#honestly I hope the us bans tiktok just so I don’t have to fucking watch ads

[sunfl0w3rmoon]

first it was FIVE UNSKIPPABLE ADVERTISEMENTS on EVERY SINGLE MOVIE on the EIGHT HOUR FLIGHT I took last week and now TIKTOK is auto playing ADVERTISEMENTS DIRECTLY AFTER A VIDEO ENDS???????

WHAT HAS THE WORLD COME TO???

[wannab-urs]

You Have Me In a Chokehold | Mr. Ben (SNL) x teacher!reader | 18+

Summary: You’re a teacher at Mr. Ben’s school and you’re sitting in the “No More Fancams” assembly freaking out because he just showed your fancam on screen… Do you think he knows it was you? (AU where he’s not in love with Ms. Jenny, the assembly just ends with him being like “please don’t do this anymore, thanks”)

WC: 2.4k

Warnings: MDNI | 18+ | SMUT | no ages implied (all legal obvi), hair pulling, sir kink, very mild degrading language, fingering, unprotected PiV (don’t be silly, wrap your willy) (also y’all are teachers, you should know better), rough-ish sex but no one gets hurt, Mr. Ben is girthy (Big Ben ;) ), brief mention of the picture of dorian gray, which deserves its own warning if you’ve ever tried to teach that book to teenagers, extreme cringe in the first half. Gets weirdly fluffy at the end so if that kills your vibe just stop reading after the uhhhh climax of the story (if you catch my drift). Sorry we support aftercare in this house. I think that’s it, love y’all, enjoy! 

It’s 8 in the morning, supposed to be first period, and the principal has called for some technology assembly. You’re unlucky enough to have first period planning, you have essays to grade, and you won’t have a spare minute for the rest of the day. But sure, let’s all go sit in the gym so the boomers can lecture the zoomers about technology use. This is a great use of everyone’s time. 

You slip into the auditorium with 5 minutes to spare, hoping to go unnoticed in the back row. You’re just about to subtly put in your airpods and watch TikToks like 90% of the students, when you hear the principal introduce Mr. Ben. This assembly suddenly became worth paying attention to. 

Ben is by far the prettiest thing to look at in this school. He’s ridiculously broad chested, always wearing these just-shy-of-too-tight button ups that he pairs with definitely-a-little-too-tight pants, accentuating his cute butt. He has toned forearms, usually peeking out of rolled up sleeves, and huge hands that he waves around in the air or clasps in front of him when he speaks. And then, despite being this big, broad, powerful looking man, he has the sweetest face. 

His eyes are soft brown, hooded and turned down a little, so he’s basically making puppy dog eyes constantly. His nose is prominent and curved and sitting above the most adorably pouty lips. His facial hair is sparse and a little patchy, but honestly it just makes him even more charming. God, you have it so bad for this man. 

Your internal drooling over Ben is interrupted by the sound of a freshman at the front of the room yelling, “Come on guuurrrrl, eat it up!” Your eyes flick to the screen beside Ben. There are two very vague tech rules followed by… Shit. 

“Do not make fancams of school staff, such as this,” says Ben, gesturing at the screen. And your stomach does a somersalt. Shit! There’s a TikTok playing on the screen, and though you can’t quite make out the username, you definitely recognize the video. That’s your fancam. And Ben looks… mortified. He looks extremely uncomfortable. 

“You have made thousands of fancams of me and i’m not sure what they mean, but I know it has to stop,” he pleads. And fuck is he looking at you? He can’t know can he? There’s absolutely no way he knows. He’s just looking out toward the back of the auditorium. Yeah. You wouldn’t want to make eye contact with a bunch of 14 years olds while pictures of you flash on the screen either. That makes perfect sense. 

“We make them because you’re our beloved and you have us a in a chokehold,” screams another student toward the front. You wish he would put you in a chokehold. GOD what is wrong with you. Pull yourself together.

“Okay, don’t say that,” Ben says, wringing his hands together in front of him. You can see that he’s clearly uncomfortable. You should delete your account. Ban him from your thoughts. You’ve crossed the line big time.

“I just don’t understand. Why do you make sparkly fast romantic montages of me every single day?” he asks. Another fancam, thankfully not yours, begins playing on the screen. You have to get out of here. 

You stand up and try to sneak out as inconspicuously as possible, whispering “Bathroom,” in response to a disapproving look from another, older teacher. 

You break into a run as soon as you get into the hall and only slow down when you’re safely locked in the handicap stall of the teacher bathroom. You slide down the wall to the floor and press your face into your hands. You are so stupid. Of course making fancams of school staff is a bad idea. It’s bad when the kids do it… and really weird because they’re kids… but when another teacher does it? He could have you fired for this. 

But he doesn’t know. There’s no way he knows. 

You manage to make it through the rest of the day, somehow facing your classes and teaching them about nouns and reading a bit more of The Picture of Dorian Gray aloud. 

It’s finally the end of the day, but you still have those essays to grade, so you decide to set a timer for one hour and power through as many as you can. The school is so weirdly silent this long after final bell. The custodians won’t be in for another couple hours and pretty much every teacher and student has long gone home. 

You finish packing your tote bag and start shrugging on your coat when you hear a knock at the door. “Come in!” 

You freeze when the door opens. Shit.

“Ben! Hi! How can I help you? I was just leaving, but-” the sharp sound of the door slamming shut cuts off your nervous rambling. Ben stands with his hands behind his back, puffing his very broad chest out. 

“I was wondering if you could tell me something, sweetheart.” His voice is low, gravelly, and you feel like you’re being raked over hot coals. He knows. 

“Um. Sure?” you squeak out. Your face is on fire and you have no idea what to do with your hands. He takes a step toward you, looking for all the world like a predator stalking it’s pray. His eyes are dark, brow lowered, lips set in a hard line. He looks nothing like the shy, uncomfortable man from the assembly. 

Your bag drops to the floor and you take a stuttering step back toward your desk. 

“What’s your TikTok username?” he asks slowly, taking another step toward you. 

You gulp and fall back another step, thighs pressing against your desk now. Your shake your head and glue your eyes to the floor. 

“Don’t make me ask again.” And oh god he’s right in front of you now. He hooks a finger under your chin, bringing your eyes up to meet his. His pupils are blown so wide, you can barely see his usually warm brown irises. Wait is he turned on right now? 

“It’s- uh… I don’t have one!” you stammer out. You try to look away, but his fingers hold your chin in place. He leans a bit closer, his breath ghosting over your face, and presses his other palm into the desk beside you. He tsks and presses his thumb to your bottom lip.

“Don’t lie to me,” he growls out, and oh that went straight to your core. You squirm in his hold and that’s when you truly realize how close he is. His body is nearly pressed against yours. 

“It’s- it’s… fuck. It’s MrBensLittleSlut…” you stammer out. You feel like you’re on fire, ashamed of your actions, but also incredibly fucking turned on. The object of your not-so-innocent crush has you pressed against your desk like some school girl fantasy. 

“And do you really want to be my little slut, sweetheart?” Holy. Shit. Did he really just ask you that? Your heart actually stops beating in your chest for a second. You nod. 

“Aloud, please.” 

“Yes, sir,” you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut. 

He brings one hand to the back of your head and wraps your hair around his fingers, pulling your head back slightly. You whimper and he leans in, brushing his lips against your ear. 

“Good girl,” he purrs. And you think you’ll melt into puddle on the spot. His hands slide to your hips and he lifts you up onto the edge of the desk. You instinctively part your legs and he presses himself flush against you. He keeps one hand on your waist to steady you and slides the other back up into your hair and suddenly his lips are on yours. 

It’s sloppy and open mouthed and greedy. He licks into your mouth, curling his tongue around yours. Your hands find purchase around his biceps and you hold on for dear life. His fist tightens in your hair and you moan wantonly, throwing your head back and pushing your hips up into his, chasing friction. 

His lips trail down your jaw and he nips at your earlobe before sucking a kiss to the spot where your jaw meets your throat. You dig your nails into his muscular arms and choke on a gasp. 

“Please,” you whine, shifting your hips against him again.

“Please what, sweetheart?” you can feel him smirking into the skin of your throat. He loves how riled up you are. Loves watching you try and fail to grind yourself on him. 

“Please- please touch me, sir,” he rolls his hips into yours, finally giving you something. Anything to ease the burning desire between your legs.

“You’re so pretty when you beg,” he growls in your ear. Then you feel his right hand leave your waist and pull up your skirt. He drags his fingertips up the inside of your left thigh, featherlight. Finally, he hooks two fingers into the soaked crotch of your panties and drags his knuckles across your clit. 

You suck in a gasp and a little “Oh” falls from your lips. He pulls back, keeping his left hand in your hair and watches as he slowly sinks two fingers into your cunt, down to the knuckle. Your hands ball up into fists, twisting the sleeves of his shirt and you let out a long, breathy moan. 

“You’re so wet for me already, sweetheart. Really are a little slut, aren’t you?” Your pussy clenches around his thick fingers at his words.

“Yes! Yes, I’m your little slut!” you gasp out.

He pumps his fingers in and out of you, hooking them just right so that he hits the spongy spot inside you every time. You’re holding onto his shirt so tight you think you might rip the sleeves off. You can hear how wet you are, the sound echoing off the cinderblock walls. You start moving your hips to meet the thrust of his fingers inside you, chasing your orgasm. 

“I’m-- I’m gonna--” you clench hard around his fingers, so close to tipping over the edge.

And then his touch is gone. He’s pulled his fingers out of you and let go of you completely, taking a step back. You let out an actual scream of frustration. “No!” you shout, slumping back until your head hits your desk. You actually pout at him.

“Not yet, sweetheart. Want you to come on my cock.” His voice is so low, you almost can’t hear him over the sound of your heaving breaths. “Sit up, pretty girl.”

You push yourself back up and take in his appearance. Other than his rumpled shirt, he looks completely unbothered. His hair is still effortlessly tousled, his face is set into a teasing smirk. The fucker didn’t even break a sweat and you’re gasping for breath like a fish out of water. Pretty girl. He called you pretty.

“Bend over the desk, sweetheart.” 

You scramble to obey his request, standing up and bending over, pushing your ass into the air. You press your forehead into the desk and try to calm your fluttering heart rate. 

Suddenly… finally… you feel his hands on you. He grabs your skirt and bunches it up around your waist. His fingertips slide into the waistband of your panties and he pushes them down, letting them settle around your ankles. You hear the clink of a belt buckle, the tug of a zipper, and then you feel him. 

He slides his cock between your clenched thighs, through the wet folds of your pussy and oh god. You can’t see him, but you can feel that he’s thick. The head of his cock presses against your clit and you moan. 

“Such a pretty little pussy… I’m going to ruin it.” You gasp, but before you can respond, he’s moving. In one fluid motion, he pulls back, kicks your feet apart, and pushes all the way into you. 

“Oh fuck,” you moan out. You might pass out from pleasure. His cock is thick, filling you up and stretching you out more than you ever have been before. He holds still inside you while you clench and unclench around his girth, trying to get used to it. “So big.” you gasp into the desk. 

“I know, baby.” And then he moves, pulling all the way out to the tip and thrusting hard, all the way back in. The force of his hips smacking against your ass jolts you into the desk, making you cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain and sprawl forward on the desk. 

Ben grabs your shoulder with one hand, tightens his grip on your hip with the other, and resumes fucking into you at an absolutely brutal pace. 

Some part of you is scared you’ll get caught, but that part is overpowered by the euphoria you feel. You’re moaning and babbling incoherently as his cock hits that sweet spot deep inside you and grinds into it with every thrust. 

“Is my. Little. Slut. Gonna. Come. on my. Cock?” Ben grits out between thrusts. 

You cry out a garbled response. Your cunt is fluttering around his thick length and your eyes are rolling into the back of your head and there’s no way you can form words right now. 

Ben wraps his arm around your chest and pulls you back against him. His cock hits something deep inside you and you come with an agonizing cry, gushing around his cock and soaking him to the base. 

Your whole body goes limp with the force of your orgasm, but he holds you up and continues fucking up into you. After a few more thrusts, he pulls out and covers your ass and thighs in his release, letting out a low groan as the thick ropes hit your skin. 

You’re lying on the desk on your stomach, naked ass still in the air. It’s a ridiculous position to lay in, but you’re still riding the high of your orgasm and too blissed out to care. You jolt as you feel silk move across your over-sensitive skin. 

“What’re you doing?” You’re so drunk on his cock, it comes out slurred.

“Cleaning you up, sweetheart,” Ben says. Is he- he’s cleaning you up with his tie. Fuck that’s hot. And sweet? 

“Thank you…” you sigh into the desk. He pulls your panties back up for you and settles your skirt back down around your legs.

“Can you sit up for me, baby?” He doesn’t wait for you to answer before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you to your feet, nestling your head into the curve of his shoulder.

It’s not fair for him to fuck you that good and go right to being the sweet, bashful man you thought you knew. 

He brushes your hair out of your face and presses a soft, almost tender, kiss to your nose. You giggle and the sound makes him break out into a smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners and his dimple peeking out behind a 5 o’clock shadow. 

“Come on, sweetheart, I’ll walk you to your car.” 

He grabs your coat and your tote bag, slips his hand into yours, and leads you out to the parking lot.

a/n: I’m so sorry. This is ridiculous and I apologize for the no plot snl character porn fic. 

Tags: @beskarandblasters @meveispunk

[toshootforthestars]

Hey so...

I have very little faith in the future right now.  Honestly I have reason to suspect that this new decade, the 2020′s, will be a total shitshow.  A shitshow of human suffering and misery unlike anything anyone alive has experienced.

I speak in regards to how things will pan out in the good ol’ USA, although I suspect things will turn to further shit across the globe. 

I just don’t see anything good on the horizon.  Politically, socially, environmentally, financially, nor spiritually.  The 2020′s will be a calamitous era without any analogue to any previous decade in our kids’ textbooks. 

Over 100 years of hard-fought social progress absolutely will be undone by the leadership in Washington, but precious little else will even be addressed.  Take-home wages will continue to stagnate or even fall. Environmental degradation will continue at an exponential rate.  Public infrastructure will largely collapse if is isn’t fully abandoned.  Democratic governance will be largely abandoned. Human rights, already a concept on the decline, might not exist in 10 years time. Pandemics and resistant disease may both flourish this decade, unabated.  Plus: the pension crisis, social security insolvency, predatory capitalism, increasing barriers to internet access, the insecure IoT, election hacking, the health care crisis, and microplastics.  And more!

There are so many urgent problems that affect everyone, and there’s absolutely no will to solve them.  It’s a crisis of leadership seldom seen.  Too few people in a position to create change even cares.  No shitty action has any consequence of merit.  It’s the “fuck you” society.  A teenager from Sweden pleas for action on the world stage and she’s roundly mocked, debased and ignored.

Each individual is on their own... and as it should be, most will say!  Social darwinism, the “rugged individualist” ideals far too many people are returning to, combines with the horrific transformation of our society from one of ideas, virtues and progress to this insular, post-truth, anti-science dogmatic and authoritarian sandbox game.  Perhaps this was the way society used to be like, if not for the apathy of our parents and grandparents to fully impart this to us.

If the world is full of people whose only motivation is self-interest, people with no compassion, no capacity to understand, no capacity to think critically, will society even stand in the face of crisis?

The future feels like a hellscape almost beyond imagination.

I think back to all the times that I’ve heard, first-hand or second-hand, an individual claim that “there’s far too many people in this world” or that “we need to thin the herd,” clutching vainly to this merit-based existence where everyone’s life is a privilege that must be earned, that must be proven to others, day in and day out.  This argument wins the day.  It grows more adherents.  People are in cages on the U.S./Mex border and the false assumption that “it can’t happen to me” wins the day.  The planet is on fire, but “fuck you--got mine.”  It’s great. It’s fantastic.  I need to watch what I say now because the silent majority is fed up with our shit.

So much will be radically different by 2029.  The internet will still be around, with facebook and instagram, Apple and Amazon, plus a handful of general interest websites. NewsMax too, I suspect.  But no tumblr. No Wordpress. No AO3. No blogs. No twitter. No tiktok. No more....  many things.  But the ones still standing by 2030, they’ll still have Walmart, DuPont, Bayer, Coca-Cola, Pepsico, Verizon, Disney and pickup trucks. 

You know, I very strongly doubt there will be free and abundant potable water, anywhere, by 2029.  Tap water will become a thing of the past, just like the landline phone.

Hell by 2060 I wouldn’t be surprised if 75% of the world’s population to have perished, while planetary-scale geoengineering will have begun in earnest by then, by a largely robotic work force.

I very much want to be wrong about this and more.

I won’t get my hopes up.  At my apartment, I no longer separate the recyclables from the trash.  I’ve been told in confidence by people I know, from work and from the community, that everything in the town I live in is being landfilled now, for reasons, and has been for many years now.  All the surrounding towns too.  Among the reasons: near-zero public compliance with the recycling rules, plus no interest in hiring people to hose out all the crusted & moldy remains from those recyclables.  Largely, it’s the long-standing, steadfast opposition to recycling from the get-go.  Recycling is and always has been some liberal bullshit, like Earth Day, and plastics actually do biodegrade in landfills (they don’t but fuck science and evidence), and asking at all about what happens to the trash to begin with is stupid and I shouldn’t do it.  Facilities to melt down plastics for reuse, well, there’s none near where I live. That’s why some recyclables not landfilled here are sent dumped overseas. No one can tell me if there is any such reuse industry at all for plastics and glass like there sorta is for paperboard. If I trash all my garbage, it’ll be landfilled locally instead of being dumped across the world. It’s the least bad option.  I hate it.  I hate it all.  I hate the total lack of any regard for other people, for the planet, nor for the future.  I hate that there’s so little I can do except complain.  But only to the right people.

(Rethink the supply chain? Rethink consumer goods?  Reusable container for everything?  I get dirty looks just for using a reusable Whirley mug for gas station coffee, instead of the polystyrene cups provided because I’m “cheap.”.  The state I live in has a partial ban on plastic bags that *may* go into effect in a few months if the law isn’t struck down in court.  It’s great.)

No one cares and I shouldn’t either.  That’s the answer I get. That’s the solution I read is being agreed upon.  Just as long as the dump doesn’t smell too bad. 

This is world I live in today. 

Happy 2020.