#but they are not going to become president of the united states | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

georgiapeach30513 · 18 days ago

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Nothing You Could Do, Part 1

Summary: You were just a sassy bartender minding your business, and then he showed up. America's prince, soon to be king, or in other word's future President of the United States of America. Things kicked off way too fast. You just want to be your normal self. But Steve Rogers needs you. Can you navigate being a self sufficient woman in DC, and the woman on his arm?

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, PIV sex, dirty talk, fingering, oral sex (F receiving), squirting, rough, degradation, dumbification, spitting, stuffing things in reader's mouth, cum play, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 7.3K

*dividers created by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist

Steve leafs through a few more papers before laying them down on his desk. He runs his hand over the back of his neck, massaging the ache that he’s had there for over an hour. Things are becoming a reality. He is a candidate for president of the United States of America. Something he’s wanted his entire life. And yet, something still feels off.

Be a good man. That’s what his mother repeated to him everyday growing up. She didn’t care where he landed in life, she just wanted to make sure he was a good man. He thinks for the most part he’s accomplished that. Some, only Gail, would say that he didn’t find someone to share it with. But in all fairness, he’s never truly looked. Someone would come along if they were meant to share a life with him.

But who would want to share a life with him now? Now that he is starting to campaign for president. This isn’t an easy life. It’s nonstop. It would need to be someone willing to give up so much of themselves, and their life, and he’s not ready for that. Nor should it be what he’s worried about right now.

Right now he wants to sign a few more things, and head out. His one night a week that he asks for. This may be the last one, not if he has it his way. He gives up so much of his time, and that’s okay, but he still needs those couple of hours to just drink some beer at the bar. Pretend he isn’t who he is. Deny it if he’s asked.

“Boss?” Steve politely rolls his eyes while looking down before he greets the means well, but still annoying personal assistant Peter. “Um, you told me to tell you when it was six o’clock, sir, Mr. President, Rogers, sir.”

“Steve is just fine,” he reminds him again. Steve scribbles out his signature before stacking the papers in a neat pile, and tucking them into an envelope. “Can you make sure that Natasha gets these?” He asks, standing up to grab his coat.

Peter clears his throat, and then straightens up quickly, “Gail said that you don’t need to go out tonight.”

“Gail needs to mind her business.”

“She’s worried about security, sir,” Peter grabs the coat from Steve, and holds it up. Helping him get in, while Steve is trying to not be frustrated.

“Bucky will be with me,” Peter clears his throat, and shakes his head no. “Bucky will be late?”

“She thinks that Mr. Barnes gets distracted while it’s just the two of you,” there is no one that has ever looked after Steve quite like Bucky.

“Does she propose I take Sam with me?”

“The future vice president at a bar with the president?” Peter cringes. Steve could almost get away with it on his own. He just doesn’t shave before going out. Shaving was for the television. Who knew a beard could make all the difference in one’s appearance.

“Look, kid, Bucky can handle this. Even with a distraction there is no one I trust more than him to keep me safe. Now if you would excuse me I have somewhere I need to be. I’ll have Bucky text you the coordinates for the bar tonight. By the way, he went there earlier this week, and cleared it. You’re welcome,” Steve walks out, leaving Peter’s breathing to increase.

His job isn’t to make sure that Steve listens to everything Gail suggests, no. Peter’s job was to assist Steve. If Gail would let him do his job, he would be quite excellent. Less annoying because all he wanted was to please Steve, but feels an obligation to please Gail. A stickler for doing things by the book.

He walks out of his office, and directly into the parking lot where Bucky is waiting with a car. The one person that is bound and determined to make sure that Steve remains Steve, and not Mr. Rogers or just Mr. President. Bucky keeps Steve humble and grounded. And he’s not above reminding Steve of his tiny and sickly self. It’s what makes the world go round.

“Slade!” Your head turns to the door, where your boss screams a name that is definitely not yours, but fake names in this city are always a good idea. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Smoking,” you smile, bringing the stick to your mouth for a quick pull, and he jerks it out of your hand, “Hey! That was my cigarette!”

“That was a stick,” you know it was only a stick, you weren't a moron. “Why are you out here pretending to smoke a stick?”

“Because Anna comes out here to puff on a stick that causes cancer. Jacob vapes, and who knows what issues that could cause, and they are out here for twenty minutes, without clocking out, so they get paid.”

“It’s an addiction,” he says, his voice flat.

“An addiction that is being rewarded, while me, who doesn’t smoke, is working inside by myself. So I have decided that I am taking a smoke break twice a night, and getting paid for it as well. Scott, you know I’m right. They are costing you money,” you can’t exactly argue with reality. Deny it if he wants to, you are taking it upon yourself to make sure you are fairly treated like the other.

He rolls his eyes, holding the door open for you, “Get back inside.”

Lifting up your watch you shrug, “I’ve still got five minutes left.”

“You’ve seriously been standing out here, sucking on a stick for fifteen minutes?”

You laugh, shaking your head no. That is just silly, “No. I’ve been standing out here holding a stick for fifteen minutes. I only sucked on it when you came out here and disturbed my peace. Do you come out here when everyone else is smoking?”

“They’re actually smoking,” he says flatly.

”I don’t want to get cancer, but I also would like to have a paid break just like everyone else. Would you prefer that I took a beer break?” Scott seems to be playing favorites, when you know that it’s really yourself that is the favorite.

“No,” he walks off, but you decide you’re going to follow him, and annoy him. He’s easy to annoy, and you quite enjoy it. “Slade, quit following me.”

“We’re not finished with this conversation. I’m trying to figure out why I am not allowed to take a smoke break and not spend money, and not get cancer,” perfect logic.

“Huh?”

“I don’t want to waste my money on vape or cigarettes. I don’t want cancer. But I do want to go outside and ‘smoke’,” you wiggle your fingers in quotations to emphasize how you're not actually going to be smoking, in case he forgets. “In this society as a woman it’s hard enough for me to make it ahead of men anyways. I’m just trying to better myself. Trying to do what’s right in a man’s world, while saving my money in order to buy a house.”

“You could make more money dancing,” you retch. He’s suggested this a few times to you, and you just feel in DC if you became a dancer, then you would become the dirty little secret of some politician. One that doesn’t want you to dance for others anymore. Just him. Or her. Hey, it’s a modern world. Corrupt politicians are a dime a dozen, and it doesn’t discriminate against genders.

“I’m just saying,” Scott isn’t creepy. It’s this back and forth game you play. His bar doesn’t actually have dancers.

“I make very good tips here.”

“And once you’ve bought your house what are you going to do?” You hadn’t really thought about that. You had a goal, a big pretty white house with a nice fenced in yard. You’d get a dog. You’re unsure of the breed, but you want to adopt. Maybe a cute little mutt. “So you make the money for a house, and then what? You keep working here?”

“Yes! Because what is life if I can’t annoy you on a regular basis?” Scott rolls his eyes, and points behind the bar. “We’ll continue our conversation at another time, Mr. Lang. Please, make sure you leave any suggestions in the little box in my locker for me!”

“Get back to work!” He screams over his shoulder. You are back at work. And only one man is at the bar, and the suspicious man from earlier this week is just randomly walking around. You narrow your eyes as you watch the odd man before leaning on the bar to the slumped over man.

“You look as if you need Advil,” and a really long nap.

“Do you have any?” He asks, his hand goes to massage his neck, lifting himself up in the process, and you gulp. This man is obnoxiously attractive. His hair is just that odd length of long that you crave, and the blue behind his glasses is gorgeous. And then he gives you a cocky sideways grin.

“No,” he furrows his brows at your weird inflection of your tone, “You need to just lean right on over. I can’t look at you and hold a conversation.”

“Why?” Why? Did he seriously ask you why? Because he’s too fucking attractive.

“Because you’re the stupid kind of attractive that gets me in trouble,” the kind of attractive that makes you fall in love on a first date, and then you let him walk all over you.

“Oh yeah? And how’s that?” Could he not be so — pretty? There’s this adorkable quality to him, and you want to throw your bar towel in his face. Just to hide his looks, and eyes from looking in your direction. Turd.

“Well, you’re the annoying attractive man that sits there, and flirts with me all night.”

“Oh really?” You weren’t even finished! Yep. He’s the kind. He’s already interrupting your thought process.

“The kind that acts all innocent, and then when they see me about to close down the bar, you whisper in my ear, ‘You wanna continue this conversation?’ And the answer is yes, yes, I want to continue this conversation. And of course you’re going to take me to some sleazy hotel room, and there’s no talking involved at all, just horizontal dancing. And you know what the worst part is?”

“I don’t, but I have a feeling no matter what my answer is, you are going to tell me anyway. So why don’t you just go ahead and tell me, so I don’t have to play a guessing game,” oh, he’s good. He is hitting all your morally gray flags.

“The worst part is you’re the type of man that could get me to role play, and quite honestly, I’ve never understood the point. Here we are two adults, and we can be who we say that we are, you know?” Do you even know? Because you are not even Slade.

“What’s wrong with role play?” Oh, cheeky son of a bitch. “And do you actually have Advil?” You do. You reach into your apron, because yes, bastards here can be annoying, and you just need something to ease the pain in your head since you can’t tell them that they’re insufferable and you don’t want to converse with them. Good tips are important. “You’re not trying to poison me are you?”

To prove that you aren’t, you take two pills out for yourself before offering them to him. God, he has nice hands. No! Do not fall for this sorcery. “The problem with role play is the fact you spend a few hours on a scene, instead of just getting to the good part.”

“What’s the good part?” He cocks up an eyebrow at you, and you just know this asshole is enjoying this.

“Sex of course,” he licks his lips slowly, and you watch every movement of every goddamn muscle like you’re studying for a test. He has the best crinkles around his eyes. He’s not some young boy, so you know he knows how to use what he’s got, “What do you want to drink?” You have got to create some space between the two of you and this conversation. It’s derailing, and if you don’t stop he’ll be in the supply closet with you on your knees. This man is making it hard to breathe.

“Just some beer on tap. I’m not that picky.”

“Seriously? I would have pegged you for a Miller guy or something,” that stupid eyebrow does that thing again. “Maybe Budweiser. You seem all American,” he seems like he would look great over you. STAP!!! Focus.

“Please, don’t peg me,” you’re the one smirking at him now. Those powerful men love being pegged. So your bestie, who is just some girl on TikTok and you don’t know her at all, but that’s what she says. Powerful men love to be topped. Being a power bottom somehow makes them feel free to not think, and they can just enjoy.

“He’s got jokes,” you wink at him, starting to fill him a glass up.

“Well, you’re the one that brought up sex,” you lay the pint in front of the man, sliding it over. Watching as he takes a drink.

“How’s my head?” He chokes. Sputtering beer onto the bar, and the odd man that has been here nearly every night this week turns to look at him. “That bad? I’ll have to try better next time.”

“This isn’t at all how I saw my evening going. Do you have a name?”

“Slade. And you?”

He picks up his phone, looking through something, and you fear you might have gone too far, “I would have pegged you for a Meadow.”

“What?” where the hell did that come from?

“Slade means valley. Meadow seems a bit more suitable for you. Ah, but it also means a place of refuge, and that’s what you’ve been for me tonight,” you smile softly. Not your flirty little smile, but a smile of being seen for once. Somehow your awkward humor has given the bar hottie some refuge from whatever has given him a headache, “Steven.”

“We can forgo last names tonight, Steven. What is it that you do? You’re definitely a politician,” the stupid eyebrow again! Curse him and his sexy hot ways. You’d think he was an asshole, if he wasn’t also just so sweet. “Let me guess a congressman?”

“Presidential candidate,” you guffaw. Snort. Seriously, it’s the ugliest laugh that has ever come out of your mouth, and the weird shadow man looks over at the two of you again. He’s probably this man’s bodyguard. Ahh, makes sense. He was canvassing the place. You wonder what he discovered.

“Okay,” you answer, pouring the two of you a shot of vodka. Sliding it over towards him, you raise your hand for a cheer, “To Mr. President.”

“To Meadow,” whatever. You didn’t care what you called him. They’re all fake names anyways. He’s going with a presidential candidate just as much as you’re going to be the Queen of England.

You raise the glass to your lips, drinking it all down, “If you’re the presidential candidate then I’m the Princess of Genovia.”

“That’s a made up country. Wouldn’t you rather a real one?” It’s endearing that he knows that at all.

“Princess of Monaco.”

“Alright, Grace Kelly,” stupid damn crooked smile.

“I thought I was your Meadow?”

“Mine?” Fuck his eyebrow. “When did you become mine?”

“I suppose it was the moment you and your stupid brow did that thing. Could have been when you looked at me. I guess it was that easy,” shit. Shit shit shit. “Not that I’m easy. It was easy. It meaning I’m going to shut my damn mouth, Mr. President. Would you like another glass of cheap beer?” imagine, the president at this dive bar drinking cheap beer!

“No, I don’t like to be fully impaired.”

“Fully impaired for what?” Good grief! “Man, fuck your eyebrows.”

“Sorry, they’ve offended you, my Meadow. That was never the intention. Of course, my intention was to come here for a beer, and then I ran into an awkwardly charming bartender who just so happens to be the Princess of Monaco. Does this mean we’re role playing?” Shit! One conversation, and now he’s role playing with you. You said you didn’t like that.

“Does this mean we’re eventually going to get to the good stuff?” You’ve made a fool of yourself this entire conversation, but for some unknown reason it worked. This man is lying about who he is, just like you are, but you don’t care. The only thing that you care about now is feeling him. He’ll be gone before you wake up. But you have to know what his dick looks like. And just how long he doesn’t last.

“Are you going to try to do better at your head?” Oh he is a cheeky little bastard. So those gray flags that you always ignore are starting to turn into a shade of green. No man is perfect. And this is just the good stuff after the role play.

“I’ve never had anyone complain about my head before,” his tongue moves out of his mouth, and he traces it over his pillow pink lips. Pulling the puffy bottom into his mouth before he bites on it. After the distraction you look at his left hand, “Are you married, Mr. President?”

“I’m not.”

“Are you lying?”

“No,” the ultimate red flag is non-existent. He could be lying, but there isn’t a tan line. there always is. These politicians love to traipse around with their shiny band for everyone to see, but they come in here, and remove it, but the line remains. They can fool the country, but they can’t fool the bartender that they want to fuck.

“So which sleazy hotel are we going to?”

“The Four Seasons,” now you’re the one to choke. Obviously he isn’t running for president because he wouldn’t be caught dead taking a broke bartender into The Four Seasons with him, “Only the best for the Princess of Monaco.”

Your body slams into the wall, while Steven fumbles around with the keycard. His mouth is devouring your own, and you moan at the taste of beer lingering on his tongue. He pulls you in tighter to his body, his leg bent at the knee so you straddle his leg in the most unladylike way, and you grind down on him, “The Princess of Monaco is…”

“If you say slutty, Mr. President, we’re going to have a problem,” his chuckle is low and rumbling as he finally gets the damn door open, and he drags you into the suite with him. His mouth attaches to whatever part of your body he can get to. Nipping and sucking on your neck while you stare in awe looking at the suite.

“Holy fuck,” you surmise, gazing at how beautiful this room is. It’s bigger than your fucking apartment. Maybe he isn’t a politician but a businessman. Maybe he was in the mob! You won’t say a word. Steven is probably a made up name just like Slade. Meadow is nice. You could change your name to Meadow.

“If you think my mouth is good here, just you wait,” he rips at your jeans. Pulling them apart, and you look at him confused. Did he just speak? Wait, the good stuff is supposed to be happening. But this view!

“What?” He stopped for some reason.

“What?” He stands up straight, realizing your needy little body has stopped humping air, and he wonders if things have changed instantly. “What is happening?”

“I was looking at the suite. You can continue to undress me. I can let you fuck me from behind while I look at this view. Holy hell!”

Stepping away from him, you go over to the window, staring out at the city. It’s amazing. Beautiful in a weird way. “Are you not into — did I read everything wrong here?”

“Oh, no. I’m totally down to fuck. I have this huge, giant need to know what your dick looks, feels, and tastes like. But I’m just seriously caught up in this room. Holy shit, how much did this cost?” Too much. Steven is in the mob. His name is probably Captain Shawshank!

“Do you realize you’ve said holy in front of every curse word known to man?” Lies.

“Holy damn. Now, I believe that’s all the words,” you practically skip out of the living area, and walk into one of the rooms, whistling. “There’s more than one room in here. After you fuck me are you going to make me go into another room to sleep, so you can be in here alone? Are you going to call me a car, and I have to walk out the back door? Are,” his thick finger presses up against your mouth, and he shushes you like you're a damn child.

“None of the above. I’m going to take your pants off, and throw you on the bed. Then I’m going to crawl in between your legs, and suck on that pretty little clit that is swollen and in need of attention. Then I’m going to fuck you like a dirty little slut. You know longer will be the Princess of Monaco, but the President’s whore,” green flag. Green flags all around! You would very much like to be ‘the president’s whore’. Clearly, you’re into role play after all.

“I like that,” you sigh.

He presses his mouth against yours. Biting on your lower lip, “You like that?” The timbre of his voice rattles you to your core, and arousal floods your nether region, and you begin to hump the air again. His smile is full of sin, and you wish his leg was in between your thighs again.

“Uh huh,” you whimper. Pulling off your lip he picks you up, and tosses you onto the bed. He takes a few steps towards you, and you shake your head, “You told me you were going to crawl in between my legs, that is very much walking.”

Steve growls but does get down on his knees, and he crawls to the bed. Gripping to your foot, he yanks you down to the edge of the bed, and rips apart your legs. Kissing in between your thighs before he begins to pull your pants off. Inhaling so deeply when your mound is uncovered by denim, “Did you just smell me? What do I smell like?”

“Heaven,” he answers coolly. He tosses your pants to the side before he returns to pull your panties down.

“You do have a condom, right? I actually never have sex with random strangers, especially not ones that claim that they’re a presidential candidate. You know, you really do sound insane when you say that,” he chuckles, and you feel it right on your sex. He’s controlling you with his voice alone. He hooks his fingers around the elastic of your panties, and starts to pull.

It’s both too fast, and not fast enough, “You didn’t answer about the condom part. I am on birth control, but Mr. President, you could have a disease that I can’t wash off,” he stops the descent of your panties, leaving you spread and bear, and it causes you to whine in protest. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his wallet, and he tosses you a condom. Then another. And another. And another.

“Stop!” You scream sitting up, and looking into his wallet. “How many are there?”

“There should only be five, but I don’t like odd numbers so there’s six,” that fucking eyebrow. He knows. You told him what that damn thing does to you, and now he’s using it against you.

“Ahh!” You shove your hand over his brows, and try to breathe, “Are they expired? Why do you have six?”

“Because I don’t like odd numbers,” he repeats, smiling, and even though you can’t see it, you know he’s moving that stupid sexy brow. How are eyebrows sexy again?

“No, I mean, did you intend to sleep with six random strangers tonight? Or…?” Please say no!!

“Princess, I don’t sleep around because it usually comes back to bite me in the ass,” sure sure because ‘he’s a presidential candidate’. “But if I ever decide to fuck someone as you so colorfully say, I don’t want one time typically. I want it all night. So why don’t you check the expiration dates, while I have a snack,” he sinks lower on the floor, before he’s face to face with your pussy.

He rips your panties off, “I’ll have more delivered here,” he says before licking a swipe up your slit, and he moans. A moan so deep and guttural that your eyes roll in the back of your head, and you drop back on to the bed, and grab one of the condoms.

Steve buries himself in your drenched folds. His beard tickles your thighs and puss in the best possible way. Vision? Who needs it? You most certainly did, until whatever the fuck he’s doing with his tongue happened. It flicks over your overly sensitive nub while both his hands pull you apart, “What a pretty little pussy this is.”

Oh, this man is about to dirty talk you into an orgasm. The art of dirty talk is lost on most men. They don’t understand the importance of being vocal. Moan at the tastes and pleasures that we women give you. Tell us what you’re going to do with us. We’re not made of glass, and a lot of the time, women want you to be rough as fuck.

He pushes two fingers inside your wet heated channel, and moans again, “What’s the matter, princess? You already going dumb on just my fingers?” No, you’re not. You’re enjoying the feeling. “Go on, what’s the expiration date, baby?” His lips wrap around your clit, and he gives the button a hard suck, causing you to see stars. Mewling out his name, and your legs start to tighten around him.

He uses the width of his body to keep you good and spread, and tsks you, “I’ve just got started. But I need you to be a good girl, and read me what the expiration date on the condom is. Just to make sure it’s allowed for me to fuck you. If they’re expired, then I guess there’s going to be no fucking, or I’ll have to call someone to bring me a box of condoms, and I really don’t want to do that.”

You don’t want that either. No no. You want at least six times tonight. He can call for another box later in the night. Wait, who the fuck is bringing him condoms? What a weird thing to call for. Can you have condoms DoorDashed?

He pumps his fingers into you, and you attempt to read the back of this packet. Why the hell is it shiny? And where is the damn expiration date? You know that they have them. “Your pussy is so fucking greedy. You think she can handle a third finger?” No, but you’d like to try.

“I think she can. Just gotta ease number three in,” pleasure blinds you, and again, you can’t read anything on the back of this stupid tiny foil packet. Thank goodness you’re not allergic to latex because you can’t hold off a single second of actually seeing how his cock feels inside of you. “Go on. I know you can do it,” condescending sexy as fuck asshole.

“Steven, I can’t,” he lets his teeth drag over your clit, and you sob out his name again. “Steven!”

“That’s Mr. President to you, princess. Now, try again. Read the expiration, and I’ll give this greedy little pussy what she really wants, my throbbing fat cock,” yes. Yes, that is exactly what your pussy wants. You wish he’d give it to her right now. When the hell did you start referring to your puss as a she? The power of Steven, Mr. President.

“Mr. President, I can’t.”

“Then I’m going to stop,” you sit up on your elbows to stare at his beard soaked in your essence, and he leans back on his calves. Leaning away from her! Your pussy. “Read the expiration date first. And then I’ll let you come on my fingers. And after that, if the condoms aren’t expired, I’ll fuck you like the needy little slut that you are.”

“Oh my god!” The sound of your voice is like a bratty child. You want him so bad. So much. That’s another reason that you can’t even concentrate. You’re horny, and you need to come. “Mr. President, I wanna come!”

“Expiration date, sweetheart.”

You growl in protest but read over this tiny stupid fucking print. Who the hell did this? Who designed this to look like this? Stupid people that weren’t in the middle of getting their back broken by a lying fucking god. If he was telling the truth, you’d be fucking a presidential candidate. Haha, wouldn’t your parents be so proud that you took someone like him home? Well, he paid for the damn room. At least he has money.

“Ahh! Ooh ooh! They don’t expire for another three months! Make me come.”

“As you wish,” he says before he is tongue fucking you into oblivion. You thought his fingers felt nice. This is a different feeling. This is primal. My god, he’s so dirty, and you almost hope he is a presidential candidate, just so you will know how a president fucks. His tongue is replaced by three fingers, and he sucks and finger fucks you roughly.

Slamming those fingers into your body like it’s what he was made to do. Curling his digits and hitting a spot in your body that only you have only discovered. No man has ever found this hidden gem. The dam to pleasure. It only means one thing, and you try to tighten your legs together. Shivering at the build up that he’s creating.

“You dirty little slut. You know what I’m trying to do, don’t you?” he’s trying to soak himself, and you for that matter.

“Mr. President!” Your voice is so uneven. He’s gotta stop hitting that spot or else…

“Go on, darling. Soak me. Squirt all over me. Come on. Give it to me. Give me what I want. Yes! Fucking yes!” He yells out a hoop of triumph as you squirt arousal all over his chest. “Fucking dirty girl,” he pushes his face back into your wetness, and laves up your juices. Giving you the time that you need to come down from that fucking high.

Before you even realize what is happening, he’s pulling off his shirt, and he looks better with it off. A few hidden tattoos that make you drool. If he’s telling the truth, he’s going to be the hottest fucking president ever. And he has hidden tattoos? Drool. God help your body. He pulls off his pants, and of course he’s a boxer briefs man. You want to cry happy tears at the size of his bulge. You’re a glutton for punishment, and you want him to ruin your cunt. Judging from the impossible starin of his underwear, he’s going to.

Leaning over your body, he starts chuckling as he removes your shirt. “Are your legs like jello, princess?” Yes. He just made your body have a damn waterfall, and your brain is trying to catch up, and he has the arrogance to ask that? Yes. You are jello. “I like seeing you pliable like this. Just means I’m going to get to fuck you the way I want to.”

Whoever is out there to ask for forgiveness, you promise to after he treats you like his own personal whore. Removing your bra, he smirks, “Yeah,” he slaps at your tits, moaning when you yip at the slight pain. “Perfection. I’m about to make you my little sex doll. What do you think about that?”

“Yes, please!” You sound like an idiot, and you don’t care. “Mr. President. I want to see your cock, please.”

“Oh, and she’s got manners, too. Does she just want me to forgo niceties, and just fuck you like the needy little slut you are?”

“Oh god, yes,” he reaches on the bed to retrieve one of the six condoms, and then starts to roll down his underwear. You try to be polite, and look him in the eyes, but there’s a glorious cock right there, that you have to see. He peels them down further, and his cock springs to life. Perfect. Pretty spongy mushroom tip with beads of precum oozing out. A beautiful vein traced on the underside of his cock, and right up his happy trail.

You want to bite it. Trace that vein with your tongue. You’re such a loser simp for this beautiful man, and you don’t care. You’ll shout it to the world that you are his sex toy if he wants you to. You didn’t care as long as he puts that pretty cock inside of you.

Steven brings the packet to his mouth, and his teeth clamp on a corner before he peels it off. Spitting the corner off with a pffft. Bits of his spittle float into the air, and you wish he’d just spit on you. In you. Make you swallow it, you didn’t care. He curls his finger, wiggling it, and beckoning you closer. You clamber up on your knees, both of you naked and ready to be owned and claimed by the other.

“If you want me, put it on me,” you look at him through your lashes before you take the packet, and pull the rubber out. You grip his velvet steel rod in your hand before placing the latex on the tip, and roll it down his length. Counting inches as you go along.

“Nine. Inches that is, and you’ll take every inch,” his voice is so gruff, and you can’t wait to try and fit his heavy, hot, pulsing cock inside of you.

“I do love a challenge.”

“Then lay back. Because I’m not stopping until every inch is inside of you,” every glorious nine inches of him. Yep. You’re a goner. Done. Finished. Whatever it is that he has, you’re taking. You settle yourself back on the bed, and Steven knees himself to his perfect spot, and uses his cock to slap over your clit.

He wiggles his tip through your slick. Always ending at your clit, and he adds a bit more pressure. Running the tip through your warmth, and pushes through your entrance, and he pulls back up. Repeating the process over and over again, until you’re weak, and wondering when you actually get to feel him.

Steven sinks into you past the tip. Watching you to make sure you’re still okay with where things are going, and adds another inch. You hiss at the wide stretch. He’s not just long, he is so wide. His fullness pushes you open in the most lewd and salacious way. This is such a vulgar moment, and yet it still feels so right. It feels like heaven.

Adding another inch, you grab onto his forearms, nodding for him to continue. Another inch. And another. Not stopping until the tip whispers against your cervix, and he’s fully sheathed in your warmth. “Do you want me to treat you like a whore, or like I love you,” that’s the thing about you and him, you both know this isn’t love. It’s two adults giving each other pleasure. And you haven’t had that in so long.

“I’m your whore, Mr. President, use me,” that damn brow cocks up, and he gives you a crooked smile. A warning because he isn’t going to take it easy on you. Wrapping his hand around your neck, he lifts you up and crashes his mouth into yours in sync with how he thrusts his hips into you. He’s so deep that you go cross eyed. He’s stealing your breath away with his mouth, and the harshness of the drive of his hips.

Fucking you in two. You feel this man up to your eyeballs, “Meadow, we’re going to have a long night if you’re already going dumb. Are you giving me permission to…”

“Yes!” You shout without any hesitation. “Yes, just fuck me. Whenever, however you want. Just always wear a condom,” he nods his head once, and both his hands grip onto the headboard. And he RAILS into you. You understand the need for multiple beds now because you’re embarrassingly leaving a mess all over this one. Your arousal pools underneath you, and the squelching sounds of your cunt echo in the room.

What the fuck is he doing to your body, and how? How is he able to control your body the way he is? Make you feel floaty and boneless, while also shocking you with aching pleasure. He is glorious, and you’re going to have him all night. Who knows, maybe he can continue to come into the bar and fuck your brains out.

“You’re body is so fucking reactive,” he grunts as he drills into your body. How is this man single? There is a bad trait in there somewhere. He lies about what it is he does of course. “Hey,” he snaps his fingers at your face, “Stay with me.”

Rude. But true. His face makes this so much better. You can look at him without imagining that you have Henry Cavill fucking you. This view is very nice indeed. “Don’t stop fucking me!”

“Shh,” he coos down at you. “I know you’re going all limp and everything, but you don’t have to shout at me,” you didn’t shout, “You very much did shout. If you can’t behave I’ll have to fill your mouth with something,” he is a devil, and you scream his name again. “Suit yourself.”

“No! Come back!” Sex should always feel so good that you beg them not to leave you. “Oh,” he keeps fisting his cock, while he searches for something on the floor. “Your ass is quite nice.”

“Yours isn’t bad either. Aha!” Bending over, he retrieves something from the floor, and then looks at you with a smile. What is he going to do with that? “My my, you were soaked at the bar. Were you leaking out on your thighs?”

“Yes,” there’s no point in denying that Steven has made you wetter than anyone ever has before. He knows it, too.

“Good girl,” you want to melt. You want to die right here. He can’t be saying words like that and think that your body won’t respond. “Open your mouth, and stick out your tongue,” you respond quickly, “Such a good girl.”

He inches closer to you. His mouth hovering right over yours, and he licks up your tongue. You shiver. Your body pushes you closer to him because you want more, and he spits on your tongue, “Swallow,” you listen so well, “Very good girl. Now, get on your knees. This next part is going to go fast because your tight little pussy is making it really hard for me not to bust a nut just looking at you spread, and gaping because of me.”

“I’m — what?” You look down at your body, gasping. “What…?”

“On. Your. Knees. Or I make you watch myself come in my hand,” oh, hell no. You get onto your knees, and lean forward. Arching your back, and showing him exactly what he gets to have for the rest of the night. Well, five condoms worth. “Thatta girl,” swoon. Asshole. Asshole! He reaches around your body, shoving your panties into your mouth, and you cry, arching your back even more. He’s filthy.

Steven lines himself up to your entrance, grabbing onto your hips with so much force that you know you’ll have his fingerprints etched into your skin for a couple of days. With one hitch of his pelvis, he slams into you balls deep, “Mmm!” You don’t care, your mouth is stuffed, you’re going to be as loud as you possibly can. He fills you so well. The fullness inside of you is the most pleasant exhilaration you have ever experienced.

But the way he grunts and moans with each harsh slide into you. His balls slapping up against your clit — this is perfection. He spits down to your hole, and you just know he’s about to turn even more gray flags green, and he pushes his thumb into your puckered ass, and if you could form words, they would be thanking him.

“You’re such a fucking dirty girl. You like this? You like how I fuck you like a dirty little slut?” Yep. You like it a lot, but you can’t tell him that. Not while you’re tasting your own honey. Not while you are coating his thick cock with your cream. Not while he is filling every hole in some weird way. Nope. You can’t think. Your synapses are sparking up with so much delight. A numbing pleasure that makes no sense other than your body is lifted into another world with the god of pleasure and debauchery.

“Your pussy has been pulsing around me for five minutes, did you know that?” Yeah. You are feeling that. You even feel the vein on his cock throbbing in your tight channel. “Fuck yeah. Yes! I’m almost there. You’re coming with me,” one of his hands dips between your legs, and he rubs over your clit with so much ferocity that your legs tremble. Falling down onto the bed, and he just keeps fucking you into a black hole.

Shuddering and shaking. Muffled screams that make no sense. And his hips snap into you, darkening your backside with heat. He’s so powerful. “I’m. Fuuuuuuck! Coming,” warmth balloons into the latex, and he slows his rhythm. Easing into a slow roll of his body, until he slides out of you. Flipping you onto your back, and you are surrounded in so much wetness.

He pulls the panties out of your mouth, tossing them back onto the floor. His eyes coast over your overstimulated body, still tweaking as he pulls the condom off himself. Grabbing the tip, Steven dangles it over your mouth letting his spend drip onto your mouth where you hungrily lick it up. He could fall in love with you at this moment.

You’re the best stress reliever he’s ever had. “You look so pretty coated in me.”

“Next time, why don’t you let me feel you explode on me? I could paint myself with your cum.”

“You’re the best kind of disgusting,” he smiles, and hops off the bed, and pulls you up to him. “Let’s get you showered. Then we’ll order some room service, and you need to hydrate. You made a mess of that bed.”

“Sorry,” you cringe. As you look over the mess of the bed. It’s soaked. Ruined. You feel sorry for whoever has to clean this mess.

“Do not apologize because I wasn’t issuing a complaint. Are you tired? It is late. We’ll figure it out in the shower,” is this man really offering to shower with you? How is that both sweet and hot. “Don’t get me hard in the shower, and I know that will be difficult because I know what you feel like. Not to mention, you looking like that, and because of me, it’s really working for you,” you know you’re wrecked. Your eyelids at half mast with the high that is coursing through your body.

“Who is the talkative one now, Steven.”

“You can either call me Steve, or Mr. President, Meadow,” you see the game that the two of you are playing. And either it’s just going to be good for tonight, or you could see yourself falling for this man, despite his need to lie about his job. It’s fine. You’re fine. As long as he fucks you like that again. You can pretend he’s the future president.

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @kmm-fluv @distractingbeth @buckybarnesisdaddy @musingsfromthemitten

@disneyprincessbuffyannesummers

#nothing you could do #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fics #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfics #chris evans #chris evans character #marvel

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reasonsforhope · 5 months ago

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Article

"The Democratic Party largely coalesced around Vice President Harris as its likely new presidential nominee on Monday [July 22, 2024], as she kicked off her campaign by promising to prosecute a forceful case against Republican nominee Donald Trump and defend the legacy of President Biden.

Hours after she delivered remarks laying out some of the themes of her campaign, Harris secured pledges of support from a majority of Democratic National Convention delegates, a forceful show of unity behind her presidential campaign that signals she is likely to officially become the party’s nominee next month.

“Over the next 106 days, we are going to take our case to the American people, and we are going to win,” Harris said during a visit to campaign headquarters in Wilmington, Del., where she was greeted by a group of energized staffers for Biden’s now-abandoned candidacy. Harris accused Trump of wanting to “take our country backwards to a time before many of our fellow Americans had full freedoms and rights.” She added, “we believe in a brighter future that makes room for all Americans.”

Biden dialed into the impromptu meeting, using his first public remarks after dropping out of the presidential race Sunday to thank his staff and ask them to support Harris with “every bit of your heart and soul.”

“The name has changed at the top of the ticket, but the mission hasn’t changed at all,” said Biden, who joined remotely from Rehoboth Beach, where he has been recovering from a case of covid. “We still need to save this democracy. Trump is still a danger to the community. He’s a danger to the nation.”

The high-energy, highly unified setting reflected the broader sentiment across the Democratic Party, in which Harris’s swift ascendancy has upended an already tumultuous and unpredictable presidential race. After being exhausted by weeks of turmoil and infighting over Biden’s prospects, relieved and newly energized Democrats across the country rushed to embrace Harris’s candidacy and unite around the goal of defeating Trump.

Less than 36 hours after Biden abruptly exited the race and endorsed Harris as his successor, hundreds of state delegates, the majority of Democratic lawmakers and governors, a group of state party chairs, and several influential interest groups threw their support behind Harris, as other potential candidates said they would not challenge her. Top congressional leaders followed suit, with Senate Majority Leader Charles E. Schumer (D-N.Y.), House Minority Leader Hakeem Jeffries (D-N.Y.) and former House speaker Nancy Pelosi (D-Calif.) expressing support for Harris on Monday.

While a small number of Democrats have advocated an open, competitive process, Harris appeared to have an inside track Monday to quickly securing the nomination ahead of the party’s convention next month...

After celebrating the extended infighting and discord that plagued Democrats in the aftermath of Biden’s halting performance at the June 27 debate, Trump’s allies watched Monday as Democratic leaders quickly fell in line behind Harris.

“I’m excited to fully endorse Vice President Harris for the next president of the United States,” Kentucky Gov. Andy Beshear (D) said Monday on MSNBC’s “Morning Joe” program. “The vice president is smart and strong, which will make her a good president, but she’s also kind and has empathy, which can make her a great president.” ...

Democratic Govs. Gretchen Whitmer of Michigan, J.B. Pritzker of Illinois and Wes Moore of Maryland also endorsed Harris on Monday, joining a growing list of potential rivals for the nomination that instead opted to endorse her candidacy. Govs. Gavin Newsom of California and Josh Shapiro of Pennsylvania, each considered potential candidates, both endorsed Harris on Sunday.

Democratic leaders on Monday unveiled a new virtual process for selecting a nominee to replace Biden that would conclude by Aug. 7, ahead of the nominating convention in Chicago next month. The dates for the virtual process will be announced on Wednesday.

The private doubts about Harris’s vulnerabilities and less-than-impressive polling numbers largely remained unspoken Monday as Democrats appeared eager to consolidate around a candidate and head off a messy competition for the nomination 106 days before the Nov. 5 election. During her visit to campaign headquarters in Wilmington, Harris was greeted by more than 100 staff members who gave her a standing ovation. The room was covered in newly printed signs that read “Harris for President,” though at least one lingering “Biden-Harris” sign stood as a testament to how rapidly the presidential race had shifted.

Campaign aides said more than 28,000 new volunteers had signed up to lend support, more than 100 times the typical number. Harris, who has been traveling around the country, planned to continue her campaign travel this week.

Trump had built an advantage in polls of key swing states and has at times appeared frustrated with Biden’s exit from the race, lamenting Sunday that he had to “start all over again” after long focusing on Biden...

Harris’s operation raised a record $81 million in the first 24 hours after Biden dropped out and endorsed his vice president, aides said. A group of tens of thousands of Black women gathered on a virtual call Sunday evening to showcase their support for Harris’s bid to become the first woman of color to be president...

Harris has already begun leaning into her background as a prosecutor and state attorney general as she began to cast the race against Trump in a new light.

“In those roles I took on perpetrators of all kinds,” she said. “Predators who abused women, fraudsters who ripped off consumers, cheaters who broke the rules for their own gain. So hear me when I say I know Donald Trump’s type.”"

-via The Washington Post, July 22, 2024

#united states #us politics #election 2024 #2024 elections #uspol #kamala harris #kamala 2024 #vote kamala #biden #harris #president #good news #hope

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korrasera · 10 months ago

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Here's something really important to understand for the 2024 US presidential election:

Voting for Biden does not mean you are voting to support genocide.

Yes, the US is terrible and yes, thanks to US foreign policy we are complicit in the Israeli government's crimes against the Palestinian people. And that's going to continue until we change the system; the US president is going to continue US foreign policy, we can't change that in a single election.

What we can do, however, is elect a candidate who has taken steps to stop the genocide. An administration that is working to provide aid to Palestinians in Gaza, who has tried to lobby the Israeli government to end their attacks on Gaza.

And the alternative is an actual fascist who has said that he'll become a dictator as soon as he takes power. Trump currently ranks as the worst president in US history in a 2024 white paper and is an actual, provable threat to democracy in the United States. If we're terrible now, just imagine how bad things would get with a fascist in charge.

Here's what it boils down to:

Both candidates going to support Israel, but the Biden administration is trying to end the genocide while Trump will almost certainly encourage it.

We have a chance to push Biden and the rest of the government to change and we know that because he's already been pushed. We have no such chance with Trump.

#biden #voting #israel #palestine #genocide

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buckets-and-trees · 2 months ago

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Red, White & True - Prologue

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers (future x curvy Millennial Female!Reader), Pepper Potts Word Count: 1.3k Summary: "There was an idea..." Words at the heart of what brought the Avengers together. Steve Rogers is no longer an Avenger, having retired after The Snap and passed his shield along to Sam Wilson, but Pepper Potts has a new idea to bring Steve back out of retirement - but in a totally different arena.

Content/Warnings: none

Notes: This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

PROLOGUE

[MAY 1 - Upstate New York]

“You know I’m always happy to come out to the farm,” Steve says, rinsing the last plate and handing it to the strawberry blonde woman so she can dry and put it back on the shelf. “I love to see you and Morgan. But what do you want to talk to me about, Pepper?”

Pepper gives him a tight-lipped smile. “Let’s go to the study,” she answers, and leads the way to the back of the modern but rustic home. She takes a seat on the couch and motions for Steve to sit on the other end.

“I was sitting right here when Tony stood over there,” she nods her head toward a spot in front of Steve, “and told me he figured out the science of time travel.”

Steve’s chest aches at her words. “Pepper…”

She holds up a hand to stop him. “No, don’t apologize. I told him that was amazing and terrifying. Then we sat here together and really talked. He told me he could stop, put a pin in it, that part of him wanted to bury the idea in a lock box at the bottom of the lake. But I reminded him that we were lucky not to have lost each other in the Blip and so many others weren’t.”

She pauses for a moment and looks to the mantle where there’s a small, retired arc reactor on display. Steve waits for her to continue.

“When I started working for him, I had no idea where it would all lead. I certainly didn’t have aspirations to date my boss or become the CEO of Stark Industries. Tony will always be the love of my life, and each day that goes by, each month, each year, I miss him, but the missing hurts less. What’s left is the whisper, the urge of the legacy of everything that’s still here and what I can do with it. I haven’t been idle, but I’ve been trying to ignore my own time travel issue, if you will.”

Steve can hardly hold himself back from scoffing. “The medical research, the humanitarian initiatives, the scientific advances you’re still spearheading, it’s just not really enough if you can’t solve for world peace,” he jokes.

Pepper cocks her head slightly. “The thing is, I have an idea of where I could start on that last one.”

Steve’s eyebrows knit together, and he studies her face. “Okay…” he knew his voice was conveying his curiosity but also his trepidation.

“Stark Industries helps a lot of people, but there are things I can’t help no matter how hard I try there. The world is in a bigger mess than science can help, only so much can be done with humanitarian work, and there’s an area that’s haunting me because I’ve tried to stay out of it for as long as I could, and I just don’t think I can any more, not and still sleep at night.”

“Well, then let’s talk about it. You know I’m here for you, whatever you need. I don’t know how you think I can help, but clearly you’ve got an idea.”

“I know you retired one suit, but I’d like you to think about another.”

“Pep-”

“Not that kind of suit,” she interrupts. “There are still some good, decent people in politics, but money has poisoned so much of what goes on - lobbyists, special interests, politicians needing to fundraise. But I’ve got money. I could fund a campaign.”

Steve frowns. “What exactly are you proposing?”

“I need a candidate, and there’s no one I would trust more than you. I want to finance your campaign to run for President of the United States.”

Steve's eyes widen, and he feels as if the air has been sucked out of the room. His mouth opens and closes, but he can’t think of any initial words to come out. He stands abruptly, his legs carrying him to the large window overlooking the serene lake outside. The late afternoon sun casts a golden glow across the water, creating a stark contrast to the turmoil in his mind.

"President?" he finally manages to croak out, his voice barely above a whisper. He turns back to face Pepper, his brow furrowed deeply. "Pepper, I... I don't know the first thing about running a country. I've been a soldier, an Avenger, but never a politician."

Pepper leans forward, her eyes bright with determination. "That's exactly why you'd be perfect, Steve. You're not entrenched in the political machine. You have a moral compass that's unwavering, and a desire to help those who need it, no matter what.”

“And sometimes I failed.”

“It made you wiser every time.”

Steve plants his hands on his hips and sighs. “Pep, I’m just a kid from Brooklyn who wanted to serve his country.”

Pepper leans forward, her eyes intense and earnest. "And you've done that, Steve. You've served this country in ways most people can't even imagine. Think about what you could do as President. The impact you could have, the changes you could make. You've always fought for what's right, even when it wasn't easy or popular. That's exactly what this country needs right now."

Steve turns back to the window, his mind racing. He thinks of all the battles he's fought, the sacrifices he's made. Could he really make a difference from the Oval Office? Or would the political machine chew him up and spit him out?

"What about my past?" he asks, still facing the lake. "The Accords, going rogue, all of it. It would all come out in a campaign."

He hears Pepper stand and approach him. She places a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Your past is part of what makes you the right person for this, Steve. You've shown that you're willing to stand up for what you believe in, even when it costs you everything.”

He can feel Pepper's eyes on him, waiting for a response. He takes a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts.

"I appreciate your faith in me, Pepper. I really do," he begins, still facing the lake. "But this isn't like leading a team into battle. The complexities of running a country, the constant scrutiny, the compromises you have to make... I'm not sure I'm cut out for that."

"Steve, that's exactly why you'd be perfect for this. You understand the weight of responsibility. You've made tough decisions under pressure. And most importantly, you have a clear vision of what's right and what's wrong."

Steve turns to face her, his expression conflicted.

“I won’t lie to you,” she continues, “the public scrutiny will be worse, but it’s not something you’re unfamiliar with. Just like before, you’ll have people singing your praise and people ready to crucify you just for sport. But we’ll face it head-on. You won’t do any of it alone. We’ll put together a team of friends, people we trust, experts and strategists. We’ll find people outside our camp who will challenge us to make the campaign stronger. And when we get you in the White House, no president leads alone. You have a history of seeing the value in the people around you and bringing teams together. It’ll just be fighting a different fight.”

Steve thinks over her words. “In a different suit.”

She smiles. “You’ll do it?”

“Answer one more question for me.”

Pepper nods. “Anything.”

“Why do this?”

Steve sees the conviction settle in her entire demeanor, and that shift alone convinces him the rest of the way, but her words cement his resolve down to his core.

“Tony and Natasha didn’t sacrifice just to leave something broken behind. It’s time to help put things back together and try to leave a legacy of something better.”

go to chapter one: MANHATTAN & BROOKLYN

This is an idea that sparked in during the huge sleepover I hosted in July 2023, and it's been tantalizing me for a long time, but now the muse is finally ready to play with it! gee, I wonder why...

I can't wait to bring you along for the ride! This story will have 3-4 chapters, depending on where I split up the narrative. I anticipate about a chapter a week.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x yn #red white & true #aspen wrote something #countdown to chris-mas

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letters-to-lgbt-kids · 2 months ago

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My dear lgbt+ kids,

Statistically speaking, you’ll probably not become the first openly trans president of the United States.

This may seem like a rather negative point.. or maybe just a pretty useless one. After all, you may not have any political ambitions or even be from the US! But I still think it’s occasionally a good reminder, for this reason:

Many of us mostly hear about trans people as a faceless group, as “the others”. When we do hear about trans people as individuals, it’s either stories about victims of hate crimes - or it’s people who are the „first ever openly trans person“ to achieve something special.

Obviously we want more headlines of the latter variant. It’s a positive societal shift that people can be open about their identity while having a great career. And of course it can also be great for the reader: it can be really empowering and inspiring to read about those trailblazers.

If you have big dreams and goals, then by all means, shoot for the stars! You’ll probably have some smaller wins before you get to the „first openly trans president“ level, but I believe in you!

With that being said: it’s a false dichotomy that trans people either end up dead or famous. You may very well just end up being some person. (Or some dude. Or some girl.)

That “first ever president” title can really only go to one person anyway - the majority of trans people just live normal lives. They write emails or they sell coffee or they drive busses or they raise their kid or they are unemployed. They lead lives that won’t generate any headlines at all. And that’s okay.

Trans people can achieve great things. But you don’t need to be living proof of that. You don’t need to achieve anything. You can just exist.

Trans rights also include the right to be utterly unremarkable.

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

#lgbt #lgbt+

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storywriter007 · 1 month ago

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Younger, Friskier, Newer - Jack Schlossberg x Fem!Reader FANFIC

disclaimer: all of the work written below is purely fiction and should be treated as such! none of this is real!

summary: in which y/n realizes her husband is no different than the men who came before him

warnings: cheating, cursing

genre: angst

word count: 645

✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒

y/n made her way down the pristine hallways of the white house. she was exhausted, after being in court all day.

many people were shocked when y/n continued to work as a lawyer. being first lady didn't mean she was just going to drop her career. she'd spent her entire life building a reputation for herself.

it was five-thirty in the evening, and y/n wanted to see her husband. she was lucky enough to get off earlier than usual today, and she was looking forward to spending the extra time with her husband. she knew jack was home, she'd seen his car outside.

she arrived at the doors of the famous oval office. she pushed the heavy doors open, and felt her heart drop to her stomach.

there was her husband, making out with some girl (who looked far too young to be in the white house) in the middle of the office. the jacket of his navy blue suit had been discarded over one of the chairs, and his shirt was wrinkled. the young girl was wearing a short, black dress that was disheveled at the bottom. she watched for a few seconds, making sure the affection was mutual.

"jack?" y/n asked, her voice sounding too casual for the situation.

he pulled away from the girl instantly. his brown eyes flooded with guilt and regret as he faced his wife. the young girl began to awkwardly make her way out of the office.

"hold on." y/n said, stopping her. "it's cold outside, where's your jacket?"

"i didn't bring one." she said quietly.

"take mine sweetheart." she said calmly, giving the young girl her jacket. "get home safe. sir, please walk the young lady out."

the security guard made his way next to the girl. she nodded quickly before walking out.

"y/n, i can explain-" he started.

"you don't need to." she interrupted. "i should've seen this coming."

"what?" he asked, confused. "what do you mean?"

"you're the president of the united states. you're smart and you're charming. and no matter how much time we made for each other, even if i had left my career behind and become the perfect first lady, you were always going to cheat on me." she explained. "with someone younger, friskier, newer. because that's handsome, intelligent men do; they look for the next new thing. the next thing that can entertain them, and when they get bored of her, they find another girl."

"that's not true." he protested.

"really? then please tell me why you felt the need to cheat on me." she demanded.

"we just don't see each other often-" he trailed off.

"even if we did jack, you would've gotten bored of me, one way or another. that's why everyone cheats, don't they? because they're bored."

"y/n, i-" he started. "i'm sorry. i'm really fucking sorry. it wasn't anything more than this, this is the first time we've ever kissed."

y/n stayed silent.

"i'm sorry, i'm so so sorry." he said, his eyes filling up with an unbelievable amount of regret.

she made his way to him, fixing his tie and his shirt.

"you're so handsome. it's true, kennedy genes run strong." she smiled.

she could see the relief on his face. the tension in his face died down as he relaxed.

"but kennedy infidelity runs stronger, doesn't it?" she finished, patting his chest and turning around to walk away.

"y/n." he called out, but she didn't turn around.

she needed to be away from him. she got in her car, seeing jack call out for her from the door of the white house. when he realized she was leaving, he dashed back to grab his keys, but she wasn't waiting.

she drove on autopilot. her hands gripped the wheel tightly as tears began streaming down her face.

#angst #heartbreak #jack schlossberg #jack schlossberg x reader #jack schlossberg x y/n #jack shlossberg x reader angst #jack schlossberg x reader heartbreak #jack shlossberg angst #fanfic

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brujamala-aka-gigi · 2 months ago

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"time will tell" ... but what exactly?

i thought about making this reading because we are living at times when we all know that patience is a virtue, we all know that we should work on said virtue, and so on, yet, things move are always seemingly moving in the fastest chaotic way possible. for some of us, embracing uncertainty and the absurd ways of the universe is hard. so hopefully there's something in here that helps you to have a clearer vision on what is meant to come to you with time and experience.

dividers by: @bernardsbendystraws & @cafekitsune pngs by: @florietas

pile number one pile number two

pile number three pile number four

.‧͙˚ *༓ scroll down for the readings ⋆ִ ‧͙⁺˚

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before starting with this reading i just want to say that my heart goes to anyone on the united states that feels disappointed and is going through emotionally stressful situations due to the results of the elections. at times like this is important to find empowerment and safety by taking care of our peers and participating our communities, political organization is just as important as caring for one another. having a right wing president who borders fascism is not a great experience, i have my own alt right president here in south america, but surviving these moments is easier when you find strength alongside the people who share your ideals.

we don't owe tolerance to those who are intolerant, our time is always better spent when we are building the future we want or doing our best to face the adversities of the present. please, do not allow others to take away your humanity and your hopes.

・₊✧⋆ pile number one ⭒˚｡⋆

If someone ever told you that your expectations are unrealistic, they are not wrong, but not entirely right either. I think you're someone who unconsciously tries to be aware of every possible outcome and every single detail, it's quite a hyper vigilant way of approaching things and also a quite anxiety inducing one. I wouldn't say your expectations are unrealistic, but I would definitely say they are realistic in the context of the millions of head scenarios you have going on. Some emotions are being limited by logic and some logics are being limited by emotion. There are plenty of experiences that are coming your way in order to give you the opportunity to be more present in the moment instead of experiencing things mostly in your head. You need time to further develop your judgment, as of now it is something that is in an adolescent state, not because of immature or juvenile thinking, but because you are going through a, hopefully, slightly painful phase of your mental growth. Think of it as existential growing pains. You might have too much information, too much to think about and too much to feel about, it's a very difficult moment for you to maintain a self perceived stable or coherent point of view at all times. Take this time to comprehend what's making you feel paralyzed and unable to move forward mentally, and then you can begin doing something about this conjunction of mental and emotional stress.

・₊✧⋆ pile number two ⭒˚｡⋆

What I get from this combination of cards is that you are becoming more aware of the things that are threatening your higher self. From the Queen and the Page I can see that you are usually almost confident enough in what you bring to the table in terms of material achievements that are easily recognizable, although not always perceived or valued enough by yourself or others. I don't think I want to say there's someone or yourself gaslighting you into belittling yourself, but I do want to mention that it's likely that there's a sketchy energy near you or at least the cards are giving a heads up about negative reactions to you doing your thing and, to say simply, slaying it. What it is safe to say tho is that with time you will learn who is worthy of your generosity and your companion. It's key that you understand that any kind of success you achieve is not only valuable because of what you got from it, the value comes from what you did to get said achievements. With this in mind, don't hesitate to avoid others who drain your energy and misuse your time. Your presence by itself it's already enough for others to benefit at your cost. This is not something meant to give you a reason to be overly distrustful, this is to give you reasons to set boundaries, specially for yourself, in order to make sure whoever or whatever brings you down, it's out of your way. If people see the respect you have for yourself, it's more likely they are not even trying to waste your time.

・₊✧⋆ pile number three ⭒˚｡⋆

Being emotionally attached to the person you were in the past is obstructing your path towards further personal and existential growth. I definitely understand that sometimes the only thing that gives us a sense of stability is our own identity, and our power to define ourselves in our own terms. I don’t think you are afraid to grow or to evolve as a person, but I can see that right now you are resisting change by ignoring your intuitive need to expand your limits and find out about all the things, the positive and negative,that you choose to ignore because of old fears and anxieties. It’s very likely you know exactly what to do or what to keep and what to let go off, you certainly are aware of where to go and how to get there. What's conflicting with your ambitions right now is that you have exhausted yourself by never taking the time to appreciate how far you already are from plenty of situations that have restricted your authentic self. I honestly understand what it's like to make a lot of progress after moving away from tough situations only to realize there is more work to do in order to restore or find an integral state of peace of mind and contempt. In your case, you’re lucky because sooner or later your emotions will lead you to how you can be truthful to yourself and experience life without any of the weight from limiting perceptions that other people have imposed on you. Many things have limited time in our lives, don’t miss out on them.

・₊✧⋆ pile number four ⭒˚｡⋆

Don't force yourself to be the first to do anything or the best at anything if you're comparing yourself to others. It is not fair to set your expectations about yourself by looking at what is supposably perfect or highly desirable, yet not a true reflection of what you as an individual can accomplish in a way that's genuine to your personal journeys. It's necessary that you embrace your experiences, putting yourself and your own ideals as the guide for what it means to advance and grow. Time will show you how to build a stronger confidence in your core beliefs and how to act upon them with the efficiency and courage you might be needing right now. This will develop as you become more comfortable with allowing yourself to fail, and to learn from said failures by setting structures to support the process of becoming more connected to a higher sense of self worth. You are going through a process in which key communicational aspects are at play; many of your personal achievements will depend on your ability to share your ideas with others before taking any kind of action, as many things you’ll do will have long lasting effects. This is why I would recommend making sure you can really align your actions, your communication and your goals directly to yourself and the roots of your ideals. Don’t hurry up, it takes time to evolve and you will certainly do so by comprehending how equally confused, disoriented and impulsive we all are, and how that’s nothing anyone can ignore for too long.

if you enjoyed this post, maybe you should check out the rest of my account <3 and keep an eye open for ask games and a tarot reading giveaway (but lets not hurry too much about it please im still figuring out the logistics of a tumblr giveaway jajaja)

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mulderscully · 2 months ago

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i am not sure how to phrase this, and i am certain nothing i can say will even breach the depth of what this election means and how difficult it has been to follow.

the closer the election comes the more anxious i am becoming.

there are less than two weeks to go, and the reality of trump becoming president again feels more and more real. this is the man who told people to take horse tranquilizers during an world wide pandemic that killed millions. this is the man who has been accused of rape multiple times. this is the man who said pregnant people should be arrested for abortions. this is the man who said they are performing transgender surgeries in schools. this is the man who said shit hole counties. this is the man who threw paper towels to puerto ricans after hurricane maria destroyed the island. this is the man who called men of color rapists and criminals. this is the man who said he wants to be a dictator. this is the man who promised to finish the job of a genocide.

make no mistake that i believe kamala harris is a bad person. i do not care that she is a woman. i do not care that she is a person of color. those things do not change the fact that she is a bad person. she is not a tv character we can stan, she is not a celebrity to have a parasocial relationship with.

her stance on israel is sickening, and i do not feel proud to vote for her. but she is the only person standing between trump and dictatorship.

i do believe the people of the united states can someday challenge the broken two party system, i believe we can abolish the two party system. not in two weeks.

not voting, or voting third party, in my opinion, is not using your voice for good. a trump re-election will be catastrophic for the entire world. he will be able to choose more right wing supreme court justices.

under a kamala harris presidency we can make steps forward to press democrats in congress to do better, we can push her to make decisions we want her to as a public servant - because she may not be the best leader but she is not a dictator.

i understand the quesy feeling of this election. i understand not being proud of voting. this is not a movie where we ride off into a sunset knowing that if harris wins the world will be at peace. that is wrong. it's terrible. but i believe in the duty of making sure we use all of our power to keep pain and suffering to a minimum with the cards that have in our hands in the present moment so we can have better choice and outcomes in the future.

please, for the love of god, vote for kamala harris. we cannot more forward by going backward. we cannot stand by the door when there is an armed shooter on the other side. we have to block the way.

#us politics

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voidingintotheshout · 2 months ago

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Hey, just so you know, USA today is predicting that Trump is going to win the election in the United States that’s happening less than a month away. So if you don’t want a second Trump term, you might want to make sure that you’re registered at vote.org and to find out where your polling place is and all that other good stuff. It is a very big gamble to assume Harris has this in the bag. Even if she’s not your ideal candidate, the possibility that we may have Donald Trump is very real. Thus, this is the time that you need to really take stock of, if you’re not already definitely voting for Harris, are her negatives worth risking a second Donald Trump term because someone is going to become president and it very well might not be Kamala. Please vote.

#us politics #kamala harris #donald trump #harris walz 2024 #please vote #lgbt

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satorulovebot · 4 months ago

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THE GREAT WAR.

♱ genre. tragedy, WWI au, 18+

♱ summary. in the midst of world war I, satoru gojou drafted and sent off to the western front, leaving behind the love of his life with the promise of marrying her when he returned. he clings to the thoughts of a future with her and the letters she sends him in hopes of reuniting with her.

♱ pairings. satoru gojou, fem!reader

♱ word count. 8k

♱ tags/warnings. violence, suggestive content, major character death, profanity, mentions of drug use, weapon use, + more

♱ notes. this wasn't meant to be long or anything or fully fleshed out but i decided to share it anyways. i lowkey hate this but what can i say. i also made myself upset because of course i did. anyways likes and rb's always appreciated :)

December 1, 1917

My Dearest Love,

I hope my letter reaches you before we move further down the front and getting letters out becomes harder. I hope you’re sound asleep in our bed, enjoying dreamland with Charlie.

I wanted to let you know that I think of you every day. I keep replaying our last night together in my mind. It was so precious, and I wish I could be there with you now. We talked about our future together. Even now, even here, I still dream of that future. It’s the only thing that keeps me going.

This war has shown me things I can’t forget, things I’ll never forget. I worry for Suguru too as he’s losing himself. Baby I can’t lie to you, it’s hard out here. If something happens to me and I don’t make it back, please remember how much I love you. I love you more than words can say.

Please stay strong for me, my love. I’ll hold onto the hope that we’ll be together again someday.

With all my love,

Satoru

May 18, 1917

The radio crackles faintly as you twist the dial, trying to find the right station. The sound of distorted voices filled the small living room of your home. You are sitting on the worn couch that you and Satoru had spent countless nights on, talking about everything and nothing. Satoru sits beside you with his arm draped over your shoulders, his hand resting on your upper arm, fingers tracing slow, absentminded circles on your skin. It’s a small gesture, one that he’s done a thousand times before, but tonight it feels… different.

You finally find the station you’ve been looking for, and the voice on the radio comes through, clear and steady.

“…the President has announced that the United States will be joining the war in Europe. All eligible men between the ages of 21 and 30 are to be drafted into military service…”

You freeze at the words, like a winter chill had seeped into your bones. You feel a sharp, involuntary intake of breath, your hand tightening around the knob of the radio as if holding on to it will somehow keep the world from spinning out of control.

“They’re really doing it,” he murmurs.

You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry, and force yourself to speak. “We talked about this, but…” The words feel strange on your tongue as if they belong to someone else. “Hearing it…hearing it makes it real.”

Satoru nods, but he doesn’t say anything.

Finally, he speaks, his voice barely more than a whisper. “What are we going to do?”

The question hangs in the air, unanswered, because you don’t know the answer. How could you? You want to say something, anything, to reassure him, to reassure yourself, but the words would not come. Instead, you reach for his hand, lacing your fingers with his, holding on as tightly as you can, as if it might somehow keep the world from falling apart.

Satoru’s grip tightens around yours, and for a moment, you can feel the fear in him, the uncertainty. You’ve always known him as strong and always in control, but now, in this moment, he’s just as lost as you are.

“We’ll figure it out, baby. I promise,” He whispered.

Satoru pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you as you buried your face in his chest. You breathed in the familiar scent of him, trying to memorize every detail as if it was the last time you would ever get to hold him like this. His lips press against the top of your head, a gentle, lingering kiss that speaks of promises made and promises that will be broken.

June 3, 1917

Tomorrow is the day that Satoru is set to leave for the Western front.

The golden light of the late afternoon filtered through the windows, casting long, melancholy shadows across the bedroom. It was a room you had filled with so many memories—laughter, love, late-night conversations that had lasted until the early hours of the morning. But now, the only thing that seemed to be there was a half-packed duffel bag lying open on the bed.

You stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, watching as Satoru moved about the room gathering the the last couple of items he would need. He was quiet the entire time he packed his bags. You could see the way his shoulders were stiff and the subtle tremor in his hands as he reached for another piece of clothing.

Between the two of you, Satoru had always been the strong one. The one who could face anything with a smile, it was the thing that had drawn you to him in the first place.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” you said softly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He paused at the sound of your voice, his hands hovering over the duffel bag. Slowly, he turned to face you, His eyes met yours, and in them, you saw the fear he was trying so hard to hide.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Satoru finally admitted, his voice rough, like it had been scraped raw from holding back so much. “I don’t know how to leave you.”

His confession broke something inside of you like a dam of emotions had finally been let loose. Before you knew it, you were across the room, wrapping your arms around him as tightly as you could, burying your face in his chest. His arms came around you instantly, pulling you close, holding on as if you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time,” you whispered. “Not with me.”

“I’m scared,” he admitted, the words muffled against your hair. “I’m so scared, and I hate that I’m leaving you and Charlie like this.”

Your heart ached at his words. It was a side of him he rarely showed anyone, even you. You pulled back just enough to look up at him, your hands cupping his face, your thumbs brushing away the tears that had begun to fall.

“I’m scared too.”

“Do you remember the first time we talked about the war?” Satoru asked suddenly.

You nodded, remembering the day that the news had broke about the conflict in Europe. It was just another story on the radio, something that had felt so far away. The two of you had been sitting in the same room, listening to the same radio, with your hands entwined talking about the life you wanted to build together.

“It felt like something that could never touch us. Like it was happening in another world, to people we’d never know.”

Satoru sighed, “And now, it’s all too real.”

When you looked up at him, you could see the same look in his eyes that you had seen when the draft letter first arrived.

You felt your tears start to fall as you reached up to touch his face, your fingers tracing the familiar lines of his features, trying to commit them to memory. “So do I,” you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. “But no matter what happens, I’ll be here when you come back. I’ll be waiting for you.”

Satoru closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. I’m going to miss you so much,” he murmured. “Every single day.”

You pulled him down into a kiss, slow and lingering, pouring all of your love, your fear, your hope into that one moment, trying to convey everything you couldn’t put into words. Satoru’s hands came up to cup your face, his lips moving against yours with a desperation that made your heart ache once more.

“I love you,” you could hear him say as he continued to latch his mouth onto yours. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Without breaking the kiss, Satoru guided you towards the bed, his hands moving to your waist as he lifted you, laying you down gently on the mattress. The duffel bag was pushed to the side, forgotten for now, as he climbed on top of you, his body pressing down against yours, relishing the taste of his buttery lips on yours.

June 4, 1917

“Are you ready?” His voice broke the silence.

You turned to face him, your throat tight with the words you wanted to say but couldn’t find. Instead, you nodded, though nothing about you felt ready—least of all your heart.

Satoru approached you slowly as if he wasn’t sure how to comfort you without breaking down. His warm hand reached out and cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear you didn’t realize had fallen.

“You know I have to do this,” he said, his voice soft. “It’s my duty. I can’t—”

“Please don’t go,” you interrupted, the words spilling out before you could stop them. Your voice cracked, you were desperate to make him stay. You knew you were asking the impossible, that no matter how much you begged, he couldn’t stay. But the thought of losing him, of not knowing if he would ever come back, was too much to bear.

He pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if he could shield you from the reality you had both come to face.

“I wish I could stay,” he murmured against your hair. “More than anything, I wish I could stay here with you. But I have to go. I have to.”

You clung to him, your fingers gripping the fabric of his uniform as if you could keep him there, with you, if you just held on tight enough. “But what if you don’t come back? What if—”

“I will come back.” He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, the look almost pleading. “I promise you, baby, I will come back. And when I do, I’m going to marry you, and we’ll have that life we always talked about. We’ll have a family, a home...everything.”

“What if something happens?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “What if—”

“Hey,” Satoru’s voice was gentle, and soothing, as he cupped your face in both hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that were now streaming down your cheeks. “Nothing’s going to happen to me. I’ll be careful, I’ll keep my head down, and I’ll come back to you. I promise.”

His words were meant to comfort you, but they only made the pain worse. Because deep down, no matter how much he promised, there was no guarantee that he would come back. But you couldn’t bring yourself to say that. So instead, you nodded, forcing yourself to believe, if only for his sake. “Promise me you’ll write,” you said, your voice trembling. “Every chance you get.”

“I will,” he assured you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Every chance I get, I’ll write to you. And I want you to write to me too, okay? Tell me everything, don’t leave anything out. I want to know everything that’s going on with you, no matter how small it might seem.”

You nodded again, a small, shaky smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I will. I promise.”

Satoru sighed, his breath warm against your skin as he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I have to go.”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you just nodded, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat. Satoru gave you one last, long look as if trying to memorize every detail of your face before he finally turned and picked up his duffel bag.

You walked the man you love to the door, your steps were slow, each one feeling like a goodbye. When you reached the threshold, Satoru stopped, turning to face you one last time. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was full of everything you couldn’t say—fear, hope, love, and the desperate need to hold on to this moment, to him, for as long as you could. When he finally pulled away, you could see the tears in his eyes, tears he was trying so hard to hold back.

“I’ll see you soon.”

And then he was gone, walking out the door and down the path that led to the street, where a car was waiting to take him to the docks. You stood in the doorway, watching as he walked away. When he reached the car, he turned back one last time, raising his hand in a small wave, a sad smile on his lips.

You raised your hand in return, your vision blurred by tears, your body shaking with the force of the sobs you were holding back. And then he was gone, the car driving away, taking him further and further from you, until he was just a speck on the horizon, and then nothing at all.

Finally, when you couldn’t stand it any longer, you sank to the floor, your body shaking with sobs that you could no longer hold back. You cried for what felt like an eternity with Charlie at your side, your tears soaking into the wood beneath you, your cries echoing in the empty house.

When you finally had no tears left, when your body was too exhausted to cry anymore, you lay there, curled up on the floor, clutching the memory of Satoru close to your heart, the only thing you had left of him.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” you whispered into the silence, your voice hoarse from crying. “No matter how long it takes, I’ll be here when you come back.”

September 7, 1917

My Dearest Satoru,

I hope this letter finds you safe and well. I wish more than anything that I could be there with you, to hold your hand and tell you that everything will be okay. But since I can’t, I’m sending you all the love I have, wrapped up in these words.

Life here is quiet without you. The days seem longer, and the nights feel emptier, but I’m doing my best to keep busy. I’ve been tending to our plants you always loved, you won’t believe how much they’ve grown! The roses have bloomed beautifully this year, and I think of you every time I see them. I imagine you coming home and us standing together in the kitchen, just like we used to, with Charlie at our feet.

Speaking of Charlie, he’s been such a comfort to me in your absence. He’s still the same playful pup, always chasing his tail and trying to catch the birds that come too close. But I think he misses you just as much as I do. Sometimes, he will sit by the door, staring out as if he is waiting for you to walk through it. I take him on long walks, and every time we pass by the places we used to go together, he pulls at the leash, looking around as if he expects to see you there. I can’t help but smile and cry a little at the same time. He’s such a good dog, Satoru, and I know he’ll be so happy to see you when you come home.

I dream about the day you’ll come home, the day we’ll finally be together again. I dream of the life we’ll have, the family we’ll build, all the things we talked about before you left. And until that day comes, I’ll be here, waiting for you, loving you with everything I have. I’ll keep writing to you, and I hope that these letters bring you some comfort, some reminder of the life waiting for you here.

Please take care of yourself, Satoru. Stay safe, stay strong, and know that I’m counting down the days until you return. I love you more than words can say, and I’m so proud of you. Come back to us soon.

With all my love,

Y/N

October 12, 1917

The train clacked along the tracks, the noise doing little to soothe the nerves of the men inside. Satoru was sat by the window, his thoughts a thousand miles away.

Satoru’s hand slipped into his pocket, fingers closing around the worn edges of a small, creased photograph. He pulled it out, his eyes softening as he looked at the image of the woman who had captured his heart. Your eyes held all the warmth of a summer day, and your smile—oh, that smile—was the beacon that guided him. He could almost hear your voice, talking about the latest gossip or news.

As the train jolted along the tracks, Satoru’s thoughts drifted back to the last time he had seen you, the way you had clung to him, the way your tears soaked his uniform as you begged him not to go.

A soft voice broke through his reverie, pulling him back to the present. “Is that your wife?”

Satoru glanced up to see the soldier sitting next to him, a young man barely out of his teens, with wide, innocent eyes. He was looking at the photograph in Satoru’s hand with curiosity.

Satoru managed a small, bittersweet smile, his thumb brushing over the face of the woman in the photograph. “No,” he replied softly. “We never got the chance to marry.”

The young soldier’s brows furrowed slightly in confusion. “Why not? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Satoru sighed, leaning back against the hard, uncomfortable seat. His gaze drifted back to the photograph. “I was going to,” he began, his voice distant as he spoke, almost as if he were talking more to himself than to the young soldier beside him. “We talked about it, even picked out a date... But then the war came, and everything changed. I didn’t want to leave her, but there wasn’t enough time.”

He paused, his eyes clouding with the memories of that fateful day. The tears in your eyes as you pleaded with him to stay to marry you. But he had refused, not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you a widow, of making you wait for a man who might never come back. It had been the hardest decision of his life, and now, as he sat on this train bound for the front lines, he wondered if he had made the right one.

“She must be something special,” he said quietly.

“She is,” Satoru replied, his voice softening as he thought of you. “She’s everything. The strongest, most loving person I’ve ever known. She’s the reason I’m doing this, the reason I’m still standing.”

He fell silent, his mind drifting back to the countless nights the two of you had spent talking about your future. You had dreamed of growing old together, maybe moving out to the countryside and live in a little house.

“What’s her name?” the young soldier asked, his voice pulling Satoru back from his thoughts.

“Y/N,” Satoru said softly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he spoke your name. “She’s waiting for me to come back.”

“You’ll make it back to her. I know you will.”

Satoru nodded, though deep down, he wasn’t so sure.

The train jerked to a stop, the shrill whistle signaling their arrival at the next station. The soldiers began to stand, gathering their gear as they prepared to disembark. Satoru carefully folded the photograph and slipped it back into his pocket, close to his heart, where it belonged.

As he stepped off the train, the cold air hit him like a slap in the face. The station was a bleak and desolate place filled with soldiers. Satoru pulled his coat tighter around him, his eyes scanning the crowd, searching for something, anything, that would remind him of home.

But there was nothing.

He glanced back at the train, at the young soldier who had spoken to him. Their eyes met for a brief moment, then the young soldier raised his hand and, in a small almost hesitant wave said, “Take care of yourself!”

Satoru nodded, though he couldn’t bring himself to say the words in return. He turned and began walking, the weight of his rifle heavy on his shoulder.

The journey to the front lines was grueling, to put it lightly. It was something that tested the physical and mental limits of every man in the company. The landscape was a reflection of the war: the fields now lay barren, scarred by craters and the remnants of past battles. Trees stood like charred skeletons against the gray sky, their branches reaching out like twisted fingers. It was a place that seemed to exist outside of time, where the seasons had no hold.

Satoru walked near the front of the column, though his thoughts were universes away. He had stopped trying to make sense of the war around him, instead, his mind clung to the thought of his girlfriend and his home. Every so often, his hand would drift to his pocket, where the photograph of his beloved remained safely tucked away. It was his anchor, the one thing that kept him grounded in a world that seemed to have lost all meaning.

Throughout the journey, there were brief breaks from the march. Moments where men could catch their breath and rest their sore legs. During these breaks, the sliders would drop to the ground wherever they could find space. Some lit cigarettes, the tiny glowing embers flickering in the dim light, while others simply stared into the distance.

Satoru usually found a spot a little apart from the others, leaning against the trunk of a withered tree or sitting on a flat rock. Once on a break, the company rested by the narrow road that cut through a ruined village. Satoru found himself staring at the crumbling remains of a church. The steeple had collapsed, the once-proud structure now reduced to a pile of rubble. A few scattered graves dotted the ground nearby, their markers leaning at odd angles as if they, too, had given up the fight against the ravages of war.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of voices approaching from down the road. Another company was making its way toward them, the soldiers’ weary faces reflecting the same one that Satoru saw on his men.

Satoru glanced around, his gaze sweeping over the unfamiliar faces. Most of the men looked just as worn and weary as his own comrades, their uniforms stained with mud. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure that made him pause, his heart skipping a beat.

It couldn’t be—but it was.

Suguru Getou stood a little apart from the rest of his company, his back against the remnants of a low stone wall. He was staring off into the distance, seemingly unaware of the world around him, lost in thoughts that Satoru could only guess at. His face was thinner than Satoru remembered, his features more drawn, but there was no mistaking those sharp, dark eyes, or the way his long, black hair fell in loose strands around his face.

For a moment, Satoru was frozen in place. He hadn’t seen Suguru since before the war before they had been sent away from their families and to different parts of the front. Suguru had been sent to the front lines before Satoru did and Satoru had often wondered if he was even still alive, if he had somehow managed to survive on the front lines.

Now, seeing him here, in the flesh, was both a shock and a relief.

“Suguru,” Satoru called out, his voice breaking the silence between them.

Suguru’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as they focused on Satoru. For a moment, there was no recognition in his gaze, just the cold, hard stare of a soldier who had seen too much. But then something shifted in Suguru’s expression, and his eyes softened, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Satoru, you bastard,” Suguru replied, pushing himself away from the wall and making his way over to where Satoru stood. There was a moment of hesitation as if they weren’t quite sure how to greet each other after all this time, but then Satoru reached out and clapped a hand on Suguru’s shoulder.

“Still alive, huh?”

“Barely. It’s good to see you, Satoru.”

“And you,” Satoru said.

Suguru’s gaze then drifted to the photograph clutched in Satoru’s hand. “Is that her?” he asked quietly, nodding toward the picture.

Satoru followed his gaze, his expression softening as he looked down at the image of the woman he loved. “Yeah,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “She’s the one keeping me sane out here.”

Suguru nodded, his expression unreadable as he looked at the photograph. “You’re lucky, you know,” he said after a moment. “Not everyone has someone to go home to.”

“And you? How are you holding up?”

Suguru shrugged. “I’m still here,” he said simply. “That’s all that matters, right?”

Satoru wanted to say something, to offer some kind of comfort or reassurance, but the words wouldn’t come. What could he say that would make any of this easier? What could he offer that would ease the burden they both carried?

After a while, the call to move out came, and the soldiers began to gather their gear, preparing to resume their march to the front lines.

“Take care of yourself, Suguru.”

“And you, Satoru,” Suguru replied, his expression softening for just a moment. “We’ll see each other again. We have to.”

As the two companies parted ways, Satoru glanced back one last time, watching as Suguru’s figure grew smaller and smaller in the distance. He slipped the photograph back into his pocket, his fingers lingering on it for just a moment too long.

December 1, 1917

The trenches were a whole other world themselves. They were a labyrinth of mud, blood, and despair that stretched across the landscape like a festering wound. Satoru had been there for weeks now, but time had lost all meaning. Day and night blurred together into an endless cycle of fear and exhaustion. The air was thick with the stench of death and decay, a sickly smell that clung to everything, seeping into the very pores of his skin.

Satoru had never imagined that war could be like this. He had heard stories, of course—everyone had—but nothing could have prepared him for the reality of life in the trenches. The constant threat of death, the gnawing hunger—it was a living nightmare, a hell on earth from which there was no escape.

He had lost count of how many men had fallen, their bodies left to rot in the no man's land between the trenches. Friends, comrades, men he had shared laughs and meals with—they were all gone now, their lives snuffed out in an instant by a stray bullet or a well-placed shell. And with each death, a piece of Satoru died with them, his heart growing harder, his soul more numb.

At first, he tried to keep up the letters, pouring his thoughts and fears into the carefully penned words he sent back to you. He had written about the camaraderie among the men, the small moments of joy they found amid the horror, and the hope that one day, this war would end and they would be together again. He had clung to that hope, letting it buoy him up when the darkness threatened to swallow him whole.

But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, the words had become harder and harder to find. What could he possibly say to her now, after all he had seen, after all he had done? How could he put into words the horrors that haunted his every waking moment, the nightmares that chased him even in the few moments of sleep he managed to get?

He had started a dozen letters, each one more difficult than the last. He would sit in the dim light of the trench, his hands trembling as he tried to hold the pen steady, the paper before him smudged with dirt and blood. But the words wouldn’t come. Every time he tried to write, the memories would flood back—images of shattered bodies, of men screaming in pain, of the deafening roar of the guns that never seemed to stop. And then he would see your face, smiling up at him from the photograph he kept tucked inside his jacket, and the guilt would crash over him like a wave, drowning him in its icy grip.

How could he write to her about any of this? How could he tell her about the nightmares that kept him awake at night, the fear that gnawed at his insides like a rabid dog? How could he explain that he wasn’t the same man who had left her behind all those months ago, that the war had changed him in ways he could never have imagined?

Satoru had never felt so alone.

The men around him were suffering just as he was, but there was a wall between them now, an invisible barrier that kept him apart from the others. They still laughed, still shared stories and jokes to pass the time, but Satoru found himself withdrawing more and more, retreating into the silence of his own mind. He couldn’t bring himself to join in their conversations, couldn’t find the strength to pretend that everything was okay when nothing was okay.

It was during one of these quiet moments, when the guns had fallen that Satoru found himself staring at the photograph again. He traced the outline of your face with his thumb, the edges of the picture worn and frayed from being handled so often. You looked so happy, so full of life—everything that he wasn’t anymore. He wondered if she would even recognize him when this was all over if he ever made it out of this hell alive.

The thought made his chest tighten, a sharp pain stabbing through his heart. What if he didn’t make it back? What if this was where his story ended, in a cold, muddy trench on the other side of the world? Would she remember him as the man he used to be, or would she forget him altogether, moving on with her life as if he had never existed?

He shoved the photograph back into his pocket, the thoughts too painful to bear. He needed to write to her, to tell her how much he loved her, how much he missed her, but the words refused to come. The pen felt heavy in his hand, the paper staring back at him like an accusation.

The sound of footsteps approaching pulled him from his thoughts, and he looked up to see one of the other soldiers, a young man named Thomas, standing over him. Thomas had joined their company a few weeks ago, fresh-faced and full of energy, but the war had already taken its toll on him. His eyes were sunken, his cheeks hollow, and there was a haunted look in his gaze that Satoru recognized all too well.

“Hey,” Thomas said, his voice rough from disuse. “You alright, Satoru?”

Satoru nodded, though he didn’t trust himself to speak. He knew that if he opened his mouth, the words that would spill out would be anything but alright.

Thomas glanced down at the paper in Satoru’s lap, the empty lines stark against the dirty page. “Having trouble writing?”

Satoru sighed, running a hand through his tangled hair. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I don’t know what to say anymore.”

“It’s hard,” he said quietly. “Hard to find the words when everything around you is…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the trench, at the world beyond it. “But maybe it doesn’t have to be about all this,” he continued after a moment. “Maybe just…tell her you miss her. Tell her you’re thinking about her. Sometimes, that’s enough.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Satoru whispered.

Thomas crouched down beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You can,” he said firmly. “You have to. For her. For you.”

He knew Thomas was right—he had to find the strength to write to her, to keep that connection alive, no matter how difficult it was. Because if he lost that, if he let the war take that from him too, there would be nothing left.

With a deep breath, Satoru picked up the pen again, his hand still trembling. He stared at the blank page for a long moment, his thoughts a jumble of emotions and memories, before finally, the words began to flow.

They weren’t perfect, and they certainly didn’t capture everything he was feeling, but they were honest. He wrote about how much he missed her, how he thought of her every day, and how the memory of her smile was the only thing keeping him sane. He told her about the men he was serving with, about the small moments of kindness and he told her that no matter how dark things got, he would find his way back to her.

By the time he finished, his hand was aching, and the paper was smudged with dirt and sweat, but the weight on his chest had lifted just a little. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

The war had taken so much from him, had stripped him of his innocence, his peace of mind, and so many of the men he had called friends. But it hadn’t taken her. Not yet.

And as long as he had her, as long as there was still a chance that he could hold her in his arms again, he would keep fighting. He would keep going, one day at a time, one step at a time, until this nightmare was over.

Because he had to believe that there was still a future out there, a future where the two of them could be together, away from the mud and the blood and the death. A future where they could build the life they had dreamed of, where he could make good on all the promises he had whispered to her in the dark.

Satoru clutched the letter to his chest for a moment, closing his eyes and letting himself imagine that future—a small house, a warm fire, your laughter filling the air. It was a dream, maybe a foolish one, but it was all he had left to hold on to.

When he finally opened his eyes, the trench seemed a little less dark, the air a little less suffocating. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Satoru allowed himself to believe that he would make it through this, that he would survive this war and return to the woman he loved.

December 25, 1917

My Dearest Satoru,

Merry Christmas, my love. I wish I could say that it feels like the holiday season here, but without you by my side, it all seems so different. The tree in the living room is smaller this year, just a simple little thing I picked up from the market. I decorated it with the old ornaments we’ve collected over the years, though they don’t shine as brightly without you here to admire them.

Charlie and I spent the day together. He’s grown so much since you last saw him, you wouldn’t believe it! He still waits by the door every evening, his ears perked up like he’s expecting you to walk through any moment. I think he misses you almost as much as I do. We went for a long walk this morning, just the two of us. The air was crisp and cold, and there was a light dusting of snow on the ground. It reminded me of the first Christmas we spent together when you insisted on making snow angels and pulling me into that ridiculous snowball fight. I laughed so hard that day, and I haven’t laughed quite the same way since you left.

I cooked a small dinner tonight—nothing fancy, just some of your favorite dishes. I set a place for you at the table, even though I knew you wouldn’t be there to fill it. I like to think that, wherever you are, you can feel the warmth of home and know that you’re always in my thoughts. The house is quiet now, almost too quiet. I find myself talking to you sometimes, as if you were still here with me, sitting in your favorite chair with that mischievous smile of yours. I can almost hear your voice, teasing me, comforting me, telling me that everything will be alright.

But it’s hard, Satoru. It’s so hard being here without you, especially on days like this when the world seems so full of love and joy, and all I can think about is how much I miss you. I try to be strong, for you, for us, but there are moments when the loneliness is overwhelming. I lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering where you are if you’re safe if you’re thinking of me as much as I’m thinking of you.

I know I shouldn’t burden you with my worries, especially when you’re facing so much over there. But I promised you that I would always be honest with you, and the truth is my love, I miss you more than words can say. I miss your laughter, your touch, the way you would pull me close when the world felt too big and frightening. I miss the sound of your voice, the warmth of your arms around me, the simple comfort of knowing that you were near.

I don’t know what this Christmas is like for you, if you’ve had a moment of peace, or if the war continues to rage on, even on this holy day. But I want you to know that I’m here, waiting for you, loving you with all my heart.

Until that day comes, I’ll hold on to the memories we’ve made, and I’ll keep you in my heart, always. I’ll keep sending you my love, in every letter, in every thought, in every prayer. And I’ll be here, waiting for the day when you come home to me.

Merry Christmas, Satoru. I love you more than words could ever express.

Yours always and forever,

Y/N

January 1918

The flickering light of the oil lamp cast shadows on the rough, earthen walls of the trench as Satoru unfolded the letter with trembling hands. The cold bit at his fingers, but the warmth of her words was all he felt. He leaned back against the wooden planks, his breath visible in the frigid air, and began to re

He could almost see her, sitting by the small tree, Charlie at her feet, the house filled with the scent of pine and home-cooked food. The image was so vivid that he could hear the crackle of the fire, feel the softness of your hand in his, and taste the warmth of the cocoa you always made too sweet.

When he finished the letter, he folded it carefully, placing it back into the envelope before tucking it into his jacket, close to his heart. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall, trying to hold on to the image of her, of home, for just a little longer.

"Someday," he whispered to himself, "I’ll go back to you."

But that "someday" felt so far away.

Satoru was exhausted. He was so exhausted. And despite the cold and the ever-present danger, Satoru found himself drifting off to sleep. He dreamed of you and Charlie, of a small house and a garden, a real one, and maybe a little one.

But that dream was shattered all too quickly.

The ground shook violently, and Satoru was yanked from his sleep by the deafening roar of artillery fire. The once-peaceful night had erupted into chaos. He scrambled to his feet, the world around him a blur of noise and confusion. Mud and debris rained down as shells exploded nearby, turning the trench into a hellscape of smoke and fire.

"Satoru! Get up!" A voice yelled from somewhere in the darkness, but it was nearly drowned out by the barrage.

His heart raced as he grabbed his rifle, instincts taking over. The letter, the warmth of her words, the image of her waiting for him—all of it was shoved to the back of his mind as survival became his only focus. He could barely see through the smoke, but he knew what was coming.

"Over the top! They’re coming!"

Satoru fought desperately alongside his comrades. The world had become a blur of smoke, fire, and the metallic scent of blood. He barely felt the cold anymore—only the burning need to survive, to push through the horror and get back to the life he had left behind.

But even as he fired his rifle, the enemy pushing ever closer, a gnawing fear settled deep in his chest. It wasn’t the fear of dying, though that was always there, lurking beneath the surface. It was the fear of breaking his promise to her, of never seeing her again, never holding her in his arms, never telling her one last time how much he loved her.

Suddenly, a blinding light flashed to his right—a mortar shell exploding far too close. The force of it threw him to the ground, his head slamming against the hard earth. Everything went dark for a moment, and when he opened his eyes, the world was spinning. He could barely hear over the ringing in his ears, his vision blurry as he struggled to push himself up.

But before he could regain his bearings, he felt a sharp pain in his side, followed by a searing heat that spread across his body. He looked down, his hand coming away sticky with blood. Panic surged through him as he realized the wound was deep, too deep.

"Satoru!" someone shouted, but it felt distant as if it were coming from another world.

He tried to move, tried to fight, but his body wouldn’t respond. His strength was draining away, the edges of his vision darkening as the pain grew overwhelming. He reached for the photo in his pocket, fumbling with weak fingers until he could pull it out. The edges were crumpled, dirtied from being carried with him through every battle, but her face was still there, smiling up at him.

"I’m sorry baby…" he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sounds of battle. He wasn’t sure if the words were meant for her or himself, but they were all he could manage.

As he lay there, the sounds of war fading into the background, another soldier—a younger man from his company—dropped to his knees beside Satoru. The man was injured, blood seeping from a wound in his leg, but his focus was entirely on Satoru.

"No… no, no, no," the soldier muttered, his voice choked with panic. He saw the wound, saw the blood, and knew there was nothing he could do. "Satoru, stay with me, please!"

Satoru’s grip on the photo loosened, and the young soldier gently took it from him, his hands shaking. He saw the woman in the picture, the one Satoru had talked about so often, and his heart sank. "Is… is this her?"

Satoru nodded weakly, the effort taking everything he had left. He tried to speak, to say her name, to tell the soldier to take care of her, but the words wouldn’t come. His chest felt tight, every breath a struggle.

"Don’t worry, I’ll… I’ll make sure she knows," the soldier promised, though his voice cracked with the weight of it. He fumbled with Satoru’s jacket, pulling out the dog tags, and pressed them into his own pocket, along with the photo. "I’ll tell her… everything."

Satoru’s vision darkened further, the world slipping away from him. All he could see was her face, all he could think about was the future they had dreamed of. But that future was fading, slipping through his fingers like sand.

"I’m sorry," he whispered one last time before the darkness took him completely.

Weeks passed, though they felt like an eternity. The war continued on, but Satoru’s company was eventually pulled back from the front lines, many of them injured, exhausted, or worse. The young soldier who had taken Satoru’s photo was among those who were discharged, his leg injury severe enough to send him home. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the weight he carried in his heart.

When the company finally reached the docks, it was a scene of bittersweet reunions. Families and loved ones gathered, waiting anxiously for a glimpse of their soldiers. You were among them, your heart pounding in your chest as you scanned the crowd, searching desperately for Satoru’s familiar face.

But you couldn’t find him.

The minutes dragged on, and panic began to set in. Where was he? Had something happened? You tried to reassure yourself, telling yourself that he would appear any moment, that he was just delayed, that everything was fine.

Then you saw a man hobbling toward you on crutches, his face pale and drawn. You recongnized the man as in the letters Satoru had described him as a friend, a comrade. But where was Satoru? Why wasn’t he with him?

Your breath caught in your throat as the soldier stopped in front of you, his eyes filled with a sorrow that made your blood run cold. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the crumpled photograph, the one you had given to Satoru before he left. And then, with trembling hands, he held out Satoru’s dog tags.

"I’m so sorry," the soldier said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "He… he didn’t make it."

The world around you seemed to crumble, the ground shifting beneath your feet as the words sank in. You stared at the photo, and the dog tags, unable to comprehend what he was saying. It couldn’t be true. Satoru had promised you. He had promised he would come back.

"No…" The word fell from your lips, your voice breaking as tears welled up in your eyes. "No, he… he promised…"

The soldier reached out, placing a hand on your shoulder, but the gesture did nothing to comfort you. "He loved you so much," he said softly, his own eyes filling with tears. "He… he talked about you all the time. Right up until…"

You didn’t let him finish. The pain in your chest was too much to bear, and the sobs broke free, your body shaking as you clutched the photograph to your chest. The world around you blurred, the sounds of the docks fading away as all you could think about was him—his smile, his laugh, the way he had held you that last night before he left.

He was gone. Satoru was gone.

The soldier stayed with you, his own heart breaking as he watched you fall to your knees, your cries of grief echoing through the crowd. But there was nothing he could do, nothing anyone could do to ease the pain of your loss.

And so the war took one more life, one more love story cut short by the horrors of battle. The future you had dreamed of, the life you had planned, was gone—lost in the mud and blood of a distant country.

All that remained were memories and the cold, hard reality that he would never come home to you.

#gojo satoru #gojou satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader

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thechanelmuse · 2 years ago

Photo

Juneteenth is a Black American holiday.

We call Juneteenth many things: Black Independence Day, Freedom Day, Emancipation Day, Jubilee Day. We celebrate and honor our ancestors.

December 31 is recognized as Watch Night or Freedom’s Eve in Black American churches because it marks the day our enslaved ancestors were awaiting news of their freedom going into 1863. On January 1, 1863, President Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation. But all of the ancestors wouldn’t be freed until June 19, 1865 for those in Galveston, Texas and even January 23, 1866 for those in New Jersey (the last slave state). (It’s also worth noting that our people under the Choctaw and Chickasaw Nations wouldn’t be freed until April 28, 1866 and June 14, 1866 for those under the Cherokee Nation by way of the Treaties.)

Since 1866, Black Americans in Texas have been commemorating the emancipation of our people by way of reading the Emancipation Proclamation and coming together to have parades, free festivities, and later on pageants. Thereafter, it spread to select states as an annual day of commemoration of our people in our homeland.

Here’s a short silent video filmed during the 1925 Juneteenth celebration in Beaumont, Texas:

youtube

(It’s also worth noting that the Mascogos tribe in Coahuila, Mexico celebrate Juneteenth over there as well. Quick history lesson: A total of 305,326 Africans were shipped to the US to be enslaved alongside of American Indians who were already or would become enslaved as prisoners of war, as well as those who stayed behind refusing to leave and walk the Trail of Tears to Oklahoma. In the United States, you were either enslaved under the English territories, the Dutch, the French, the Spanish, or under the Nations of what would called the Five “Civilized” Native American Tribes: Cherokee, Creek (Muscogee), Chickasaw, Choctaw, and Seminoles. Mascogos descend from the Seminoles who escaped slavery during the Seminole Wars, or the Gullah Wars that lasted for more than 100 years if you will, and then settled at El Nacimiento in 1852.)

We largely wave our red, white and blue flags on Juneteenth. These are the only colors that represent Juneteenth. But sometimes you may see others wave our Black American Heritage flag (red, black, and gold).

Juneteenth is a day of respect. It has nothing to do with Africa, diversity, inclusion, immigration, your Pan-African flag, your cashapps, nor your commerce businesses. It is not a day of “what about” isms. It is not a day to tap into your inner colonizer and attempt to wipe out our existence. That is ethnocide and anti-Black American. If you can’t attend a Black American (centered) event that’s filled with education on the day, our music, our food and other centered activities because it’s not centered around yours…that is a you problem. Respect our day for what and whom it stands for in our homeland.

Juneteenth flag creator: “Boston Ben” Haith

It was created in 1997. The red, white and blue colors represent the American flag. The five-point star represents the Lone State (Texas). The white burst around the star represents a nova, the beginning of a new star. The new beginning for Black Americans.

Black American Heritage Flag creators: Melvin Charles & Gleason T. Jackson

It was created in 1967, our Civil Rights era. The color black represents the ethnic pride for who we are. Red represents the blood shed for freedom, equality, justice and human dignity. Gold fig wreath represents intellect, prosperity, and peace. The sword represents the strength and authority exhibited by a Black culture that made many contributions to the world in mathematics, art, medicine, and physical science, heralding the contributions that Black Americans would make in these and other fields.

SN: While we’re talking about flags, I should note that Grace Wisher, a 13-year-old free Black girl from Baltimore helped stitched the Star Spangled flag, which would inspire the national anthem during her six years of service to Mary Pickersgill. I ain’t even gon hold you. I never looked too far into it, but she prob sewed that whole American flag her damn self. They love lying about history here until you start unearthing them old documents.

In conclusion, Juneteenth is a Black American holiday. Respect us and our ancestors.

#juneteenth #juneteenth flag #black american history #black american culture #ben haith #black american heritage flag #melvin charles #gleason t jackson #grace wisher #american flag #mascogos #juneteenth 2023

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hispg · 1 year ago

Text

Masterlist!

I'll be putting here all of my works and wips, just to get it more organized!

R2! Leon:

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Baby boy | NSFW

Your coworker Leon always goes after you for advice, even on the most basic things, even if he doesn't need to. However, you decided to make him understand your advice in a more... Incisive way.

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Fantasize | NSFW

Your new neighbor Leon knows that you're married, but he can't help it but fantasize about you.

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My sweet friend | NSFW

After a party you decided to sleep in your best friend's house, little do you know that sleeping is the last thing that he'll do.

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Safe haven | SFW

How Leon deals with his ptsd over the years.

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Longing for love | NSFW

It's your birthday, and your childhood friend wants to make it special.

R4! Leon:

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Comfort | NSFW

Your husband is glad that he has you, just like he's glad to have his little family.

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Whiny boy | NSFW

You always bicker with your roommate Leon, but now the bickering goes a little bit different..

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I will make you forget | NSFW

After a guy you were dating suddenly ends things with you, you feel bad and blame yourself for the situation. But your roommate Leon promises to make you forget what happened.

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Just the tip | NSFW

You asked him for just the tip, and that's exactly what he's going to give to you.

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Safe haven | SFW

How Leon deals with his ptsd over the years.

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Love | NSFW

Maybe he loves everything about you, or maybe he hates you. Yet he always looks for you when he needs you.

That must mean something, right?

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Little bunny | NSFW

You riled him up. It's totally your fault for using this bunny outfit. Now, bear the consequences.

ID! Leon:

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Her | NSFW

Another day as being a spy, this time working for the United States president. Was just another work until you met the agent Leon Kennedy. And well, things may get a bit heated between you two.

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Safe haven | SFW

How Leon deals with his ptsd over the years.

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Trying hard | NSFW

Your husband will not give up until you're pregnant. No matter what.

Vendetta! Leon:

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Scared to be lonely | SFW

Your close friend Leon, it's passing for some personal issues. And you're the only one who can try to solve it.

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Safe haven | SFW

How Leon deals with his ptsd over the years.

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DI! Leon:

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Safe haven | SFW

How Leon deals with his ptsd over the years.

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Just one more time | NSFW

Your ex husband want to have his family life again, he needs it.

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Scandalous | NSFW

Your mentor Leon is angry that you risked your life. He needs to remind you not to do that again.

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My love mine all mine | SFW

Your husband returned from his mission, the house was quiet until he heard your daughter's commotion.

Series:

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Between royalty and vows | SFW (for now)

A forced marriage, a fate set in stone, nothing could change that. In the world of royalty, there were no choices, only obligations to fulfill. What you didn't expect was to become engaged to a renowned prince, ready to succeed the lineage. Until that moment, you still had some hope that everything would work out, maybe it wasn't so bad. But it would be a shame if your future husband had a mistress. Wouldn't it?

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

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Upcoming works:

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Until you lie |(OneShot)

Vendetta! Leon X Fem! Reader

You need to hear it from his lips, you need to at least hear that he has an ounce of affection for you. Even if it's not real.

You just need to coerce him a little more.

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Sweetheart |(OneShot)

R6! Leon X Fem! Reader

The mission was already over, and you and Leon were supposed to see each other for the last time at the meeting with the president. Well, nobody said that nothing could happen that night.

Maybe things are more than just a business meeting.

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Issues |(Oneshot)

DI! Leon X Fem! Reader

Your coworker it's having a troubling time, especially after the last mission in the Alcatraz.

Maybe you can ease his mind, can't you?

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Lovingly |(Series)

Fuckboy! Leon x Fem! Reader

You are the class president, known for being straight-laced, the type not to be messed with.

But maybe a certain blonde is trying to mess with your head.

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In the waves |(Series)

Pirate! Leon X Mermaid! Fem! Reader

Leon was just a petty captain who did everything he could for money. That is until the day he caught one of the most valuable catches of his life.

You.

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Dinero |(Series)

ID! Leon X Fem! Reader

Leon needed company, life was lonely for him. He just needs your presence, even if he needs to pay for it.

He doesn't mind being your sugar daddy. He just needs you.

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Helpless |(Series)

Vendetta! Leon X Fem! Reader

You live haunted by the memories you have of the man you met in raccoon city. Despite that turbulent night, you still remember his name and appearance.

Leon, what happened to him?

What you didn't expect was to find him more than ten years after what happened. Even less expect to find him in such a state.

These are the future projects I think about doing! Keep in mind that it may take a while, but I will try to bring it to you as quickly as possible!

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bootleg-nessie · 1 year ago

Text

Things that will happen in the future (based on my own experiences with time travel):

***FAQs at the end***

*All of these observations are copied directly from my notes in roughly the order I took them in

*Don’t ask about the interchanging use of past/present/future tense, you know how that stuff is with time travel

Women just started all growing three boobs instead of two. Scientists baffled

Genetically engineered catboys (no literally)

The great pyramid of Giza has been converted into a Bass Pro Shop

The entire state of Rhode Island was bought by some rich tech CEO who promptly dug a 500 foot wide trench around the entire state so that it could in fact be an island. It was soon converted into the world’s largest parking lot

Pollution has gotten so bad that fresh oxygen is now delivered straight to most homes via a subscription service

Basic necessities such as food, water, and housing are now provided for free by the government, but only for the top 1% of wealth holders

Insulin now costs twice as much as rent. “Get fucked,” say pharma companies

92.6% of new electronic appliances now have smartphone integration and require a monthly subscription to use

Most billionaires have real estate on earth’s moon

As an ongoing film experiment, Taika Waititi successfully convinced a Nebraska man that he’s been raptured and is now in heaven. He actually got Truman Show’d and now millions of viewers tune in every week to watch God (played by John DiMaggio) manipulate Robert into confronting his own views, battle cognitive dissonance, and face the realization that he might not have been as good of a person on Earth as he thought he was

Carrots have gone extinct, as have highland cows

Species of extinct animals and plants now are being posthumously renamed after the billionaires and elites most directly responsible for killing then off

Researchers discovered a sentient colony of fungus off the coast of Chile, it prefers to go by Fleebo and appears to have a incredibly complex intelligence far greater than any other observed organic being

Nobody knows where Ireland went. It literally just disappeared off the face of the earth one day and nobody bothered to question it. The story couldn’t compete in the news cycle with the recent news about a company in China that made the first real life pokemon. An entire civilization of people gone and I’m the only one who seems to remember it or even care

Fleebo and its offspring have annexed Madagascar and are threatening any retaliation with nuclear warfare and “making The Last of Us a reality.” Nobody knows if Fleebo actually has the capabilities to do this, but after the Lovecraft incident we’re all TOO goddam scared to fuck around and find out

Large snails have replaced cats and dogs as the most common household pet. Snail culture has largely taken over the world, especially Japan

The president of the United States is now decided with an oiled up twerking competition. Most people were hesitant at first but this has produced vastly more competent leaders so now everyone just kinda goes along with it

With the cost of living crisis only worsening with time, selling tattoo space on your body to advertisers has become common as people struggle to afford rent and pay their bills

North and South Korea have reunited into “Korea 2.0”

Germany has split up into East and West Germany again

Belgium and France have been annexed by West Germany and renamed “Wester Germany” and “Westest Germany” respectively

The entirety of Florida is now underwater. Most of Kansas is too for some reason that scientists refuse to explain because they’ve “sworn an oath to the eldritch gods” and that “much worse things would happen” if they did

The melting ice caps in Antarctica unveiled a lost civilization of intelligent creatures descended from a species of lungfish, predating human civilization by millions of years. They planned on hibernating for another 10-15 million years to observe the course of evolution on Earth and are very very angry at humans for waking them up prematurely and ruining all of that with global warming

The politically correct term for lungfish people is “Dipnoid” but most people refer to them by a variety of slurs, such as “finwalker” and “kelp muncher” (not that they even eat kelp)

The Great Pacific Garbage Patch has now increased to nearly half the size of what was formerly known as Canada and has been colonized entirely by pirates (the flag is actually pretty cool). The pirate nation has the 17th largest economy in the world and is projected to surpass the United States in GDP

Africa is about 2% smaller. Nobody knows why. Most people point to Fleebo, who denies having any involvement

All human-Dipnoid interaction was promptly banned by most world governments, except for the GPGPRP (Great Pacific Garbage Patch Republic of Pirates), whom the Dipnoids rely upon extensively for trade

Scientists have used DNA from fossils to recreate other species of humans. We now live alongside them like we did for thousands of years before everyone besides Homo sapiens went extinct. Racism is at an all time high

Class C and above robots are now legally recognized by most progressive countries as people

The United States government has been exposed for secretly funneling billions of dollars into the GPGPRP and using it to fund terrorist operations all over the world.

A new major religion revolving around Dave Grohl has skyrocketed in popularity. Grohilsm is now the world’s largest religion, second only to Fleeboism

Scientists discovered a new continent in the Pacific Ocean, and then promptly lost it again. Most people are convinced this was just an elaborate practical joke, but scientists “swear it definitely happened”

For a brief period of about 30 years, everything in George Orwell’s 1984 happened almost exactly as written in the book. Literally 1984

It was revealed that Jeff Epstein didn’t kill himself. He actually faked his death and spent the next few years in a drug-fueled episode of psychosis making sock puppets in a cave in Italy and then molesting said sock puppets until he died from a sock puppet related illness

Bigfoot was discovered off the coast of Georgia doing cocaine with a congregation of alligators. When questioned, he said he normally lives in Montana and was only there on vacation. He is now a celebrity, and has been featured in a number of tv shows and films, two of which he won an Oscar for. Last I checked, he was a washed up actor living in Hollywood with a reanimated Neanderthal woman

The GPGPRP raided most of England’s museums with the object of “doing exactly what they did for the last few centuries” England was understandably furious, but the rest of the world found it rather amusing

England declared war on the GPGPRP, which it promptly lost after hackers brought down the entire country’s military overnight. Much like in the 21st century, England is the world’s laughing stock

The entirety of Luxembourg relocated itself to the moon

Russia attempted to take over most of Eurasia. In retaliation to the full global effort to stop them, they launched nukes at the world’s 600 most populous cities outside of its current territory. Most of the warheads were stopped in time, but a few major metropolitan areas got hit pretty badly, including Los Angeles, Hong Kong, Chengdu, Mexico City, and Istanbul. Japan was understandably super pissed that Hiroshima and Nagasaki got nuked for a second time

In the wake of the nuclear holocaust, Canada assumed control over what was formerly Russia and assimilated many of its citizens and leaders into its own society and government. Under the new rule of formerly Russian leaders, Canada became a puppet state for the second coming of Russia. It annexed much of the United States, Mongolia, China, and a handful of other countries, becoming “the world’s first megacountry.” Crungolaska now controls a majority of the northern hemisphere

As part of a practical joke by Adam Sandler, Tom Hanks was actually marooned on a desert island like in Castaway. He lasted less than a week before he died. When I left this era of the future, Adam Sandler was serving a lifetime sentence in prison for murder

Fringe groups of crows with above-average intelligence have started popping up around the world. So far they have been observed forming small communities, crafting relatively complex tools, using rudimentary speech, performing rituals, and creating music

Aliens visited earth and had a formal meeting with many of our world leaders, but decided to leave us alone for a few thousand more years because humanity is “not yet mature enough to handle the responsibilities of interstellar travel.” They have incentivized us with a the blueprints for an Alcubierre Drive and a means to produce the exotic matter to fuel it once they deem us as being ready

The original colony of settlers on Mars has declared independence, officially becoming the first country not on Earth

We sent Tom Cruise back to space but this time we just left him there

The tether for the space elevator broke. The town known as Vatorville, famous for being the location of the takeoff point of the elevator shuttle on Earth, was completely decimated as tens of thousands of miles of steel cable came crashing back down. There were no survivors

Most people in first and second world countries have mandatory microchip implants that serve as a personal ID

Last Thursdayism has been largely denounced by quantum physicists. Current theories now revolve around “Next Thursdayism,” the belief that the entire universe was created in the future and that we all exist as a memory in the past

Synthetic organ farms for transplants and research have become a massive industry worth billions of dollars. However, there is still a huge black market for organically grown human organs, as they’re much cheaper to acquire and aren’t taxed at the exorbitant rates that lab-grown organs are

China dug a hole all the way to the center of the Earth. Turns out it’s hollow and there are people living inside. Who knew?

A university reconstructed the entire city of Rome as it was in its early days during the Roman Empire. It’s actually pretty historically accurate, except for the fact that there’s a lot less sex because it’s run by a bunch of sweaty history nerds

After Rome 2 resulted in the creation of a cult revolving around the Roman god of the dead that gained traction as a minor religion, Pluto was officially reinstated as a planet by NASA when cultists picketed their headquarters every day for nearly 3 years straight. “Fine, we’ll give these fucking virgins what they want so they’ll finally shut the hell up,” said NASA’s administrator in chief

In a display of the biotechnical prowess of Disney’s Imagineers, all the animatronics in Disney’s Hall of Presidents were replaced with clones of the originals, which went about exactly as well as you’d expect. After reports of the presidents hurling a series of racial slurs and other obscenities at the first black family to enter surfaced, the project was shut down almost immediately after it had opened. Minority admission to Magic Kingdom plummeted to 2.3% of its numbers from the previous year, making it the second whitest place on earth after a taylor swift concert

Plastic now makes up about 3% of every organism on earth by weight

Public officials are now required by law to take shrooms before running for office

Trees are considered a rare and highly sought after commodity, and are usually only owned by public institutions and the rich (the vast majority of oxygen farms use algae to produce oxygen)

FAQs:

FAQ: What time period(s) did you go to?

A: I have no fucking clue. The world stopped using the Gregorian calendar in 2063 after a gamma ray burst hit the sun. The GRB led to stellar ablation, which changed the length of a year on Earth. The sun would continue to lose mass at an accelerated rate for several more years, with the length of the year changing slightly from year to year. The world adopted a variety of different calendars which kept being updated frequently and were often super confusing and contradictory. I traveled to about a dozen different points in time, which based on my best estimates spanned within a few millennia of the current date.

FAQ: How did you obtain a time machine?

A: I think it was the 17th or 18th of June, 2055? That night, a large sci-fi looking box thingy roughly the size of a VW Bus appeared a few hundred yards away in the open field in front of my house. I tried to take a picture of the box, but for some reason the closer I got, the more the image on my camera started to become fuzzy, and by the time I got close enough to take a decent picture, the camera had stopped working altogether. I pulled open a door to reveal a corpse inside that was charred beyond recognition, who appeared to have suffocated and/or burned to death during a fire that damaged most of the interior. I also noticed a number of strange tumors and growths on the body. I pressed a random button on the remains of what I believed to be a control panel, expecting nothing to happen, but the door closed automatically and I suddenly lost consciousness. When I came to, I exited the box, expecting to still be in the field in front of my house, but instead found myself a ways outside of a small snowy village that based on my best estimates, was somewhere in northern Asia around 2-3 thousand years ago. The villagers started coming after me with spears, so I quickly ran back to the box and pressed another button, hoping it would return me to from whence I came. This time, the people I found (who were thankfully much nicer and spoke a dialect of English that I could mostly understand) told me that it was the year 506 of the PGRB-Δ4 calendar (the calendar that the United Territories was using at the time). I repeated this maybe a dozen more times trying to get home until I landed in 2023, which as far as I could tell, was the closest I had gotten back to my original time so far. It was at this point that I decided to stay and seek medical attention, as I was rather concerned about some nasty new growths on my arms and legs similar to that which I had seen on the corpse.

FAQ: Where is the time machine now?

A: No idea. It disappeared a few days after I landed in 2023. My best guess is that some poor sap found it and ended up sometime else.

(I never ask for likes/reblogs but I literally spent fucking WEEKS on this one so if you liked it pls show me some love <3)

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