn’t anyone’s boss. Rebirth and its holdings was a group project.

Despite all that he had to do, Steve could not stop thinking about you. There were numerous times that he caught himself daydreaming about being with you, but he did not allow himself to believe it could really happen. 

It was an impossibility. 

When he came in to Regine on Friday, you were sitting at the bar with your head in your hands. It was 2 pm and you were about an hour and a half early for work. 

He was instantly concerned. He was about to crash out, knowing that he would never rest knowing that someone out there might have hurt you, or made you sad. He would either kill them or fix it.

But instead he took a deep breath.

“You okay, Peach?”

You looked up at him, those gorgeous eyes watery. You gave him a weak smile, and he just wanted to take you into his arms. He didn’t know you wanted the exact same thing.

“Yeah, Grant. I’m just great.”

You shook your head and then laid it down on the bar on your crossed arms.

“Wanna talk about it?” 

He slid into the barstool next to you.

“Well, a lot of shit has happened in the last couple of days, but long story short, I left my work bag all the way in Kirkwood, and I’ll never get there and back on the bus in time. It will take all night.”

Steve was confused. He looked down at the bag on your lap.

“Is that not your bag? Why are you going on the bus?”

He had so many questions.

You took the bag in your hands and huffed, frustrated.

“Yes, this is my bag, but it’s my dance class bag with my day job clothes in it. I usually leave it in my car when I come in here. But my car is… in the shop…”

You started crying in earnest and jumped slightly when Grant put his hand on yours then relaxed. His touch distracted you, but you were still upset.

“How long will it take in a car? I can give you a ride.”

You looked up hopefully, then your face closed, wary.

“About 45 minutes, but I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering. As a comrade.”

You looked up into his eyes again and sniffled.Grant was a nice guy. And you felt that you could trust him. 

“I’d owe you big time.” 

Steve smiled, making you feel warm inside. 

“Give me five and we’ll be ready to go.”

He left to go talk to the other bartender and was back by your side in moments.

“Car is out here.”

Stepping into the cool November Atlanta night let you take a deep breath and clear your head, but now your nerves were ramping up for another reason as you walked next to Grant until you came to a red Audi RS7.

You peered up at him as he held the door open for you. 

“Nice car for a bartender.”

Why did your voice come out all breathy like that?

Grant smiled down at you, making your stomach do that little flippy thing it had been doing the past few days when you thought of him.

“It’s a loaner. My car is in the shop, too.”

You nodded slowly and settled into the leather and wood interior thinking about your story. You looked over at him as he drove, the afternoon light from the road playing over the planes of his face, and marveled at his profile.

Those eyes, the cheekbones, the lips. He glanced over and caught you ogling him. Your cheeks heated and you smiled.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just… can I tell you something?”

—--

Steve had been driving, keeping his eyes on the road and his hands on the steering wheel in order to get you to where you were going safely. Your scent in such close proximity was making his mouth water and his dick hard.

Thoughts of pulling over and dragging you over onto his lap were driving him crazy. He was lost in thought until the hair stood up on the back of his neck.

Glancing over, he saw you staring at him. Your flush and shy smile made him even harder.

Were you checking him out?

Did you want him too?

He raised his eyebrow at you, his heart beating double time at the thought. 

But then you asked the question.

Can I tell you something? 

You were basically asking if you could trust him. Shit.

You sighed, your breasts rising and falling with the filling of your lungs. He tried to keep his eyes on the road, but it was hard. He was hard.

“What do you need to tell me?”

“My car is not in the shop. It was repossessed.”

There. You said it. The truth was so freeing. You felt as if you could be yourself with Grant, not put up the thug front that you did with everyone else.

He looked over at you, switching quickly between you and the road until you hit a red light, his jaw ticked tight with some mysterious emotion. 

Your stomach flipped when the heat of his full attention was on you.

“What?”

“Yeah. Happened the other day. Woke up and my car was gone. My neighbor said they saw it towed about 2 am.”

Steve's mind whirled, thinking of the financial information in your file. 

“But I thought you—” 

He stopped short, not wanting to give himself away. He did want to pull over so that he could see your face, but he knew that you were anxious to get back to the club.

“I mean… you seem to have it all together. Are you okay?”

His sentiment had you in your feelings.

“Yeah. I’m used to hustling. I’ve been juggling finances ever since I graduated college. Spelman is a great school, but it’s hella expensive. 30K a year after my scholarship. I owe close to 100K on student loans, and then there’s rent on the studio.”

You looked over at him, barreling ahead despite knowing that you were word vomiting all over him.

“I’m trying to start a dance school. It’s my dream. But it costs money. So I took out a title loan on my car, even though it was paid off.”

“Wow.” 

Steve cleared his throat. Those predatory title loan places often didn’t legally record the loans, just charge outrageous interest and repossess at the first missed payment. That’s why it wasn’t in your file.

“What about your folks?”

“My parents died in a car accident my sophomore year at Spelman. No insurance. My family is aunts and uncles and cousins, and they help when I ask and if they can but…”

Your eyes glazed over as the car pulled to a stop light.

“I’m pretty much my own family.” 

Steve looked into your eyes and wanted to belong to you. He looked down and took your hand. You took a shuddering breath as your stomach flipped.

“Grant…”

He frowned as you called his name.

“I’m not telling you this to ask for money. I just need a ride. Just wanted to be honest with you.”

Steve felt like a jerk. He wanted to tell you the truth.

“Peach…”

“I’m serious. If I have another night like I did Tuesday, I got it. I need three stacks to get the car back..”

The wheels were turning in Steve’s mind. 

“Okay. You should easily earn what you need tonight.” 

He’d make sure of it.

You relaxed and smiled at him, noticing that he still had your hand in his. He rubbed his thumb across the back of your hand and you shivered.

“Thank you for telling me, Peach.”

“Thank you for listening, Grant. And for not trying to rescue me. I really appreciate it. Not that you could. You probably don’t have over a hundred K just lying around…”

He threw you a look while driving, his expression unreadable.

“Anytime, Peach.” 

His voice came out gruff. He cleared his throat. 

“I do know of a private endowment in New York that might be able to help. It’s called the Rebirth Foundation. It’s an Arts organization. They have awards up to a million dollars a year. You could apply…”

“Hmmmm. How do you know about this endowment?”

“I’m from Brooklyn. It’s a thing up there.”

You smirked.

“I knew you had a funny accent, Been trying to place it.”

“I have a funny accent?”

“Asshole!”

You hit him on the shoulder. He chuckled. 

“Anyway, I know a couple of people who’ve benefited from the endowment. Worth a shot.”

You were skeptical, but he was just trying to help. 

“Okay, send me the information.”

“I’ll send it to you when we stop. Just put your number in my phone and I will text it to you.”

Grant handed his phone to you.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this was an elaborate scheme to get my digits.”

Steve laughed. He already had your number, but now he’d have an excuse.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Fuck you, Grant Stevens.”

He cleared his throat, thinking he’d allow you to fuck him. You riding him in the back of a town car as you drove around New York City was in his top three. 

“Cool. You know, you don’t have to pretend to be angry. You can just ask to use my body...”

You scoffed.

“You know what? I think I hate you.”

“I think it’s the opposite, but you have a wall up.”

He was right. You didn’t hate him, you just hated how he read you right then.

“Grant–”

“Okay, we’re here...”

You stared at him until he raised his eyebrow at you. Then you lowered your eyes and chewed your bottom lip. Next thing you knew, his hand was on your chin pulling your lip from between your teeth, rubbing his thumb over your mouth. Your eyes went wide as saucers as you gasped for breath. 

Steve dropped his hand rather than push his thumb into your mouth like he wanted to. He nodded at the studio. 

“Do you want me to get your bag?”

His voice was gravelly with desire and you struggled with the ability to speak. You wanted this man.

Badly.

You were doomed, was the companion thought.

“No… no. Tameka is holding it for me. I’ll be right back…”

“Okay.”

Steve was holding the wheel in death grip and staring out of the window. He watched you go into the studio and thought of all the reasons why what he was happening was a bad idea. Women were a means to an end for him, occasional companionship, physical satisfaction. 

No strings. Ever. 

The ones he dealt with knew that very well. 

Unfortunately, you had him tied up in all kinds of strings with knots at the moment.

—--

By the time you got back to the club, Steve sent you a fake website that Miles had constructed in 30 minutes. As soon as the application hit, more money than you needed would be headed your way.

He just needed you to actually apply.

The night went by painfully slowly. Grant insisted that he give you a ride home after work and you agreed, causing some weird anticipation anxiety thing that was, for you, only alleviated on the stage. You zoned out and earned the most tips you ever had, partly because he was your inspiration. 

Customers were making it rain. You felt Grant’s eyes on you all night and the more you danced for him, the more money came your way. The tension between you was only building, and you both knew that him driving you home would be the climax. In more ways than one.

After work, at three am Saturday morning, with over $2K in your bag, Steve drove you to your place. This time, both of you were silent, and both your eyes were on the road. It was like time and all coherent thought were suspended. 

When the car pulled up in front of your apartment, you turned to him.

“Want to come in?”

It was a simple question, and one that would make Steve’s life infinitely more complicated if he took you up on it.

Yet he didn’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

—

As soon as he stepped behind you at your door, the raw animal in Steve was activated. He crowded you, standing much closer than necessary, breathing on your neck and making you shiver as you unlocked the door. But you didn’t mind. No. Not at all.

He was overwhelming this close, but in a good way. His scent, his warmth, his power. You wanted all of that. All over you.

When you got inside, you turned around in the entryway and he.

Was. Right. There.

You looked up at him under your eyelashes as he stared at you, nostrils flaring and jaw ticking with restraint.

Damn him, it should be illegal for him to look that fucking good. 

“I’m just itching to kiss you Peach. Can I? Want to so bad.”

His blue eyes roamed your face, then down your body in a possessive glare. 

God, it made your nipples tight and panties wet.

“Please…”

The way he begged for you broke any resolve that you may have had. You reached for him, grabbed the white tee shirt that was underneath his flannel and pulled him close to you. 

His jaw relaxed as his mouth slanted in a side smile as your arms reached up and wound around his neck, fingers tangling in the long, thick hair spilling over his collar and pulled him down as your lips connected. 

The kiss was tentative: slow sweeps of lips over lips, and shy reaches of tongue to tongue. Then, the urgency increased with nips and licks and sucks of thick lips on lips with tongue and teeth. Moans and gasps and whimpers spilled out between you.

Grant raised both hands to palm your head as he tenderly pulled himself away from your lips and rested his forehead on yours. 

“That was…”

His thumb swept the moisture from your lips and this time you captured it between them, sucking it while looking him in the eye. Steve’s cock throbbed even harder. 

“Fuck. I want you…”

Your eyes looked down to see the bulge in his jeans, up to the clench in his jaw and that goddamn pretty face of his, and you bit your lip, causing him to groan. 

You reached down and palmed his hard on as he pumped his thumb in and out of your mouth. He pulled his finger out, groaning as he watched your lips and you whimpered, causing him to silence you with another kiss. 

His hand drifted down your body, exploring until his long fingers reached inside your sweats to find your panties drenched and sticking to the wet folds of your pussy. 

“Fucking soaked, Peach. I-I need this. Need to feel this. N-need to eat this…”

Grant’s raspy baritone and the stutter made your head fall back against the wall as your pussy clenched. His brilliant blue eyes found yours when he felt it. He kissed the side of your mouth and you chased his lips, a fiend for him.

His tongue invaded your mouth again just as his thick fingers pulled your panties to the side and parted you, the calluses on his fingertips feeling just a little like heaven against your wet, sensitive skin.

He leaned down and whispered in your ear. 

“You’re so wet, and soft, Peach. See? I can slide through these fat pussy lips so easy.”

He was skating, rubbing between your folds along your slit, teasing your entrance and your clit. 

Your hands were yanking his shirt free of his jeans so your hands could feel his thick, hard abs, and your nails could scratch his skin. Grant shuddered under your touch.

Steve felt like it was his first time touching a girl, the way his heart was fluttering in his chest. As he felt your perfect little body, he realized that he was aiding in the ruin of himself for anyone else.

He collected your wetness and proceeded to pull his fingers out and push them into his mouth, making you watch as he suckled them, his eyes rolling back in his head. He concentrated to regain thought as he slipped his fingers back in and pinched your clit, then plunged up and down the split of you, finally breaching your entrance. 

Your legs were shaking and your thighs clamped around his hand. You held on to his shoulders as you rolled your hips into the thrusts of his fingers. He was full-out fucking you now, kissing you in rhythm with the thrusts of his fingers. 

“So fucking tight, Peach. Tightest fucking pussy I’ve ever felt.”

Your body bowed into him at his filthy words and he watched your face with rapt attention. You’d given him the key to you. His words.

His fingers pushed deeper inside you and curled, making you moan and quiver. 

“That’s right, Peach. Take my fingers like a good little girl.” 

He whispered it calmly against your ear, not betraying how feral he was on the inside. 

You pressed your lips together as you clenched down at his words.

“You’re so sweet. So cute. So desperate.” 

His fingers reached that bundle of nerves, causing your brain to short circuit. 

“Needy.” 

Grant licked your neck as he dragged his long fingers in and out of your sodden, dripping cunt. You tried to stifle another moan as he curled his fingers inside you. 

“What I need is to hear you, Peach. Been dreaming of you screaming for me for the past three nights.”

“Please!”

You were practically sobbing now, a result of the skill with which Grant was playing your body. His neck was craned as he marked your neck, and he was searching your skin underneath your shirt with his free hand. 

“You're so beautiful Peach, and wet for me. So warm and snug.”

He leaned over again to suckle on your pulse point and then whisper into your ear.

“But you’re gonna struggle to take my long thick cock in this tight little cunt.”

“Fuckkkkkk!”

You erupted into a mind-blowing orgasm, shuddering between Grant and the wall, holding on to him for dear life as your knees gave out. He held you up, gingerly removing his fingers from around you and hugging you to him, his heart gone from his body and now in your possession. 

He never wanted to let you go.

But then you spoke again.

“No one has ever…”

You giggled and looked up into his impossible blue eyes. He smiled down at you. For a split second, you were the happiest you’d ever been.

“No one had ever done that to me as effectively as you, Grant Stevens.”

Steve’s smile fell. 

He felt the power of his betrayal in advance of you finding out who he really was. 

Not only had he lied to you, he wasn’t good enough to be around you, let alone touch you. 

He looked down to see that you were steady on your feet now, and straightened your clothes for you. He felt terrible, knowing what you expected to happen next, if nothing more than intimacy with someone who was honest with you.

He kissed your forehead, then your lips again, chaste this time.

“I’m so sorry, Peach. We can’t do this.”

“What?”

He kissed your forehead again and left your apartment, leaving you standing there wondering what just happened.

—-

When you went to work that night, they said Grant quit. The number you had for him was disconnected. He’d vanished into thin air.

You were a thug, so you powered through the night but you spent all day Sunday in bed wondering what you did wrong. And what he was really about.

By the time Thanksgiving rolled around, you were grateful to go to Hilton Head and get away with your family. You heard about your cousin’s big adventures in the City with her Mr. Big and crew.

You teased her relentlessly for being a simp, and continued to swear that you were a thug. You were a complete comedian, putting on a show for your family until the moment the man you knew as Grant Stevens stepped into your Aunt and Uncle’s home.

Except his name wasn’t Grant Stevens.

It was Steve Rogers.

And you were a fool.

——-

Reblog if you liked it!

[sizhens]

i don't really want to do this but she's turning this into something i seemingly Have To Address despite my best efforts to just let this go and move on from it. like at this point it is an explicit campaign to get me and my wife thrown out of our internet spaces and she keeps bringing it up by lying blatantly about it.

Connie “tezuka-rin” is explicitly and specifically lying about me and my wife. we had a conflict over the internet last month and, from my perspective, it was very brief, but evidently was founded on years of resentment and anger she held against my wife. Until these past few months I had never even known who Connie even was, genuinely. I hadn’t even seen her on my dash or anything, I straightforwardly had never heard of her.

I would like to briefly go over the sequence of events based on my understanding because I feel like it’s only fair to everyone involved that I at least disclose my perspective on what happened. Beyond anything else I also feel like I have a right and at this point, for my wife’s sake, an obligation to defend myself.

TL:DR version is that Connie is trying to portray this conflict as a transmisogynist conflict wherein two people are trying to “cancel” a trans woman, despite no such effort being made whatsoever, and the two other people involved being themselves both transgender women.

***

In 2019 (I think?) my wife was in a discord server of predominantly asian ML transgender women. My wife, Hannah, met Connie in internet spaces associated with their shared similar interests. In the midst of this, Hannah saw Connie to be a fellow lonely autistic transgender woman and thought that she could do a kind thing and reach out to her and invite her to this discord server. Unfortunately this was a disaster, as many who know Connie will know that she is prone to explosive bouts of anger wherein she says extremely inflammatory things. In this instance, Connie came into the server and made a snide remark about how the PRC should just “nuke Hong Kong and Taiwan already.” This was notably very upsetting for numerous members of the server who were Chinese, in particular a member whose family was from Hong Kong, who at the time was very close to Hannah.

Hannah and Connie discussed this in private in the midst of which Connie explosively lashed out at Hannah and another one of her friends. Connie would then go on to demand that she be defended for her actions against the criticisms of their mutual friends. Hannah expressed her frustration and disappointment and had herself decided to withdraw from Connie socially because of the honest fact that Connie was an unpleasant and hurtful person to her personally. I think that genuinely few can begrudge someone for the desire to no longer be friends with someone and I think that this itself does not constitute a crime, let alone an attempted “social murder.”

Fast forward a brief period of time, and a trans masculine person (I believe from the same server?) apparently wrote a callout of Connie. I say apparently because this was five years ago and both Hannah and I have never seen this callout, which is relevant. I don’t even disbelieve it happened. I think that it’s certainly possible that a trans masc wrote an extremely bad-faith callout of her in an attempt to do transmisogynist violence to her. The most relevant thing here is that Hannah and I have never seen this callout. Hannah sees that a number of her friends on Twitter are discussing how Connie was racist (separately) and Hannah makes a single post about the situation (which she is sometimes prone to doing. Hannah is frequently quite careful and scant with her words, unlike me.) Hannah literally only said “I no longer associate with Connie” which was both objectively true, notably, and a profoundly neutral way of attempting to sidestep any potential conflict with any of these people.

***

Between September(ish?) of 2024 and December of 2024, Connie had been making a significant number of posts about me (at the time Tumblr User Maowives) wherein she was, in brief, expressing her frustration that members of our shared internet spaces would still deign to associate with me despite Connie expressing her outrage at my presence in these spaces. Her issue (evidently, in a summary of her words) derived from the fact that she thought I had “gained popularity on the back of being an anti-callout poster, despite knowing What [My] Wife Did In 2019.” This is untrue for a number of reasons. 1) I did no such thing specifically because I do not comment that much on this kind of issue, candidly. I think that frequently transgender women have unpersoning campaigns done against them and I believe this to be a form of transmisogynist violence but I don’t make a habit of commentating on it. 2) Because I think that I, like many people, got “popular” on tumblr mostly for being slightly above average funny and a bit inflammatory. 3) I had never heard of Connie before this and Hannah had never mentioned her to me because she was such a brief and irrelevant and profoundly unpleasant part of Hannah’s life, before we were even close.

In December, Connie remakes her Tumblr, and makes a post along the lines of “I hate that my blog got deleted because so does my blocklist. First post I see on here is a Sizhens post. Get that buddy outta here!” My wife saw this and was, understandably, annoyed. At this point this had been going on for months without either of us commenting on it because it was both frustrating and, candidly, in my opinion, below us to even acknowledge. However, my wife decided to confront Connie about this, which led to the resultant conflict. Harsh words were exchanged between them, which I frankly consider to be irrelevant to me – my wife is her own person and I am not responsible for her any more than she is responsible for me. I will speak specifically to what I did in this situation.

I made a couple posts which amount to “What’s your problem with me? I don’t even know you.” A mutual of mine asked “What even happened?” to which I responded, admittedly, impulsively and frustratedly, with this reply in the comments of my post: 

[img description: in brief and uncharitable but blunt: a racist white woman got mad my wife didn’t want to fuck her and decided to take it out on me, someone who has never spoken to her in my entire life.]

There are several relevant things about this comment. 1) I admit openly that it was a catty and unkind thing to say. 2) I deleted the comment nearly immediately after making it. However, Connie screenshotted it within the first 30 seconds if it being posted, and 15 seconds before I deleted it. 3) The comment about “wanting to fuck my wife” was relevant because, by Connie’s own admission, she had held and has held a resentment for years partially because she asked out my wife in 2019 to which Hannah gently turned her down, an attraction which Connie has expressed she still holds. Was this an immature and unkind thing to bring up? Absolutely. Was it catty and unfair? Yes, and I openly admit that, and for that I am sorry and have felt immense regret. I would like to hold myself to being above making snide remarks like this even in anger and I am disappointed in myself for having acted this way.

However, Connie would go on to portray this comment (which was up for less than a minute) as a comment which was attempting an unpersoning campaign against her, by way of portraying her as a pedophile – a stretch which I truly cannot see or understand at all.

My immediate response was to remove myself from the situation in as permanent and a significant way as I could understand how: I deleted my blog and stepped away from Tumblr for several weeks.

Granted, this was a dramatic thing to do. I will openly admit I am prone to theatricality which might be evident by this post. However, I feel it is relevant because I am being accused of proliferating a transmisogynist hate campaign against Connie in which, in her words, I insinuated she was a pedophile and “sexual pervert.”

I feel that it is my responsibility and right to assert several things:

I am a transgender woman. My wife is a transgender woman. I don’t think that trans women can’t hurt each other (on the contrary, I believe we frequently do) but I believe Connie to be wielding this narrative profoundly cynically by implying we are not transgender women while never outright saying this.

I had no intention to ever portray Connie as a pervert or pedophile. I made a snide remark which attempted to portray her as a pathetic and lonely person who was lashing out at me for petty interpersonal beef reasons. This was unfair of me and unkind and I acknowledge this

This entire conflict was started five years ago because Connie said something incredibly racist, which she veiled behind vague marxist sentiments. That said, this has no relevance to me, as I was not there, did not know Connie at the time, barely even knew my own current wife at the time, and did not even know of Connie’s existence until this whole conflict started.

Connie has gone on to consistently portray this conflict as a transmisogynist campaign to get her socially murdered, in which I was proliferating a hate campaign on the back of a pedophilia assertion, something I never did and never would do.

The reality is that this is a conflict wherein a white woman is covering for something racist she said (five years ago, which we all would have forgotten about had she not dredged this petty interpersonal beef to the fore in an effort to lash out at me, a stranger, and my wife, a woman who committed the great social crime of deciding she did not want to be friends with a profoundly unpleasant person five years ago) by portraying a TWOC as punching down at her and wielding transmisogyny against her.

This is patently untrue, and a gross mischaracterization of the situation. It is a lie intended to make these spaces sufficiently hostile and unpleasant enough for us to simply leave of our own accord. The fact that she continues to post about this month-old conflict despite Hannah and my best efforts to ignore it is because she feels she has not yet won by driving us both out of these spaces.

I think Connie is a profoundly unwell person who is lashing out at us because this is what she does. She lashes out at a different person on the internet every week or two and attempts to drum up conflict for reasons I will not speculate on. Unfortunately this is not something that I will just take on the chin. I think that I am being portrayed unfairly and, candidly, I believe that her motivations are not just cynical and selfish, but motivated partially for the fact that she dislikes me because I am a Taiwanese ML, which was evidenced by this whole conflict being started over an extremely racist and callous comment she made about Hong Kong and Taiwan. Regardless, what she is saying about me is patently untrue, and I feel I have a right and obligation to defend myself. I don’t have any issue beyond this. I don’t want to get her driven from this website. I just want this whole thing to be over with so we can all move on with our lives.

[green-cargaytions]

JAZZ IT UP - ✅ if there’s one thing to be said about 2024 it’s that i definitely did jazz it up!

DO IT SCARED - debatable. i think so?

DO IT BORED - see above

READ MORE BOOKS - ✅ yes i haven’t had a lot of time to read, but i did do so and enjoy it. i shojld rly keep track of what i read this year

CLIMB MORE TREES - ✅ the semi state tree is and will always be the love of my life

UNPRECEDENTED LEVELS OF FAGGOTRY - ✅ i would call this one a success

BREATHE, BREATHE, BREATHE - ehh i can always strive to breathe more

HUG YOUR FRIENDS - ✅ i have been told i hug like a velociraptor

WAFFLES AT IHOP - ✅ not waffles but i do have a specific order that i always get at ihop, and winter percussion season starting means MORE IHOP

INHABIT YOUR SPACE - mmm i had a hard time inhabiting myself this year and i’m struggling to inhabit the spaces i love because i know i have to leave them soon. room for growth on this one

CULTIVATE - ✅ winter makes this difficult but i did have a lot of love in my heart for grass and flowers and trees this year. my grape hyacinth whimsy <3

GRILLED CHEEMSE - i did not have enough grilled cheese sandwiches this year, and in a more general sense, i still struggle to prepare good food for myself. we keep working!

JAZZ IT UP MORE - ✅ you know what, i DID jazz it up. no matter if i don’t feel like i made any progress some days, i have. i have!!

CRINGEFAIL SWAG - ✅ oh brother you know i have this one down

FLOOR TIME - ✅ i am spreading this gospel truth to every member of the percussion section and also ap music theory

FROLICK IN A FIELD - ✅ i did in fact do this

LOVE HUGELY - ✅ it is painful but it is worth it and it is also something that is integral to me and i can’t change it anyway

LOVE SPECIFICALLY - ✅ i did fall in love with many people and things this year.

GET LIT - ? unclear what i meant by this. what does the general audience think

RINGMASTER OF THE SHITSHOW - ykw i could work harder to bring levity and self-control to upsetting situations. we keep working!!

FUCK NASTY - no comment

MORE JAZZ - ✅ UNDOUBTEDLY

DONT CHANGE YOURSELF SO OTHER PEOPLE WILL LIKE YOU - i did fail to keep this perspective in my mind some of the time. this one is a life long pursuit i fear

INHABIT SPACES THAT WERE NOT BUILT FOR YOU - ✅ i mean this in two ways: be comfortable with spaces that are not your “home territory,” and (ofc safely) inhabit spaces that were not meant for people like you. i think i made progress on both!

BUILD SPACES THAT ARE FOR YOU - ehh i did but i stressed myself out about it? idk. much to ponder

LET PEOPLE CARE ABOUT YOU - i will be honest i fully tanked this one especially in the latter half of the year. sigh. we will keep working!!!

GENDER IS A CARD GAME AND BROTHER I AM THE DEALER - i did not come out fully or start transitioning this year but i have begun to explore my style a little more and that’s exciting!

@boycritter @geodethecrow @sergeant-toast @goncharov-propaganda-factory @burntoutandproud @ anyone else, if you want to do a roundup or some or all of these or your own goals from 2024 feel free!!

2024:

JAZZ IT UP

DO IT SCARED

DO IT BORED

READ MORE BOOKS

CLIMB MORE TREES

UNPRECEDENTED LEVELS OF FAGGOTRY

BREATHE, BREATHE, BREATHE

HUG YOUR FRIENDS

WAFFLES AT IHOP

INHABIT YOUR SPACE

CULTIVATE

GRILLED CHEEMSE

JAZZ IT UP MORE

[enlynstory]

⟢ The Moment Between

Pairing: non-idol!!Yang Jungwon x Reader

Synopsis: On the one-year anniversary of her mother’s death, a young woman gets overwhelmed by a panic attack. As she struggles Jungwons steady presence helps her regain control, and she finally realizes, shes never truly been alone in her fight.

Warnings: Passing of a loved one, panic attack, distress, crying, love. (Lmk if I missed any)

Wc: 934

A/N: This story means a lot to me. I can’t explain it to be quite honest with you. In the moment of writing it, I felt extremely connected to the main character. I don’t think it was necessarily because I’ve been through the situation of a loved one passing, but the panic attacks are something I struggle with. So I guess I really connected myself with the main character for a moment. And I really felt for her…amyways I hope you enjoy the story<3

It was exactly one year ago today that my whole world changed in an instant. The moment the doctors called and said, “I’m sorry ma’am, your mother didn’t make it through the surgery.” At that moment, I dropped to my knees, overwhelmed by the weight of the words.

Everything I had known felt like it was slipping away. My body shook, and I couldn’t hear anything except the rapid beat of my own heart. The world around me became muffled, distant, as if I were sitting at the edge of a deep void.

I didn’t need to be asked what was wrong. It was already written in the silence between us, in the emptiness that echoed louder than any question could.

~

I sat at the dining room table, surrounded by stacks of photos-pictures of me and my mother from when she was still alive. I bit my cheek, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill out.

“You okay, love?” Jungwon asked, his voice soft, and his eyes filled with concern as he gently rubbed my back. He knew what today was-the one-year anniversary of my mothers passing.

I felt my body shake as I fought back the sobs that were threatening to escape. I hadn’t expected today to hit this hard. “It’s okay, I’m okay,” I whisper, struggling to keep control as my hand moves to cover my mouth-a silent plea to keep the tears at bay.

I feel his hand pause on my back for a moment, and then his fingers gently lift my chin, guiding my face to his, “You don’t have to force yourself to be okay,” he whispers softly, “it’s okay to feel what you’re feeling.”

It was as if a switch had been flipped inside me, because the moment those words left his mouth, I fell apart. I let my head drop, and everything I’d been holding back finally poured out. He began rubbing my back again, his touch gentle and soothing, trying to calm the storm within me.

“I’m sorry love, I know this hurts,” he murmured softly. “I wish I could do more for you.” The pain seemed to grow with each word, and I felt my breath quicken as it all became too much to bear.

A tingling feeling spreads through my body as my vision starts to blur. I’m having a panic attack, I thought, quickly rising from my seat, instinctively knowing I needed to get control of myself.

Jungwon must have sensed what was happening, because before I knew it, he had a firm grasp on my arms, steadying me as I swayed, struggling to stay on my feet.

“Breathe, c’mon baby, you need to breathe.” He urged gently, his grip never loosening as he guided me to the living room and helped me sit on the couch. I bit my lip, desperately trying to calm my never ending nerves, but nothing seemed to work.

I must have bit my lip too hard, because within seconds, the taste of blood filled my mouth. “This is the worst one yet,” his voice tight with worry as he knelt down in front of me.

His hand gently wiped the tears from my face in a swift motion before he softly tipped my chin to meet his gaze. “C’mon love,” he murmured, his voice steady but full of tenderness. “You’re here with me. You’re safe. Focus on my voice, okay? Just breathe with me. In…and out. I’m right here, you’re not alone in this.”

I breathe in time with him, focusing on his voice as I try to regain control. Slowly, my vision sharpens, and I begin to feel steady again. “Just like that, you’re doing great,” he praises softly. My gaze falls on Jungwon, and I notice his eyes are slightly red, the worry still lingering in them. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice barely a breath. “I didn’t mean to—”

“There’s nothing to apologize for, love,” he murmured, his voice soothing as he pressed his forehead gently to mine. “I’m just glad you're back,” he continued, his honesty clear in his words. “I was getting really worried.”

I bring my hand to his hair, gently smoothing it as I try to steady my voice. “I didn’t mean to worry you. I honestly don’t know what happened…It’s like I was back in the moment-when I got the call.” I pause, my throat tight. “It felt like I was relieving the nightmare all over again.”

His hand moves to my wrist, pulling my hand to his lips in a quiet, reassuring gesture, a reminder that I’m not alone. He shuts his eyes for a moment, and I watch as a single tear slips down his cheek.

“I’m alright now, dear,” I softly remind him, brushing my fingers across his tear-streaked cheek. “You did so well. You helped me through this.” I feel his head nod gently against mine, and when he finally opens his eyes, they meet mine with a longing, silent understanding. Without a word, he leans in, his lips finding mine in a kiss that feels both comforting and tender.

“I love you.” He says softly, as he pulls me up with him, bringing me in a hug that was warm and gentle. “I love you more” I utter, my hands finding their way to his hair.

It was exactly a year ago today that my life changed in an instant. But today, I finally saw it—through all the pain, all the heartache, I was never truly alone. Jungwon had been right there, holding me together when I couldn’t hold myself.

[azurerosses]

lando would be like 🤨 is this blushing stuttering mess really the ice cold bodyguard i was told about? he doesn't actually care because he doesn't necessarily think he needs to have someone, especially not someone actually good at being a bodyguard. oscar just standing around is fine it'll do the job. and then lando actually sees oscar do his job and do it well and it's more 😳😳 because that is NOT the oscar he's been endeared by. oscar is now extremely hot as well as being adorable. lando doesn't think he's going to survive this

(re this post)

i need to be better about answering asks bc damn, so sorry for the super late reply anon! but yes!!! imagining lando absolutely being a brat at first bc he doesn't trust that someone like oscar is gonna be a 'good' bodyguard considering how fresh faced he looks and how unassuming his build is. lando would up the ante of this brattiness, a little bit bc genuinely doesn't want a babysitter but mostly bc he wants to see how much can he affect oscar's 'cool' tough guy exterior, and when he finally brats too close to the sun and actually gets himself into trouble, he gets to see oscar properly work for the first time and boy does it send him into a tizzy!!!

say maybe lando was dealing with a persistent fan or just a creepy guy in general and oscar had to get them away from lando quickly and he puts them in a chokehold just like that, saying something along the lines of not gonna ask you to leave again, mate whilst dragging them away from lando, barely breaking a sweat and never losing his composure. and of course the first thing he does after escorting the creep out was ask lando is he's alright, instead of being mad that lando keeps putting himself is not-so-favorable situations. and when lando asked him about it, oscar just shrugs, telling lando i knew what i was getting myself into. and of course lando's still too busy processing (and getting turned on) about what just happened in front of him to realize that what oscar means about 'knowing what he's getting himself into' is that he's been an ln4 fanboy since forever so he knows how much of a brat hazard lando can be at times lmao

[mouthwashingconfessionsblog]

"Well, if I was in curly's situation i would've killed jimbo with the gun immediately and did what needed to be done because im not a coward like curly-" and its people who when the staff get their order wrong at mcdonalds, they just take it. They go sit in the corner with headphones on and sadly eat their burger with pickles and drink their coke instead of sprite because theyre too anxious to mention it, and think about how they wish they'd gotten Uber Eats instead. Its people who'll keep buying the albums and merch of singers and influencers with public and credible allegations because "it comforts my audhd🥺". Its the "he was only joking" when their friends make violent jokes and statements people who want to shit on curly without an ounce of nuanced empathy.

Im so sick of moral grandstanding about this shit from people who wanna act like theyre soooo much better than these characters by fantasising about killing jimmy.

Would u have really done that? If you were really in that situation, would u? Are u being honest? Do you think you're strong enough to kill a man, without hindsight as to what would happen?

Im being honest when i say i dont think i could kill jimmy. I dont think id have made the choice curly could've done to stop the ship from crashing. Im not gonna self delude myself into thinking im a perfect person who could've made a non-existent perfect choice in one of the worst situations imaginable.

.

[inherently-ungovernable-roadkill]

W- wow, uh I dunno what to say.

1. PURPLE, ITS THE BEST COLOR!!

2. Cat, definitely. They're more agile and they can wriggle themselves out of situations much larger than them. Although I'd be worried about poisoned food more often 😕.

3. Although I love tmnt I would have to say I love the freedom of the SCP Foundation XP

4. THE TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES, DEFINITELY! it's been going on for a year and 3/4.

5. Classic Foxy, close second is The Marionette.

6. FUCK ASS (He's great! My fav)!

7. Depends on how I get them, cuz I'm not gonna get tricked into doing weird shit.

8. Yes, they're pretty good!

9. Kill myself?

10. Hexagon (They're the bestagon).

You're not alone buster, I dunno what questions to ask either 🥲

1. 273 (Please get the reference)?

2. Favorite mode of transportation?

3. See every color outside of your natural vision but lose the ability to see the others, or keep your vision as is?

4. Favorite plant?

5. What's one fandom you regret being in?

6. Do you prefer long socks or short socks (If any other please say what)?

7. What is your favorite TMNT character (any iteration, comics included)?

8. What is your favorite object that you own (or have in your possession).

9. Current favorite artist (physical media)?

10. Would you (if forced) cut off your own dominant arm (shoulder and below), or cut off your closest family members leg (knee and below)?

Tags: @creaturethealien, @ my moot that I can't seem to tag, and anyone else!

Ten questions to ask a mutual

Instructions: prev asks ten questions and you answer them, then ask ten new ones and tag ten people to keep the chain going! I’ll go first

What is the weirdest thing you’ve eaten? (For me it’s the time I accidentally drank ants)

do you like purple or green more? (For me it’s a 50/50 I love them both)

what is your favorite two color color combo? (For me it’s purple and gold)

are you a cat or dog person? (Dogs 100%)

what is your favorite painting (Miranda by John William Waterhouse)

Mountains or beaches? (Mountains)

what’s your favorite dessert? (Lemon bars)

are you right or left handed? (Right but I used to be left handed)

salty or sweet? (Sweet)

summer or winter? (Winter)

I’m tagging 11 people but it’s whatever

@wra1th-k1ng

@bladevoyager

@tragedyanddust

@kindred-spirit-93

@urfavgreekmythnerd

@sickneurotic

@ry-diggity

@we-are-but-dead-stars

@thestarryfalls

@tamaruaart

@hermesmoly

[bones4thecats]

Rise boys having a fight with their S/o, who storms out and then the Krang invasion happens. Can we have the boys being saved by and reuniting with S/o months later after thinking they died? Just comfort and fluff pls

┗ Halt the Storm; Future! Rise × S/O ┛

Characters: Future-ish! Raphael, Leonardo, Donatello, and Michelangelo (Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles) A/N: This is set for a story where you can choose your turtle. So, you can just put in one of the brother's name for the {Turtle} thing, and choose one of the nicknames from the story depending on the color. Hope you like this, Anon! ⇘ Summary: Blaming himself for his own failures was never good for your relationship. Normally, you could fix it with just a conversation, but when that went out the window, you left, going home. Nearly a year later, the Krang took over, leaving your home desecrated. Meanwhile, your boyfriend mourns you, believing you to be deceased. But, when going on a little mission with his brothers, he is defended by a mysterious stranger. After they say an old nickname, he realizes: you were alive and standing in front of him...

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵

❤️💙💜🧡 When you fought with your boyfriend, it was normally easy to solve. His emotions would get the better of him, the same with you, and you both understood that part of one another. But, this time, it was different.

"Honestly, if you don't understand that I can handle myself and my responsibilities, why don't you just leave!" He yelled, his voice showing how angry he was with you.

❤️💙💜🧡 You stared at him wide-eyed and tried to spit out some kind of sentence to try resolving the situation, but the way his eyes lacked the beautiful shimmer you fell for just made your throat dry up and your eyes tear up.

❤️💙💜🧡 Splinter watched with wide-eyes with your boyfriend's brothers. One tried to reason with him, but he wouldn't listen, storming to his room, claiming he needed space.

❤️💙💜🧡 They looked at you with sad in their eyes. Splinter walked up to you and hugged you, causing you to break down. He then called for one of his boys to bring you home safely while waiting for the brother you called your own to calm down.

-- Current Time:

❤️💙💜🧡 That was months ago. Almost 12, exactly 11 months, two weeks, three days, fourteen hours, twelve minutes, and 16 seconds. How did he keep count? How could he not? It was that day he spoke his last words to you. And they weren't filled with the positive feelings he felt for you, no. They were filled with the resentment towards himself for failing.

"Hey, bro. You coming? April said she found a signal out just past the city's limits." One of his brothers said from the outside of his room.

❤️💙💜🧡 He sighed and stood up, saying he was before grabbing his weapons and walking outside.

❤️💙💜🧡 Once the four mutant-brothers reached near the signal's location, Donnie told them to fan out, to search everywhere as he looked at the map with his scanner. He pushed it away as they split, looking around for the thing they were told was here. A Krang.

❤️💙💜🧡 Jumping down from the top of the broken-down house, {Turtle} looked around. His eyes traveled faster than a human's, which made him valuable to the resistance.

❤️💙💜🧡 As his eyes traveled in front of him, he neglected to check behind him. A larger Krang, around between the height of the first and second Krang, jumped from behind him, sending its appendages to skewer the mutant turtle.

❤️💙💜🧡 He looked back sharply and furrowed his brow, jumping up and onto the tentacle, successfully smashing it into the ground. A loud scream came from the alien as it looked up and sent more at {Turtle}.

❤️💙💜🧡 {Turtle} scoffed and brought out his mystic weapon and began his attack on the Krang. It jumped to the left at the last second, and landed in front of a steel rod. Its tentacle gripped it, dislodging it successfully, and throwing it at its opponent.

❤️💙💜🧡 In the meantime, {Turtle} was speaking to the brother closest to his location, telling him his locations and ordering him to grab their brothers for backup as quickly as possible. As he did this, he jumped slightly below what he should have, as a rod lodged itself inside of his calf.

❤️💙💜🧡 He wailed as he landed on the nearby ground, gripping his wound with his three-fingered hands. He glared up at the Krang as it laughed and mocked him, pushing on his wound with a sadistic glint in its eyes.

❤️💙💜🧡 Just before it landed the final hit on {Turtle}, a force pushed it away from him and into a nearby building's walls. Above him stood a figure with a gas mask and dark-clothing covering their entire body. Just out of their right sleeve was a robotic arm and their bottom left leg the same.

"Get up, Cardinal / Bluebird / Amethyst / Cheeto. That Krang isn't gonna be down for very long."

❤️💙💜🧡 {Nickname}... that was the nickname you gave him. But, it couldn't be. Your home was destroyed almost immediately after the Krang arrived. It was one of their first targets. How could you be alive?

"Y/N...? Is it... really you?" He asked as you readied your sword and grenades.

"We'll discuss it later. Right now you need medical attention. You call your brothers?" You asked as you took out some bandages from your pocket and tossed them over so he can cover his wounds and hopefully slow down the bleeding.

❤️💙💜🧡 He nodded and pressed down on his wound. But, despite his better judgement (and most likely his brother's as well), he used his weapon and strength to pull out the rod in his leg. The shock from it happening caused more blood to come out. You rolled his eyes from under the mask and laid your weapons down, grabbed the bandages, wrapped them around his leg tightly and added pressure, which you gave to him as you noticed his brothers approaching.

❤️💙💜🧡 You looked back down at him and put your weapons back in their holsters. The others mutants landed nearby you, they asked what happened, to which you said you'd catch them up when safe. They nodded and began to help you keep their brother safe, unknowing to whom they were seeing after so long.

-- Time-Skip...

❤️💙💜🧡 The sound of beeping alerted the turtle who was resting. He opened his eyes slowly and looked up and around, trying to locate where he was. He came to the conclusion that he was in the medical-room that was created just a couple months ago, being made of some still-functioning medical equipment from all around the destroyed city.

❤️💙💜🧡 He tried to sit up, but failed due to feeling a head right beside him. {Turtle} looked down and noticed you. So, you were safe. Thank his ancestors.

❤️💙💜🧡 {Turtle} looked at you and smiled, his somehow-still clean teeth poking out as he did so. He reached towards you and began to rub his hand against your head.

❤️💙💜🧡 He missed this more than you realized. The feeling of your face being in his grasp. The heat that you produced against his natural, cold bodily temperatures. You were his missing other half that he finally found after so long.

❤️💙💜🧡 Though, he knew if you awoke and saw him looking down at you rather than resting from his wound caused by that blob-looking monster, {Turtle} decided to close his eyes once more, this time with his hand covering the ones you had over his thigh.

❤️💙💜🧡 He couldn't deny that he couldn't wait to hear your voice and hold you the same way he used to back then. Couldn't wait to fix what he had damaged all those months ago, rebuild your relationship stronger than ever among the invasion of these beasts.

"I've missed you... my love."

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵