#I'm in my feelings about voting but that doesn't mean i stop doing it

[tumbloggingattheendofitall]

And not that it's actually going to stop anyone from coming for me I guess, but like. Not voting in the US this election cycle because of your disgust at the handling of the Palestinian genocide by the US government isn't actually the Great Big Political Statement Of Solidarity you think it is

What it is, is apathy. No I'm not naïve enough to believe that voting blue absolves me of the crimes committed by my country on the word of a bunch of out of touch oligarchs. But not voting doesn't actually absolve us of any of that either, and it only materially makes things worse for everybody, locally and globally, when we allow our political apathy to keep us from Working Towards Better outcomes

[fratboykate]

Papi, are you alive? Thunderbolts trailer leaked and we got Hailee back from the dead (and there's the movie with Andrew and Florence and its KYAU coded as fuck) Kate and Yelena content galor this week. PLEASE COME BACK. We've been deprived for a year. It's been jail for too long. Grace us with Kate x Yelena content again. Pretty please.

*taps mic* Is this thing on?

[darkacademiaarchivist]

i had a conversation with my aunt today about how the system and politics and basically everything is fucked at the moment (which is true) and she was SO CLOSE to so many points but she never acknowledged that capitalism is the root of so many of those problems... Bestie you're So Close...

[appocalipse]

that guy ⊹ steve harrington

summary: After he's been to yet another failed date with yet another random pretty girl, Steve Harrington, your best friend, stops by at the diner your family owns for a late-night chat, same as he'd done a thousand times before. Steve is totally unaware of how much he's hurting you with his endless parade of dates, because after all — the two of you are only friends and nothing more, right? It's not like you have any secret feelings for him… | 2.6k words

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

The moment Steve steps through the glass doors of the diner, you wonder, for about the millionth time that month alone, what is it that you've done so wrong to deserve this kind of punishment.

It's Friday night, and on Friday nights, Steve Harrington goes on dates. It's just like clockwork, really: he meets a pretty girl, thinks she's the one, takes her out on a date, realizes quickly enough that she isn't quite what he was looking for, then comes here after having dropped her back home to sulk with you, in the diner that your family runs, still clad in the outfit he'd chosen especially for his failed date.

To be honest, he never looks sad, per se — more like disappointed. Frustrated, maybe.

You watch as he weaves around tables occupied by laughing friends, past booths filled with couples sharing desserts, then slides into a seat in front of you at the bar. Steve sits down with an exhausted sigh, ruffling up his hair before shooting you a tired smile.

"Hi."

You don't look up from where you're polishing the counter. "Bad date again?"

"Not even close. She talked about horses non-stop."

A quiet laugh slips past your lips despite yourself, and finally, you tear your gaze off the dark wooden surface of the counter to look up at him; he's got this pleased little smile on his face, the corners of his eyes crinkled ever so slightly in the way they always do whenever he succeeds at making you laugh, even if just a little.

How are you supposed to keep acting like nothing's wrong when he looks at you like that?

You clear your throat awkwardly and make yourself busy stacking clean glasses next to the coffee machine.

"So...not the one, I take it?"

Steve leans forward against the counter and props his head up with his hand, sighing deeply.

"I'm starting to think she won't ever show up," he says quietly, running his other hand through his hair. You chance another glance at him and note how genuinely worried he looks. It breaks your heart almost as much as it annoys you. "What is it that's wrong with me, huh? I just don't get it."

"Nothing is wrong with you."

"You don't need to be nice to me. We've been friends since forever, remember?"

The word 'friends' makes you wince a little bit inside, but you hide the reaction behind a neutral frown. "Do you think there's something wrong with me? Because I haven't found the one yet either, you know."

Steve's expression softens as he looks at you, and once again you feel that horrible twinge in your stomach that you wish would just stop already.

"It's different. I mean—you're not actively trying to find someone." He reaches out to pull one of the half-melted mints out from the glass bowl on the counter and pops it into his mouth with a shrug. "I go out looking for her and she just doesn't come. If she even exists, that is."

"She does."

"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, but I wouldn't hold my breath. God, why am I such an idiot, y'know?" Steve slumps over the counter with a groan, burying his face into his crossed arms. "My love life is a trainwreck."

"At least you have one."

He glances up at you curiously and lifts an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing. Forget it. Do you want some pie?"

You're not about to tell him what you've only admitted to yourself mere months ago — that you're actually hopelessly, madly, stupidly in love with him, and that you have been ever since the two of you were just dumb kids racing around your parents' diner.

What makes it even worse is that you had no idea your feelings went that deep until Steve started going on these dates of his again. Before then, everything was normal — you met up every weekend and binged on candy, watched bad movies on your couch, drove around town together blasting The Clash on his BMW's speakers...it was good.

Until it wasn't.

"Wait, c'mon, you can't just leave me hanging like that," Steve presses. He shifts a little on his stool to better face you, then gestures at you with his hands. "You've clearly got something you wanna say, so, like—hit me. Lay it on me."

"Nothing. I'm just saying...at least you're trying, you know," you say carefully, measuring each word before speaking them. "And at least you're the one doing the rejecting. Could be worse."

Steve's eyebrows rise high up on his forehead and he looks at you incredulously. "Whoa, wait—are you trying to tell me you've been rejected?"

You busy yourself by filling two tall glasses with soda, then slide one to his side of the counter and keep the other for yourself. "Uh...kind of, yeah. But it's fine."

"But who the hell would even do that?" he blurts out. There's anger in his voice all of a sudden, a defensive fire in his eyes that makes you feel as if someone has punched you in the gut. "To you? You're like, the nicest person on the planet, and super pretty to boot. That's just—that's crazy!"

Your heart gives a violent little jump in your chest. He thinks you're pretty. Steve Harrington thinks you're pretty.

Pretty as a friend, you correct yourself immediately, and sigh as you sip your drink. Of course, it's nothing more than that — just meaningless words spoken in a moment of unthinking kindness.

"Seriously, who?" he presses on. "Give me a name. I'll fight him."

"You mean like you fought Jonathan Byers?" you smile behind your glass, looking at him from over its rim.

Steve looks embarrassed at the memory and drops his gaze for a second or two before meeting your eyes again with a playful little smile of his own. "Different situation, okay, but that's not the point. So? Who's the guy?"

"You...don't know him," you hedge.

"It's Hawkins. I know the stray cats here by name."

"Fine, well, even if you did know him, it doesn't matter. He didn't reject me, exactly...not really."

Steve frowns a little. "Okay, you're gonna have to start making sense now. This is hurting my head."

The funny thing is, he actually looks confused, as if he can't possibly fathom the idea of someone rejecting you. It's sweet, really — way too sweet for your liking, especially when you know fully well he doesn't see you in the way you'd want him to.

You lower your gaze to avoid his and instead focus on drawing random shapes on the counter with your index finger, where tiny droplets of condensation from your glass have pooled up on the dark wood. "I mean, I never really told him how I felt. Not directly. It just…never happened."

"Oh. Well, then how do you even know if he feels the same way?" he asks you, looking rather doubtful.

You steal another glance at him and almost regret it instantly. His eyes are trained on your face, patient and attentive like you're the only thing worth watching in the world. It makes you feel horribly small and selfish and guilty, because after all, what right do you have to want him when he so clearly wants someone else?

You feel like you could cry. You might, if you don't distract yourself with something fast enough.

"I just know. Do you want some pie? I'll go get you some pie."

Without waiting for a response, you rush off to the kitchen even though there's plenty of pies sitting on the display counter at the bar, and you make a beeline straight for the back exit.

The alley behind the diner is blissfully empty as usual, just a lonely dumpster and a handful of sad-looking shrubs and weeds peeking out from under the concrete.

No, you aren't going to cry.

This is stupid.

You press your back against the rough brick wall of the diner and breathe in deep the warm night air, then exhale slowly as you count to ten in your head.

When the door opens behind you and the diner's familiar chatter and clatter of cutlery spill into the alley, you wince, mentally cursing yourself for being so goddamn weak. You should have known better.

You don't have to look up to know that it's him.

"Are you hiding from me?" Steve's voice comes, quiet and curious and maybe just a little bit hurt, even.

"I got...suddenly nauseous," you explain weakly, still refusing to look up and meet his eyes.

There's a long stretch of silence, and you feel Steve move closer to you until he's leaning against the wall by your side. You finally look up and find him smiling, this gentle, amused little thing that makes your traitorous heart skip a beat.

"You look just fine to me."

You stare up at the sky, head against the wall. "I thought I was gonna throw up."

He's still watching you, you can tell; you're keenly aware of his eyes on you, so much so that your skin prickles at the attention. "No, you didn't."

"No, I didn't," you admit with a sigh, and turn your head to finally look at him. He's got this little half-smile on his lips, the very same one you fell for years ago, and you curse yourself silently for never learning how to let him go. Really let him go.

"Hey. Listen. You don't have to tell me, okay?" Steve says gently, pushing himself off the wall to step closer to you. He brings his hand up to your face and tucks a loose lock of hair behind your ear, letting his fingertips linger on the edge of your jaw for the briefest of moments, just long enough for you to wonder whether he knows what he's doing to you.

You don't dare to move. You're afraid of breaking whatever spell has seemingly come over him.

"I should've never asked. That was selfish."

"Forget it," you say.

He's standing close now, close enough that you have to tilt your chin up to be able to look up at him properly. There's a strange kind of tension in his eyes, something dark and unsure and tentative, and his gaze darts down to your lips just the slightest bit.

You're fairly sure you're just seeing what you want to see, your foolish heart playing tricks on you. But you panic nonetheless, feeling a sudden, irrational fear that if he moves any closer, he'll realize the truth — that you're a liar and a coward, that you've been harboring these feelings of yours for him for years.

"I should—I should go. Back inside," you mutter, pointing vaguely at the door with your thumb. "In there."

"Sure, yeah. Okay. In there," he echoes, not making a single move to leave. "Not out here."

"Yup. Exactly. In there."

"So you said."

"Yep."

The wall of the diner is digging into your spine uncomfortably, and your mouth is dry, and your knees feel weak, and your stomach is doing somersaults, and the longer he stares at you with those eyes of his the more you feel like you're burning from the inside out and—

He's not moving. All he does is look at you, really look at you, as if it's the first time he's really looked, as if he's seeing something that wasn't there before.

"Okay, so—"

You try to push past him towards the door, but Steve grabs your arm, making you stop dead in your tracks. He lets go as soon as you look up at him, lifting his hand in front of him in an apologetic gesture.

"Sorry. I'm sorry," he says. He swallows hard and rubs his palm on the front of his jeans, a nervous little habit you think he's always had. He runs his hand through his hair, mussing up the carefully gelled strands, and it's probably the first time you've ever seen him look so flustered.

He laughs nervously and gestures at the ground with his hands as he speaks. "Look, this is just—this is just crazy, okay, but I think I, uh, maybe sort of realized something."

You blink at him, not quite certain you're hearing him correctly.

"Realized what?" you ask, the words barely more than a whisper.

Steve clears his throat and nods at you, seemingly pleased that you've finally spoken. "Yeah, well, this is stupid, but you know how you're always telling me to listen to my gut?"

"You're not making a whole lot of sense right now, Steve."

"Just bear with me for a sec, okay? This is like, totally new to me." He holds his palms up, and you notice his hands are shaking a little. "I just need a minute, alright?"

He breathes in deep and exhales slowly, then shoots you an apologetic look.

"Sorry, this is just...really weird," he confesses. "Weirdly real."

"You're freaking me out," you tell him, but Steve only smiles at you.

"Maybe I should just show you. Because, I mean, what if I'm wrong? That'd be terrible, obviously."

"Steve."

"Yeah, I know, but hear me out, okay?" he says quickly, and takes another step closer. You stand your ground this time, if only because you don't trust yourself to actually move without your legs giving out. "So, look. Here's the thing. You're, like—you're one of the most important people in my life. You've been there for me when nobody else was, and I...you mean a lot to me."

"Steve—"

"Shut up, you're ruining the moment."

He takes another step forward until he's crowding you against the wall, hand coming to rest next to your head on the brick. He's close, so close that you can smell the scent of his cologne and shampoo and laundry detergent, and if you were to lean in even the slightest bit, your faces would bump.

Steve is a little out of breath, his lips parted ever so slightly. And he's still looking at you with that strange, searching expression of his.

"Is this okay?" he whispers.

"I don't—what?"

Your voice catches in your throat. There's no room for doubt in his eyes now, not even the tiniest, slightest sliver of uncertainty left.

"This," Steve murmurs.

He tilts his head to the side a little and leans in until you're sure your noses are touching, and you feel your eyes slip closed in anticipation.

"Is this okay?" he repeats in a whisper. "Please tell me I'm not crazy."

"I think I am."

His lips brush yours. It feels like an accident, doesn't last long enough to be anything but a dream. You can still taste the faint, sweet trace of sugar and mint on your tongue when he pulls away, though.

"Just to be clear," Steve whispers, his fingers brushing lightly over the skin of your neck, tracing invisible lines that make you shiver, "am I the guy from earlier? The one you like?"

You don't have it in you to deny it anymore.

"Yes. It's you."

A wide grin breaks out across his face, and suddenly he's everywhere; he cups your face in his hands, pressing eager, fervent kisses along the line of your jaw, trailing hot and open-mouthed down the side of your neck.

You giggle helplessly, grabbing Steve by his collar to pull him away from you and up to your eye level. He's breathing just as heavily as you are, his hair messy and his eyes bright.

"How do you do this to me, huh?" he pants, kissing your forehead, the tip of your nose, the corner of your mouth. "You just—you just completely knock me out."

A pleasant little thrill rushes up your spine at that.

"Oh yeah?"

"Completely."

You kiss him this time.

[hug-your-face]

Insight today while washing the lettuce and thinking of my friend who doesn't want to vote.

They are an otherwise intelligent, responsible, generous person, who appears to be socially conscious. They have worked hard and long for their position in their profession. They express concern for the planet. They get twitchy if you use too many paper towels.

But they don’t want to vote for Biden for reasons, and quote "doesn't like the whole system where the parties take turns swinging things back and forth" unquote.

I have been dumbstruck at their attitude for about two months now. I've been thrashing back and forth trying to reconcile this person I love with their attitude:

If you care abt the planet enough to conserve paper towels, don’t you care enough to stop a Repub administration from raping the land?

If you don’t like how things can swing back and forth, don't you want an administration that's going to work to shore up, rather than dismantle, more lasting democratic systems of governance?

If you understand the value of the long game, why are you only satisfied with instant results from a single election rather than viewing that election as a single move in an ongoing process?

The insight came to me as I used an extra set of paper towels to dry my lettuce:

These people are not motivated by outcomes. They are motivated by how their choices make them FEEL.

Not how the outcomes of their choices will make them feel. But how the action associated with their choices makes them feel.

In terms of outcomes for the environment, saving paper towels doesn't do shit compared to pushing for restrictions on oil companies. But using half a paper towel is an instant dopamine hit: "Ahhh, I am caring for Mother Earth. I care. I am a good person. Ahh yes that's the stuff."

This model fits for voting too. We know that The Only Votes That Count Are Those Cast. We know that Dems Go Where The Votes Are Not Where The Votes Aren't. We know that voting in every election, every time, in numbers, is a very low-effort way to contribute to moving the Overton window farther left.

But in the moment, for people who are motivated by how their action associated with their choice makes them feel... the absolute best move for their dopamine supply is to abstain: "I am NOT supporting an old fart; I am NOT supporting genocide; I am Challenging The System; I am a good person. Ahh yes, that's the stuff."

At the time, when I challenged my friend on their position, they held up their hands and said "look, I'm not saying I have any answers, I'm just saying I don’t like how the system works."

They didn't like how participating in the system made them FEEL in the moment.

For those of us who think this is madness, hey, we aren't off the hook entirely. We are basing our choices and actions off of outcomes, true. But there's probably a feeling/dopamine component in there too. "I am holding my nose and voting Blue; I am doing my part to actually affect the future even if I hate some things abt my choice; I am a good person. Ahh yes, that's the stuff."

So maybe the difference isn't in the motivation (my feelings and self-image) but in what motivates us (my action vs the outcome of my action).

I don't have an answer to the question at this time and this post is already long enough. But I'll think on it. And I invite you to do so as well:

For these people (who seem to be a sizable part of the population), how to outweigh the choice where their action preserves their self-image, doesn't cost them dopamine for having to take a "bad" action, and maybe even gives them a happy boost for "not being part of a flawed system?"

For these people, how to help them connect more to the outcome?

Off the cuff, I can't think of any means other than cognitive-behavioral therapy. :/

EDIT: Apparently there's a term for this and it's called Emotivism -- ethics isn't abt effects but abt feelings.

[lyrefromthesea]

Since you lost your list of requests, I'll write mine again 😅. how hashiras would punish reader if they get on their nerves/make them jealous/disappointed them/etc.

Male Hashira x Reader - the punishment you deserve

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Gyomei x reader

content warning: slight angst?

Tengen:

• truthfully, i think he often gets upset about the smaller things in life. the decisions made in his family of four always have to be in sync with his wants and beliefs, otherwise he could get petty.

• his punishments are unspoken, nothing he really tries to force on other people. however, after Suma, Makio, Hina and you all vote against his plans, his mood immediately drops.

• the punishment you'll receive from him will not only influence you, but his other lovers as well. he's down and nothing is as he wants. he's not happy and through little acts and petty comments, his mood will become all of your moods too.

Obanai:

• he will ignore you. i would bet my right hand. this man will get upset over something either justified in every sense of the word or the most stupid act you'll ever see, because you can't influence it.

• don't get him wrong, he loves you and he's a gentle lover too, but not after you made his day turn out this way. Kaburamaru is not allowed on your shoulder anymore, he stays by his side or can get ignored just like you.

• he'll make a point out of seeing you enter a room and looking the other way, pretending like that wasn't fully intentional.

• however, he stops punishing you rather quickly, because he wants to spend time with you. punishing you is indirectly a punishment for him.

Rengoku:

• i think that Rengoku and you at least share one hobby that you both love. having thrown this into the room, it'll be a thing for the two of you to spend evenings together and live out that hobby.

• he doesn't punish you often, but he has a good reason when he does. his punishments aren't meant to hurt you either, it's more like your actions made him upset.

• he cancels your little hobby dates, saying that he doesn't want to do it in this state. the way he often sadly trots away makes you swiftly follow after him, resulting in a long talk about how certain things just aren't okay.

Sanemi:

• he's downright mean. he'll make a point out of mentioning what you did wrong every chance he gets until you apologize.

• you accidentally fall? "are you trying to make me jealous again? it's not working this time." expect that you hadn't tried to make him jealous to begin with. another person had complimented you and, like the fool you were, you blushed.

• he's a jealous man, and while he often knows how to hide it, he'll also have times to let his frustrations out in these kinds of "punishments"

• "i already said i'm sorry, Sanemi..!" your sad expression makes him pause, quietly apologizing for being rude and helping you up.

• he's jealous, not a monster.

Giyuu:

• just like Obanai, he'll probably ignore you. however, he does it subconsciously.

• there are certain things Giyuu just doesn't like and he'll get upset seeing you do them. the unwanted feeling of anger or sadness forces him to make a quick decision. ignore you or possibly hurt you with his words.

• he'll try to avoid you until he has grown calmer, less prone to acting on his emotions. it's just that you'll feel hurt by the time he finally talks to you again.

Gyomei:

• he's not the type for punishments, at least not for any kind of punishment that could harm you.

• i believe he only really gets upset in extreme cases like hurting other people, which you probably won't do or - the more likely scenario - when you do something reckless.

• he'll certainly tell you that he wasn't fond of your actions, not liking that you put yourself in danger.

• however, if you have an upcoming event with him, like training together, he will cancel it. it's not a punishment in his eyes, he just doesn't want you to get hurt. of course, you perceive the canceled time differently.

[3d-wifey]

I've read that Johnny NSFW alphabet like 30 times, it was so gooddddd, there's been no good Johnny Cage smut or writing in general honestly. Your Johnny just feels so in character and you're feeding me crumbs, I need moreeee 🥺🥺🥺🥺 (that sneak peek made me levitate)

Show 'em Who I Belong To

Pairing: Johnny Cage x Reader Synopsis: Johnny has seriously pissed you off this time, like, royally. The "begging on his knees" kind of pissed off. But luckily, he knows just the thing to do to prove he’s sorry. Word Count: 2.58k Playlist: Here's a Johnny Cage playlist to read his smut or just get inspo from, I made it myself TW: Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, dom!reader, sub!johnny cage, switch!Reader, switch!johnny cage, dom!johnny cage, sub!Reader, Forgiveness, Making Up, Apology Sex, Vaginal Penetration, Recording, Sex Tapes, Exhibitionism, Begging, Hand Jobs, Grinding, Crying During Sex, johnny cage loves you, johnny cage is just really really dumb, celebrity!reader, No Spoilers, Making Out, "straight" couple, johnny's slutty little slacks, Johnny cage is a little shit, Pussy drunk, cock drunk, Praise Kink, simp johnny cage, no other canon characters show up in this, Smut, Shameless Smut, Gratuitous Smut A/N: Since the poll I put on Tumblr voted for switch!Johnny, that's what I'm doing! This chapter will mostly be sub!johnny and dom!reader with a switch at the end. It's a bit of a mixed pov, but it's mainly from the reader's pov. Nothing but Dom!Johnny in the next chapter and sorry if the quality was lacking, I've slept a total of 10 hours in a span of 72 hours. CHECK OUT THAT JOHNNY NSFW ALPHABET I WROTE, IT'S CONSIDERED CANON TO THIS! Part 2 (tbm) Ao3

Your acrylics tap a beat onto the arm of the plush white couch as you read the tweet on your phone.

" Johnny Cage spotted cozying up on set with Co-Star. Has the star finally met his match? " Your nails stop and you glance at where Johnny kneels fidgeting on the floor in front of you before looking back to the screen.

He spreads his hands. "Okay, I know this looks bad." His voice floats in the otherwise quiet mansion. "But will you please stop ignoring me?"

You look down your nose at him. "Is this enough attention for you?" You sneer and he grimaces.

"My PR team cooked this up a while ago and they've been hounding me about it for ages. It was so unimportant to me that it sorta...slipped my mind." He shrugs and your glare hardens him. " C'mon , babe, it's just a little publicity stunt our agents had us do for the movie. It doesn't mean anything." He laughs and his nonchalance about the situation is pissing you off more than you already are.

"Do I look like I'm laughing?" You fume and his brows furrow. "This isn't funny, Jonathan."

" Oof, " he winces, "government name."

You're both celebrities, you know what you signed up for when you agreed to date him after years and years of his begging and truly horrible pickup lines.

You're not mad about the situation itself, not really. You've gotten into drama before loads of times to drum up hype around a new project, but nothing like this. At least, not while you were dating Johnny. 

You're mad that you had to find out about it from the trending page on Twitter along with a slew of concerned messages from your friends, family, and manager.

You scroll down and read messages concerned fans have posted, worried that you and Johnny have broken up or, worse, that he cheated on you. But you know that he knows that you know he wouldn’t dare.

"Look at this shit." You shove your phone in his face. The screen reflects off the sunglasses that sit low on the bridge of his nose and he squints as the brightness nearly blinds him. "'I hope this isn't how she finds out.' 'I'd be so embarrassed if I was her.' 'I knew Johnny wouldn't stay faithful for long.'"

He looks from you to the screen and then back to you. "...You're mad."

You stare down at him.

"You are un- fucking -believable.” You move to stand up, but he grabs ahold of your hips.

"Okay, okay! I'm sorry, I'm sorry ! I didn't mean to upset you. Next time, I'll give you a heads up— I mean I'll run it by you.” Johnny corrects, pulling you closer when you try to pull away again. "What can I do to make it up to you, huh?" The muscles in his biceps flex against you as he wraps his arms around your waist. You try to stay firm, but it's pretty hard when he's pressing reverent kisses to your stomach.

You shiver from the coldness of his rings as he runs a big hand up your calf, traveling up your outer thigh to hook the hem of your dress at your hip before repeating the process up your other leg.

You want to stay mad—you are mad. This is incredibly careless and he didn't consider your feelings at all and...and you don't want him to think he can get out of trouble by kissing up to you. But, begrudgingly, you card your fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck.

"I'm still really upset about this, Johnny." You frown.

"I know, sweetheart. And I really am sorry. But, hey! I know something that'll make us both feel better." He grins up at you and you let him lead you back to the couch with a huff, dropping down once the back of your calves brush the white upholstery. 

“I’m sure you do.” You roll your eyes, spreading your legs to make room for him without thinking. “How would you —ahh !” You yelp at the sudden pinprick of pain on the skin of your inner thigh and it morphs into a moan when the pinch is quickly followed by a warm heat. You look down in time to see the pink of Johnny’s tongue as he licks over the tender spot—tender because he bit you like a damn dog!

“I’m sorry, what were you saying? I couldn’t really hear you over all those cute little noises.” You can feel the shit-eating grin against your skin as he talks. “You’re so sensitive. Definitely not a complaint—it does amazing things to my ego.” He laughs, hooking his hands under the back of your knees and pushing your legs up until the heels of your feet are balancing precariously on the edge of the seat.

He grips your hips, pulling you further down the couch and closer to his face. He moves your legs so your feet rest on his shoulders, the white polish of your toenails reflecting the light.

He leans in and you hold your breath in anticipation. You don’t want him to think he can just distract you and you’ll forget about being mad at him but—he leans in close to where the skirt of your sundress rucks up around your stomach, warm breath making you clench around nothing with each pant—but you like getting ate out almost as much as Johnny likes to do it.

You sigh as the warm, wet heat of his tongue drags across the damp seat of your panties. 

" Johnny. " You whine in frustration, fingers tightening in his sandy hair, as he pulls away as quickly as he came.

"Hold on, sweetheart. I think you're gonna like this." He grins, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. You pause as he unlocks it and presents it to you, camera on and recording you.

"What the hell are you doing?" You try to push as much disapproval into your voice as you can as you flip it from the front-facing camera to the rear one, but that’s an almost impossible task since he’s rubbing his nose up and down the crease of where your thigh meets your pussy. You end up sounding far more breathy than intended.

"What?” He grins into the camera. “You can watch this whenever you need a reminder of who I belong to." He says and if you weren't wet before, you definitely are now.

For as long as you’ve known him, Johnny has never been one to half-ass anything . It’s whole ass or nothing with him putting 110% into everything he’s faced with. However, when you first started dating, you hadn’t thought that would hold up when he had his head between your legs—yet another thing Johnny went out of his way to prove you wrong about.

The camera captures it the moment he pushes your panties to the side; he’s in his element.

There’s no preamble, no warning. Johnny dives in giving you no time to prepare for the shock of pleasure. You jerk away, but he holds onto your hips, hands becoming heavy weights you can’t lift. 

“You always taste so good for me, it’s insane.” He groans as your thighs try to squeeze his head, but he keeps them open easily. You sigh shakily at the casual show of strength. “I’d stay down here forever if you’d let me.” You bite your lip to muffle your soft moans, reminding yourself to steady the phone every few seconds, but forgetting to do so almost as soon as you do. But you can’t be blamed when Johnny gives head like he’s training for the Olympics; trying to break his previous record each attempt. You’ve been eaten out by people other than Johnny—of course, you have. It’s a requirement—but none of your past lovers come anywhere close to this. Johnny blows them out of the water every time.

That would be fine if you didn’t factor in his ego. Which would also be fine…any other day. But today, after the shit he pulled, you aren’t in the mood. This is supposed to be his way of apologizing, after all. So before he can get any ideas, you blink past the haze he’s put you in and grab the back of his neck. His back stiffens. He glances up at you and the shift is so swift that you doubt the camera even picked it up. His shoulders relax, almost limp against you, wide eyes going lidded as his grip on you softens.

“I know you can be louder than that, Johnny. I, hah , wanna hear how sorry you are. You are sorry, right?” You narrow your eyes.

His words are muffled since he refuses to take his mouth off of you, but you’re able to make out ‘yes’ and ‘princess’ which is good enough for you. Through the camera, you manage to get his pleading eyes and his hand unabashedly palming his bulge in the same frame and you smile around a moan.

"Are you hard, Johnny?" He doesn't hesitate to nod enthusiastically, and you feel yourself throb in his mouth. You're sure if your feet were on the ground he'd be grinding against your leg shamelessly. His body knows this too since his hips keep making aborted little thrusts, itching for relief from his tight gray slacks. "Heh, of course, you are. You can't help yourself, c–can you? Go on, then.”

He pauses, assessing you for a second to see if you’ll follow it up with anything else. You’re being surprisingly benevolent. He always has to work to earn your approval when you get like this, any pleasure he gets is dictated by you—not that he’s complaining—and that’s on the days when he hasn’t pissed you off. He honestly didn’t think he’d be cumming tonight, but he won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. 

He buries his tongue in you, licking from your pulsing hole to your throbbing clit as his hands work to unbuckle his belt and pull his dick out. He groans in relief once he’s free, squeezing the base of his dick so he doesn’t cum too quickly. You’re certainly not helping, shivering against him like a house in a storm and he moans in synch with you when you yank on his hair.

He freezes at the press of sharp nails at the nape of his neck. He shivers at the slight pinch of pain before leaning into it and you reward him with smoothing down the hair there. He stops the movement of his hands, but not his mouth.

“If you’re touching yourself, you’ll do it slowly or not at all. You wanna make it up to me, don’t you? Yeah ?” You hiss as he nods against you, mouth a tight suction on your clit. “Then you don’t cum until I do.” Normally he’s more bratty than this, making you fuck the submission out of him, but he must really be sorry because he does just as you say. He slows down as you instruct, his sharp brows furrowing as one of his hands grip the fat of your thigh. His other hand jerks him off haltingly like he actively has to remind himself to obey you. 

“You’re being so good for me, baby.” You gush, squirming in his hold. “ Mmh, s’fucking good.” You have to adjust your grip on his phone when he grunts at your praise, uncertain if you should jerk away or towards the vibrations. You run your nails over his scalp before yanking on his blond hair and he moans like a pornstar, hips thrusting into his hand. To the untrained eye—or ear—it seems like he’s playing it up for the camera, performing, but he’s always this loud. Especially when he’s got your pussy in his mouth.

It's almost embarrassing, the wet sounds of Johnny sloppily eating you out. Your moans mix with his and bounce around the mansion's walls with a filthy echo the longer this goes on. 

He stiffens his tongue and you know what he wants. You move your hand to the back of his head, gripping the soft strands to pull him forward. You thrust your hips with helpless, heady moans as you fuck his face. His heavy gaze burns through the camera to stare up at you with his tongue out. The corner of his mouth quirks up into a smirk and he winks. You throw your head back, eyes closed with an obscene moan and he moves forward to press his nose against your clit, tongue flat as you move his head side to side.

“Johnny , mmh, ‘m gonna, f– fuck, ‘m gonna cum!” You cry and he moans into you in response. You glance down to see his foggy glasses riding low on his nose and he stares right back, brown eyes half open but full of lust. The apples of his flushed cheeks become accentuated, sharpening with his grin. The barest hint of teeth brush your clit before pressing against it and you jerk back with the strength of your orgasm. Your mouth falls open with a repeated whine of his name, legs shaking as you hold his head still.

“Damn.” He curses, pulling away when your muscles untense. He doesn't bother wiping his mouth, wearing your slick like a trophy as he smiles into the camera. “Should’ve got that on camera. It was a money shot.” You scoff, smiling despite yourself. You pull his glasses off and sit them on your head before you press stop on the camera and toss the phone on the couch beside you, pulling him to you by the open collar of his button-up. You kiss him deep, tasting yourself on his tongue with a groan. His hands go to your hips and you wrap your legs around his waist, licking into his mouth. 

“You played dirty.” You slide your hand down his chest, unbuttoning his shirt as you go. You grab his dick, still hard and leaking against his stomach. He laughs before whimpering into your mouth at your touch, rutting up into it. You swipe a thumb across his tip where precum drips down the underside of the head. "You're so wet, baby. This all for me?" You pull away to lick yourself off him, tongue dragging across the skin of his chin as you twist your wrist with every upward stroke. 

"Are you joking? O–of course. Can, shit , can you blame me?” He puffs into your neck, hot air warming your neck as you alternate between licking and kissing his jaw. His fingers spasm around your hips, and your hands fly to his shoulders when he pulls you forward until your ass is barely on the edge of the couch. Now he’s in the perfect position to—

You gasp as he ruts against you, still sensitive as his dick slides between your pussy lips. There’s no friction with how wet you both are and with every upwards thrust he bumps your twitching clit. 

“Wait, I’m— mmnh —Johnny, I’m sensitive.” 

“Ah, ah, sweetheart. You said I can cum when you do,” you jump when he nips at your neck, strong arms wrapping around your back holding you tight to him. “Besides, I’m not done apologizing.” You rock against him despite your complaining. The overwhelming feeling only increases when he bends over you to reach something, and it’s enough to distract you from the sound a phone makes when you press record.

[wintersmitth]

I once got called xenophobia for saying that a whole lot of Americans are American centric and frankly culturally imperialistic... I'm American myself, so I guess I'm xenophobic against me and not just... observing something true

Anyway, here's my point in relation to what you were saying

It seems that for many American's it's just impossible to conceive of the idea that no everywhere has American dynamics when it comes to things like race, and that what we see as white might not mean shit

Like... I don't get it, cause it only takes a couple seconds of paying any attention at all to notice things like the discrimination that places like the UK tend to have towards Eastern Europeans, that clearly skin color doesn't really matter there... and... it's also pretty damn clear that for all the talk russia does about "russian speaking Ukrainians" they don't actually give a damn about them cause they see Ukrainians as inferior

Just don't get it, don't get how lefties here can talk about cultural relativism and then not... apply it... and actually... acknowledge that not everywhere in the world has a US cultural lens, that not every dynamic everywhere is the same

Drives me nuts

Also I suppose my real point here is just trying to say that you're so right about all this privilege talk... I've been following since this invasion started, I've been actually paying attention and learning about what russia's been doing since the collapse of the soviet union

And I've also been paying attention to how Ukraine dropped off the map after like... one, maybe two months. News stopped talking about it, and the majority of Americans never were paying attention even then

We had mike johnson dip his hands elbow deep in blood as he refused to put aid up for a vote for month and months

...and then Ukrainians are privileged

"This is how they talk about a white hospital being bombed", they didn't fucking talk about... about the maternity hospital, or that concert hall with "children inside" or... dear god the universe would end before I could write everything russia's done that almost no one in the west talked about

"Imagine if russia did this!" ...they did, not just in Ukraine but in Syria, and Georgia, and Chechnya. I wasn't paying attention back then, but I'm paying attention now, and that's just what the russian military does

Fucks sake, you don't have to compare victims of genocide, you can support them both. The correct number of dead civilians is zero

It feels like I'm going crazy with how noone can understand that... or... more like they're all going crazy and I can't fucking get through to people. Or like... for me even if I didn't already dislike the GOP here, I couldn't vote for them cause of how they treat Ukraine, but meanwhile you have all these people talking about not voting out of spite and... they can't seem to see the russian propaganda oozing out of those words, like literally there's a 100% chance a lot of the "people" saying this are kremlin bots and troll farms (like 2016)

(And bonus complaint, I thought we all cared about Iranians... but... it feels like we forgot them too, and worse still it feels like some people are willing to support the Iranian government to own the US and... I... I really don't fucking know what's wrong with people)

So sorry for the weird and long ask, I just want you to know that I hear exactly what you're saying and you're so right

These people don't get that they're still doing American exceptionalism except we're the best at being bad, and that they make every fucking thing about America always forever

They can't fucking exist without projecting American race politics on to every situation. They can't hear about people being killed in another country without talking about how sad it is for them that this'll be WW3 (it won't... if you were paying attention you'd get how it won't be)

You're right to feel how you do, you're right to say "what privilege?" because there's none. They act like everyone's fawning over Ukraine and giving them special treatment, but I'm watching and I've been watching and we're only barely drip feeding any amount of support and then everyone wrings their hands about if we've upset russia and might get nuked, after all... if we sent you stingers we might get nuked... wait... that's from the start of the war, sorry I meant if you were allowed to blow up russian air bases with US weapons we'll get nuked

It's sick how Ukrainians get treated, and the people who talk about how Ukrainians are treated don't even pay a moment of attention

Slava Ukraine

Thank you for this message.

You are so absolutely right on every account there.

I suppose the most insane thing for me is people comparing genocides. You said right there: the correct number of victims is zero. And honestly I can't expect everyone to fact check everything, but the way people are misusing that damn UN report is malicious. It's meant to undermine our struggles, it plays right I to russian propaganda.

There is so much I got to say, but none if it is a coherent at the moment.

It's infuriating how people on internet go "Look at them talking about white hospital" well first of all this is by far not the first hospital Russia hit. Has been hitting. Word outside doesn't know 1/3 of what is actually happening here.

And then we get vilified for talking about our losses?! That's some privilege.

There's another message in my sitting which I got a few days ago and it is something along the lines "fuck you for telling people to vote for Biden he's committing genocide" and I'm just. Sitting here thinking that I don't want to be genocide either.

Anyhow. Yeah lots of Americans are so self centered it's insane. Even marginalized group, who seemingly should know a thing or two about never being listened to, brush away our words like nuisance. A few weeks ago I told some American scholar on twitter that writing USA has a war on its land is disrespectful to us living in actual warzone and got shut up with "white people always talk over black folk". The exchange had nothing to do with race. It's just systematic brutality and a threat of dying from a missile are different dangers ya kno.

Anyway, thank you for this message.

[drdemonprince]

all the recent talk about not voting has me a bit worried, for lack of a better word.

on one hand, yes so much yes, stop throwing all your time and energy in the insatiable maw of electoral politics, 5/5, no notes.

but on the other hand, where does that time and energy go then? despite lots of talk about mutual aid it doesn't seem to progress much beyond the abstract (at least in the various leftist groups/communities/etc. in my neck of the woods). it's held up as an ideal and great big important thing, but when there's shit that needs doing, it's *crickets*.

maybe it's because so much mutual aid is care work and thus, and i very much disagree with even though i care not for the label, not real activism i guess? like, a while ago a disabled comrade had ran into housing issues because of their illness, so we rustled up some folks to help clean and unfuck their home. which, yet again, were the same (also disabled) people that always show for those things.

coming of four years and counting of pandemic, that's been a consistent pattern. at a time where mutual aid was so needed, such a vacuum left by a state that didn't and/or wanted to do shit, it still fell on the shoulders of disabled people to do all the actual work while the rest just talked about abstract shit. or, to name another thing, diy hrt initiative where it's just a bunch of poor ass trans people scrounging up money to pay for supplies for trans people who have fuck all access, while the rest debates in the abstract about a more better system or whether it's even something they need to concern themselves about.

and like, yes, not pissing away your energy pleading with assholes who don't give a fuck about you is good, but it should only be the start. it sometimes feels like the big plan is: 1) not vote, 2) ???, 3) glorious anarchism/communism/mutual-aidism. i'm not arguing that they need to have it all worked out, but with so much shit that needs doing in the here and now i get a little worried. because that's going to take real work, not talk, and they're not putting in any of it.

I mean, most people won't do (what gets viewed as) "real activism" either. They don't go to protests, smash windows, call jails to check on the status of incarcerated people, cut supply lines, or anything else. And they don't vote either.

We live in a highly individualistic, atomized society filled with people who have been conditioned into an abiding self-interested apathy, and everyone is overworked and broke as shit and juggling a bunch of disabilities while not having any experience with building genuine community and lacking most of the infrastructural and social tools to do so. The number of people who are avowed leftists is vanishingly small, and among them the people who actually walk the talk or have the education and community ties to even be able to is even smaller. Not disagreeing with your read of the situations you're dealing with here, just putting them within the broader context of many very similar problems that I see touch every single aspect of organizing today. even like the most tepid liberal get out the vote kind of organizing is plagued by this, and of course that is by design.

What gives me hope in the present moment is just how many people are completely fucking done with the prevailing system, and how many are refusing to play along with its rules. A lot of the people who aren't voting are not leftists. At least not yet. Just like many of the people who are quiet quitting and half-assing it at work or just vibing on unemployment for as long as they can are not communists. But they do know that the system is bunk and is failing them, and they are refusing to be compliant within it any longer. I believe that a lot of people's better natures do get inspired during a moment of collapse. I also think there is a profound rot at the heart of settler-colonial states that fills them with people who do not recognize themselves as having any responsibility to others. That's all the more reason for such an empire to fall.

I think you're right to worry for the future, though I don't think the reason to be worried is as simple as people not people caring about disabled folks, or any other group. I always wonder who the mythical abled people are who are abnegating their duty in such an understanding of the world. I sure haven't met any of them. I only meet people who are also disabled and don't realize it.

[qqueenofhades]

It's definitely a refusal to engage with or truly understand politics. I'm 24, I was in middle school during Obama's second term and 17 in 2016, and I feel like a lot of my peers just continue to be appalled at how bad things have gotten with the Republicans and why Democrats can't do anything to stop it. What's missing from their understanding is how long it took for the Republicans to get here. It didn't start in 2016. They worked for decades to do all the nightmarish shit they're doing now, and Democrats just haven't been able to do the same (because people refuse to vote consistently and give them the power to do those things). I feel like that's where the "both sides are the same" bullshit comes from - the idea that if the Dems wanted to stop the GOP, they would. It's a fundamental misunderstanding of how anything works, and often relies on downplaying how bad the Republicans actually are in order to support their 'Dems are just as bad' stance.

Things did get catastrophically worse when Trump was elected, and he broke things way more than they ever had been, but he doesn't exist in a vacuum and it took the Republicans a lot of fucking work for him to do what he did. The only way the Dems can counteract that is by having a party of people willing to put in a similar level of work, and that requires understanding our structures and how things work (executive orders are only temporary fixes and actual legislation takes time, compromise, and work), and a lot of these people just aren't willing to do it.

The thing is, yes, I absolutely do get the feeling that everything is terrible and we are doomed. I went through it when GWB was re-elected in 2004 and then again in 2008, worrying about whether Obama would get elected and end that particular run of Republican-induced misery (when John McCain looks like a fucking saint compared to the GOP candidates we are being offered now), and obviously plumbed the depths of despair in 2016 with Trump. But I don't remember ever thinking that I should just give up trying, stop voting, or any of that, and I don't think it was because I was some kind of special person who was just so tenacious. I obviously have not been a teenager in the present era and yes, that means I have different views on things from the next generation, but also: this has always happened. Moments of total political despair and feeling that everything is fucked are also not a new thing. We are going through it with Trumpism, the previous generation went through it with Reagan/Thatcher, the previous previous generation went through it with Nixon/Vietnam, the previous etc generation went through it with the Cold War, the previous etc. etc. generation went through it with World War II -- and so forth. There has never been any one point when everything was great and there was no work left to be done, because, y'know. That is not how either history or human nature works.

Hence, that is why I'm trying to figure out what in the fuck is going on right now, and whether it's just social media that have made things so bad (entirely possible). Critical thinking is a shambles, yes, but that's not necessarily something young people have chosen for themselves. The current world is a late-stage capitalist dystopia run by four or five trillionaire oligarch cartels and corporations, and obviously public education, basic civic responsibility, the teaching of any "controversial" history, and everything else that might threaten that setup has been systematically and methodically dismantled, politicized, or so infiltrated with false information that it's basically useless. That in itself is not young people's fault. They have genuinely been dealt a terrible hand in many ways, and I don't blame them for being angry about it. I too am angry about it! I do question, however, when the overwhelming sentiment became "well we should just give up and let the bad guys win, either because it's too much work to change it or because that will spark the Great Revolution and that's the only way to fix things ever, and doing anything else at all in the meantime is wrong."

Once again: I do not blame young people for being angry at the shitty situation they are currently facing. I do not blame young people for being disillusioned with the system and thinking that it can't solve everything at once. But yet again: there has never been any government, country, or organization in the history of ever anything everywhere that was able to do that, and the ones that tried, or insisted that they could do it, were infamously murderous bloodbaths, because breaking society (even with all its flaws) into a thousand pieces and thinking this will make My Preferred Ideological Utopia Now Appear is probably the deadliest belief in all of time and space. The world is flawed and has been for all time because humans are flawed and probably will be for all time. Being a grownup requires coming to an understanding of that fact and seeing what you can do in spite of that. People in every era have had gaps and biases and blind spots and other things that hobbled their understanding or made their efforts for change less perfect or complete than they would have wanted in an ideal world, and they have had to move past those anyway. The current generation is no different. Not to sound like a boomer, but even despite the mess they've been faced with, they need to figure out how to engage with it anyway and not just completely absolve responsibility because they can't fix it all at once. Which I don't think most young people do! There are plenty of them who really do get it and are engaged and idealistic and working for good change, and that's great! It's just the other part that worries me, and which is not as small as we would like to think.

And yes, part of this is just flat-out bad information and the stubborn lack of any desire to change it if it conflicts with pre-existing beliefs. (This is by no means exclusive to young people of this current generation, as it's another bad habit of humanity, but yes.) In the aforementioned "you're driving young leftists away :(" ask I got yesterday, there were also plenty of dubious and just-flat-wrong claims, such as that Democrats keep moving to the right "especially economically." That is just not true. In the last four years, the Democrats have moved the most economically leftward in all of American history and have finally and flatly rejected the Great Reagonomics Myth. Just because Clinton did Reagonomics-lite in the '90s (when most of the current generation of Online Leftists weren't even born), that is thirty years ago and in wildly different circumstances. These things are not difficult to look up. Do it. Try to educate yourself, even if the system doesn't want to do it. You can't just throw up your hands and insist that nobody taught you, so how could you know??? Put that "instant access to all of human history and knowledge" to use, even just a little. It'll be good for you!

Likewise, there was also the anon's befuddling insistence that I was "patronizing" or "shaming" anyone "further left than Biden," which reflects their apparent feeling that telling people to vote for Biden is a "personal attack" on their cherished beliefs, or whatever. I'm unsure how many times we have to keep repeating that voting for a candidate does not mean you are canonizing all their beliefs exactly as your own, and that it's just one tool to do the bare minimum to not live in a fucking fascist theocratic dictatorship, but yeah. I can guarantee you that I personally am well left of Biden. I can guarantee you that most people on Tumblr voting for Biden are probably well left of him as well. That does not negate the fact that Biden is the most progressive president America has ever had, regardless of how much Online Leftists shriek otherwise. It also does not negate the fact that this is by no means true of America as a whole (witness the large faction that still thinks Biden is a godless far-left evil socialist). It does not negate the many complex historical, political, social, cultural, religious, racial, etc reasons that have collided to produce the America where this is the case. Therefore, if I do not want to live in a society ruled by Trump and his orange Nazi minions, which is the case due to how badly the last 10 years have been fucked up, I will use the tool of voting for Biden! He can be successfully pressured to create positive change in the direction that I would like! Trump cannot and will not under any circumstances, regardless of the wild fantasies that suddenly he will transform into a perfect progressive on Gaza or whatever other issue! THIS IS NOT THAT FUCKING DIFFICULT!!!!!!!

Anyway. All of this is obviously complicated. Obviously things are bad and frightening and we want a solution that fixes all of it at once, instead of slowly, badly, and piecemeal. But as I said: that has never, not once, been the case in all of history, and we know what happens when people and/or governments with delusions of psychopathic grandeur try to do it. We do not want the "Final Solution" (which is infamous as what Hitler literally called the Holocaust). We do, in fact, want the careful step by step, we want things to get better and not just explode in a mountain of nihilistic doom, and that does take work, from everyone. So unfortunately, there is no real choice except to do it.

[pascaloverx]

NO LIGHT

SUMMARY: Your life is simple. You are a pastry chef who has just opened a bakery near your home. A new life, being a new person. But when James Barnes shows up at your bakery injured, asking you to offer him shelter, your life takes a sudden turn.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The characters in this fanfiction are not my creation and all belong to the Marvel universe. This story will feature scenes of violence, brief intense intimate moments, and inappropriate language. To the readers, I wish you a good read and ask that you engage with the fanfiction if you like it. Do not interact with this fanfiction if you are underage. Enjoy reading.

PREVIEW TWO

ONE

You are exhausted. What should have been the perfect end of the day turned into a real action movie right in front of you. And the worst part is, you still don't know the name of your handsome client. But that doesn't even matter. He'll probably be arrested anyway. And the question that most disturbs your mind is, "Are you being his accomplice?" But something else scares you more: how will he react when he finds out you hit his head on the ground twice? It's not your fault; you're not used to dragging anyone across the floor of your bakery.

"Are you planning to make a hole in the floor?" Barnes or whoever he is asks with a certain sarcasm. You didn't even notice you were pacing in circles in the back of the bakery. Barnes is lying on the floor, his forehead bleeding, and looking at you as if he's trying to figure out your bank password.

"Do you have a plan for us to escape from here? Will we need new identities? What will we be to each other? I was thinking about it, and maybe we could be dating. Fiancés would be weird since I don't know your first name, but definitely dating works. Or maybe you could be my husband who just lost his memory. Personally, I'm fine with a new identity as long as I can have a bakery and good company," you say nervously but trying to be confident while finishing biting your nails, which honestly are so bitten that your fingers are hurting. The handsome blue-eyed man quickly gets up from the floor and holds your hand, stopping you from biting another nail. His eyes are staring into your soul in the most penetrating way possible. It's almost hard to breathe.

"My name is James, in case you're interested to know. You don't need to be nervous, we won't have to run away. Now can you explain so that I understand how I ended up in the back of your bakery and why I feel like someone hammered my head?" Hearing your handsome client's name might have given you chills, but right now you're trying to find a way to say that you let him fall from your arms and dragged him by his feet into your establishment.

"I personally believe that our biggest problem is that you stabbed a guy. But if you want to talk about the damage to your head, I admit it. I admit that I wasn't prepared to to hold you. If it happens again, I promise to be more careful." You speak softly, like someone who wants to comfort the other person. Barnes looks at you like he's judging you.

"Does that mean you didn't bring the body of the guy in question into your bakery and he's outside?" Barnes concluded incorrectly but he seems to be disappointed in you. You wonder if at some point in your brief history together one day it seemed strong enough to carry two men. Of course he doesn't have to know personal things about you but I think he put a lot of faith in you.

"So, thanks for the vote of confidence. Obviously, after helping you—which you haven't thanked me for yet—I went to check on the other guy. And here's the bad news: he escaped. Or rather, he disappeared. And any sign of your fight: the knife, the gun, the blood; everything evaporated. But not all news is bad; there was a blackout on the street. Which, thinking about it, might have been caused so they could attack you without being recorded. Whoever you pissed off is smart." You say, trying to be positive, but Barnes seems to be feeling guilty about something.

"I need to go somewhere now. I appreciate the help and the headache. But listen to me carefully," he says as he approaches you and lightly touches your face, which is honestly quite distracting, "don't tell anyone about this; if anyone comes here asking about it, make up something but don't tell the truth. Don't worry, I'll be back soon, so try not to panic." Barnes speaks with incredible self-confidence. But inside, you're afraid he won't return, which you make somewhat obvious when you hold Barnes' hand just before he leaves.

"Try to be careful. I need my number one customer intact to try my new bread recipes," you say, trying not to sound too clingy while still concerned for his safety and indirectly for your own. After all, nothing is stopping them from trying to eliminate you. And Barnes said you would be safe with him. He chuckles lightly and then leaves. You get lost for a bit but after packing some things at the bakery, you go home.

After a warm bath and sleeping in your cozy bed, you feel like a new person. At least that's what you try to convince yourself of while having breakfast at six in the morning, getting ready to open the bakery. In reality, you barely slept, so you thought getting your hands busy would be the best solution. When you arrive at the bakery, you try to ignore the bullet hole in your wall as you put on your apron and prepare the dough to make some cookies. After all, what is more comforting than a nice batch of cookies? Of course, you also put the bread dough you prepared yesterday to bake, along with a cake you mix up after making the cookies.

"Good morning, would you be Miss Y/L/N?" A man in a black suit accompanied by a young boy also wearing a black suit approaches the counter, and you naturally smile, trying to be friendly. But the truth is, now you're suspicious of everything and everyone.

"Yes, that's me. What would you gentlemen like to order? Today I made chocolate chip cookies, and modesty aside, they're delicious." You say, trying to convince yourself that the two in front of you are just customers and pose no threat. The younger guy even seems to be a real customer, paying attention to your menu on the counter and getting excited about the possibility of eating chocolate chip cookies. But the other guy is terrible at disguising his intentions. He's analyzing every detail of your bakery. Fortunately, you found a picture your best friend gave you at the bakery's opening, which brilliantly hides the bullet hole in your wall.

"Sorry, I'm Agent Stark, and this is Agent Parker. We're actually here on business. There was a report of noises resembling a physical fight and gunshots. My partner and I are asking some questions to see if anyone saw or heard anything suspicious. It would be extremely helpful if you could assist us." Stark says while still seemingly looking for any signs of wrongdoing in your bakery.

"Unfortunately, I can't help you. But I can offer you both a hot cup of coffee and a cookie on the house." You smile fakely like you're not afraid of being discovered. You quickly get them two cups of coffee and two cookies. Agent Parker ended up getting two cookies, while Agent Stark only got a cup of coffee.

"We thank you, Miss. If you see anything strange or suspicious you can get in touch with us." Agent Parker speaks as if he was trying to convince you. Agent Stark looks at him sideways and then takes a sip of coffee. After Agent Stark lightly elbows Parker as if he forgot something and then Parker hands you a card with a phone number.

"I'll get in touch if I see anything strange, but I have to get back to work. I hope you have a good day." You say politely while trying to get rid of them. The two quickly head towards the exit of your bakery, bidding you farewell. You go back into the bakery after seeing the two agents leave. Your bread is already done, and as you take the bread pan out of the oven, you hear a noise at the back exit of the bakery. You place the hot pan on the table near the oven and then grab the rolling pin, heading threateningly towards the noise. But before you can attack any potential threat to your life, you find yourself face to face with Barnes.

"You always have a very peculiar way of welcoming me. But I'm glad you didn't betray me." Barnes says, holding the rolling pin you were holding firmly and moving closer to you. For a moment, you thought you might kiss him right then and there, but you're interrupted by a red-haired woman who enters behind Barnes.

[jeffstormer]

On Awards, and the Grief (and Growth) of Giving Up

I made a big life decision at the start of this year I want to unpack here today, for obvious reasons.

As of this year, I made the decision to formally stop submitting my work for any kind of award, event, or industry recognition tied exclusively to a public/fan vote. Further, I would not ask others to submit on my behalf, and would go so far as to ask people not to do so. I'd like to talk about why I made that call and what it means to me.

Before I do, a necessary disclaimer: No shade whatsoever to those who do submit to those kinds of awards, and campaign for those kinds of awards. I recognize the market value in that kind of thing; the personal validation that comes from a group of people announcing you as the best. I see that all, and I'm proud of you for earning that recognition. This is strictly one person's opinion.

With that said, why did I make that call?

The truth is, from the moment I entered the tabletop industry, winning an ENnie was, to me, the benchmark of success. It was the sign that I was good at this. I let it define my relationship to my art. I couldn't stop, couldn't be satisfied, until I held that trophy.

So, every year, I would submit, and every year, I'd fall short, and every year, I'd be crushed.

At times, I could look at the list of nominees and winners and feel confident that we didn't have a chance. Other times, I didn't feel that way. But I was always viewing my work in competition, which warped how I perceived art on the whole.

Eventually, I came to the realization: it's not going to happen, and all aspiring to this platform is going to accomplish is "making me jealous of my peers instead of feeling in community with them." To find real satisfaction with the work, it can't be through that kind of mechanism.

Which is to say: I gave up. I acknowledged "my work is never going to be the kind of beloved that puts me on that pedestal, so all I am doing is setting myself up for disappointment. Better to be personally proud of something, and recognize the contributions made in other ways, than to hold yourself in a system that grinds you down year after year.

There's no shame in admitting you're giving up in something. Sometimes, things are meant to be failures. Sometimes, your best will never be good enough. I can recognize the ways in which my work is special (we hold a world record in Actual Play that will, frankly, likely never be topped, maybe not ever in my lifetime at least), without holding myself accountable to a standard that frankly, doesn't apply to the kind of art I make.

That said, there's also a grief in admitting that.

It's an acknowledgment that, on some level, the goal that I set for myself was a failure. That awards I have previously wanted to win are permanently out of my grasp, that I have failed to achieve a goal. That I, on a very literal level, wasn't good enough to do the thing.

And that's tough. Moreso on some days than others.

But, in spite of it all, I feel great about this decision. I feel like I made the right decision for myself, my work, and my trajectory as an artist.

It has been a profoundly difficult year for me, 2024. For personal reasons I cannot get into publicly. For professional reasons I've spoken about elsewhere (feeling increasingly isolated from Actual Play as an artistic community and industry).

But in this one area--claiming my own satisfaction of the work and using that to guide my own way forward--I am content.

[heavyhitterheaux]

New Life Partner

First Lady of Private Garden Instagram AU

Liked by dualipa, saweetie, jaysontatum, quiiso, urbanwyatt, y/ninsta, and 2,394,723 others

jackharlow: my man, ty to my man

y/ninsta: thank you to your WHAT?! aight that's it. everybody getting they ass beat and jayson is first druski2funny: oh so, you're cheating on me again? dualipa: y/ninsta you know where to find me saweetie: oh lord here they go again jaysontatum: now y/ninsta..... I had nothing to do with him writing that caption y/ninsta: jaysontatum lies you muthafuckin tell smh jackharlow: y/ninsta now you know how it feels when you leave me to go out with the hot chips and bad decisions crew blancahood: now why am I in it? jessicakelce: we are literally just sitting here minding our own business and then mullet boy over here wants to call us out jackandy/naremyparents: NOT MULLET BOY blancahood: y/ninsta did not let this man live for 24 hours when she saw his hair, the jokes kept coming and then jumped his bones when she was finished jackharlow: y/ninsta and you wonder why I left you and druski2funny I thought we were taking time away from each other? seeing other people? lilnasx: I'm just here waiting with my popcorn to see y/ninsta kick your ass

Liked by jackharlow, blancahood, saweetie, generationnow, brandisimmons, urbanwyatt, and 3,183,996

y/ninsta: full of hot chips and bad decisions 😜

jackharlow: can't take yall asses anywhere smh and wait a damn minute, is that brandisimmons?!? blancahood: I still don't remember half that night smh jessicakelce: blancahood now I see that the both of us have switched places, that's usually me lol brandisimmons: jackharlow maybe, maybe not urbanwyatt: now why wasn't I invited? I like hot chips softtcurse: urbanwyatt and you like bad decisions smh y/ninsta: urbanwyatt idk urby, we got to take a vote and meet with the president which is me. we'll get back to you shortly about our decision jessicakelce: I vote yes because he can tolerate hot food while jackharlow absolutely cannot jackharlow: jessicakelce will you leave me alone for five damn minutes?!?! jessicakelce: jackharlow no. jackharlow: y/ninsta do you remember what happened the last time you wore a short ass skirt out the house? y/ninsta: jackharlow I'm single now so it doesn't matter jackharlow: y/ninsta don't fucking play with me smh y/ninsta: call jayson

Liked by y/ninsta, jaysontatum, urbanwyatt, druski2funny, 2forwoyne, and 3,184,816 others

jackharlow: my baby girl is so gorgeous 😍

y/ninsta: jackharlow don't fucking post me, you cheater. jaysontatum is your baby girl now. a bitch do look gorgeous tho 🥰 jackandy/nupdates: all I need is one night. ONE. jackharlow: jackandy/nupdates you might get to have it if wifey don't stop playing urbandjack25: jackharlow is lucky he got to her first because if I did, he wouldn't have even been thought of y/ninsta: urbandjack25 not too much on my man now! even though we're married but separated, I still claim him druski2funny: well I don't claim him dualipa: drop his ass claybornharlow: little baby is here y/ninsta: clayyyyyyy, the one Harlow that I can count on to never disappoint me jackharlow: Y/N!!!! and dualipa claybornharlow don't start with me today and druski2funny you'll always claim me. I'm the ex that keeps you up at night urbanwyatt: my best friend is prettier than yours 😍 jaysontatum: I mean urbanwyatt she's pretty, but she obviously doesn't compare to me since jackharlow is ready to leave her y/ninsta: jaysontatum your ass got one more muthafuckin time to act out and then I'm bringing you down to my height jaysontatum: y/ninsta how tall are you because you barely come up to jack's knee saweetie: OUTTA POCKET 2forwoyne: not his knee lmaoooooo jackharlow: jaysontatum she's 5 feet on a good day claybornharlow: jackharlow your mouth is always getting you in trouble smh jackharlow: claybornharlow and it always gets me out of trouble too 😏 jessicakelce: I don't see how it took this long for her to get pregnant smh y/ninsta: jaysontatum I'll be on your doorstep at 8 am tomorrow jaysontatum: y/ninsta have fun trying to reach the doorbell urbanwyatt: jaysontatum well, she is little 😭 y/ninsta: urbanwyatt just for that, I made an executive decision, you can't be a part of hot chips and bad decisions. THAT'S FINAL urbanwyatt: y/ninsta wait! I want a redo!

Liked by jackharlow, urbanwyatt, maggieharlow, brandisimmons, theestallion, shloob_, and 1,297,192 others

y/ninsta: since jackharlow is out being a whore, this is who I'm left at home with smh

claybornharlow: my girl autumn 😍 jackharlow: y/ninsta what is she even doing?!? and not you calling me a whore smh y/ninsta: jackharlow idk, she your baby since she look like you so come figure it out smh theestallion: this baby absolutely knows no chill y/ninsta: theestallion she is on 1000 every damn day as soon as she wakes up. she has now learned how to get out of her crib and I wasn't ready for that jackharlow: I definitely woke up to her face smushed up against mine and was confused on how she got in there smh y/ninsta: jackharlow she can now escape out of Harlow baby jail so we have to hire security. claybornharlow you got the job, congratulations. claybornharlow: she is literally always on her best behavior when she's around me maggieharlow: grandma's baby! y/ninsta: maggieharlow well come get her! you wanted these grandkids so bad and now they're here! I need a drink AND a blunt smh saweetie: y/ninsta damn they got you down bad lol maggieharlow: y/ninsta tell her father to come get her jackharlow: and suddenly something came up that needs my immediate attention y/ninsta: JACKMAN THOMAS

Liked by claybornharlow, jackharlow, urbanwyatt, saweetie, sza, normani, generationnow, and 3,240,286 others

y/ninsta: my big baby and my little baby

since jackharlow wants to act like a husband and show me some attention today, I agreed. he just didn't tell me that I would be at the studio with him and a million other people smh

at least I have my little baby who is not so little anymore to keep me company

like a bitch cried when he turned 21

claybornharlow stop fucking growing up on me 😭

jackharlow: yeah, that was something. but you don't pay me any attention smh y/ninsta: jackharlow I cried when he got his license too lmao and you are a got damn lie smh saweetie: y/ninsta you literally cry at everything lmao y/ninsta: look to be fair, I met little baby when he was eleven and now he's a grown man and me no like that. in my eyes he will always be my little baby so look at this as an appreciation post so if one of these little fast ass girls break his heart, there will be hell to pay. mark my words. claybornharlow: y/ninsta we would have been amazing together jackharlow: claybornharlow AHT AHT! get back to work and stop trying to steal my wife for the millionth time claybornharlow: jackharlow your kids love me, your wife loves me, I'm the favorite child, the list goes on and on jackharlow: claybornharlow I will kick you in the throat y/ninsta: yall better get yall shit together before I tell maggie maggieharlow: too late y/ninsta: welp I tried, get your kids. I'm about to send the oldest back to you. maggieharlow: y/ninsta keep him jackharlow: maggieharlow WOW smh

Taglist:

@harlowsbby

@babyharleezy

@hoodharlow

@stefansalvatoresgf

@jackiehollanderr

@primadxna-girl

@dessmxsworld

@cockslutslurper3000

@raelorns21

@variety-fangirl

@gbaabyyyy

@kamorsstuff

@harlowthot

@sinsandsuccubus

@curlyhairclub

@bootlegroach

@haylexo10

@thinkingaboutjharlow

@fluidsentiment

@charli123456789

@moody4world

@yourstrulymayah

@yana4life

@beanbagbitch

@alinaharlow

@carma-fanficaddict

@minaxcarter

@arination99

@xjup1t3r

@venusvinc

@jackharloww

@midnight-star47

@minkookie95

@inluvwithladybug

@exoticr0ses

@jharlowsangels

@jackierose902109

@knack4harlow

@cmalass

@megawhoree

@softtcurse

@sia2raw

@miniaturehideoutmentality

@hoya122

@nattinatalia

@jackslover12

@skyesthebomb

@jackharlows-world

@louisianalady

@fdl305

@automaticpeachsong

@harlowcomehome

@gassyandsassy1

@babygirlwilly

@amethyst09

@harrycanyonmoonn

@bout-mine

@tattered-tales

@sisiking99

@dessxoxsworld

@gillybear17

@jacksdaycare

@iheartharlow

@disaster-rose

@babyvinnie

@evansxchalamet

@chtkmyharlow​

@itsyagirljaz

@neon-lights-and-glitter

@awhore4moree

@a-moment-captured

@jackmans-poison

@valentinqee

@lightsoutstyles

@j-worlds-blog

@middlechild404

@0elliotswhore

@iknowdatsrightbih

@w1ldthoughts

@love2loveonme

@hufflewhore128

@shawtypoison

@fantasywritersstuff

[doyoulikethisanimesong-poll]

I have finally caught up with my Ask inbox!

After having my inbox closed for probably a month or so (I really should note this shit down), I have finally reached the latest ask and queued it up.

Shits Changing

After having a couple weeks of going through your submissions, I had some ideas on how to improve this system because it wasn't working for me and wasn't working for many of you either (as evidenced by the confusion from some people when the 17th Zetsubou song came on). I tried to mitigate this by putting a day or two between songs from the same artist or anime but it wasn't perfect and didn't fix the issues I was having on my end (namely that I just don't want to listen to an animes whole ost for an hour)

From now onwards I will be doing submissions through google forms (or some kind of alternative if something catches my attention. If you have any reccs, lemme know). I will have the submission form open until I get roughly 50 songs (subject to change if I think its too many or too little) and there will only be one song per submission. You will have to be logged into google to make your submission although I will get no data about who sent what, its just a way to stop people from making 17 submissions under the same email. If you want to game the system, I'm gonna make you put atleast a little bit of effort into it.

However do not be discouraged, it doesn't mean you get one submission ever, it just means you only get one submission per submission period. At a rough estimate of how many songs I queue up a week, you will probably get about one submission a week/fortnight.

Here is the current submission form:

The latest submission form will always be amongst the blogs links thing (if you can't tell at this point, I am not particularly good at tumblr and honestly have no idea what half the stuff is called.)

I'll just post a picture and hopefully it will make more sense. I will also be making a post everytime a new submission form is made as well.

Right there in the middle called Submission Form #1, thats what I'm talking about and hopefully is accessible to all of you (I really do not understand how this site works).

But what about my submission, I haven't heard it yet?

If you haven't heard your submission by Poll #493, that means I haven't queued it up. This can be for multiple reasons. The biggest one is that you didn't give me enough information and I could not be fucked scouring the internet trying to decipher your submission so I will be making certain info required for future submissions. Don't be discouraged if you didn't hear your song at that point, it doesn't mean that I hate it and never want to listen to it again, just resubmit it in the new submisssion form with the required information and I will happily throw it in the queue.

Back to the Asks

The ask feature will now go back to being used as intended, namely to ask me personal questions and blog related questions. Any submissions sent through it will just be ignored and deleted but if you want to ask me about my favourite food, favourite anime or my opinion on anything, I will happily answer.

This is my last paragraph, please put up with my last ramblings

From Poll #500 to #510, I will be testing a new poll layout. This is due to people wanting certain options on the poll that I did not originally add due to the limited amount of votes. Now that a poll gains roughly 300 votes at mininum though, I feel its a good time to test a couple extra polling options.

[kristlewrites]

“Lucid Dream”

CW: cheating(?),semi-public sex (elevator),smut, oral(f!receiving),nicknames (baby,mamas,ma), unprotected sex.

PAIRING: Ex!Zoro x Blk!FemReader

WC: 1.8k

🫧🗯️: Didn’t expect so many people to actually vote lmao..😭😭, but ty to all those who have!! This is made just for you guys. First of all it wasnt supposed to last a week, but as soon as I saw zoro taking the lead I had to write this. So ill make another one based off whose in second place!! lmk if i missed anything for the content warning!!

MINORS DNI

(rêve!!)

You pick up your phone, it's ten pm.. It's been over an hour since you arrived. You spent even longer getting ready. Wrapped in a beautiful emerald dress with gold accessories to match you felt amazing, but that feeling quickly went away once you realized your date wasn't coming. Picking up your phone you see his message. 

"Sorry, I can't make it…maybe next time?” 

Maybe next time my ass! You cannot believe this. You slam your phone onto the table and leave, storming off in the direction of the exit. Wiping away your tears as they stream down your face and hurrying down the restaurant stairs. Making your way out you step into the cold Atlanta night. Using one hand to warm up your bare shoulders you use your other to grab your phone to call an Uber...except that it wasn't in your purse. 

Dammit! You had left it on the table. Practically out of breath from the stairs you pick up your pace gearing towards your table. But when you finally reach your table you are met with someone you'd rather not see again. Especially tonight out of all nights!

Pulling out a chair for a blonde??! You see his gorgeous mint hair first.

“Fuck!” you whisper-shout making sure he doesn't hear. You quickly snatch your phone as fast as you can, apparently too fast because now the glass of water has fallen onto the mint's lap. “Oh my god..” you gasp, You cannot believe your luck.

The man looks up in response to your voice, recognizing it almost instantly. You guys make eye contact for about a solid second, but that was enough to make you fold. You ran away, breaking for the elevator, you wanted to get away from all of this. The blonde shouting in the background for spare napkins. You cannot believe you just saw your ex, at a restaurant out of place. Not only that but with someone else!!! It's been only three months since you broke up with him.

Now you were really crying, you walked into the elevator and pressed some random ass buttons, you just wanted to be home. To dazed in your own world you didn't even realize Zoro being right next to you in the elevator, he pushes the first button which you had already pressed undoing the action. “It was already going down…” you whisper and go back to press the first floor button. 

“Well, I didn't mean to press that one. I was gonna do the third floor” He hits the third floor button, not even a second later he presses the first floor again! 

“You are so..” You seethe. This nigga cannot be serious at all. Just when you are about to hit the first floor button, the elevator rocks.”Fuck..what the actual fuck.” You are absolutely losing it, no way this is happening to you. You start spamming the panic button, yelping for help hoping someone would hear. 

“Relax, someone is probably already on their way.” Zoro sitting down already making himself comfortable.

“Relax..?1!! Nigga are you fucking insane? I feel like I'm boutta explode.” You pace around the room thinking of possible solutions.

Zoro grabs your ankle and halts you in place, “Stop moving around, you're gonna make us more stuck. Just try and sit down” 

“You moron that's not how it works..” You kick his hand from your ankle cause who does he think he is? He removes his jacket, and places it down underneath you, he pats the jacket a couple times gesturing for you to sit down. Hesitantly you go down and sit down with your legs in a 45 degree angle (?) (idk it's hard to explain, but like that sit you do when you're on the floor and you dont want yo panties showing.)

“Who was she?” you ask, staring dead at your phone, no service on your phone either.

You hear a small chuckle and immediately regret everything.

“Why are you here?” He asks looking you up and down, you know you look good and damn he knows it too. Green is his color and to see you look pull it off better than him makes him proud a lil bit.

“I asked the question first.” You utter and stand right back up, only for him to drag you down. “What is wrong witchu!” 

“Her name is Dahlia, Sanji he had us go on a blind date, I had only met her like two hours ago”  Zoro had finally admitted, rubbing his forehead. You laughed a lil, just the idea of sanji going through all that trouble. His face nearly illuminated when he heard you laugh, it's been almost three months since he last saw you let alone heard you laugh like that.

You check the time, it's been twenty minutes already and there's been no sign of help. How is this possible if the restaurant still should be opened? How have they not been able to get any help?? By this time you and Zoro were about an inch apart, he was glaring at you not in a mean way but in a possessive way. You guys were just staring at each other not saying a word.

Within a split second Zoro had quite literally grabbed you and plopped you down right onto his lap, still damp from the water, and kissed you. You almost instantaneously returned the kiss. It was absolutely exhilarating, you've missed him so much. Tongues were clashing teeth clanging it was messy but you loved every second of it. You pushed away, trying to catch yo breath. 

“What about your date..?” you were panting so hard and out of breath. 

“Man fuck Daffodil” he said, reaching his fingers to your cheeks “Ive missed you so much baby” Caressing your soft skin

“I've missed you too” You were definitely gonna regret this the next day, but with his stunning face and practically hypnotizing smile it was hard to go against anything he was doing.

He begins to remove your sleeves, bringing down your dress revealing your cutie pink lace bra. Your hands react quickly and cover your boobs,

 “Awe baby don't be shy” he pouts a little and undoes your bra tossing it next to him. He immediately latches onto your brown nipples sucking and licking them like a starved baby. You start grinding against his crotch becoming impatient. Sure you've had a few one night stands after you guys broke up, but quite clearly none of them met up to the bar that zoro had established long ago.

“Seems like you’ve really missed me heheh ” He laughs a bit at your desperate grinding. You were too focused on reaching your high to even feel embarrassed. Zoro noticed this, the increasing moisture from your underwear “woah, not without me mamas.” 

He moves his coat and places it behind you, with ease he sets you down on your back with your wet panties facing him. He tears off your underwear so aggressively it’s for sure torn, He rubs his hands together and licks his lips before diving into your cunt.

“Ah” you exclaimed, it was all so sudden you didn’t have a chance to even think about it.

“Ma, I’ve missed hearing your voice so much” zoro groaned, but you couldn’t hear him with all the squelching from him absolutely raving in your pussy. He was going up and down on every corner, letting his tongue fly in n out your pussy. Your thighs started closing in on him

“I-i'm cummin’” you moan out loud grabbing on to his short minty hair, letting your orgasm flow out with zoro still licking it up

 “so sweet, can't get enough”, he pants while still lapping at your drenched pussy. Your legs Leg’s jittering, heart racing, you haven’t felt this way in months. Retracting his head from your now damaged cunt, he licks up all remaining cum from his lips. He lowers his pants and boxers, to reveal his pulsating cock leaking with pre-cum already. “You still on the pill?“ he asks, with his tip already teasing your entrance. You nod, too dazed to even speak. With no second to waste his dick already making it way into your pussy, you hiccup at the suddenness. “That’s right mama, take me nice n slow” he mutters, going in at lagging pace. 

“Fast, go faster” you say airily as you squeeze your pussy wanting more. He obeys and picks up pace with your fat cunt enveloping his dick so well, the sound of his balls slapping your ass and the subtle moans escaping your mouth fill up the air as both of you guys are now short winded you can feel his dick reach up every inch of your vagina.”Z-zoro, I’m gonna c-cum!” You scream, whilst creaming all over his dick. Hearing his name come out of his mouth was enough to send over the edge and fills you to the brim with his warm cum. Breathing hard he removes he cock from your pussy and marvels as, his cum flows out of your pussy.

Banging from the outside, got you straight up. “We’re gonna get you out of there, helps coming give us five minutes!” A man shouts.

Zoro helps you dress back up, because your whole body is aching. Even with the jacket the floor was still pretty rough. He helps gather up the piece of your underwear keeping one of them ‘for a souvenir’ he explains to you, you roll your eyes too tired to even argue. Meanwhile zoro buckles up his pants and tries his best to clean up any leftover cum on the floor, while you sit down by the door damn near immobilized.  

The doors finally open up, and the cacophony of fire trucks and power tools was already enough to send you into a spiral. Trying to stand up you’re a lil wobbly, zoro grabs your hand aiding you out. The whole staff is outside all lined up cheering for your rescue. “How long has it been?” you ask clearly, you are absolutely exhausted. 

“Forty minutes” zoro responds. He lends you his jacket once you get outside. “Where’s your ride?”

“I don’t have one, I’ll just get an Uber.” You answer fishing for your phone in your purse.

“Here, I’ll take you home” zoro says, walking towards his car acting all nonchalant..

‘Who does this nigga think he is?’ you think to yourself while trying to keep up with him. “how are you gonna offer me a ride then leave me chasing you..goodnight you know i can’t even walk properly.” You shout, the audacity is crazy.You can practically hear his eyes rolling when he stopped in the middle of the road turning around towards at a concerning pace. He grabs your waist and hangs you over his shoulder, flailing your feet and hands “Let me go nigga!”

“Weren’t you jus complaining…right, stop moving before I really leave you” he replies in an irritated voice.

regardless of his warning you continue to flail around, jus for the fun of it hitting his ass and laughing. zoro continues to walk, you can’t see his face but he smiles a lil at the sound of your laughter. He wishes that this would last forever.

(Thank you all for the support on my first fic!!)

[writethrough]

Fill In the Cracks

(Steve Harrington x Gender-Neutral Reader)

Synopsis: There's no way someone like Steve would love you. It's only a matter of time before he forgets you.

Warnings: Self-deprecation, feelings of unworthiness, angst to fluff, language

Word Count: 2016

A/N: In celebration of 500+ followers, here is my Steve fic you voted on! Admitted, this is not the original one I had in mind, but one I thought of this idea, I couldn't stop. I hope you enjoy it! And thank you to those who have supported my writing. I'm truly blown away by your kindness.

Watching Steve flirt with every woman who enters Family Video may kill you. Not because he sucks at it—god, he’s such a dork, all faux suave and big eyes. You don’t know how any woman could turn him down. You fluster just from witnessing it.

No, you’ll end up six feet under because he never flirts with you.

It’s pathetic how you crave his attention when nothing will ever happen between you.

Still, you wait for the moments when his eyes turn to you. The ones where he throws you a smile or pulls you in for a hug. He’s always so warm…

He has this unbelievable ability to make you feel safe. And you can’t recall a time that's ever happened.

But it doesn’t matter how you feel.

Steve will never give you the looks you want. Or the flirty smiles. Or the relationship he’s constantly seeking out.

You’re only you.

“I should really get a new sign,” Robin sighs loudly, shaking you from your thoughts. “The board would already be full.”

You’re thankful she’s distracted with teasing Steve, or else she may notice how you zoned out while she was talking.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Steve says. “I suck.”

You try to give him the best sympathetic smile you can muster, but you know it doesn’t reach your eyes.

His head tilts slightly, but Robin pushes the cart toward him before he can say anything.

“It’s your turn to stock. There are some new tapes in the back,” she says.

He rolls his eyes but takes the cart without complaint and walks to the back room.

Robin leans her elbows on the counter and raises an eyebrow.

“You okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you ask.

“You just had to watch that.” She gestures to where Steve had stood. “Granted, it was bad. I’m sure it wasn’t fun.”

“I don’t get what you’re talking about, Robin.” Surely she doesn’t know…does she?

“I’m talking about your massive crush on a certain employee here,” she says. “And I’m not talking about Keith or me.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “How did…How did you know?”

“You looked like a kicked puppy when he started talking.” Her tone is gentle as she levels you with a look.

You fiddle with your fingers. “It’s not like it matters.”

“What doesn’t matter?”

You meet her gaze, and she really has no idea what you’re talking about.

“How I feel,” you whisper. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course, it matters.” She matches your volume. “If you like him, you should tell him.”

You shook your head. “And embarrass me? Make everything weird between us? No.”

“That’s assuming he doesn’t feel the same,” she says.

“He just got done flirting with another woman. In what world does that mean he likes me back.” There’s a slight tingle in your nose, and you blink a few times before the tears can come.

“Maybe he’s thinking the same as you are: he doesn't want to make things awkward.” Her tone is reassuring and hopeful. Her heart is in the right place, but you know better.

“C’mon, Robin, it’s not like I’m anything special.” You say it as if it’s obvious. “I’m not the type of person guys give a second look, let alone love. I’m just…I’m just here.”

Her brow furrows. “What do you mean you’re ‘just here?’” She doesn’t give you room to respond. “You’re my best friend! Do you think anyone else could put up with me?”

“What about Steve?” You raise an eyebrow in challenge.

“Steve is Steve. But you are my ride or die.” She levels you with a look. “Don’t give me any of that ‘I’m unlovable’ crap. You are the kindest, most considerate person I know! You literally fight monsters and have saved every one of our asses—multiple times!”

You open your mouth, but she’s on a roll.

“And as for those guys you’re referring to—fucking dumbasses. If they can’t realize how amazing you are, then fuck’em. Well…not really. But you know what I mean!”

You feel a little awkward that you caused her to say all that, but mostly, you’re touched. And your feet are carrying you over to her before you can register what’s happening.

You pull her into a hug, holding back tears.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“Anytime,” she says, wrapping you in her arms. Like the action alone will convince you of her words.

You both slowly separate, her hands resting on your shoulders.

“We all love you. You’re important to us. And if you ever need reminding, tell me, okay?” she asks.

You nod. “Okay.”

—

Steve’s chest hurts.

He heard everything.

He’s in the back, ready to come out with more videos to stack when he hears you talking to Robin.

And all he wants to do is burst out and make you realize how wrong you are.

How could you think you’re forgettable?

How could you think you’re unlovable?

Especially when he’s right here? When he’s completely gone for you?

He wants to kick himself for flirting with that girl and everyone before her. He should have just told you how he feels.

He nods along to Robin’s reassurances, urging his agreement to somehow ease your mind.

He has to do something.

You deserve the world. You deserve to know how much he values you—how much you mean to him. That he returns your feelings.

Just the thought of being with you sends his heart skyrocketing. He would think he’s dreaming if it weren’t for how you spoke about yourself.

After your conversation ends, he waits ten minutes before emerging from the back.

He throws you a smile, your words still echoing in his head. And as he shelves tapes, he decides it’s finally time he tells you.

—

You hang around Family Video until Steve clocks out. Tonight’s your weekly pizza and movies. And despite your little confession with Robin, you’ll never rob yourself of alone time with Steve.

You watched two movies and ate half of the pizza when you took a break to stretch your legs.

Steve sets up in front of the sink, and you grab a dish towel without a word. An additional part of your ritual.

You can tell by the way he moves something’s bothering him. He’s been off all night.

In these quiet moments, you know you’ll get an honest answer.

“Do you need to talk about something?” you ask, drying the first plate.

He doesn’t glance at you or indicates he even heard you. Just scrubs the nonexistent sauce from the dish.

You run the towel over the plate again, so you’re not standing there looking at him, so you’re not pressuring him to tell you.

He hesitates a second before he speaks.

“I heard you earlier,” he says, washing the dish in his hand. “With Robin.”

You freeze mid-swipe, your conversation flashing through your head. Then continue just so your hands are doing something.

“...And?”

He wouldn’t bring it up if he didn’t want to fight you on it. You know him too well. Steve is sweet, too sweet for his own good sometimes. You never wanted him to know your feelings.

“...Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks as gently as ever. He could’ve been settling your fears. 

He could’ve been telling you he loves you for years.

You shrug as if you don’t know, putting the plate away.

He sighs when you don’t elaborate.

“You aren’t forgettable.” He turns to you. “You could never be.”

You let out a humorless laugh through your nose. “Tell that to my friends from kindergarten. Or elementary school. Or maybe the ones from middle—”

“I will never forget you. I don’t care about those dickheads you called friends. It’s their loss.” His jaw clenches. “You matter to all of us.” You matter to me.

You don’t let his words penetrate. You can’t because once you do, he's bound to leave. So, you swing the hammer and embed another nail in the wall.

“Like I haven’t heard that before,” you whisper, eyes closed, waiting.

You can hear his hands form fists, his teeth grind, and you want to hide. Away from his anger, his disappointment.

But when he speaks, his tone isn’t angry. It’s soft, disbelieving…

…heartbroken.

“I don't get why you think you’re so hard to love.”

You swallow, still avoiding his gaze. If you look at him, your floodgates will break.

“Because I am,” you whisper. And you can’t help how refreshing your honesty is. It’s addicting. “Who in their right mind would love me?”

What sorry, self-sabotaging, blind person will ever love someone as flawed as you? How could anyone see any value in all your cracks and chips?

Broken things are thrown away. Love doesn’t come to something past its prime.

“I do,” he says. “I do. Everyday.”

Your brow furrows, mind coming to a screeching halt.

He can’t be serious.

He’s reassuring you. Saying he loves you as a friend. Nothing more.

Because Steve Harrington can do better. So, how could he love you?

“I’ve loved you for a long time now. And it’s been the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” He swallows, unnerved by your silence.

He waits, knowing he may have ruined the best thing that’s happened to him. But he had to tell you. You have to know that you’re everything to him.

You finally, finally meet his eyes. They’re watering, and he wants to take you in his arms and protect you. But the last thing he wants is to scare you, to push himself on you if you don’t feel the same. 

“Do you…Do you mean it?” you whisper, desperation clear in your tone. You're too fragile to care.

“Of course I mean it.” He steps toward you. “I’ve meant it for the past two years.”

Your eyes widen. “Years?” You barely get it out.

He nods. “Just waiting for you to realize.” He can feel the energy shifting. You’re out of your head. “Didn’t know I’d have to spell it out for you.” He huffs good-naturedly

You breathe out a laugh of disbelief. “Of course, you’d have to spell it out! How the hell was I supposed to know you love me?”

All those girls come to both of your minds. It makes him sick.

“I’m a coward,” he says.

You tilt your head as if to say, “No, you’re not.”

He only shrugs, a fond smile on his face. “You always tease me and ask if I have my eye on someone. And I’ve never lied to you.”

“You also never asked anyone o—“ You slowly realize what he means. “Me?”

He nods. “You.”

You're silent long enough that it makes him nervous. But all you can think about is how much time you’ve wasted not being with him in the way you want.

“So there you go, not unlovable.” He rocks on the balls of his feet.

And it’s that nervousness that makes you realize you have yet to respond.

“I love you, too, Steve.” And once again, honesty is addicting.

“Really?” He grins, all big and bright.

You nod, a shy smile on your face. “Really. I’d have to be crazy not to.”

He carefully takes your hands, dragging his thumbs over your knuckles, memorizing your softness.

“So I love you. You love me. Is it safe to say you’re officially mine?” He bites his lip. You want to pull it free.

“I think so,” you tease. “Unless you want to wait another two years.”

He shakes his head frantically, though the smile is still there. “No, no, definitely not.” He clears his throat. “So…can I kiss you now?”

He’s already leaning in, too eager to care if he’s coming off too excited.

You hum softly, meeting him halfway.

It’s everything you imagined it would be. Soft and warm, a minty sweetness from that spray Steve keeps in his pocket, and gentle. As he always is with you—like you’ll shatter if he presses too hard. But you want to break this time because he will help put everything back together.

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