#this is still my 'art blog' i tell myself

[ramp-it-up]

Peach VI

Peach V | Peach VII

Summary: Steven Grant Rogers is a mob boss trying to get clean. It’s definitely because he’s in love. With you. He's got you on his turf in NYC. You two FINALLY admit your feelings for one another and seal the deal. But how far are you willing to go for this love?

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

A/N: This is it! I hope the smut is up to par. When I tell you I’ve agonized about this. But thank you to all who were in my inbox and dms giving me encouragement this week. Love you bunches! ❤️

This fic is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and DIRECTLY AFTER the events in Peach V. Your interaction keeps me writing, so let me know if you like it by commenting and reblogging.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. Angst. Slow burn, Mutual pining, idiots in love, eye fucking, Steve Rogers is an artist, y'all!, sending (almost) nudes, phone sex, possessive Steve, references to shibari, mutual masturbation, pining, references to sex in a car, the "L" word, oral (f recieving), fingering, overstimulation, nipple play, size kink, pleasurable pain with sex, definite breeding kink, raw p in v, Lil bit of Dom Steve if you squint, references to murder. Something big may or may not happen after the last line.

Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

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

-------

Steve Rogers left you in your hotel room, a quivering, emotional, mess.

He’d made you cum, hard, but you felt that he was holding back, that if you’d told him how you felt it would have been so much better.

Or maybe that was all in your mind. Steven Grant Rogers was on your mind a lot since you met him as Grant Stevens in Atlanta.

A lot happened in a short amount of time that caused you to deny your feelings for him. And now you were no longer trying to keep him out. 

He was definitely a distraction, but now you couldn’t deny your feelings for him any longer. You just needed to be a woman about it and tell him.

What’s the worst that could happen? You weren’t going to marry the guy, you just want to explore these mutual feelings. It shouldn’t be complicated.

Right?

You still had the rest of the week in New York to stress out about it, so that was a plus. The afternoon was ahead of you and the next day was the Summitt.

After that, you had your one on one with Steve.

Bucky told you about Steve being an artist himself during your meeting with him. So, for your meeting with Steve, you requested that you see some of his artwork, and he agreed.

You were curious to see what he could create, and you were anxious and turned on at the thought of him as a creator.

You were so into Steve Rogers.

And you didn’t know what you were going to do about that.

—--

Steve had to stop himself from going back up to your room three times after he left. He finally exited the hotel and stalked down the street back to the Rebirth building to his car and pulled out his phone, dialing Bucky and pulling out of the garage.

He needed a drive and a little alone time to clear his head and come down from you, but he also needed his friend’s help.

“Wassssaaaap! Did you get the–”

Steve cut Bucky off.

“Remember that shopping trip we took a few weeks ago? For the ring?”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah. Meet me on 47th street.”

—-

That afternoon, you just kept your distance from Sharon and ignored her, focusing on the task at hand and all business. You didn’t want to waste energy on her.

Your energy was spent on thinking about Steve and wondering if he was thinking of you too. You wanted to text him, but you were chilling. You didn’t want to seem to eager.

You were successful in your self control until 11 pm as you tossed and turned in your hotel king bed. Doubts, but mostly need and desire, coursed through you. 

You were going to find out exactly what Steve was doing right now and who he might be with. You shook your head at how much you cared; it was definitely not something you regularly did. You weren’t used to feening for someone.

You were choosing violence as you posed on the bed in front of the mirror. You sat on the bed, crossed your legs and snapped a picture.

You weren’t naked, but your panties were skin tone and your sleep bra was sheer and you were feeling needy.

Before you thought too hard, you sent it to Steve, then jumped in bed and pulled the covers over your head with that feeling of dread and panic when you don’t know if you’ve done something supremely reckless or not.

—

Steve was ready for the Summit, but he couldn’t stop thinking of you. Sleep was elusive, so he was self medicating, sketching your body from memory of mostly touch.

His phone vibrated and he almost didn’t pick it up, but when he saw your name, his heart sped up.

He clicked through to your message and his heart started hammering in his chest. 

Sorry, wrong thread.

The picture you sent along threatened to give him a heart attack. He zoomed in a couple of times and then read the message again. What the fuck?

——-

In less than a minute your phone was ringing. You picked up immediately.

“Don’t fucking play with me, Peach.”

Steve’s growl got you wet, but you instantly regretted your horny decisions.

“It was a mistake.”

“It absofuckinlutely was. You’re joking about it being the wrong thread, right? That is mine, correct?”

You shivered at his double meaning and at his possessiveness.

“Yes, Mr. Rogers.”

Your voice was needy and that awakened a hunger in Steve. He was beyond frustrated that he wasn’t there to spank your ass raw, but he remained quiet.

You sensed his mood.

“If I were there, I’d make it up to you…”

You were testing the waters, experimenting to see if he would give you what you wanted despite his annoyance.

If he would give you what you needed.

“What would you do?” 

Steve’s baritone was silk in your ear.

“What?” 

You suddenly found that you couldn’t breathe.

“What would you do if you were here?”

“I’d kiss you,” you rushed out in a whisper.

Steve paused, letting your sentence hang in the air.

“And?” 

There was an edge to the question. 

“And… My lips. All over you.” 

Fuck, he was hard. Just a few words in your husky voice, and Steve delirious, imagining his hands in your hair as you kissed him.

“Where?” he asked mercilessly, his voice broken with lust.

“Everywhere…your face, your neck, your nipples, your abs. Your cock.” 

You were definitely not a virgin, but you were blushing through the phone although your hand was rubbing the skin at the edge of your underwear.

“Want you in my throat.” 

Steve had to concentrate to stay hard. 

“Oh? What if I want more than that?” 

“You can have whatever you want...” 

A sense of power flooded Steve’s body, both heady and intoxicating at your admission.

“You should be very careful when you make that offer, Peach,” he said softly. 

“I trust you.” 

Holy fuck. Why did that mean everything to him?  He cleared his throat.

“Touch yourself,” he ordered.

“Okay.” 

You complied so readily, it made Steve even harder.

Your clit was so hard as you circled it.

“Are you wet, Sweetheart?” 

You moaned and Steve reached into his sweats and curled his fingers around his aching cock.

“My pussy is so messy for you, Mr. Rogers,” you whispered, thrilled and afraid of how much you wanted him. 

Steve rolled his eyes as his cocked jerked for you.

“Such a good little slut.” 

“Fuck…” 

You realized the breath you’d been holding as you listened for his voice.

“Your pussy is so beautiful Peach. And god, you taste so good. Just like a sweet peach.”

Steve knew he had you in the palm of his hand. But fuck, you had him in yours too. 

“But your cunt is so tiny. I’m gonna needs to get you ready for me, Baby.”

“Is it going to hurt me?” you whined. 

Steve was about to explode at your little innocent voice asking the most nasty question.

“Yes, Peach. It is,” he growled as your anticipation reached 100.

Your breath sped up and so did your fingers. Steve grunted, his fist moving faster, thumb swiping the copious dribbles of precum dripping from his slit.

He should have known it was over as soon as he opened your message.

Hot sex was happening.

Electronically.

As the coil in your belly wind tighter, you realized with both joy and dismay that you were addicted.

“Steve, “m so close…” 

“Of course you are.” 

Steve soaked up your cute little sex sounds, thirsty for more. 

“You know what I’m thinking about, Doll?” 

A shaky breath was your only response. Steve continued.

“I think I want to tie you up. Silk ropes all over you, pretty little knots. I’d tie your arms behind your back, so those tits would sit up pretty for me to slap, lick and suck. That ass would be tied up so sweet and open so I could eat it.”

Your eyes rolled at the sensations his words and your fingers were sending to your clit. 

“I’d fuck your throat and cum all over that soft, sweet body. Over and over, while I tease your greedy little cunt. I want to see it drip down your delicious nipples, your belly, your hungry pussy, your pretty face. I need to see all of you covered in my cum. Everywhere, marking you as mine…Mine.” 

You gasped, and then moaned and your entire body tightened up then released.

Your mouth hinged open as you came. 

“Mine,” Steve hissed, tightening the knots around you both and jerking his cock until cum spurted out. He listened to your breathing and knew that you’d just cum as well. 

Suddenly, he missed you.

“You good, Peach?”

You hesitated.You heard the yearning in his voice and you wanted to be in his arms, but you lied to him anyway.

“Yeah.”

Steve smiled at you. He shook his head even though you couldn’t see.

“Sweet dreams. See you tomorrow.”

“Night Steve.”

—---

You needed a distraction.

Steve looked so delicious this morning, sitting on stage and serving art intellectual in a dark turtleneck and brown corduroy suit. A suit that was tailored to the detriment of everyone who looked at him. 

Holy shit.

This man was wearing a corduroy suit and he made it look damn good.  

And he made you feral.

You decided to give your cousin a hard time to prevent yourself from becoming a simp.

“You look like that damn heart eyes emoji, ya know.”

She didn’t look at you as you yanked her chain. She just continued to follow Bucky’s every move and lit up when he glanced her way. She was gone, girl.

You teased her some more until you saw Steve. You sighed and gazed at him, straightening your spine as you remembered how he made you cum twice yesterday. And he’d hardly touched you. 

As if sensing your gaze, Steve’s head turned. Those mesmerizing blue eyes locked with yours, and the rest of the world disappeared in an instant. For a moment, you were frozen. Pinned in your seat by his magnetism.

This feeling was so heady.

When you realized you’d been caught staring Steve down, you tried to change the unspoken subject.

“Bucky is pretty much the man.”

“Fucking-A.” 

Her chuckle was all-knowing. Then she read you.

“Steve is the shit too.”

You couldn’t front anymore.

“He’s amazing. I had no idea about everything that he does. Have to say, I’m impressed.”

She was speechless and so were you. You both continued enjoying the forum when your phone buzzed.

You look beautiful today. You’re my favorite thing to study. Can’t wait for today’s art experience. Meet me at the Laguardia Place entrance immediately after the talk. Sunlight is precious.

You were his favorite thing to study!

You waited on the edge of your seat until the end of the summit. Then you were up and walking out toward the entrance post haste.

The hair on the back of your neck raised when you saw Steve watching you from the door of Rosenthal Pavilion.

His smile when you made eye contact knocked the breath out of your lungs.

In that moment, you realized that you were in love with Steven Grant Rogers. 

Holy hell.

His deep voice greeted you as you arrived.

“I’m anxious to get started.”

Steve searched your face and found a different look from the partially closed off expression you’d showed him since Thanksgiving.

Your face was open and trusting. His heart did a funny thing in his chest. It was almost too good to be true.

Could you love him, too?

He tempered his mood with sensible words, filling the space that he wanted to fill with romantic declarations.

“I’m going to take you to my favorite artistic landmark in the city. I’ve loved it since I was a boy.”

You smiled up at him and took his hand.

“Let’s not waste any more time.”

—--

The driver that was taking you and Steve to your meeting place was the same one who picked you up from the airport. The one that your cousin knew so well. 

You stared at the back of his head and then glanced over at Steve. He raised his eyebrow at you because of the look on your face. You grinned back, then leaned forward to tap the driver on the shoulder.

“So… Nico…” 

Your eyes cut over to Steve with a mischievous look. His heart beat out of his chest at the joy you were serving him along with your chaos. 

“You ever drive my cousin and Bucky around the city?”

Nico stole a look at you and smiled.

“Yes ma’am. All the time.”

“Do they ever do the nasty back here…?”

Nico laughed heartily as Steve shook his head.

“Peach…”

You shushed Steve.

“Hush, I’m trying to get the dirt. Now Nico, tell the truth…”

Steve sat back and listened to your unhinged behavior on the drive over to the Brooklyn Botanical Garden. Your spirit and your laugh made him warm inside, despite the cold day.

—-

Nico stopped the car at the Washington Avenue entrance to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. Steve got out, shouldered his backpack, and then reached for your gloved hand with his own.

For some reason, you felt like a princess as you stepped on the path. The air was crisp, and there were traces of snow lingering on the ground.

You came out of the car chattering and laughing, making Steve’s heart light.

“I know Nico wouldn’t crack, but I could tell from the way he went red. Those whores….”

“Literal Freaks,” replied Steve. “Bunny is an appropriate nickname for him, because he and your cousin…” 

Steve shook his head and rolled his eyes, although he fantasized about christening the backseat of the Lincoln for you and him.

The wrought-iron gate creaked softly behind you as you entered the Garden, and you looked around in wonder as the gravel path crunched beneath your boots. A magnificent metal and glass structure was in front of you.

“This is the Steinhardt Conservatory. Wait until you see the inside.”

Steve smiled and took your hand as you stepped through the glass doors into sudden warmth shaking your head at him. 

There was a heavy scent of flowers and a haze of the waning rays of sunlight beaming through the glass panels overhead. It gave everything golden highlights, including you and Steve. 

You squeezed his hand as you looked around in awe. 

“Beautiful,” you murmured.

And then you noticed that he was looking at you. 

“Yes…”

You grew warm as you looked into his gorgeous blue eyes.

“It’s like a completely different world in here.”

“It’s our world for the moment. Just you and me.”

He wanted to add the word Forever, but he didn’t. You felt it though.

You started on an indoor path and Steve pointed out the unique flowers and plants in his warm baritone. You were impressed, again, with how much he knew.

Steve Rogers was not a stereotypical mobster. This was a man who followed a path in life that landed him where he didn’t want to be and was trying to make up for it. 

As he spoke, Steve drew you into his enthusiasm, and you found yourself smiling and relaxing, asking questions and marveling at the vast indoor space. 

When you came to a small alcove furnished with a wooden bench and beneath a sprawling magnolia tree, Steve stopped and took his backpack off his shoulder, and then taking off his coat and draping it over the bench as you did the same.

"Please, sit." 

His voice was quiet, but there was no mistaking the subtle command.

You hesitated. 

"Why?"

"So I can sketch you."

Your stomach did an odd little flip. 

"Here? Now? I wanted to see your sketches, not be your sketches."

You performed on stage in front of hundreds with barely no clothes on and you were so nervous to let Steve Rogers sketch you with winter layers of clothes on. What was wrong with you?

Steve raised his eyebrow and his gaze swept up your body slowly, making you shiver. Clothes couldn’t stop the intimacy of that look.

“Too late for that.”

You raised your eyebrow at him and you felt irrationally happy. Steve had drawn you.

“Do you not trust me?”

You regarded him, guardian your reaction because you didn’t want to seem too eager.

“I do Steve. I trust you.”

It was true.

Steve smiled. 

“Then please, sit down.”

You gave in with a sigh and lowered yourself onto the bench. 

"Fine," you muttered. "But no weird artistic liberties. I better have a nose."

Steve chuckled, flipping open the sketchbook. 

"I make no promises."

You watched as he proceeded to balance the sketchbook against his bended knee. Then he looked at you seriously, holding your gaze for a moment before his attention returned to the page, and his pencil began gliding effortlessly across the paper. 

His thick fingers were surprisingly agile, moving with long, sure strokes. But then again, you shouldn’t have been surprised, with the way his fingers had previously made you feel…

For a few moments, the only sound was the soft scratch of his pencil against paper. 

You attempted to sit still, staring at the plants around you. You also tried to pretend that you weren’t aware of the way he studied you with that relentless focus, switching his gaze between you and the sketchbook.

After a few minutes, Steve made a soft noise, something between a hum and a chuckle.

“What?” you asked, turning your head and narrowing your eyes at him.

“Nothing.” 

He didn’t look up. But he spoke.

“It’s just... you’re trying so hard not to move, but you’re fidgeting anyway.”

You caught the hint of humor in his tone and it made you a little too happy again, so you decided to cause problems. 

"Well, maybe if you didn’t look at me like that.”

"Like what?" 

His lips curled into a knowing smirk, looking up at you quickly, then back down.

You fidgeted again.

"You know…"

Steve chuckled, deep and low and shook his head.

"Oh. Am I ‘sparkling my eyes at you again?’”

You scowled at him and he laughed.

“I'm an artist, Peach. I study form." 

His eyes traced up and down your body, lighting you on fire again.

You clenched your thighs together to fight the flow of arousal threatening your thighs. This was dangerous. Steve was dangerous.

"You're insufferable, Steven."

“Well, can you suffer on a little longer, so I can capture more detail?”

You cocked your head in that adorable way.

“What details do you need?”

“I need…” 

Steve looked at you like he needed all of you. 

And he did. 

“I want to capture the way your nose crinkles when you're annoyed, or how you're gripping the bench like you're about to get up and run.”

You unclenched your hands and sat back.

“You’re making me nervous.”

He tapped his pencil against the sketchbook. Then he looked down again to continue drawing.

"Interesting."

"What is?"

He licked those red lips of his and your eyes tracked the movement.

"The fact that I make you nervous."

The way he was looking at you made butterflies riot in your stomach. That special electricity was buzzing around you both. 

Suddenly, his pencil stopped. Then, without warning, he reached out, brushing his fingers beneath your chin, tilting your face slightly.

You stiffened.

"Hold still," he murmured. 

His thumb ghosted over the curve of your jaw and settled at the edge of your throat.

Your breath hitched.

Steve’s eyes were dark now and his voice was softer when he spoke again, but there was an edge to it now, hinting at something rough beneath the surface.

“You always do this?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“React like this when someone touches you.”

You pursed your lips together and shook your head. 

Just you.

"You’re doing it again," he mused as he stroked the side of your throat with his thumb.

"What, Mr. Rogers?"

You were about to combust. He clenched his jaw and increased the pressure of his fingers on your neck.

"Fighting it."

"I- I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"You do," he intoned, his voice stern.

"Don’t hide from me, Peach." 

Your pulse beat beneath his fingertips.

"You think I don’t notice how you react to me?" 

Steve’s hand grasped your throat, pressing more firmly before he let go.

"Hold. Still," he murmured, those blue, blue eyes stormy.

His fingers tilted your face up with authority now. You froze for a moment as his thumb came up to pull your chin down to open your mouth.

“Breathe.”

He slowly pulled his hand away and you had to stop yourself from chasing his touch. 

Steve clenched his jaw, trying to restrain himself. If he had to guess, you were wet and ready for him to do whatever he wanted to you right now. But he willed himself to be patient. 

He picked up his pencil again, rolling it between his fingers, like nothing had happened. 

"Good girl," he offered to the page as he returned to his sketch.

Steve knew what he was doing. Knew exactly how much he affected you. You waited impatiently, clenching your thighs together desperately as his pencil continued to scratch on the paper. 

"Done," he said, as he lifted the sketchbook toward you.

You gasped as you looked at the page. 

The drawing was stunning. Steve had captured you with uncanny accuracy, from the curve of your parted lips to the shading of the different colors in your eyes. The hollow of your throat seemed to pulse, and you could almost see the indentations of his fingers. 

The portrait was beautiful. And it told you everything you needed to know about how he felt.

“This is… how can I thank you?”

Steve’s heart flipped in his chest as he reached out and grabbed your waist, pulling you toward him on the bench.

"Steve…"

His eyes went to your mouth.

"Say that again," he murmured, barely above a whisper.

Your whole body was burning, but you stayed quiet. You were paralyzed with the possibilities.

"No? Too shy now?"

His voice made you impossibly wet. If you gave in, you were about to get everything you didn’t know that you wanted. And that scared you.

You let out a shaky breath. 

"Steve."

Something flickered behind his eyes. Something hot.

“Have I told you that I love the way you say my name?”

His hand came up again against your side, slowly, more deliberate. His fingers moved over the curve of your side, and slid against your breast, his thumb ghosting over your nipple.

He continued, tracing over your cleavage and finally landing against your throat again, pressing against your pulse and driving you crazy.

"You're shaking," he murmured, voice low, thick with need.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he leaned in and gave you a kiss against your throat. And he lingered, lips warm against your skin, before pulling back just enough to smile against your skin.

Your whimper told him so much. 

"You act so tough, but you’re so easy to ruin."

You raised your arms and pulled him close, fingers playing at the nape clutching the hair spilling over his collar.

“You made me this way, Steve. And I don’t want you to stop.”

His now dark blue eyes searched yours as his fingers tightened on your waist. 

“What does that mean, Peach?”

He’d pulled you closer, his eyes on your face as he waited for your answer. The anticipation was so much. He huffed and then dove into the curve of your neck, inhaling and tasting you there, as if he couldn’t help himself. His large hands palmed your breasts, pressing your nipples insistently.

“Oh…my….Steve!”

You squirmed in his grip.

“I asked you a question. Do I need to stop touching you so you can answer?”

“Please, no, Steve. Need you...”

You were the queen of changing the subject.

“Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

His lips were on the curve of your jaw, so close to your lips. You whined. He cocked his eyebrow, the question not so silent.

You huffed, making your decision to go for it as your hands came to the side of his face so that he knew your intentionality. You wanted to look into his eyes when you said it.

“Moment of honesty? I want you Steve. I feel…I want to be yours. Really been yours since you put your hands on me in Atlanta. I can’t categorize or control this feeling. So I’m giving in. Are you ready for the chaos that is me being yours?”

Steve’s eyes lit up and he reached for you, pulling you into his lap as his lips crashed into yours. His hands were everywhere. He tugged you closer as he kissed you and both hands came down to grab your ass and pull you onto his erection. His desire for you was apparent.

When you broke apart, you chased his lips and then kissed him again, greedy.

“I’ve been ready. Been yours for a while, now Peach. Since the day I saw you…”

His voice was gentle and he was looking at you like you were fine porcelain. You felt so safe in his arms. He pulled back to look you in the eye.

“And this feeling? This is exactly how it should feel when it's meant to be.”

He kissed you again and his mouth took possession of yours in a way that was tender, yet full of promise. 

“I gotta let you know that if you’re mine, I’m gonna give you what you need. When you need it. Do you want that? Do you trust me with that?”

This was the important question.

“Yes, please. I want that, Mr. Rogers, sir. And I trust you.” 

"That’s so fucking hot… but I’m trying to behave. Even though I reserved the pavilion just for us, we’re still in a public place,” he murmured. 

His voice was calm, controlled. But those sea blue eyes told a different story.

"You call this behaving?"

You rolled your hips against his cock. Steve kissed you again and let out a sexy chuckle, then stood you both up, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

"If I wasn’t," he murmured, "you’d already be begging me for more." 

You linked your arms around his neck and looked up at him as the cutest woman on earth.

“What if I don’t want you to behave? Like you said, you have the pavilion reserved. You can bend me over the bench and fuck me raw. Right here.”

Steve’s pupils took over his eyes and his jaw clenched. Your stomach dropped as he looked as if he was about to do just as you suggested. But he took a deep breath and smiled.

“We’ll explore that kink later. Our first time needs to be in private.”

Steve reached for your coat and helped you with it before putting his own on and gathering his things. He took your hand and led you out and across the grounds. He pointed to a familiar building. 

“Your hotel is right there. Or do you want me to call Nico to take us to my place?”

You looked up at Steve as your breath vaporized in the cold air.

“We need my hotel. I’m ready. Right now.”

—--

You were in your room again, not entirely sure how you arrived, the journey through the park hurried and full of anticipation. You weren’t thinking too hard, you just knew you needed Steve. Immediately.

You were pushing his coat and blazer off his body and feeling his chest. The steady thrum of his pulse tapped a staccato in your palm.

“Your heart's beating so fast,” you whispered. 

“You do that to me, Peach.” 

“Really?” you questioned, suddenly unsure of yourself.

“You have no idea how much power you have, do you?” 

“Me?” you asked in a small voice. 

Steve nodded.

“You drive me crazy. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.” 

It was confession time.

“It’s you that has the power, Steve. I can't stop thinking about you. Your voice gets me there.” 

You felt tongue tied as you told him your raw feelings, all the while taking off your and his clothes. 

“Sometimes I — I think I'm going to cum just from hearing you speak. Today, at NYU, I could hardly sit still. You're like a drug, pulling all my attention.” 

Steve’s shirt was off now and you were in your bra; he pulled you near him to get his mouth on you.

“When I'm near you, I'm so hard it aches.”

 “Really?” you whispered. “Are you aching right now?” 

Steve groaned as you pulled back to unzip your skirt and take off your boots. He leaned back against the wall and palmed his crotch over his pants. 

“Like you wouldn't believe.” 

Steve couldn’t believe that he had you here like this, giving yourself to him. He had to tell you the truth.

“Look at me, Peach.”

You looked into his eyes.

“I’m In love with you.”

His rough voice pulled an involuntary sound from you. 

“You're mine, Peach You always have been.

Your breath caught in your throat and your heart thudded against yor ribs.

“Oh god, Steve. I- I love you too.”

Your smile blinded him. If he blinked it was because of that. Not that he was going to cry. 

Not at all. 

He laughed as an expression of joy and then your lips met.

The kiss wasn't soft or sweet. This was feral, sharp, and intense. You moaned into his mouth, sucking his bottom lip into yours as he unhooked your bra.

“I fucking want you,” you whimpered into his mouth. 

Steve smiled against your lips.

“Good, cause I fucking need you, my sweet Peach.”

Steve stood, looming over you, all big and fucking magnificent. The vision of him, all lithe muscles covered in smooth skin, and light feathering of hair making its way down his torso, between the defined planes of his abs and into his waistband, was… Good Lord.

You licked your lips, mouth instantly dry. 

Steve’s mouth hooked up on one side as his fingers worked his belt and fly. His pants fell in a matter of seconds, and there he was, wearing nothing but black boxer briefs.

Steve was all thick thighs, and long, powerful legs, his hand slowly stroking himself over the sizable bulge in his underwear. 

You gaped at him. 

Then, he pulled his underwear down, eyes on your face for your reaction. It was classic, your mouth hinged open and your eyes were like saucers. There was no way anyone could be that perfect.

His dick was long and wide, at least eight or nine inches, and curved eloquently (if a dick could do that) against his abs. It was so pretty and your mouth watered for it at the same time your pussy clenched, as you were thinking he was correct. You would struggle to take him.

His smirked deepened as he reached for you and pulled your panties down slowly, his short fingernails scratching your legs and making you shiver.

For a moment he just stared, drinking in the sight of you spread before him

“Fucking sublime,” Steve breathed, the words filled with reverence. 

“I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else, baby.” 

He leaned over you and set about doing just that, kissing you deep and filthy, tongue diving to claim every inch of your mouth. You cried out, scratching at his broad shoulders as he suckled and nipped, worshiping your breasts until you were mindless with sensation. 

Steve took his time tracing your torso with his lips, teeth and tongue, learning your body and  paying attention to every sigh of pleasure as he climbed down your body.

The press of his mouth to your pussy made your back arch, and a ragged moan escape your mouth. Steve growled into you, the vibrations running through your soaked cunt.

He parted your pussy lips with his thumbs, and dove to lick your clit with the hot velvet of his tongue. 

Slow, thorough licks made you writhe beneath him. 

“That’s it,” he whispered, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“Ride my face, Sweetheart. Fuck my mouth ‘til you cum all over it.” 

You arched like a bow as he latched on to your clit and sucked, two thick fingers thrusting deep to stroke along your inner wall. His practiced fingers found your g-spot and massaged it ruthlessly, curling and scissoring until you sobbed his name.

“Love when you call my name, Peach.”

He looked at you like you were something to be worshipped, and then continued what he was doing. When Steve bit down gently on your clit, your orgasm crashed over you in a burst of white light. 

You shuddered through the aftershocks, trembling as Steve lapped at your folds. Each lick sent a jolt of electricity through you, on the edge of too much. 

Rising to his knees, the thick, heavy length of him rose up again, even more swollen and glistening at the tip. 

Steve notched the thick head of his cock at your entrance and his eyes crossed as he slowly sank into your tight, dripping heat. 

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

Inch after thick inch, he claimed you, stretched you, with a delicious push/pull of pleasure/pain. His length was one thing, but his girth was everything.

When he bottomed out, you both groaned at the intensity of the connection. He looked you in your eyes as your hearts pounded in sync, your breaths mingling as you got used to his size.

“I’ve never felt so full, Stevie…”

You quivered in his arms. And he knew that he was utterly possessed by you. It was more than just physical; it was an overwhelming sense of rightness. 

“Perfect,” Steve rasped.

“So fuckin’ perfect, sweetheart. Like you were made for me.”

He dropped his head and trailed open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat, pausing to suck hard at your pulse point. 

“Please,” you whimpered, the ache between your thighs growing unbearable. “Move.”

“As you wish.” he whispered, brows knitted together. 

You whimpered and your hands grasped the sheets as he started to move. He bent and sucked your nipple hard, causing a jolt of electricity through your body. Your brain was cloudy and you scratched his back as your eyes shuttered closed.

“Open your eyes, Peach,” Steve ordered darkly. 

As he looked you in your beautiful eyes, Steve couldn’t hold back any longer. He started increasing his pace until he was fucking you roughly, pushing your knees to your chest. 

“Yes.. feels so good Steve. Oh my godddddd, fuck me!”

Steve’s eyes roamed your body as he did as you asked. Your beautiful breasts bounced. The bed knocked against the wall and you gasped for breath, your face transfixed on the eye contact between you and Steve.

He was lost, one hand gripped your hair, and the other braced on the headboard. He fucked you hard, grinding against your clit with every stroke. 

You were whimpering, on the verge of screaming as you two made noise up and down the hotel hallway.

He leaned up and grasped your throat, gritting his teeth as he asked a question.

“You want me to cum inside you? You trying to have my baby?”

“Unnnnnnghhhh! Maybe….” 

You opened your eyes and pouted up at him.

“Paint my walls, Steve...”

Steve choked on air as he spurted hot cum into your welcoming pussy, but he pulled out, shooting the last jet of cum on your clit and pussy lips. Then, like a heathen, he bent between your thighs and started licking. 

You sobbed, writhing as he devoured you. 

“Need to eat you more than anything, my sweet, sweet Peach. 

“Steve, Stevie… oh my god!” 

You clutched his hair, tugging sharply. It was too much.

“Oh my God. Please Steveeeee!” 

He raised his head, grinning as you fully collapsed, limp and spent. Your pussy was tender, your face flushed, your eyes gleaming. 

You were beautiful.

You looked at him and shook your head as he took you in his arms. 

“Are you mine?” 

“Yes,” you whimpered out. 

“I would die for you, Y/N L/N,” Steve murmured against your temple, panting. He held you tight, carding his fingers in your hair.

“I promise to keep you safe, and give you everything you need, I promise you that.”

“I believe you, Steve. I trust that.”

—

You and Steve stayed up late, ordered room service and talked about a lot of things, music, your parents, his friendship with Bucky, Nat, and Steve, everything.

You laughed and cried, and then settled back in his arms in the dark to sleep, his hand rubbing your hip as his breathing began to slow.

“Steve, can I ask you a question?”

It had been nagging at you for a while.

His sleepy voice answered you.

“Shoot.”

You chuckled.

“That’s just it. Have you ever… have you ever killed someone?”

Steve stirred, pulling you closer to him and moving his mouth next to your ear.

“Hmmmmm. I’d have to marry you before I answered that question.”

Your heart slammed against your chest and your eyes went wide in the dark.

“What?”

You tried to keep your voice even. You didn’t know what this feeling was that came over you. Steve continued, seemingly calm and not spiraling like you were.

“You can’t be compelled to testify against your spouse. It was a joke, Peach.”

You were silent for a good while.

“Oh.”

Steve stirred, leaning up against his elbow.

“Do you… are you saying that you want to get married?”

Steve thought about the ring that he had at his penthouse.

You laughed.

“Nah… what we looking like just up and getting married like that? We hardly know each other.”

“True. But when you know, you know.”

Steve kissed you and the small amount of logic in your brain was rapidly dissipating.

“Would it make us look crazy…?”

You could sense Steve’s smile in the dark.

“…Or would it be so beautiful?” He replied.

Steve wrapped you up in his arms and settled down again. Your mind spun as his breathing slowed to a steady rhythm and you spoke again. 

He was probably asleep, but you had to get it out.

“If you ask me, I’m ready…”

The light switched on and you were staring into the beautiful blue eyes of Steve Rogers.

——

I’m so anxious about this one! Please let me know how you feel? Reblog, comment, like. TIA!

[strangerthingsfanworkrecs]

I would love to recommend @tomtomslongdong as a *reader* highlight. It is always such a joy to see what they’re reading but also to read whatever comments and tags they leave behind. Let alone to be a writer and receive their feedback. One of the greatest supporters in the fandom, truly if no one else cares for a fic I wrote but they enjoyed it, it’s like the ultimate stamp of approval.

This week, we're highlighting @tomtomslongdong as a commenter! All recs this week will be from her recs.

Tomtom answered some questions about what she does to find fics and to leave great comments under the cut

Why Stranger Things?

I went from casual watcher in anticipation of season 4 coming out to falling in love with all the characters in the space of a few weeks. Friendship, loyalty and messy family dynamics are such a core part of st, which is something I latch onto when I’m watching anything. And maybe.. there were some characters(Eddie) that I grew even more fond of(definitely Eddie). I even remember seeing edits of Eddie at the picnic table but it wasn’t until I had watched that first episode of season 4 that I truly got it. It’s been 84 years but I’m still in love with that man.

What's your favorite ship (platonic or romantic) to read?

I read x reader the most but I adore platonic stobin and I wanna read about them more. Their dynamic is everything to me. Infact Robin with any of the st girls too. I look up this one fanart of robin and Carol Perkins a lot. A LOT.

How do you typically find fics?

At the start I would brave the tags more and I do still do that but genuinely it’s from blogs I like and follow reblogging them. I’ve curated my own little balance of people reading stuff I know I’ll like and also being introduced to fics I might not have even thought of reading before seeing their reactions.

Are there other forms of fanart you enjoy? How do you find them?

Fanart that’s been inspired by fics or concepts, just witnessing one artist inspire another is so joyful. Also when an artists self inserts themselves into their art! It’s seriously one of the coolest things ever. My favourite thing to do is trawling the tags of an eddie blog as I go on a deep dive. I scrape the barnacles off that boat allllll the way back to the start. I find all sorts of fanart and work that maybe I’ve never seen as I didn’t gravitate back to tumblr till later in summer ‘22.

What's your tip for leaving comments on works?

Just tell them how it made you feel man. Scream it at the writers. I’m no good at articulating myself at all but sometimes you read the exact thing you needed to read and all is right with the world. Let them know they’re very much to blame for your emotional state when they post. And who knows those writers might occasionally grace you with the biggest gift of all (more lore on the world they’ve built directly from their mind via an IV drip known as the DMs)

Is there any fanwork that really stood out to you?

hockey!eddie has an iron tight grip on me and if anyone could find the stats on how many times I’ve viewed dr-aculaaa and hearsegrrl art on him, you’d take my phone away

Is there anything we didn't ask that you'd like to add?

Just that it’s wild, there’s this little community in my phone that’s so smart? So talented? And I’ve formed what I hope I can call genuine friendships from this and yet no one in my day to day real life knows I’m just kicking around in here haha! I get to be my weirdo self with my weirdo friends in peace and I think that’s lovely.

[suratan-zir]

an extremely long and personal rant, you're not gonna gain anything by reading it, and if you do decide to read it in its entirety - I'm so sorry

I just need to vent, and this blog is the only place for me to do so. I can't tell the whole story, it's very long, messy, and personal. But long story short: there's a man who's been an unshakable influence on me for almost two decades. He shaped my life and molded me into the person I am today, one way or another. Oh, and he just so happens to be a covert narcissist - not like in those stupid dramatic tiktoks, but in a very real and infuriating way.

We said goodbye. We've been in no contact for over three years since I left the occupied territories. Since Savita's death, I haven't been doing all that well. I've been spiraling, quite frankly. Eventually, when everything else failed to help, I messaged him. Following a series of mostly dry and noncommittal replies, which always ended with "Write me more, I'll be waiting!" from him but contained no questions, no real engagement, no reactions to what I was saying at all - I said, "either drop this BS and start really communicating with me, or tell me straight to go fuck myself, but nothing in between, please."

So, finally, he tells me, "Look, I reach out first, I take the initiative. Let's talk about movies. What would you recommend for me to watch?" and recommends a movie himself. It's just a normal friendly conversation, right? No, the fuck it isn't. With people like this, everything is about control and power, about the opportunity to put you in your place.

Here I present to you our "normal" texting:

me: I watch mostly horrors. We have this tradition of watching a horror movie on the weekends, even though they never scare me. There's been a very recent one starring Hugh Grant - it's not so much a horror as it is a thriller, IMO. But I really enjoyed it. To understand some things better, you may need to know a little about the Mormon sect. But it's not necessary. (Now, dear reader, if you haven’t found anything offensive in my message, you didn’t look close enough, I guess.)

him: I am amazed by your arrogance - "you should know at least a little about the Mormon sect."

me: Why are you being like this? I only told you this because I myself didn’t know anything about the Mormons before the movie, except that it’s a cult in the US. I knew nothing about their rituals, beliefs, etc. This wasn’t directed at you. This wasn’t arrogance. I don’t even know if you watch horrors, but it was the first movie that came to mind because it was the best out of the recently watched.

him: This is such nonsense. Horror is for fear - that is, for teenagers. If there’s no need, then there will be no particular fear - why watch… to awaken old memories when this film still evoked the necessary emotions? As if there are no genres except horror and comedy. Noir, for example. Biopic. Historical. Melodramas. Art house, etc. Why limit yourself… aaaah, it’s to proudly say "I only watch horrors, but they don’t scare me."

me: No, not for that reason. This is my favorite genre because it's the easiest for me to watch and because we have this tradition—to watch horror movies on weekends. You (not only you, but also the film industry as a whole) have a very limited view of this genre. You don't watch it just to be scared. Just like any other movie, you watch it because it’s interesting. Because it evokes some emotions, it doesn’t necessarily have to be fear. Not all horror movies are jump scares and girls climbing out of TVs. I perceive them more as movies that should keep you in suspense, not as something that scares you. People have different tastes, what can you do?

him: A film that keeps you in suspense… I wonder why (fear, of course) comedies don't keep you in suspense, huh? And what else is there in horror? The realization of a child's need for a specific experience of fear. And this is not about tastes (taste is a personal preference). This is objective. And it's easier to watch because there is almost no plot.

me: Wow, you’ve only been watching bad horror movies in your life, then. You're not being objective at all now. You can't consider an entire genre, which is very broad, so narrowly. Heretic is formally classified as horror, but it's not about "fulfilling a child's need for a specific experience of fear." We're talking about different things. Often, horror elements are used as metaphors - not directly as horror. Not to make you afraid, but to make you think about something, to convey an idea in an unconventional way. Don't be so biased. No plot? You have to watch Hereditary or The Empty Man several times to notice everything you missed the first time because there are so many details, and the plot is so twisted.

him: A twisted plot does not speak of the quality of the film, but only of the quality of the mess in the director's head. The best films usually have a clear plot.

me: You could also say that comedies are for children because they like to laugh, and biographical films are for the elderly because they're interested in the past. You can basically say this about anything: Why watch comedies? Just to laugh? Why watch melodramas? Just to compensate for the lack of romance in your life? Why watch dramas? Just to feel sad? Etc. Only scientific and educational documentaries would remain because they have an "objective" benefit. Not everything is so one-sided, and a film has to be very bad to evoke only one emotion in you. Good films aren't arranged like that, and genres often overlap. As I said, many different films are formally classified in this category. The Lighthouse is also considered a horror film, but its goal isn't to scare you. There are psychological horror films, atmospheric ones, dramas, etc. If you follow this logic, then any strong emotion is a "childish need." Adults also cry during dramas and get anxious during thrillers. A movie is good if you don't regret watching it.

Him: Oversimplified, common man's view of genres - don't confuse like/dislike with good/bad.

me: Well, I’m a "commoner." That's my opinion. Who's to talk about arrogance… How does a simple conversation about cinema turn into an argument? Why do you have such a need to prove that I'm wrong about what I like instead of just sticking with your own? It’s strange. You can't prove that all films classified as this genre are bad. Simply because it's objectively impossible - they're too different. The genre is broad and often mixed with others. Maybe you're just sad that you don't watch films with anyone on Saturdays, with disgusting dry pizza and wine? When this is all over, we'll watch a good (good!) horror movie together, and you'll tell me all about how much you didn't like it :)

him: "You should know first…" is arrogance. And to claim that comedy is for the elderly is philistine segregation. I'm not saying that they're all bad. I'm saying that the plot is overly twisted because of the mess in their heads and to hide a weak script.

Me: What? I didn't claim that comedy is for the elderly. It was a deliberately absurd statement that directly mirrored yours. Of course I don't think so - it's stupid. That was the point. -----------------------------------------------------------------

If your head hurts and you're losing your sanity, I'm sorry. Imagine how mine felt. And it wasn't enough for me - oh no. We had a phone call later. Despite my desperate attempts to stop this idiotic argument, he was persistent. I watched the movie he recommended (didn't like it, but oh well), but he said he's not going to watch mine. Okay. Then he starts complaining that I didn't watch his suggested movie dubbed in russian. I explain that I don't watch anything dubbed—movies, TV shows, nothing. Haven't for over ten years now. You know what? He says that I'm MISSING A LOT by watching the ORIGINALS. That I can't possibly get everything there is to get when the movie isn't dubbed. I say that most of the things I watch are in English, and I understand everything. And if not, I watch them with English subs. "And what’s the original? Do you speak Ancient Greek? Do you know how little original English has in it?" WTF Still, he insists - you can't possibly get everything. I say that there are often puns and other untranslatable things, so by dubbing it, you have to write a brand new joke because the translation wouldn't work. Like, for example, "We're werewolves, not swearwolves" in What We Do in the Shadows. It was my favorite joke there, which would've been ruined by dubbing. "To understand puns," he says, "you have to know the language really well." Implying that I can't possibly know English that well.

Then he jumps back on the horror-hating train. I'm trying to explain that I don't actually watch movies that often. "Like, even this classic movie by Tarantino that everyone has seen, Pulp Fiction, my husband only recently talked me into watching it," - I add. "Pulp Fiction? But what's the movie title?" he asks. No, it is the movie title. "No, it's a genre. What's the title?" It is the title. I apologize, I say I'm sorry but I don't know what it's called in the russian adaptation. I describe the plot. "Ah, Криминальное Чтиво," he says. "Yes, that one," - I confirm. "There, Kate, there is your arrogance again."

My arrogance because I genuinely didn't know what it's called in russian. MY arrogance. I'm to blame if he didn't know something. I was supposed to predict he wouldn't know it and not embarrass him by mentioning such things. He has an English teacher diploma, among other things, by the way. The person trying to prove to me the stupidity of watching movies in the original language.

If you read this far - sorry. It's not about movies, languages, or anything else specific. It's nearly any conversation with him. That's how it's always been. The kind of person who would accuse you of everything they themselves possess and display. The kind of person you can't win an argument with because it's not about what you say. It's not about trying to hear each other. It's about power. About showing you that you're less than him. If I make a good argument, it'll be ignored or twisted. If I slip somewhere, I'll be ridiculed mercilessly. If I dare to complain about it, I'll be called overdramatic, overanalyzing, instigating. The only way is to stop playing his game. But I can't stop. I'm stuck in a fucking loop of thinking, "This time I'll be smarter, calmer, more mature, and everything will be different."

[9mysterybook6]

Rhylie a you are just crazy about power and you still do your bad deeds

Seriously, you say I'm crazy about authority while you call yourself the queen gacha

And another thing, you are just trying to get followers so that you can cause problems with others.

And you use any method to get more followers

You were Reblogs on your blog a lot of other blogs And you were posting videos from YouTube

And do I have to remind you that you tried to throw your followers at others before, the one that you them you harassed them

You don't deserve any followers, and your blog.

You never changed from the beginning you are still the same bad person

And again, you tried to be friends with the person you harassed.

Didn't I tell you to leave prometheus2007 alone?

Didn't I tell you before not to mention their name on your blog? You have no right to say their name.

Let me talk about something else.

Everyone thought Rhylie had deleted her blog But the truth is she just changed her name

rhylie the queen of gacha community

I find this funny.

This is funny, Rhylie called me before that I thought I was a queen

like I said before I never called myself a queen tumblr or gacha Just like she used to call me While she calls herself the queen

And this was her response to them

And I must say there was a lot of Narcissistic in this post.

And again, imitate other people's posts.

First stop Rhylie

After reading this I see you are the childish person here

You never respected or listened to other people's opinions.

The biggest example of what is Pamit.

You never respected her wishes, her opinion, or listened to her.

but you stalker her and her friends like a creep

And if someone obstructs your path with Pamit.

You will harass them, spread lies about them, and steal their posts and do hate drawings about them.

And I am %100 sure that is did not happen to you with Sergio

You always lie in your stories and events and make yourself the victim

But what about Sergio

Sergio has the right to tell his part of the story.

And I won't be surprised when he tells me the truth about you.

And again look at your actions

Here is the translation

How I look America Sergio's behavior How I'm getting 600 followers while leaving him alone

If I may, do you think I'm incapable of showing intelligence or maturity when responding? I wanted to tell you that I'll stop leaving Sergio and Pami alone while everyone can make fun of solosergiohd while I take a break from making fun of sergio, but zb189 is incapable of reasoning and all he does is create hate memes about me. But I'm going to have 600 followers and Sergio will get more jealous.

Are you kidding me? I asked for an apology for Sergio and not that trash of a post

Again, you are imitating my words to you

zb189 didn't do anything to you, you deserve all this after harassing and bullying people

And again you are still the dirty art thief

Remember guys when I said she doesn't put it on tag so Nobody finds stolen posts that she stole from the other

Surprise she does it again

Like I said when no one is looking or noticing she posts stolen art on her blog to get a lot of followers.

Look at this This is a drawing by braydenhalo.

https://www.deviantart.com/braydenhalo/art/Lila-JollyFox-Smiling-Critters-Oc-1149570688

Like I said, she's still a dirty thief and she's never changed.

Like I said, she does whatever it takes to get followers.

And you know Rhylie previous actions when she has many followers.

Rhylie usually lies about things and presents herself as the victim, then asks her followers to attack, bully, or report her victims.

Rhylie is also trying to get people who don't know her drama to report her and stand by her side after she told and spread lies about the truth.

Rhylie always tries to win the affection of others and sympathy of others so that her blog will not be reported.

And makes herself a pitiful victim

That's why I say spread awareness about Rhylie and I say report her blog.

Because imagined the disaster Rhylie would cause with her followers and the impact Rhylie would have on them, especially minors.

As you know, Rhylie loves stalking and chase minors like a creep.

And you know what's funny, remember this reply?

This is so funny

Aren't you the same person trying to be in a relationship with two girls you know nothing about

Even one of them said her age 18 While telling you your age 21, They do not feel comfortable with your words in a relationship

Then you, stupid, answered

Rhylie: I am 21 years old and a sensitive person Blah blah blah

You are trying to insist on being in a love relationship with two people, and one of them is their age 18 While your age 21!!!!!

This is what I call Pervert

And when you failed to convince them to have a relationship with you

Rhylie started doing drama and crocodile tears.

Rhylie: say you're not the right person for me Blah blah blah Blah blah blah Blah blah blah

Even in the end you tried a guilt trip and a manipulative to get them to be in a relationship with you or at least be by your side

But of course this did not succeed because they know your true nature and your heinous actions.

So Guys remember to spread awareness about Rhylie and report her blog.

So as not to cause too many problems in the future, or Rhylie get more people to target Or do more horrible things

And a message to Rhylie:::: Before you say I am jealous of you As usual just Lie and excuse

This is not true.

I never get jealous of a corrupt person like yourself.

I don't even care how many followers I have.

But at least I respect them and don't use them as tools to attack others like you.

I mean do you see me crying crocodile tears like you and guilt trip like you

Of course not

I'm just telling the truth about you and your harassment of people.

So keep harassing me, bullying me, attacking me, drawing hate on me, And make your followers attack me And spread lies about me and copying my words, Because eventually you will be banned from here.

[snackugaki]

big boy pizza, leo edition

[vynnyal]

It's super late, but I wanted to do a quick "art vs artist" / summary of 2024 :] mostly long form animation and slugcat sketches this year, but I snuck in a few good ones.

[silusvesuius]

this tree from my new drawing looking goated afffffff 👑👑

[cuttledreams-bugs]

me trying to hype myself up to posting online again despite The Horror

[worldofgoo]

i will do it . as part of my blogging experiment

[marcmorrigan]

i rlly cannot express enough how much love i have for the death note fandom... im fairly new to it obviously but everyone has been SO NICE ABOUT MY ART OH MY GOSH. ive been in a lot of fandoms where ppl were sweet abt my work, but the level of interaction and enthusiasm i have gotten since starting to draw death note art has been like incomparable tbh... i am always so excited when yall leave nice tags and stuff bc they ARE always SO nice

[wolpatinga]

[plugnuts]

I love ur art style a lot, do u have any specific inspirations?

My art style?

Well, I guess my inspirations would come from the fandoms I've been in, if anything! I've picked up something new from each fandom I've been in, getting myself to try out new things as I'm drawing new characters and getting myself to do more thought out drawing projects ^^

[danothan]

i love having dc mutuals! would love to follow one some day…

[bfpierce]

.

[wolfertinger666]

like I said a billion times on my blog, it's very telling I get accusations from time to time of trans fetishization and the accusation stems from... drawing trans characters like myself and my friends, and not only that be actually celebrating our bodies and feeling pride and a balanced sense of sexuality too.

and even if it was fetish artwork, fetish art isn't inherently a lesser form of art, it's still art. anyone who thinks otherwise is leaning towards puritan/fash territory.

[daincrediblegg]

no you know what I'm going to scream about the stuff I talked about in the tags of this post publicly

I'm tired of the well-meaning "don't feel bad if your work only gets 20 notes your genius is what counts and do it for you!" bullshit. I've had a good handful of friends who have straight up DEACTIVATED in recent months because their work was not getting reblogged AT ALL. No, it wasn't from lack of not being well-liked, no it wasn't from lack of trying to make sure it was getting out there to the people they knew would engage with it. It was because no matter how much they were praised privately for their work, when push came to shove, absolutely NOBODY reblogged it and gave it the audience that it was due, and I'm tired of people shoving the "unsung genius" narrative as an excuse for it. Nothing excuses that. And the boop event really proved that.

because I know given the opportunity, indiscriminately pressing a button (sometimes 10 thousand times, as I did) is not beyond this website's capability. y'all loved doing that. and look at what it wrought. nothing but love and affection and happiness. just from a couple of quick clicks of a little paw button. sure. nobody knew who you booped but the other person (which is how likes used to work on this website, btw). there was an element of anonymity to it. but that is kind of the core of this website that no other social media platform still has: the ability to be anonymous. and hyper-curating a blog on here like you might on twitter or instagram to project an image is simply not viable. and hey. you wanna know a secret: literally nobody cares what you post or whether it goes with the "theme" of your blog or not. yeah. I know. CRAZY concept in this day and age. but literally. I myself have reblogged things that have had nothing to do with whatever I am currently fixated by and you know what happened to my follower count? not a damn thing. in fact, I actively try to reblog things specifically BECAUSE it's my friends who made them (even though I'm not always good at KEEPING UP WITH HOW MUCH THEY POST @prismatica-the-strange will NEVER GO UNRECOGNIZED by me).

And you know what fucking sucks? I have to deal with this too. surprise right? you ever wonder why I reblog fics or art I post like 20 times the day that I post them? do you ever wonder why I ask about tag lists and beg for asks all the time? IT'S BECAUSE EVEN I GET LIKE. 5 LIKES ON THE THINGS I POST. AND THE REST OF THE REBLOGS ARE MINE SO I CAN MAKE SURE THAT PEOPLE WHO WANT TO SEE WHAT I MAKE GET TO SEE IT. and I say that knowing that I'm certainly not an unpopular blog, or an unpopular writer. I know that people love the stories that I create. Hell, half of the people that I've talked to about lady terror have told me that they consider her to be canon (AND EVEN SOME!! THOUGHT SHE WAS!!! WITHOUT EVEN HAVING WATCHED THE SHOW! WHICH IS STILL SO SO WILD TO ME!!!) But especially in the last 4 years (which really dates this phenomenon), my posts, no matter how well received they've been amongst people I've talked to about them directly, I still go into the notes and at least half (often more than half) are MY reblogs to make sure people saw what I posted. and it happens every single time, and I can't tell you how much it crushes me considering that it used to be that I would be able to post it only once, and people would reblog it sometimes even HUNDREDS of times.

It's not about popularity. it never has been. it's not about anxiety. or shifting website cultures. even if you lurk, the simple fact is, that if you want people to keep making what you love. you have to reblog. your theme won't suffer because you reblogged a fanfiction that you really admire. your posting won't be ruined because you reblogged some fanart from someone in a different fandom. really. I promise. and if people do unfollow you for that? who needs em. followers come and go but you should NEVER have to cater to them. on this website it has ALWAYS been the other way around. lean into it. make it yours. put stuff you ACTUALLY WANT to be seen and that you love and appreciate on your blog. no matter how old it is, how new it is, no matter how niche or off-theme it is.

so please. if you really want to show your appreciation for someone's work? you reblog. it's really as easy as that. check the tags. add some when you reblog if you like. but please for the love of god reblog. it's as easy as booping and even more rewarding for the people who you reblog from. if you want to let someone know that their work is genius and appreciate it? show it. reblog. then DM them if you're too nervous to say what you want to say but not in a public forum. but for christ's sake. REBLOG.