#because it's deliberately going against who it used to be

[thewidowsledger]

Agent

© thewidowsledger 2025 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Pairings: Undercover Agent!Natasha Romanoff x Mob boss!Female Reader

Word count: 693

Tags | Warnings: None, is the sexual tension in the room with us (?)

Author's Note: This is not a fic, more like a drabble👉👈 I hate how so many good ideas are running in my mind when I am heart broken, so just let me spoil y'all as long as I can :))

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"Go home, get some rest."

Natasha lingers by the doorway, shifting uncomfortably. Her eyes darted around the room, and her clasped hands fidget behind her back.

"Nat." You called.

She sighs, leaning against the doorframe and stealing a glance out the window.

"Natasha." You called again, much firmer this time.

Ah, she's in shit now. She knows damn well she's in deep trouble when she hears her full name being used especially by you. "Sorry, boss, guess I'm…distracted."

"That much is obvious." You offer a brief smile from your desk, but it fades just as quickly. "What's wrong, Natasha?"

Oh well, the list goes on and on. Where to begin? First, she's an undercover agent walking a tightrope, knowing her bosses are ready to pull the plug on the operation. Second, she's not a very good agent, since she became too attached to her target, the woman she's been guarding for six months. Lastly, she's an agent, and she's wondering if she should be.

Not that the answer is to join organised crime, either. But she's probably not as…objective as she used to be.

"I'm not sure about tomorrow," she finally admits. She doesn't like lying to you.

"What makes you unsure?"

Tomorrow looms large. The brass is forcing her hand. Natasha already delayed delivering you to them three times, and tomorrow, in the middle of your biggest land trade in years, her fellow agents are going to storm the place. There will be chaos, and you're likely to get caught in the crossfire. And despite her divided loyalties, she knows she'll put her life on the line to protect you. Whether they will question her credibility if she's a traitor or not.

Well all because she's just the agent who fell for her target—the Romeo of the operation. She just hopes that the story doesn't end in tragedy.

"Are we sure the meeting place is secured?"

"You went with Bucky to secure it, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but—"

"You're nervous," you interrupt smoothly. Your smile is as polished as your satin night dress and the faint, fabricated English accent you wear like armor. Natasha knows it's a front—like her own.

"Can't help it," she shrugs, feigning nonchalance. Your heels click on the floor. The sound haunts her in her dreams.

"I know you can't." You almost sound like you're soothing her. "But try not to let it cloud your judgement."

She nods, brushing a speck off her jacket. It's the best she's ever dressed in her life, all thanks to you. Steve loves to tease her about it, especially the set of black shirt she's never ran out.

You blink as she catches your hand before you can pull away from her completely. "Natasha."

"You," she begins, breaking the strict rule against using names—real or fake—in the office. But you had told her your name yourself, and it's been etched into her mind ever since, like a treasure on a pedestal. "Just…think about tomorrow again."

She meets your gaze, both faces unreadable. Natasha's mastery of concealing emotions comes from years of training, while yours seems effortless. "You're concerned about me?"

She inhales, squeezing your hand tighter. Finally free to tell the truth, she says, "your safety is my top priority."

Something changes in those eyes of yours, but she can't quite tell what it is.

Natasha blinks as you lean in, pressing a light yet deliberate kiss to her cheek. She fights to keep her composure, knowing that you, the boss, rarely shows affection—mercy even less so. But her focus is entirely on calming the storm of butterflies in her stomach.

Oh idiot Romeo, indeed.

You lock eyes with her, your hand steady on her cheek. "We'll be fine," you say with unwavering confidence.

She holds your gaze, resisting the urge to hope for another kiss. Slowly, she lets go of your hand. "If you say so, boss."

You arch a brow. "Back to boss, is it?"

She felt a smirk but more like a smile tug at her lips. "Would you rather I call you something else?"

"Hm, mommy sounds good or perhaps mistress..." A sly smirk crept in your face. Then your hand glides down her chest, skimming over her leather jacket until it rests on the concealed weapon at her belt.

"You tell me, agent."

[olenoidedserratuspilled]

That's a neat wall of text I guess. Doesn't actually relate to anything I actually said, though. I never said that calling men demons matters in and of itself, neither did I say that men are marginalized for being men.

What I did say is that TERFs like to use man-hating as a rhetorical trojan horse to push their own genuinely bigoted views, and that as such spreading man-hating rhetoric makes it easier for them to do just that. You're not going to read it, and I'm expecting you to block me after this, but I'll explain my point under the cut:

TERFs want you to believe they're defined by hating men, but in reality they are defined by hating women: trans women.

What TERFs want you to believe or not has nothing to do with what I said. What I did say is that the claim that "TERFs love men", cis or otherwise, is absurd to anyone who's actually seen TERF rhetoric in action.

I think a lot of people see TERFs calling trans women men and using their bioessentialist rhetoric about "males" and assume that TERFs hate trans women for the (in their eyes) crime of being men. The problem with that is that it's too rational.

Is it, though? Even if you agree that "All men are bad" is rational, the stance of "Trans women are men" isn't, and TERFs do very much believe trans women are men. That's where their irrationality begins, even if it isn't where it ends.

Bigotry is not logical. TERFs don't aggressively misgender trans women because they think being a man is the worst possible thing to be, they do it because they know how hurtful it is to trans women. The cruelty is the point.

The point is that they believe trans women are men, and they view aggressively misgendering trans women as correcting a slight against themselves personally and/or womankind at large. The cruelty may be the point, but they do very much justify that cruelty to themselves by rationalizing that trans women are both A) men and B) an especially evil, insidious and sexually deviant kind of man.

Despite their rhetoric, TERFs often pal around with cis men.

Cis white wealthy men, yes. I.E. the ones that help them gain political capital. They certainly don't pal around with any cis men that don't provide them with any political gain.

They'll post men are demons, but how often do they harass and threaten cis men the way they do to trans women? Men are powerful and threatening, trans women are a vulnerable minority and (as a class) powerless in society.

Notice how I never said TERFs harass and threaten cis men the way they do to trans women, or that trans women weren't especially targeted by TERFs. Again, what I said is that the notion that TERFs somehow "like" men is absurd, and that TERFs use man-hating to either justify their actual bigotry or make it look more palatable.

You've provided several examples of TERFs being racist and Islamophobic.

Yes, they are also examples of TERFs using man-hating rhetoric to justify why their racism and islamophobia are acceptable. The very thing that I am pointing out is happening.

It has nothing to do with hating men and everything to do with racism.

The specific examples I provided do have somethign to do with hating men because it's being used as a cover for why the racism is justified. The TERFs I showed are very deliberately going "Well I don't hate them because they're black/muslim, I hate them because they're men! (Just ignore the part where I say white men aren't as bad". Why did I provide these screenshots? Two reasons: 1) to show how the statement that TERFs "like" men is nonsense and 2) to showcase how TERFs like to use men-hating to make their actual bigotry look justified.

When you qualify every statement about misogyny with white men, how do you think that feels to women of color who are dealing with misogyny in their own communities? Marginalized men uphold misogyny, because they are men.

Cool, show me where I said you should qualify every statement about misogyny with white men. Show me where I said marginalized men don't uphold misogyny. What I did say is that TERFs have a habit of singling out POC/marginalized men (because again, the man-hating is a cover for their legitimate bigotry) and have no issue with making scathingly bigoted statements as long as they attach the word "men" to it.

The more popular view among progressives these days, however, and particularly on Tumblr, is that hating your oppressor is justified and should not be policed. Except when it comes to men.

In the US and the rest of the anglosphere, maybe. Where I live? The man-hating is very much still part and parcel of it, even if we don't have as much of a TERF problem. I also still see plenty of man-haing on Tumblr, too. None of that is to say that man-hating is an important issue of some sort, merely to say that the popular view among progresssives in my experience is still that man-hating is okay. If your experience is different then good for you I guess.

Talking about trans men the way you talk about cis men is perfectly fine, because they are both men.

Is the "Bomb that kills all Transmascs" post perfectly fine? Are the people receiving anon hate (up to and including rape threats - oh, I'm sorry, "forcefem jokes") perfectly fine? Is harassing transmen and calling them slurs perfectly fine? None of these are hypothetical. They're all actually happening right now as we speak.

Yes, trans men are men, and I am not opposed to the notion that trans men can participate in misogyny. But I'm certain you can understand how believing they're deserving of the same hatred that cis men deserve isn't just wrong, it's dangerous to trans men.

"Talking about men of color the way you talk about white men" is a rhetorical trap."

Yes it is. A rhetorical trap that TERFs use to make their racism look justified. The thing that I said they do and showed evidence of them doing.

If, however, you simply say "men are the devil" and don't specify race, you are "talking about men of color the way you talk about white men" because you are talking about all men the same way and only their gender (and, really, their role in the patriarchy) is relevant.

Except that is'nt what TERFs are doing. That's what they say they are doing, but they are very blatantly and obviously singling men of color out while making excuses for white men. This is what they mean when they say "talking about men of color the way you talk about white men". This is the kind of behavior they use man-hating rhetoric to excuse.

Additionally, it's a mistake to assume all women complaining about men of color are white.

Show me where I said that. Go ahead, show me. What I did say was that women who single out men of color for things that men of every ethnicity do are being racist (because they are), and that statements like "I want to burn muslims (male)", "I don't give a fuck how these ugly brown men are treated in the west" and most bafflingly "white women tears is a term black and brown men came up with to silence white women"(!!!) are racist, because they are.

Trans mascs are dealing with transphobia. There is a serious transphobic backlash in a lot of countries right now and while tumblr may feel like it's in a bubble sometimes, it is affected by the outside world.

Yes it is. There is no shortage of TERFs and garden variety transphobes on Tumblr. There is also no shortage of people who are using man-hating rhetoric to excuse harassing trans men at the moment. That is the phenomenon I am describing.

It's a serious problem and we need to protect our trans community members.

Yes we do. There is however an undercurrent of people who don't believe all of our trans community members deserve protection. They are a vocal minority that are going out of their way to harass trans men and people who wish to protect them.

A lot of transmascs need access to both HRT and contraception and have the potential to need access to abortion. American transmascs are getting hit twice, with anti-trans bigotry and restriction of reproductive freedom both being major projects of the incoming (and in many states established) right wing government.

Yes that's very much happening. Nothing to do with what I'm saying but yeah I do suppose you're right about that.

Women saying "I hate men" on the internet does not threaten trans men's lives the way the right--TERFs included--does.

Show me where I said it does. Go ahead, show me.

What I did say is that there are people using the sentiment of "I hate men" to harass and threaten trans men (if you want me to provide examples, I can, even if I know you aren't reading this), and that as such there are trans men who feel othered within their own community by this kind of sentiment.

Anyway, if you're done putting words in my mouth, I think it might be best if we stop talking here

Something I want this website specifically to reflect on! Are you mad at women for talking about men the same way you talk about cishets or neurotypicals? Why?

[haru-natsuka]

The Unending Daze Side Story 2 (Malleus Draconia x Wife Reader)

>> Trailer <<

"My darling wife, the joy you have brought me throughout the years is without compare. Our children are fortunate to have been gifted with such a loving and caring mother as you,"

Malleus spoke with affection, his voice like honeyed words that melted the hearts of everyone that heard it. He leaned down to kiss your forehead, his warm breath brushing against your skin.

But just as you were getting used to this blissful scene, your old friend, Ace arrived in an unexpected turn of events. He claimed that he was your husband, which left you perplexed and bewildered.

"Wait a minute, that's not right! I'm your real husband! He's just trying to manipulate you with a dream. Wake up, now! Our children need you! I need you, Y/N!"

You were unsure how to proceed, caught in the middle of a confusing situation. In this situation, you feel conflicted and uncertain about whether your old friend or your darling husband had spoken the truth.

>> HEAD TO CHAPTER LIST

>> SIDE STORY 2 <<

"Y/N, did you dream about our time again?" That creature spoke with an eerie and unsettling smile, its facade mimicking Ace's gentle expression. You gave him no respond as you did not even want to converse with that impostor. This unending daze was your nightmare and you were living in it.

Silver comforted you as he gently wiped away your tears with his thumb, his heart heavy with pity as he witnesses your suffering. Seeing you in such a pitiful state was a stark contrast to the strong-hearted junior he knew at NRC.

He felt helpless, unable to do much to alleviate your suffering beyond pulling you back from the dark abyss of your nightmare. The nightmare that deliberately put by his king on you.

Silver quietly admitted, "I've tried to wake you up, Y/N, but you were too deep in that dream. Everything started well, but then…”

He paused, as he, having the ability to enter someone dream as his unique magic had witnessed the dream you had and keep on having. The pattern remained the same. You, having a good family life with Ace before you lost Ace and your family again and again.

He could not even describe the agony he witnessed as for him, you had going through too much pain. His eyes filled with sadness and disagreement with Malleus' choice of selecting the court of another man's wife, a choice he could not fully support. It sadden more when his father and Sebek chose to support this unwise decision.

You pleaded to Silver with desperation in your voice, "Silver senpai, please help me. I want to escape this nightmare. Stop that creature from mocking my husband." You glare at the wooden doll who shares the same figure as your late husband.

Silver sighed in response, regret etched on his face, "You know I can't, Y/N. If I reveal myself, Malleus-sama will notice my presence."

Realization slowly dawned upon you, and you hesitantly asked, "Is this again another dream?"

Silver's solemn silence spoke volumes, confirming your suspicions. The weight of your despair and desperation caused your shoulders to sag in resignation as you felt the last remnants of hope slip away. There was nothing more left for you in this world. Everyone you held dear have already gone. What was the meaning and purpose of living?

"Thank you for everything, Silver. I'm sorry because of me you lost your job,” you said, your voice laced with gratitude and remorse. "I can handle myself now, so please focus on yourself."

"B-but-!" Silver tried to interject, his concern for you evident in his expression.

"Goodbye, Silver," you whispered, feeling yourself awakening from your deep sleep. As consciousness slowly returned to you, your eyes fluttered open to reveal a sight you dreaded, green slit eyes staring down at you.

The voice, belonging to the person you despise the most, echoed in your ears, "You were in a very deep slumber, my dear. Having a pleasant dream?"

You deliberately averted your gaze, refusing to look at the him who had stolen your life against your will, and who imprisoned you within this castle against your will. The mere act of conversing with someone who was once a good friend now filled you with an intense sense of revulsion.

"Are you still mad at me over the lost of your unborn baby? You cannot blame me entirely, my darling wife. You are the one who reject all my kindness and courtesy for you. Its not me who force you to stop eating. You have done it to yourself, my dear"

Malleus delicately held your chin as he began to stroke your hair, his gentle touch sending a shiver down your spine. He settled himself beside you on the bed, bringing his face closer to yours until you were left with no choice but to meet his gaze because you eyes should always remained on him.

"If you still want to have your baby again, I can give it to you. A child with a black hair like us, having your eyes, having the resemblance of my thorn is much more beautiful than having red hair don't you think so"

Malleus continued, his tone slightly coaxing as he attempted to sway you, "If you still yearn for a baby again, I will gladly give you a child. Imagine a child with hair as dark as ours, possessing your captivating gaze, bearing the resemblance of my thorns would undoubtedly make a beautiful progeny, don't you concur, my dear wife? Hmmm? Rather than having those red hair"

Malleus boasted further, revealing an undercurrent of disdain in his voice, "I am capable of giving you everything your heart yearns for. My power is boundless, unlike that of his."

He paused for a moment before continuing, a hint of malicious satisfaction evident in his expression, "I've even granted you ample time to spend with Trappola, but you seemed intent on destroying him on your own. It feels pleasant for you to hate him that much."

You muttered a firm rebuttal, "That is not my Ace." Your Ace was a true human, not a magic made with woods.

Malleus nodded, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, "Indeed, that Trappola has already vanished. Are you finally accepting the reality, my dear wife?"

He seized the pendant you held near and dear to your heart, forcefully opening the locket and revealing the picture of your family within. Anger simmered beneath his cool facade, and he justified his actions, "I'm merely reclaiming what should be mine. There is nothing wrong with that, don't you think so, my dear wife?"

Malleus spoke with an air of finality, "Everyone is gone. That guy and those two boys are dead, and so is the baby within you, my dear.)

He softly touched your stomach, his tone taking on a gentle coaxing tone as he continued, "Accept me, Y/N. Accept me as your husband in this life. I will give you a new family, two sons and a baby girl. I will bestow upon you the happiness you deserve."

He then nuzzled his head in the crook of your neck and held you tightly, as if you were his precious possession that he would never share with anyone.

Your words cut into Malleus like a knife, causing his grip on you to tighten as anger flared in his eyes. The temperature in the room dropped drastically, and the sound of thunder crashing outside echoed incessantly. Some of the furniture in the room froze over with ice, evidence of Malleus's growing fury.

He gritted out, his voice cold and harsh as he could not accept the reality, "You would rather stay with a wooden puppet than be with me?"

Malleus released a defeated sigh, his expression hardening as he realized that you have yet to accept the greatest fate he had bestow on you.

He conceded, his voice tinged with a hint of determination, "I suppose everything remains a failure for now."

He then added, his tone taking on a commanding edge, "You should go back to sleep, my dear wife. You shall come to choose me in the end. You will become my wife, this kingdom's new queen, and bear my heirs."

Malleus tucked you back into bed, a smug smile playing on his lips as he whispered, "Sleep well, my dear. Dream about me, dream of our children. Let your dreams shape your reality. Let it become a constant repetition until you make the right choice, the choice that will lead you to me."

[writer-freak]

Guitarist Choso

Guitarist!Choso who feels completely at home on stage, fingers effortlessly gliding over the strings of his electric guitar. The dim bar is filled with the sound of conversation, clinking glasses, and his band’s music. Neon lights cast shadows on his features, and for a moment, the stoic expression he’s well known for melts away, replaced by a look of satisfaction. Music is where he comes alive, where he doesn’t need words to express himself.

Guitarist!Choso who spots you in the crowd during their first set. You’re not dancing wildly or screaming like some of the fans closer to the stage. Instead, you’re leaning back against the bar, swaying to the rhythm with a drink in hand, looking like you belong there. The way the lights bounce off your face catches his eye, and before he knows it, he’s stumbled on a chord. He curses under his breath but can’t bring himself to stop looking.

Guitarist!Choso who, despite his focus on the music, can’t help but glance your way over and over again. His hands move on autopilot, hitting each note with practiced moves, but his thoughts are elsewhere. He’s used to being watched, being admired, even, but there’s something about the way you’re looking at him. It’s not the usual starstruck awe; it’s calm, thoughtful, like you’re seeing him, not just the guitarist on stage.

Guitarist!Choso who finally approaches you during the band’s break. His steps are deliberate, casual, but inside, his heart’s racing. “Hey,” he says, voice softer than expected, his tall frame leaning just enough to catch your attention. “You enjoying the music?” When you look up, smile, and say his band’s great, he feels like the air’s been knocked out of him. It’s been a while since anyone made him feel this way, like he’s just another guy trying to impress someone.

Guitarist!Choso who hangs around for longer than he planned during the break, chatting with you. He’s not used to talking much offstage, but with you, the conversation come easy. He learns that you stumbled into the bar on a whim and that you’re into the same kind of music he loves. By the time the band’s called back up, he’s gotten your number and a promise that you’ll stay to watch the rest of the set.

Guitarist!Choso who plays the second half of the show with more energy than he had in weeks, all because he knows you’re out there watching. Every strum, every note feels like it’s carrying a message just for you. And when it’s over, when he steps off the stage sweaty and out of breath, he doesn’t even glance at the other fans. His feet take him straight to you.

“Did you like it?” he asks, his voice a little rough from backup vocals. The slight smirk on his lips falters when you blush, telling him it was incredible. For the first time in years, he feels shy, scratching the back of his neck as he murmurs, “Glad to hear it.”

Guitarist!Choso who surprises you by being completely different from his stage persona. On stage, he’s magnetic, almost untouchable, but when it’s just the two of you, he’s sweet, a little awkward, and surprisingly funny. He jokes about how bad his first guitar was and how his little brother used to heckle him during practice. The more you talk, the more he feels like he doesn’t want the night to end.

Guitarist!Choso who learns you go to the same college during one of your late-night conversations. “No way,” he says, his lips twitching into a rare grin. “Guess I’ll have to keep an eye out for you.”

Guitarist!Choso who had never seen you before on campus but from that moment, he starts noticing you everywhere, at the library, in the coffee shop, even walking across campus. Each time, he finds an excuse to stop and talk, sometimes for a few minutes, sometimes for hours.

Guitarist!Choso who makes you a playlist filled with songs he thinks you’ll love. “Here,” he says one afternoon, sliding over a slip of paper with a link. “Let me know what you think.” When you text him later, saying you’ve been listening to it on repeat, he smiles so much ,his bandmates not letting him hear the end of it.

Guitarist!Choso who invites you to another gig, but this time, it’s smaller, quieter, and more intimate. You’re standing right at the front, and when he starts playing a song that’s softer than his usual style, his eyes meet yours, and it feels like the whole room fades. Halfway through, he mouths, This one’s for you, and your heart skips a beat.

Guitarist!Choso who brings you back to his place after the gig. The tension that’s been building between you over weeks finally breaks. In his small apartment, the air feels charged as he steps closer, his dark eyes searching yours.

When he kisses you, it’s soft at first, his lips moving slowly, testing the waters. But when you lean in, pulling him closer, it’s like a switch flips. His hands find your waist, pulling you flush against him, and his kiss deepens, filled with all the feelings he’s been holding back.

“Tell me you want this,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice low and gravelly, his forehead resting against yours. When you whisper a breathless “yes,” his hands are everywhere, your back, your hips, your ass as he pours himself into every kiss.

Guitarist!Choso who lays you down on his bed with care, like you’re something precious. His calloused fingers trace along your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and when his lips follow, pressing kisses down your neck and along your collarbone, you can’t help the soft sighs that escape you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion as his hands and lips explore. Every touch, every kiss feels deliberate, like he’s memorizing you. He takes his time, worshipping every inch of you like you’re his favorite song.

Guitarist!Choso who is surprisingly gentle despite the attitude he shows to the world. He checks in constantly, his dark eyes scanning yours for any sign of discomfort. “You good?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, and when you nod, he smiles, pressing another kiss to your temple.

Guitarist!Choso who holds you close afterward, his arm draped over your waist as the two of you lie tangled in the sheets. The world outside feels distant, like it doesn’t exist, and in that moment, it’s just the two of you.

Guitarist!Choso who teaches you how to play simple chords during late-night jam sessions. Days filled with stolen moments, kisses between classes and quiet nights watching movies.

Guitarist!Choso isn’t just the cool guitarist anymore, he’s yours, and for the first time in a long time, everything feels right

[thef1diary]

i was the anon who was talking about how dirtbag danny would use the whole inexperienced reader roleplay as an excuse to be gentler and sweeter and oh my god, what you wrote in response... it's got me thinking

i could definitely see daniel going through something, and he finds it very hard to be vulnerable with the reader so he obviously doesn't tell her what's going on. but suddenly he's always needing something slow and deep and intimate in bed and he's being sweeter, and he's holding her closer than usual afterwards. and she kinda wants him to go back to being mean and degrading because everything is easier when there's some emotional distance between the two of them. and because when it's all slow and intimate between them, it feels a lot like making love and that's obviously not what they're doing... right? 👀

— I’m so glad you liked it! One roleplay after another, yet they were all the same: soft, sensual, sweet. the things you weren’t familiar with from him, the ones you didn’t want to be familiar with. While it was confusing, you weren’t sure if you hated it. 18+ content below

Daniel had been different lately. His usual edge—the sharp dominance, the biting words—had softened into something quieter. He didn’t explain why, of course. He never did. Instead, he threw himself into this… roleplay. That’s what you told yourself it was. That’s what he said it was.

It had started a week ago, his hand on your cheek as he looked at you with something just shy of tenderness. “You’ve never done this before, huh?” he’d asked, his voice low and teasing, like it was all part of some game.

But this was Daniel. Dirtbag Daniel. He didn’t do tender. He didn’t do sweet. And yet here he was, night after night, coaxing you into his bed with soft words and slower touches, guiding your body like he was teaching you how to feel good for the very first time.

And tonight? Tonight was no different.

His hands were on you now, rough but measured, sliding down your sides with a reverence that made your skin burn. You lay beneath him, his body pressing yours into the mattress, and for the hundredth time, you felt the cracks in his persona. His hips rocked into you, slow and deep, every thrust deliberate, every drag of him inside you speaking more than his words ever did.

“You’re so good for me,” he murmured, his lips brushing your temple. His hand slid under your back, pulling you impossibly closer. “Letting me show you how it’s supposed to feel.”

The words made your stomach twist, and not in the way they used to. You almost hated how soft his voice sounded, how his gaze pinned you in place like you were something fragile, something precious. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. This wasn’t supposed to feel like…making love.

You tried to push back against it, to claw your way back to the usual dynamic. Your hands slipped over his shoulders, pressing against him in a bid to flip him over, to change the pace, to remind him who he was. “Let me ride you,” you whispered, your voice shaky but determined.

But he didn’t budge.

“Uh-uh,” he said, his tone still soft but firm enough to pin you in place. His hands gripped your hips, holding you down against the mattress as his thrusts continued their maddening pace. “Not tonight, sweetheart. You stay right here.”

There it was—the dirtbag edge, the flash of dominance that usually had your body tingling and your mind spinning. But even that felt different tonight. The smirk on his face didn’t reach his eyes, and when he leaned down to kiss you, it wasn’t the usual teasing brush of lips before he pulled back to make you beg.

This kiss lingered, soft and unhurried, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made your heart stutter. You whimpered against him, trying to take control of the moment, but his hands tightened on your hips, grounding you.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmured against your lips, his voice breaking just slightly. “Just let me, okay?”

Your chest tightened at the words, your nails digging into his shoulders as he rocked into you again. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this. It wasn’t supposed to feel like more.

“Daniel,” you gasped, unsure of what you were even trying to say.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his hand cradling your cheek. “What is it?” he asked, his tone gentle, almost concerned. “You need me to slow down? To stop?”

You shook your head, swallowing the lump in your throat. “No… I just…”

“Just what?” he pressed, his thumb brushing over your cheek. His movements didn’t stop, his thrusts slow and steady, building a pressure inside you that you couldn’t fight. “Tell me, sweetheart. What do you need?”

The question made your head spin. What did you need? To break the tension? To push him away? To rebuild the distance he was so carefully dismantling?

But you couldn’t speak. Not when he was looking at you like that. Not when his body was pressed so tightly to yours that you couldn’t tell where he ended and you began.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his tone softer than you’d ever heard it. His thumb brushed over your cheek, coaxing your gaze back to his. “You’re doing so good, baby. Just let me feel you.”

When you nodded, his hips shifted, his thrusts growing deeper and faster, you couldn’t stop the moan that tore from your throat. He buried his face in your neck, groaning as your walls clenched around him, and you felt the crack in his persona like a lightning bolt.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he murmured, the words shaky and uneven.

The way he said it made your chest ache, and you hated how much you wanted to believe him. This was supposed to be fun, dirty, and detached. It wasn’t supposed to feel like he was pouring everything into you, like he was holding on to you for dear life. His lips found yours again, the kiss slow and deep, and when he pulled back, his gaze didn’t waver.

“You feel it too, don’t you?” he asked, his voice barely audible.

Your breath hitched, and you shook your head, trying to deny it, trying to hold on to what little control you had left.

But he didn’t let you.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said, his tone soft but unyielding. “I know you feel it. You’re not as good at hiding as you think.”

His words shattered the last of your resolve. The pleasure building inside you reached its peak, your body trembling as you came undone around him. Your nails dug into his back, holding him closer as you cried out his name.

Daniel groaned, his hips stuttering as he followed you over the edge. His arms wrapped around you tightly, his body pressing you deeper into the mattress as he buried his face in your neck.

But even then, even as his breathing slowed and his body relaxed against yours, he didn’t pull away. He stayed there, holding you like you were the only thing keeping him afloat, whispering words you weren’t ready to hear.

“You’re mine,” he said softly, his voice trembling. “You’ll always be mine.”

And for the first time, you couldn’t tell if it was still part of the roleplay—or if he meant every word.

want more dirtbag!danny? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

[lostinthewronguniverse]

So, while I understand your reasoning, I do find it flawed. While many people in the US do not like their boss or the police, they do prefer to lick the boots of their bosses and police when told or when things get rough. I am not discounting myself in this

When a homeless person is making someone uncomfortable, by far the majority of people would be more comfortable with calling the cops on them than allow them to sleep by a bus stop or beg in a walkway. White right wing people who don’t trust the police are still happy to call them when black people are hanging around chatting for “too long”. If an autistic teen walks towards your fence to look at a flower, way too many people would call the cops on him. While in reality many people in the US hate cops for one reason or another, the sentiment is still there that we love cops as soon as things get hard, and it is a small portion of people who would actually call out cops like during George Floyd’s death. Most people would have walked by figuring that he probably deserved it because no matter how much we say acab at the end of the day we tend to trust them more than the person whose rights they’re violating

Now, bosses we practically never stand up to because we’re too scared to lose our jobs. We may acknowledge that they’re power hungry and deliberately target a single person and make 2x+ our income for half the work and whatnot, but when we are talking to them, we hardly say anything. If we see someone being targeted, then we might try to cheer them up after but you hardly ever see someone push back against the harassment. In private, we’re even more likely to agree with the boss that they do so much for the company or so-and-so performs poorly. We keep kissing ass in the hopes of a raise or promotion and we get nothing. Then, we go behind the boss’s back and complain about how horrible they are while not doing anything to change it. This is the reason why so often unions are unable to form or people can be singled out because no one wants to receive the boss’s ire and we’re told that we can’t move ahead with others but we can move up on our own. Once again, the sentiment is there that no matter how much we hate our bosses we treat them like we love them

Actions speak louder than words. While you’ve lived in more states than I have, you have only taken people’s words at face value and not looked at their actions. I have a friend who is constantly fighting for social justice that absolutely calls the police every time she sees a a tent in the local park and I had an old coworker who repeatedly talked about how toxic our boss was that also said he was her mentor and inspiration when he got team lunch for her promotion. The people you know who talk the talk and walk the walk are the minority. Regardless of if OP is from the US or not, they understand the people here better than you, a native.

P.S. I do find it funny all the people who pretend like they hold the will of the revolutionaries from 1776. 1) All those people were racists who wanted to steal Native American land and 2) They weren’t afraid to suffer for a bit without something like Starbucks or cheap factory farmed meat and fast fashion. Do you know how hard it would have been to boycott England? And, if you broke the boycott then you could have been killed by a mob as a loyalist instead of just needing to cross a picket line

[boybandbaby]

I Wish (Evan Buckley x 118!Reader)

word count: 965

warnings: angst, fire

You started dating Buck only 5 months into working at the 118. He was so sweet and flirty, you instantly swooned over him. Not just his blue eyes, beefy build, and bright smile, but his passion for the job and care for others. As a probie, he unnecessarily would help you carry equipment that was on the heavier side even though you were more than capable of carrying it. He would save you a seat next to him at the dinner table and even serve your plate for you. You needed a napkin? Buck was already receiving a stack for you. You needed help loading up your gear? He was standing behind you pulling the straps over your shoulders. With a small smile and thank you, you slowly fell for him. That was almost a year ago now and everything was suddenly turning to shit.

At the start of the relationship and even a short few weeks ago things were great. Amazing. Exciting. Loving. Now, there was a constant revolving door of arguments.

You and Buck used to spend your days off at each other’s apartments, crafting new recipes or having movie marathons. Now, the only contact you had with him was at work. During calls you remained professional and when the shift ended you went your separate ways. The others could sense something was wrong and you both were reminded of the promise you made to Bobby when you disclosed the relationship: keep it professional and leave any drama at home.

The fights all started because Buck was becoming reckless again. Even after getting crushed by a truck and struck by lightening, he continued to act as if he was unstoppable. The call that did it was a tough one for everyone that left several people injured, luckily no one dead, and put a strain on your relationship.

A small bakery caught fire and even though Bobby instructed everyone to evacuate, Buck swore he saw movement in the building. That, mixed with a woman screaming “Shelby!” repeatedly, Buck ignored Bobby’s orders and your pleas to stay put. The glass of the windows had shattered and the flames got bigger but Buck exited the building coughing and covered in soot. In his arms was a small kitten, perfectly unharmed. As Buck smiled, handing the woman her fur baby, you hopped in the engine with a slam of the door. Eddie just gave Buck a look that said “you’re in for it tonight.” A heated argument ensued where you told Buck he was being reckless and disrespectful to not only Bobby but the team. Shortly after, you found yourself not being able to be paired with Buck and his antics during calls which Bobby accommodated.

Two days out from your one year anniversary, you decided to mend things and talk through your problems. You didn’t want to spend the celebration of your one year angry at each other and you certainly didn’t want to continue in a relationship where the love burned quick and bright and died just the same. You asked Buck to come in early to talk before your shift but before you could say anything, Buck had decided to end things.

You’re standing in the kitchen, hands braced against the counter. Your ears are ringing and your eyes are burning with unshed tears.

“You’re serious?” You whisper when he doesn’t elaborate on his previous two words. It’s over.

“I just don’t see how this is going to work when you can’t trust me. You can’t trust that I can do my job. You’re constantly breathing down my neck.” Buck uses his hand to express his frustrations.

“I care about you, Evan. I’m worried for you. You constantly throw yourself at the most dangerous situations without thinking.” You wrap your arms around yourself.

“That’s part of the job.” He argues.

“No it’s isn’t.” You shake your head. “Not when there’s others who can do it or when Bobby gives you orders and you deliberately disobey.”

“But no one can do it like I can.” He lays a hand on his chest.

“So this is a pride thing?” You angrily squint at him, tilting your head.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Why wouldn’t I understand? Help me understand.”

“You’ve never put yourself in a situation where you almost died. You work comfortably. You do what you’re asked and that’s it. You don’t go above and beyond.”

“Everyday we put our lives on the line. I may not run into fires or scale buildings but I do the same work as you. I choose to use my head and be safe and follow orders. So that makes me what? A bad firefighter?” You drop your hands by your sides, clenching your fists.

Buck runs a hand through his hair, “I just need my space. I need to be able to work without you hovering over my every move and doubting me.”

“I don’t doubt you Buck.” You cry. “You’re one of the best out there.”

“Lately, it hasn’t felt like you really believe that. You’re holding me back.” He leans against one of the high top tables.

“You know Buck, I was actually hoping to work things out but it seems like you’ve made up your mind. I thought your impulsive actions were just limited to the job but clearly it’s a trait you have with everything you do even relationships. Sometimes you’re so careless, I wish I cared less.”

“Well now you don’t have to worry about me and I don’t have to worry about you nagging.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

You blink, watery tears streaming down your face. Buck gives you one last look before heading down to the lockers. As soon as he’s out of sight, his body racks with sobs as he leans against the lockers.

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for really, REALLY wanting to make my enemies pay?

Several months ago, I (9F) encountered a very powerful, very mean spirited being (??? M). This horrible person had teamed up with this stupid, bald jerk who kidnapped me. (Adult M? I think? My guardian angel saw into his dreams and said he might have some unaddressed gender feelings to unpack, but that’s besides the point.) The powerful, mean spirited being, who I’ll refer to as L, was granting all of the stupid bald jerk’s wishes, and when my family came to rescue me, one of these wishes did something scary to my dad (30s, bigender). It made it so I couldn’t see or pay attention to him, and it really freaked me out.

I know I shouldn’t have acted rashly, but I panicked. I wished for L to undo what he did to my dad, and L did… which all sounds good, except. Um. He said he was going to come to collect a debt from me in the future, and I knew when he did, it would be really scary. My family has history with wish granting beings, and in the past, one of them REALLY messed my mom’s side of the family up. It forced my granddad to forget her, and eventually killed him entirely. It was awful!

So I was really, really scared. And so was my family. My mom (30s, F) especially. And because she loved me, she…- she made a wish, too. She wished to take on whatever burdens I beared— to be the one to pay the debt to L instead.

…And she did. He took the most terrible thing possible from her. He took away her memories of me, knowing that was what would hurt my family most. Deliberately, he did the same thing to Mom that had been done to her father before her, and turned me into a stranger.

Things weren’t… all bad. She believed me, at least, when I told her I was her daughter and that she’d lost her memories and it was all my fault. I think it’s because Dad was there to back up my story. Things became… different after that, though. I mean, how couldn’t they? My mom didn’t know me anymore. She didn’t love me.

L continued to wreak havoc amongst our friend group, who live in a weird, giant, magical, inter dimensional mansion (long story). He made someone else forget his mom. He killed a person—someone very beloved— just out of spite. He turned a third victin into some sort of horrible, body-stealing monster, and, of course, he continued to target me. He mocked me repeatedly for what happened, agreeing that it was my fault, and even tried to pit my mom against me, telling her that I didn’t love her anymore because of what happened, and that she was a failure of a parent, just like her dad. He was more cruel than I could possibly put into words.

So, eventually, we decided L needed to be stopped. Me, and several other people living in the mansion, including my family, teamed up to kill him. The fight… didn’t exactly go well, though. At one point, I was pulled into his machinery, and I well and truly thought I was going to die. But my dad— my hero— used magic he has to briefly control L’s body, pulling me from danger.

…L turned this against him, though. Just as soon, my dad lost control of L, and L took control of him. L already had several ‘puppets—‘ beings he’d taken over entirely, and he turned my dad into one of them. Nothing more than an empty, mindless weapon.

Eventually, the fight ended and L was killed. My mom got her memories back and my dad was freed from L’s control. But after that, dad was… different. He saw something really, really bad when he and L’s minds were one. An empty, vast abyss. A prison L spent years in. It became my dad’s prison, too, and although he’d only been under L’s control for a brief period of time, for him, it felt like years.

He was traumatized. He turned anxious and panicked. He couldn’t stay still anymore, and always felt bored and unsatisfied. Under-stimulated constantly.

And then, just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, D arrived.

…I’m going to need to do some explaining for this to make any sense.

In short, where I come from, there’s a ‘mirror world—‘ a world filled with twisted, alternate versions of the people from my world. Not all mirror worlders are bad, of course— I like my counterpart, and the reflection of the first wish-granting being— the one who messed my granddad up all those years ago— is actually a really nice guy. But there’s one thing really, really, REALLY terrible about the mirror world.

As long as a mirror worlder’s real counterpart is alive, they can’t die,

So even if a mirror worlder is an awful, awful person, nothing can be done to get rid of them most of the time. They’ll just come back.

That wasn’t supposed to be an issue with L. The beloved person who I mentioned him killing earlier? That was his counterpart, N. But after N was killed, his girlfriend dragged his soul back from the abyss, albeit… different.

Apparently, beings like L and N weren’t always wish-granting, mechanical beings. They were people before they were remade and trapped in cybernetic prisons. As wish-granting machines, they had no memories of their past lives. But when N’s girlfriend brought him back, she brought him back as a flesh-and-blood creature. Who he was before he was turned into a tool, memories and all. I’ll refer to this version of him as NK

Which is where D comes in. D is NK’s counterpart, as opposed to L being N’s. He’s the reflection of who NK was all those years ago, and when NK was brought back, he returned, too. But he still had L’s memories, and the same personality, too. I mean… he was apologetic, suddenly, but he was still a complete jerk!

I’m sorry if that’s all a bit confusing. To simplify: L was back. He had a new name and a new face, but that was still the person who tried to tear my family apart, and who put my dad through something so terrible.

In fact, when he saw how bad my dad was doing, he told him that if he didn’t get his act together, he was going to end up like L and start torturing people for fun just to try and feel something! How terrible is that!? After that, my dad started having really bad intrusive thoughts. He’d have dreams about hurting me or my mom, and just wake up screaming. All because D told him something that wasn’t true. We had to hospitalize Dad, eventually, because we were genuinely afraid he’d hurt himself over what L did.

D refused to accept accountability, though. Like I said, he apologized, but only to try and escape the consequences of his actions! He was just going through the obligatory song and dance! He wasn’t trying to fix any of the mess he made. Heck, he could hardly even accept he was the same as L! He couldn’t bear the guilt or whatever!

…And because of this, something weird happened to his mind.

He needed a scapegoat. Someone to blame. A trauma holder. So he made a new version of L— one that ate up all of his pain. And this new L, of course, immediately started causing trouble. He gave dozens of people in the mansion awful nightmares. Bloody nightmares. Nightmares preying on their worst fears and trauma. He even threatened to try and break my mom’s brain, too!

Eventually, he was stopped, primarily thanks to another very powerful being— a dream demon, specifically, who I’ll call NB. NB’s intensions weren’t to protect the rest of us, though. Contrarily, he stopped the new L because he’d FALLEN IN LOVE WITH HIM AND D, AND WAS SCARED HE WAS GOING TO HURT D WITH WHAT HE WAS DOING! BECAUSE IT WAS D WHO NEEDED TO BE PROTECTED, APPARENTLY?

Whatever, though. At least the problem was resolved.

…For now.

Since then, D and L haven’t caused any trouble. They’ve mostly kept to themselves. But I just know they have to be planning something… and no-one else around me seems to be worried about that!? Heck, some of them are becoming FRIENDLY with D and L when they show up in the mansion group chat. It’s like they’re already forgetting what D and L did to me! To my family! And to them, too!

I want to make it so D and L can’t hurt anyone anymore. Them being around terrifies me. I hate how they’re winning over my friends. E- even if they’re really not planning anything, now, I can’t stand them. They make me feel unsafe. They make me feel angry. They seem so happy! They’re dating NB now, and seem to be at peace! While my family is still trying to pick up the pieces after what they did!

That’s not fair. They don’t deserve to be happy. I want D and L to feel sad. Scared. Every bit as bad as I did. NB, too. Stupid, ignorant enabler! I want them to suffer. I want them to cry. If I could, I’d put D and L back in that stupid prison of theirs… the ‘nothingness’ that they showed Dad to traumatize him,

But apparently, I’M the one who’s causing issues! I’m being vindictive! I’m being vicious! I should just let sleeping dogs lie and let L and D be. But why!? THEY started it! They went after me when I hadn’t done anything to them! I DESERVE to punch back! THEY deserve to suffer! A- and anyone who doesn’t agree must have never cared about me or my family.

…AITA? For wanting to put them through want they put me and so many others through, even if that means rocking the boat?

[thegreatyin]

the difference between the scoundrel and the yearner is simultaneously insurmountable and also pretty much entirely artificial. the scoundrel is basically just the yearner without the crucial power limiter of all-consuming depression and apathy. it's like if you took a restraining bolt off a robot. that being said the depression is very much still there it's just in a slightly different (significantly more batty) flavor now

[yet-the-world-spins-on]

So i reblogged this earlier today and I still agree with the main point of it but I did want to clarify one thing: the phrase "things considered sin" does not refer to 'sin' being a social construct. I do not know if OP chose the wording deliberately, but as i thought about it I realized one reason to use that phrase is because it is not possible to gravely sin on accident (you may be asking what I mean by gravely; that is a whole 'nother post)

I have seen many definitions of sin; one I might fall back on (since I am Catholic) is the Catholic Catechism (CCC) definition: "Sin is an offense against reason, truth, and right conscience; it is failure in genuine love for God and neighbor caused by a perverse attachment to certain goods." (CCC 1849) -> Basically, sin is a failure to prioritize correctly. Evil is absence of good, so sin is the deliberate prioritization of a lesser good over a greater good; ultimately, it is treating something other than God as the highest priority.

In that sense, sin can be considered objectively: an act is sinful, an act is not sinful. The "things considered sin" comes into play at the same time as the word "deliberate" -- if a person does not have the information they need to priortize correctly, and they could not get that information on their own, they are not at fault for failing to prioritize correctly. E.g. young children have very little experience and need guidance to learn how the world works. That's why Jesus says it is better to hang a millstone around one's own neck than to mislead one of these little ones-- because little kids have to trust the adults responsible for them to teach them how to interact with everyone they meet.

At the same time, because truth is objective, someone who Does Not Know that their priorities are wrong is Still going to mess up their own life and the lives of those around them. It just won't be on purpose. So it is better to know that something is a sin --and have to learn, often painfully, and generally with a lot of two-steps-forward-one-step-back progress, how to not do that something -- than to not know and continue to make things worse without meaning to.

I think that's everything I wanted to add -- Thanks for your time, and back to your regularly scheduled programming!

The pluralisty version of religion as a cultural way of live is just fundemantly different from the christian concept of religion as a truth claim because ways of life do not have to be universal but truth is

And I think it leads to misunderstandings about evanglising

Christianity, because of it's nature as a claim to the truth about God, is either for everyone or for no none. Either true or false. Because truth is universal - we don't all have our own specific truth. What's true is true independent of people.

And so when Christians evangalise, it's because we believe our faith to be true (and also because it's commanded in our holy texts that too)

It is not because we have a cultural way of life and spirituality we want to everyone to universally partake in

It's because truth is universal

And truth is what Christianity claims

Christians don't see religion as one to one equalling culture and Christians do not have to change their culture when they become christian (though they will have to stop things that are considered sin even if they are prominent in their culture)

And that's also why it's frustrating when people are like "yeah it's fine if you're a Christian if that's the way to be spiritual for you" because that is fundemantly not what this religion is

[thepromisedbride]

i don’t talk about bridgerton on here but just to clarify. i will not be having ANY eloise hate on this account. i will bite.

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

.

[mantisgodsdomain]

Apparently there's a fic reading challenge thing this year, but after doing a quick skim of the goals... we don't think we'll be touching it with a ten-foot stick. Some of these goals put a VERY bad taste in our mouth. The idea of a "diversity checklist" isn't supposed to be... literal, we don't think? No? We're remembering that one quote about "listening to people of color being like eating your vegetables for white activists" and we're feeling like it may actually have been understating whatever the hell is going on here.

[redfountainpostin]

No because YOU'RE RIGHT AND YOU SHOULD SAY IT. The thing that gets me is that there is no possible reason for her to do this than her ego??? Because she has NOTHING TO OFFER THE WINX, OR THE WORLD, BESIDE INFORMATION. That old bat DOES. NOT. FIGHT. AND WHEN SHE DID, SHE GOT NERFED INTO A TREE. And what is annoying me is that her actions are never brought up. Listen, I cannot compare her to Saladin bc Salandin really barely gets brought up in canon, but from the few things we see, he's FINE, besides the whole "lets students go fight big bads" thing, but that alone can be forgiven bc without that there'd be no cartoon. But we don't see him actually endanger the students other than that, or deliberately hold off information just for ego tripping. You know who DID fuck up, horrible? Fucking Griffin. Not only did she have 3 young terrorists under her roof, she actively pushed them (and the rest of her students) into increasingly more violent fights against fairies just for her petty grudge, and she completely ignored day of the rose shit. Listen, I know she only said the "Break some bones" part in 4kids dub, but in ANY DUB, she sent out STUDENTS to attack other STUDENTS and the result was a fucking motorcycle crash that could have been deadly. Does she care? Hell nah! And, now that I'm thinking of this, she knew what Darcy's powers were and she MUST have know she started dating the guy she nearly killed right away- she didn't bother to check if everything was fine with his head? No? So long as the other schools' students are messed up it's all good. But while the narrative never actually punishes her besides her being like "oh I should have known" she's in fact given a chance to help the main heroes (seriously did Faragonda EVER do something like that?) she's also not painted as this amazing fantastic flawless grandma motherly figure that is all wise and all good like Faragonda. And that's the most annoying part. If Faragonda's flaws were AT LEAST acknowledged, I might not be pissed at her as much. But she's so fucking holier than though and doesn't even use her powers (knowledge) for good! Like it's ok to dunk of Tecna and Musa but their powers aren't suitable for underground but STELLA can go? ASS.

I hate hate hate how Faragonda always knows what's going on BUT never tells anything! She knew who Bloom was, she didn't tell her until Bloom's power was stolen. She knows who Darkar is, yet she doesn't tell Layla. She knows or at least supposes that he's after the codex.......yet she doesn't tell anyone.

I also hate how she indirectly tells Tec, Flora and Musa that they're unnecessary side characters who don't deserve to go on the mission to save the pixies because they're not the fans' favourites like Stella and Bloom and not cool like the sassy new character Layla. Faragonda simply goes on my nerves. I bet she also knew, that Stella, whose powers originate from the sun and moon, drastically weakens underground. But does she care?? FKN NO.

[sturionic]

Activism is not cold-calling.

Activism is not cold-calling, and this is critically important to understand.

I'm seeing a lot of posts on here about 'building bridges' and 'finding community,' and then (extremely valid) response posts saying "BUT HOW??" And I'm going to explain something that can be very counter-intuitive: there is strategy involved in community.

As a longtime volunteer labour organizer, I’ve taken and taught many trainings on the strategy of talking. Something that surprises a lot of people is the very first thing you do in a union campaign. You sit down with your organizing committee, take out pen and paper, and literally map it out. You draw a physical map of the workplace: where are the entrances, exits, break rooms, supervisor offices. Essentially, ‘where is it safe to have a union conversation.’ Then you draw another physical chart of your coworkers. You sort out who is union-friendly, openly hostile to unions, or somewhere in the middle, and then you plan out very deliberately and carefully who talks to whom and in what order.

Consider: If Vocally Leftist Jane walks up to Conservative David and says "hey what do you think about unions," David is going to shut down immediately. He's not inclined to listen to Jane. But if Jane talks to Moderate Jason and brings him into the fold, then Jason is a far more effective strategic choice to talk to David, and David may actually hear him out without an instant reaction.

IMPORTANT CAVEAT: If Conservative David turns out to be Alt-Right David, and could be dangerous to follow organizers, we write him off. We are not trying to reach Alt-Right David. We are trying to reach Conservative David, who may actually be persuaded to find solidarity with other employees as fellow workers. Jason is a safe scout to find out which one he is. It does no one any good if Leftist Jane (or even Moderate Jane who is a visible minority) talks to Alt-Right David and puts herself on his radar. Not only has she done nothing to convince Alt-Right David to join a union - she's probably actively turned him against the idea - but now she's also in danger and the entire campaign is at risk. NOBODY WANTS THIS. Jane was NOT a hero for doing this. The organizing committee was foolish and enacted a terrible strategy to everyone's detriment.

Where you can make a difference is with people who will listen to you. You having a conversation with your well-meaning but clueless Centrist Democrat Auntie, and maybe gently helping her understand some things the media has been glossing over, is way more strategically useful than you marching up to MAGA Neighbour You've Met Once and trying to "build community" or "understand" them. They don't care. They're impervious, dangerous, and cruel. But maybe your beloved auntie will think about what you said, and then talk to her friend Anna who IDs as "fiscally conservative" but didn't vote because she can't bring herself to get on board with Trump. Then perhaps Anna talks to her brother Nic who has MAGA leanings but isn't all the way there yet. Proto-MAGA Nic would not have listened to you, nor would he have listened to Centrist Democrat Auntie, but he might absorb some of what his sister is saying.

This is not a cop-out or an echo chamber. This is you spending your time and energy strategically and safely. You are not a useful activist to anyone if you’re dead. Anyone who is telling you to hurl yourself directly at MAGA assholes like cannon fodder has no understanding of the strategy behind community building, and you should feel comfortable writing them off.

Last point: If you are tired, emotionally devastated, and/or in danger: take a break. This post is for people who would feel better jumping into action, not for people who are too overwhelmed to even think about it right now. You are worth so much even if you’re not actively Doing Activism, and your rest is worth more than “a break period so you can recharge and Do More Activism.” We all deserve the individual dignity of being worthy of comfort, rest & safety just on the basis of being human, outside of whatever we're doing for others' benefit. To deny ourselves that dignity is to devalue ourselves, and that’s the absolute last thing any of us should be doing right now.

[arminsumi]

Betting your girl's mouth on a basketball game was crazy — and Suguru was all for it.

After taking a loss that may or may not have been deliberate, jock!Suguru wears a dirty grin on his face while watching you suck his best friends virgin cock like a good girl, loving the nasty wet noises you make while slurping up and down nerd!Satoru's pulsing shaft, slowly stroking himself to the sight of you on your knees, making cock disappear in your mouth like magic.

And Satoru — the poor boy — is losing his mind because he's never felt a woman's lips around his dummy big cock before. He used to tell you that sex is beneath him — now he's throwing his head back, gritting his pearly whites, curling his toes and biting his bottom lip 'till it's all red, totally surrendering to your little mouth — it's just so funny to you, 'cause he's been the know-it-all bastard telling you "... you're just Suguru's slut. If you paid as much attention in class as you did to my best friend's dick, maybe you'd amount to something. Do you even remember what we learned yesterday? Exactly. But I do — that's why I'm the top student and you're just — "

Bla bla bla... Satoru's now showing you how much precum his dummy big cock leaks — it's a sticky mess oozing out of his tip all over your quivering tongue. You looked up at him and winked, and he seethed inside because god he's hated you for so long but now your lips are wrapped around his cock and your mouth is taking him to heaven.

He's whining, biting into his fist, knees all wobbly. the texture of your tongue drives him nuts — then it clicks. oh, this is why my best friend is obsessed with his girlfriend. This is why he can't shut up and stop oversharing his sex life with me.

'Cause heaven really does exist on her tongue.

"fuck, slow down..." Satoru tries to ease his cock out your mouth, feeling his orgasm threatening to erupt at any moment.

But Suguru pushes you back down on his cock, filling your cheeks again, "nah, keep going baby, he's gonna cum — aren't you Satoru? You're gonna cum in my girl's mouth, huh? Come on, big boy, I know how long you've wanted this. Fill this little slut's mouth with your cum."

Those taunting words push him over the edge. His heavy balls tighten up as he feels you suckling his swollen head, and then white ropes come bursting out.

"Ahh—gh! Fuck... nn!"

Satoru's legs give out and he moans like you've never heard a man moan before, releasing all the cum he's worked up for you like he's been waiting years to do this. Actually, he has been waiting years — waiting patiently to find an opportunity to make your jaw ache and eyes well up with tears.

"Baby, you gonna swallow my best friend's cum f'me?" Suguru encourages, stroking his cock lazily against your cheek now.

He watches you compliantly swallow Satoru's seed, and Satoru twitches at the sight.

Huffing, Satoru comes down from his high and brushes his white wispy bangs out of his eyes. He's glaring down at your mouth.

"... still fucking hate you... " Satoru mutters to you in a voice still shaky with the after-effects of his orgasm.

"I still hate you, too." you smile back at him.

His heart flutters and bottom lip twitches. He can't stop staring at your lips, your eyes, your hips, your thighs.

"Ah, Satoru, quit your act — you're the one who proposed this idea in the first place."

You went red in the face. It was Satoru's idea? The mister goody-two-shoes, know-it-all, all A+++ report cards, 'sex is beneath me' Satoru?

"Huh? I thought this was your idea..." but before you can express your surprise you're already feeling Suguru nudge his cockhead against your lips.

"Sh sh, now it's my turn, baby. Open wide."