#you go out of your way and be like “if you don't talk about this then we can't be friends...”

[asgardian--angels]

Planet's Fucked: What Can You Do To Help? (Long Post)

Since nobody is talking about the existential threat to the climate and the environment a second Trump term/Republican government control will cause, which to me supersedes literally every other issue, I wanted to just say my two cents, and some things you can do to help. I am a conservation biologist, whose field was hit substantially by the first Trump presidency. I study wild bees, birds, and plants.

In case anyone forgot what he did last time, he gagged scientists' ability to talk about climate change, he tried zeroing budgets for agencies like the NOAA, he attempted to gut protections in the Endangered Species Act (mainly by redefining 'take' in a way that would allow corporations to destroy habitat of imperiled species with no ramifications), he tried to do the same for the Migratory Bird Treaty Act (the law that offers official protection for native non-game birds), he sought to expand oil and coal extraction from federal protected lands, he shrunk the size of multiple national preserves, HE PULLED US OUT OF THE PARIS CLIMATE AGREEMENT, and more.

We are at a crucial tipping point in being able to slow the pace of climate change, where we decide what emissions scenario we will operate at, with existential consequences for both the environment and people. We are also in the middle of the Sixth Mass Extinction, with the rate of species extinctions far surpassing background rates due completely to human actions. What we do now will determine the fate of the environment for hundreds or thousands of years - from our ability to grow key food crops (goodbye corn belt! I hated you anyway but), to the pressure on coastal communities that will face the brunt of sea level rise and intensifying extreme weather events, to desertification, ocean acidification, wildfires, melting permafrost (yay, outbreaks of deadly frozen viruses!), and a breaking down of ecosystems and ecosystem services due to continued habitat loss and species declines, especially insect declines. The fact that the environment is clearly a low priority issue despite the very real existential threat to so many people, is beyond my ability to understand. I do partly blame the public education system for offering no mandatory environmental science curriculum or any at all in most places. What it means is that it will take the support of everyone who does care to make any amount of difference in this steeply uphill battle.

There are not enough environmental scientists to solve these issues, not if public support is not on our side and the majority of the general public is either uninformed or actively hostile towards climate science (or any conservation science).

So what can you, my fellow Americans, do to help mitigate and minimize the inevitable damage that lay ahead?

I'm not going to tell you to recycle more or take shorter showers. I'll be honest, that stuff is a drop in the bucket. What does matter on the individual level is restoring and protecting habitat, reducing threats to at-risk species, reducing pesticide use, improving agricultural practices, and pushing for policy changes. Restoring CONNECTIVITY to our landscape - corridors of contiguous habitat - will make all the difference for wildlife to be able to survive a changing climate and continued human population expansion.

**Caveat that I work in the northeast with pollinators and birds so I cannot provide specific organizations for some topics, including climate change focused NGOs. Scientists on tumblr who specialize in other fields, please add your own recommended resources. **

We need two things: FUNDING and MANPOWER.

You may surprised to find that an insane amount of conservation work is carried out by volunteers. We don't ever have the funds to pay most of the people who want to help. If you really really care, consider going into a conservation-related field as a career. It's rewarding, passionate work.

At the national level, please support:

The Nature Conservancy

Xerces Society for Invertebrate Conservation

Cornell Lab of Ornithology (including eBird)

National Audubon Society

Federal Duck Stamps (you don't need to be a hunter to buy one!)

These first four work to acquire and restore critical habitat, change environmental policy, and educate the public. There is almost certainly a Nature Conservancy-owned property within driving distance of you. Xerces plays a very large role in pollinator conservation, including sustainable agriculture, native bee monitoring programs, and the Bee City/Bee Campus USA programs. The Lab of O is one of the world's leaders in bird research and conservation. Audubon focuses on bird conservation. You can get annual memberships to these organizations and receive cool swag and/or a subscription to their publications which are well worth it. You can also volunteer your time; we need thousands of volunteers to do everything from conducting wildlife surveys, invasive species removal, providing outreach programming, managing habitat/clearing trails, planting trees, you name it. Federal Duck Stamps are the major revenue for wetland conservation; hunters need to buy them to hunt waterfowl but anyone can get them to collect!

THERE ARE DEFINITELY MORE, but these are a start.

Additionally, any federal or local organizations that seek to provide support and relief to those affected by hurricanes, sea level rise, any form of coastal climate change...

At the regional level:

These are a list of topics that affect major regions of the United States. Since I do not work in most of these areas I don't feel confident recommending specific organizations, but please seek resources relating to these as they are likely major conservation issues near you.

PRAIRIE CONSERVATION & PRAIRIE POTHOLE WETLANDS

DRYING OF THE COLORADO RIVER (good overview video linked)

PROTECTION OF ESTUARIES AND SALTMARSH, ESPECIALLY IN THE DELAWARE BAY AND LONG ISLAND (and mangroves further south, everglades etc; this includes restoring LIVING SHORELINES instead of concrete storm walls; also check out the likely-soon extinction of saltmarsh sparrows)

UNDAMMING MAJOR RIVERS (not just the Colorado; restoring salmon runs, restoring historic floodplains)

NATIVE POLLINATOR DECLINES (NOT honeybees. for fuck's sake. honeybees are non-native domesticated animals. don't you DARE get honeybee hives to 'save the bees')

WILDLIFE ALONG THE SOUTHERN BORDER (support the Mission Butterfly Center!)

INVASIVE PLANT AND ANIMAL SPECIES (this is everywhere but the specifics will differ regionally, dear lord please help Hawaii)

LOSS OF WETLANDS NATIONWIDE (some states have lost over 90% of their wetlands, I'm looking at you California, Ohio, Illinois)

INDUSTRIAL AGRICULTURE, esp in the CORN BELT and CALIFORNIA - this is an issue much bigger than each of us, but we can work incrementally to promote sustainable practices and create habitat in farmland-dominated areas. Support small, local farms, especially those that use soil regenerative practices, no-till agriculture, no pesticides/Integrated Pest Management/no neonicotinoids/at least non-persistent pesticides. We need more farmers enrolling in NRCS programs to put farmland in temporary or permanent wetland easements, or to rent the land for a 30-year solar farm cycle. We've lost over 99% of our prairies to corn and soybeans. Let's not make it 100%.

INDIGENOUS LAND-BACK EFFORTS/INDIGENOUS LAND MANAGEMENT/TEK (adding this because there have been increasing efforts not just for reparations but to also allow indigenous communities to steward and manage lands either fully independently or alongside western science, and it would have great benefits for both people and the land; I know others on here could speak much more on this. Please platform indigenous voices)

HARMFUL ALGAL BLOOMS (get your neighbors to stop dumping fertilizers on their lawn next to lakes, reduce agricultural runoff)

OCEAN PLASTIC (it's not straws, it's mostly commercial fishing line/trawling equipment and microplastics)

A lot of these are interconnected. And of course not a complete list.

At the state and local level:

You probably have the most power to make change at the local level!

Support or volunteer at your local nature centers, local/state land conservancy non-profits (find out who owns&manages the preserves you like to hike at!), state fish & game dept/non-game program, local Audubon chapters (they do a LOT). Participate in a Christmas Bird Count!

Join local garden clubs, which install and maintain town plantings - encourage them to use NATIVE plants. Join a community garden!

Get your college campus or city/town certified in the Bee Campus USA/Bee City USA programs from the Xerces Society

Check out your state's official plant nursery, forest society, natural heritage program, anything that you could become a member of, get plants from, or volunteer at.

Volunteer to be part of your town's conservation commission, which makes decisions about land management and funding

Attend classes or volunteer with your land grant university's cooperative extension (including master gardener programs)

Literally any volunteer effort aimed at improving the local environment, whether that's picking up litter, pulling invasive plants, installing a local garden, planting trees in a city park, ANYTHING. make a positive change in your own sphere. learn the local issues affecting your nearby ecosystems. I guarantee some lake or river nearby is polluted

MAKE HABITAT IN YOUR COMMUNITY. Biggest thing you can do. Use plants native to your area in your yard or garden. Ditch your lawn. Don't use pesticides (including mosquito spraying, tick spraying, Roundup, etc). Don't use fertilizers that will run off into drinking water. Leave the leaves in your yard. Get your school/college to plant native gardens. Plant native trees (most trees planted in yards are not native). Remove invasive plants in your yard.

On this last point, HERE ARE EASY ONLINE RESOURCES TO FIND NATIVE PLANTS and LEARN ABOUT NATIVE GARDENING:

Xerces Society Pollinator Conservation Resource Center

Pollinator Pathway

Audubon Native Plant Finder

Homegrown National Park (and Doug Tallamy's other books)

National Wildlife Federation Native Plant Finder (clunky but somewhat helpful)

Heather Holm (for prairie/midwest/northeast)

MonarchGard w/ Benjamin Vogt (for prairie/midwest)

Native Plant Trust (northeast & mid-atlantic)

Grow Native Massachusetts (northeast)

Habitat Gardening in Central New York (northeast)

There are many more - I'm not familiar with resources for western states. Print books are your biggest friend. Happy to provide a list of those.

Lastly, you can help scientists monitor species using citizen science. Contribute to iNaturalist, eBird, Bumblebee Watch, or any number of more geographically or taxonomically targeted programs (for instance, our state has a butterfly census carried out by citizen volunteers).

In short? Get curious, get educated, get involved. Notice your local nature, find out how it's threatened, and find out who's working to protect it that you can help with. The health of the planet, including our resilience to climate change, is determined by small local efforts to maintain and restore habitat. That is how we survive this. When government funding won't come, when we're beat back at every turn trying to get policy changed, it comes down to each individual person creating a safe refuge for nature.

Thanks for reading this far. Please feel free to add your own credible resources and organizations.

[3amfanfiction]

What do you think would happen if you got cold feet at the beginning of the relationship with Johnny?

He starts talking almost immediately about what house you'll be buying, introducing you to his whole extended family, what benefits you can expect from the military for being married to him.

The problem is you've only been dating a month or so. And you like him -- you really like him but this is a bit too much. Can't we slow it down just a little? Let's take things as they come.

Would Johnny back off and respect your wishes or would he dig his feet in?

Would you wake up next week to a ring on your finger? It's just so that I can always find you, love. -- Find me? What do you mean by that? -- Nothing sweetheart, it's just because you deserve to be spoiled.

Would he grab your log-ins for sites like pinterest? What are you looking at Johnny? -- Nothing hen, just some ideas for a future place, nothing to worry about. Already on the phone with a realtor giving them a full list of items he wants.

Would he start making you dependent? Call out, love. I'm only home for a few weeks before I leave again, I'd like to spend my time with you. -- I can't call out that much, I'll lose my job, Johnny. -- If that happens I'll take care of you, or I can help you find a new job. There's an opening for a civilian contractor at the base, I could set you up. Until before you know it he's the only one that you see?

He's the epitome of the word barbed. He'll go in so smooth you don't even feel it, tucked up under your skin where it's warm. Everything perfectly normal until you try and remove him. Then he's dug in and is incapable of being extracted without tearing a chunk of yourself out too. It's honestly better to just leave him be, isn't it? No need to separate from him, just let him live with you for the rest of your lives, always present, always watchful, holding onto you in a way that's only damaging if you try and leave.

[pathologicalreid]

blue ribbon | s.r.

in which you and Spencer dedicate yourselves to helping your daughter with the best baking soda volcano the science fair has ever seen

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: chemist!reader, misuse of lab equipment i don't care, their daughter is very girly, glitter word count: 1.46k a/n: ending the post margotober drought with the very first margovember request!!! i promise i'm working on masterlists but for some reason they're exhausting.

“Why do I have to walk backward?” You grumble while trying to balance the end of the plywood on your knee, pulling at your badge reel to unlock the lab door.

Spencer nods his head in the direction of the keypad, “That would be why.”

Rolling your eyes, you push the door handle down with your elbow before pushing the door open with your foot, shuffling your feet. “Honey, can you turn the lights on?”

Lifting herself up on her tiptoes, your daughter flips all of the switches on the panel, cringing at the bright fluorescent lights.

Together, you and Spencer hoist the science project onto one of the lab tables, careful not to knock anything over as the papier-mâché volcano rests in your professional lab.

You and Leah had stayed up until eleven last night finishing the last coat of paint, even entertaining a visit from her Aunt Penelope so that the finished project could have a fine dusting of glitter all over it. Your dining room was now permanently sparkly, but the look on your daughter’s face when she saw the finished project made the mess entirely worth it.

Spencer steps to grab your jugs of white vinegar from the car, propping the door open so he can bring the supplies for the baking soda volcano in.

Obviously, you weren’t going to use the full-size volcano now, but Leah had refused to travel without it and Spencer believes that saying no to her is an impossible task. “Mommy?” The little girl pipes up, playing with the stirring rod that you had just set in front of her.

“What’s up?” You ask, leaning your hip against the counter, gently reaching out and adjusting the bows adorning her pigtails that you’d put in her hair that morning.

She looks over at the wall, minding each of the posters that line your laboratory, “What is that?”

You follow her finger to see what she’s pointing at, smiling softly, “It’s the periodic table.”

Humming thoughtfully, Leah sets the stirring rod down and walks over to the poster, “It looks like the one at home.”

Nodding, you get a step stool out for her to stand on, “They’re the same poster, the one we have at home is just a lot smaller than the one I keep at work.” You explain to her, knowing she’s talking about the poster you keep in your home office. “Come on baby, let’s go get you a lab coat.”

Setting a hand on her shoulder, you guide her to the storeroom, “Woah,” she breathes. It’s not a positive reaction, her eyes flitter all around the room, a mess of lab coats and goggles.

“Okay,” you say, shoving your way through the space until you find your locker, pulling out your lab coat, as well as safety glasses for the whole family. Holding a coat up to her and having her pull it on, you put your own lab coat on before looking back to find your five-year-old drowning in polyester. Laughing slightly, you adjust the lapels of her jacket, “How does it feel?”

Leah looks down at herself, “Cool!” She exclaims beaming up at you and giving you two thumbs up. She skips out of the closet and heads back to her volcano, almost tripping over the extra fabric of the lab coat, but Spencer grabs her arm before her knees can hit the linoleum.

He smiles at her, “Are you okay?” Helping her adjust her coat, he kneels down to her.

“Daddy,” she cheers, completely ignoring his question for the sake of being five years old, “Look at my coat!”

Smoothing her hair back, Spencer’s eyes briefly meet yours before he looks back to Leah, “You look like mommy.”

In a fit of giggles, he scoops her up in his arms in an attempt to avoid a tripping hazard, but she just thinks it’s fun. He sets her down feet-first on the step stool you had gotten out for her.

“Here,” you say, handing him a lab coat for him to wear and setting the safety goggles you’d gathered on the countertop.

When your daughter came home in tears because she felt like she had been assigned the ‘most boringest’ project for the science fair, you and Spencer quickly decided that you’d try everything to make her baking soda volcano exciting. At the very least, you’d work together to make sure she has fun.

Leah puts her goggles on and looks up at you for her next instruction, watching you divide the baking soda and white vinegar into separate beakers, “So, what will happen when we add these two together?” Spencer quizzes, watching you make careful portions.

“It’s gonna fizz up!” She responds correctly, bouncing on her feet while you gently push the first two dishes in front of her.

You nod, “You can pour the white vinegar into the baking soda,” You nudge her gently, knowing that you measured just enough to reach the top of the beaker, but not enough to flow onto the counter.

She uses both hands to grip the beaker and pour the liquid out, and the immediate reaction surprises her so much that Spencer holds an arm out to keep her upright. He trains his eyes on her amazement as the foam dissipates and the water and sodium acetate are left in the glass. “Can I drink it?” She asks, frowning up at her dad.

“No,” you both answer immediately, a sort of parental reflex. If you don’t answer quickly enough, odds are she’d pick it up and try anyway.

Disappointed, her frown remains on her face while her eyes return to the countertop, timidly, she tugs on Spencer’s lab coat, prompting him to crouch down to her eye level, “What’s wrong, lovey?”

Her eyes nervously look around the lab, eyeing some of the cabinets before she takes a deep breath, “Can we make it pink?”

“The foam?” Spencer says curiously, eyes flickering up at you while you nod frantically, already thinking up options so that you could further individualize your daughter’s glitter volcano.

She rocks back and forth, “Can we?”

As soon as Spencer says yes, it’s like a hold on you has been released, unlocking some of the cabinets so you can grab more supplies from around the lab, you return to the station with an armful of things to try, and Spencer mutters something to Leah about you being a mad scientist, leading you to maturely stick your tongue out at him.

You set up four options, taking photos as you go so you can paste them onto her presentation board. The first one is just baking soda, but you added a touch of dish soap to the vinegar. The increase in bubbles seems to greatly please Leah, so you decide as a team that the final product should have dish soap in it.

The second one has manganese sulfate mixed into the baking soda, and if the pink salt altered the color of the foam at all, it doesn’t impress your perfectionist daughter.

The third one includes phenolphthalein, which you think has some real potential, based on the way Leah’s eyes widen at the sight of it combined with the vinegar. The liquid was almost a fuchsia color, and she gasps when she pours it in to find that the foam is white, “It’s gone?”

You nod, “The phenolphthalein when it’s in the vinegar is pink because it’s an acid, but as soon as you add the baking soda it becomes a basic solution, so…” Your voice trails off when Spencer starts shaking his head, and you look down to find that you have completely lost Leah’s attention. Instead of listening, she’s trying to pronounce phenolphthalein, tracing the letters on the black countertop.

“What do you have next?” Spencer asks, eyeing the tiny dropper bottle in front of you.

Picking it up, you drop some of it into the vinegar and hand it to Leah, “It’s food coloring.”

His eyebrows furrow, “Why do you have food coloring in the lab?”

You wrinkle your nose at him, the expression makes Leah giggle, “Mind your business.”

As a family, you watch the chemical reaction, the white of the foam mixing with the red food coloring to create the desired pink lava. “Oh,” your daughter says softly, “Thank you, mommy!”

Beaming down at her, you place your hands on your hips and sigh, “If you’d like, we can add glitter to the baking soda too.”

Wide eyes look up at you in amazement, brown eyes inherited from her father, “I love science,” she whispers.

Behind her back, you hold your hand out for Spencer, exchanging a silent fist bump—a quiet celebration between two scientists.

[itaipava]

— little hints f1 boys would give that they have a crush on you.

˒ ⌕ LANDO NORRIS

he is interested in all your passions and hobbies: even if it is something he knows little about, he’ll ask you about your passions or things you like to do to have more to talk about with you and to get to know you even better. he also likes to research on the internet and send you videos that he finds about your favorite topics and, when you least expect it, he will start conversations about it, leaving you surprised but happy to know that he puts a lot of effort into connecting with your world.

˒ ⌕ GEORSE RUSSELL

he always includes you in his plans: whenever he travels, he talks as if you’re going too, without even inviting you directly. when you ask him about it, he usually says, “well, you’re going with me, aren’t you?” and when you can’t go because of work, he gets really frustrated, but he makes sure to keep you updated. he’s also always saying “we should check out that new place together… when are you free?” or “wouldn’t it be fun if you go with me for the next race?” he loves planting the idea of ​​future moments with you, and he loves it when they actually come true.

˒ ⌕ SEBASTIAN VETTEL

he loves teasing you: he always looks for a way to tease you, but always with a touch of flirting, which leaves you wondering if it's really just a joke or if he means something with it. he also hates it when someone else does this and he doesn’t hide his anger, and it’s at this moment that you also don't miss the opportunity to tease him; and the look in his eyes tells you that in fact, he doesn’t tease you just for fun.

˒ ⌕ CARLOS SAINZ

he always offers to help you with whatever you need: no matter what you need, he will do whatever it takes for you and to make your life easier. he will get you a coffee (and a sweet treat) in minutes when you say you want it. he will buy you something you said you needed but couldn't because you were too busy. he will come to your house to fix that broken drawer. he will always be there for you, even when you don't ask him directly, he will be there.

˒ ⌕ CHARLES LECLERC

he always remembers little details about you: sometimes he'll casually mention something small that you've said in the past, like your favorite snack or a specific memory. and sometimes you're delightfully surprised by how accurately he tells you these things because you could swear he'd forgotten or didn't really care, but he's always paying extra attention to you and everything you say is important to him.

˒ ⌕ LEWIS HAMILTON

he always compliments you a lot: but they’re not generic compliments that you always hear, he focuses on unique characteristics of yours that he really admires, like “you always have a way of making everything more fun and cool” or “you always seem to know the right things to say”, he’s always complimenting you, and he always means it.

˒ ⌕ OSCAR PIASTRI

he always looks for reasons to text you: he likes to send you news about your favorite singers, bands, authors or something he knows you’ll like. it’s things like “you popped into my head when i saw this, and i had to share” or “doesn’t this remind you of that joke you made?” and he always tries to keep the conversation going, no matter what.

˒ ⌕ LIAM LAWSON

he is always your biggest fan: whatever you do, he gives you all the support and help in the world. he is always the first one to show up when you need encouragement, whether it’s to wish you good luck at an event or send you a bouquet of flowers with a little note, or a brief message saying that he believes in you, and that he knows everything will turn out fine. he also loves talking about you to people like “did you see what y/n did? she’s amazing, right?” he is your biggest fan, and he doesn’t hide it from anyone.

˒ ⌕ MAX VERSTAPPEN

he looks at you a lot: when you two make eye contact, you have to look at something else first because he can’t get enough of you - and he loves it when you get embarrassed about it. he also loves to admire you when you’re distracted and don’t realize he’s looking at you; he loves looking at you and learning your mannerisms. to him, you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, and even though sometimes you catch him staring at you and ask him with a smile what he’s looking at, he doesn’t stop or give you a serious answer, which creates a spark of curiosity in you.

[rosyhoneydew]

A quick love letter to my Bucktommy family in the form of a fix-it <3

Bucktommy | fix-it | Teen | 1141 words | warnings: this is angsty at the start and tiptoes toward addressing biphobia so please care for yourself and don't read if that will exacerbate your hurt.

They're three beers deep when the doorbell rings again.

It's been a fucking night. He hadn't really had much to say to Eddie when he got there, thankfully he hadn't had to, especially considering Eddie was clearly in the midst of his own kind of night. It feels better, not being alone, at least. But the alcohol mixes with his head and twists the moment in his apartment further. How come every time I want to move forward I get pushed back?

He's not even paying attention when Eddie goes up to get the door, just fiddles with the bottle in his hand more, peeling the label into tiny pieces and laying them on Eddie's coffee table for him to pick up later.

"Shit-" Eddie stumbles as he makes his way. And then Buck can feel a little breeze as he goes to tell whoever it is that this isn't a good time.

"Oh thank god-" Buck freezes, determined not to turn around. "I wasn't sure you'd be home but I think I fucked up."

That's Tommy.

"I panicked a little. Evan asked me to move in and I think I freaked out."

"Uhh-" Eddie adds.

"We just got done talking about my ex who I had to end an engagement with and it just- it felt like he was trying to make up for his own freak out about it and-" Buck hears him take a deep breath, "I didn't want to force him into doing something he didn't really want to do, you know? He- he should get to make sure that's what he really wants." He takes another breath. "Are you not wearing pants?"

"Umm-"

Buck's heart rate had steadily ramped up hearing Tommy speak, but it's when he stops that Buck feels tears prickle at his eyes. He whips around then, still nestled into Eddie's couch, betrayal in his voice when he speaks.

"I did!" and shit. He didn't really mean to shout that.

"I'm gonna..." Eddie trails off as he heads into his bedroom.

"Why do you think I didn't make sure that's what I wanted?" he demands. He hadn't thought he'd be so angry, but this felt like something to him, and Tommy's running. Again. "Because that girl hit on me at the restaurant?"

Tommy looks shell-shocked. Like he's still grasping the fact that Buck is here, so Buck just keeps talking.

"Or because I haven't dated a man before? So I must not know what I'm talking about, right?"

"Buck-"

"Don't call me that."

"Evan," Tommy steps a little closer, and Buck leans toward the cushions, petty, but feeling raw still. "That is not why."

Buck levels him with a look.

"Okay, what you said is fair enough," he relents. "I didn't mean to make it seem like you couldn't make your own decisions about this."

"What did you mean?"

Tommy looks away for a moment, a flicker of pain on his face.

"I meant... what I said," he lands on. "You would break my heart, Evan."

"You don't know that." The tears finally crest over his lower lids and make their way to his mouth. "You can't just give up every time you're scared that I'm going to leave you, Tommy. It's not fair, you're not even giving me the chance to stay."

Tommy's lip wobbles a little now too, but he stays and listens.

"I wanted to stay, I wanted you to stay. With me. Permanently. Why would you think I would leave you?"

He cries now, and Buck hasn't ever seen him cry.

"I don't know," he gets out, choked and soft. "I see you, sometimes. With the 118 and everyone's families and I... I don't feel like I fit, Evan. I don't get how I fit into that."

"You fit into it because you're my boyfriend. My partner."

"I am?" he asks, treading closer ever slightly to the couch.

This time Buck leans his way. He sets his bottle down and looks down at his hands.

"Did you mean what you told Eddie? You fucked up? Because I fucked up, once, at the beginning of us, and you gave me that second chance and I'm so glad you did, Tommy, because these last few months have been better than I could've hoped. I don't want to let that go because of this so... yeah you can be, if you want."

Tommy rushes to the couch, he sits as close as he can get and grabs Buck's hands firmly. Warm and sure.

"I want that. I want us again. Please."

"You can have it," Buck whispers, resting his head on Tommy's shoulder. He squeezes Tommy's hands. "Just don't leave again, please."

"I won't, I won't."

Then there's a kiss at the crown of his head, and Tommy's other hand rubs soft circles over his back. He murmurs sweet nothings in Buck's ear all the while.

I'm sorry. I'm glad you were here. I missed you as soon as I walked out the door. I'm staying. I'm staying. I'm staying.

They sit like that for a while until a throat clearing from the hallway has them both lifting their heads to find Eddie, fully-clothed.

"What were you guys doing before I got here, by the way?" Tommy asks, humor back in his voice.

"Well, I was drinking my sorrows away. I don't know what Tom Cruise was doing."

"Ha ha," Eddie says, making his way to the couch, no qualms about forcing them to scooch over to make room. "We can talk about my shit tomorrow. You guys worked it out I guess?"

Buck looks up at Tommy, smiles, and kisses him with a loud peck just to make Eddie huff and roll his eyes.

"Yeah," Tommy says, looking at ease. "Although..." he starts.

Buck turns to him, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know that moving into your place is going to work," Tommy admits.

Buck sits up a little, mouth just opening to speak when Tommy cuts him off.

"I want to live with you, Evan, but your place is barely big enough for one person, so maybe we can workshop location, yeah?" he smiles a crinkly smile, the kind that always lets Buck know he's feeling fond, feeling secure.

It's Buck's turn to huff now. "It gets good light," he grumbles.

Tommy kisses his temple again, Buck gets the distinct feeling that he will be getting kissed quite a bit in the near future, and he chances a quick look at Eddie to see if they're being annoying.

Instead, he sees Eddie smiling too, he's looking on like he's proud and it makes Buck want to tear up again. Eddie gives him a nod and Buck nods back.

A weight lifts off his shoulders then. In the arms of the man he's growing to love and accepted by his family.

~~~~

I want to say a quick thank you to everyone who read, commented, shared my fics, sent me nice messages about my writing for these two, and to everyone who created content for them while they were canon. I'm thankful for every minute of it :)

[rhube]

Listen, having worked in university marketing, I am here to tell you that not all ads are evil or trying to deceive you. People work really hard at conveying precisely the information you need that will tell you if a product is for you.

There are people in advertising and marketing who are well aware of the laws about not deceiving customers and who think constantly about what they can provide evidence to claim, not making stuff up.

And yeah, they're trying to persuade you, but that doesn't automatically mean 'buy this piece of shit we're telling you is solid gold'. It means, 'we really believe in this, we have evidence that it's good and could be a great thing for you, but we need to find a way to tell you that and make you trust us' which takes a lot of thought.

And as a consumer there's a lot of stuff I just wouldn't know about if not for advertising. We need advertising to tell people there are solutions to problems, quality products, and fun things to get excited about.

Advertising isn't inherently BAD. And it's one of the few industries in which creative people can make a liveable wage with their art or writing.

The problem we have at the moment is that a lot of people with no training in making good ads, people who don't care about laws, or are based somewhere with less regulation, who are churning out annoying, misleading, not-accesdible garbage.

And these people aren't researching their audience and tailoring the content to people for whom its relevant. Instead a whole tech industry has grown up where people who know fuck all about marketing have companies that scrape and aggregate your data, who sell it to other tech companies that sell advertising space, which is bought up by yet another automated service that has been trained to get 'the best deal' for the company that wants to sell a product.

That's not how it works when you wanna make a useful ad. You should be doing customer research with your actual customers. Analysing the data you get to tailor both the advert and the advertising space.

But these automated systems talking to other automated systems don't do that.

Like, first off, the data is SHIT. It may not even differentiate content you noped out of from stuff you looked at for half an hour. And if it does, it treats all the content on the page equally. All the stuff you're ignoring is tagged as 'on sites this user spends a lot of time on'. Whereas human customer research, for which customers consent and usually receive some kind of reward, involves tracking eye movements, mouse movements, clicks, and an interview afterwards to ask what they were thinking about and why they stayed on one page over another. This is so much more helpful! It helps make content more useful to users and prevents wasted marketing effort.

But almost no one does it these days because, well, it's expensive. You gotta compensate the consumers you do your research with, design sensible things for them to test, have someone monitor and analyse what they do, and interview them after. That's very expensive compared to a bunch of lightning fast calculations that can all be automated. So companies don't pay to do it properly, and they don't actually tailor their ads to you, and they're not trying to be informative.

At best (and I can't stress enough how rare this is) ads that are based on this data and algorithms and/or machine learning deliver what will get you to look at the ad for longer or click the ad to go to a website. But if that means bright flashing colours and the world's tiniest 'x' so you can't actually close the ad without clicking through, these automated systems are designed to get you to do THAT, not buy the product.

Honestly, I know it sounds like I'm asking for sympathy for the devil, but I have seen this from the tech side, the marketing side, the researcher side, and the user doing the test. I have taken a course on content strategy and heard what academics in this field have to say, and it's honestly not evil. They're trying to adapt to an environment where you're constantly barraged with demands on your attention, so it is in the advertiser's best interest to be clear and tailored and not waste your time.

But unfortunately an awful lot of people have been sold on the idea that these automated systems ARE targeting people who would be interested with stuff that's relevant to them, and they're just NOT.

You can see it if you compare an entertaining TV ad by an established brand who can pay for the research to the vast majority of internet ads. They can be funny, entertaining, informative, even insightful. They can also be stereotyped and annoying of course, but on the whole they're much less of a headache than the nonsense funnel we get exposed to constantly online and in mobile games.

Tbh, advertisers, producers, and consumers have all been screwed over by VC-owned companies that are being squeezed from on high for every last drop of short term capital. And that means automating things because it's cheaper and quicker than human analysis, even if it means the whole thing becomes annoying, unhelpful garbage.

But scale it back and think about your artist friend. Your creator with a small etsy business. Your self-published author. Your inventor with a neat accessibility tool. They aren't producing groceries, but if they don't advertise, literally no one will know their products exist.

Advertising DOES have a good and important role. Under-regulated advertising in a toxic system not aimed at serving producers OR customers is hamstrung and cannot perform that role.

The only acceptable ads should be shit like "groceries on sale" and "free event at the local library"

[lastoneout]

I'm mostly going to be focusing on staying spiteful and hopeful today but since I've already seen a handful of posts that are like this I do wanna remind everyone that we are dealing with a major surge in radical feminist ideology in queer and progressive spaces, and while I won't fault anyone for venting, now more than ever it is important to familiarize yourself with what radical feminisim is(it is not just hating trans people or trans women it is SO much more and anyone who pretends otherwise is misinformed or intentionally lying) and why it's so dangerous and figure out how to talk about the way the alt-right is targeting young (mostly)white men without getting radfem-y about it.

Don't call them "males" don't act like men are born with misogyny built into their DNA do NOT fucking act like trans men are the enemy and don't spread hopeless bullshit about how men can never improve or will always hate women and thus are a lost cause and the only people we'll ever be safe around are women and queer men who abandon masculinity completely. In the coming years queer, intersex, marginalized, and even some cishet white men will be your allies, they are not a lost cause, they can be swayed to our side, and acting like it's impossible for men to change UPHOLDS the very system that is indoctrinating them right now, it does NOTHING to fight it.

Fr check this at the door now. Radical feminism is inherently racist, sexist, transphobic, intersexist, classist, monosexist, and white supremacist and it will NOT save us. I don't care if the person selling you on it is trans or queer or a person of color, radical feminisim is never truly inclusive and WILL NOT SAVE US. Gender and bio essentialism are the tools of the enemy, we do not need them. Abandon them now and purge them from your theory, community, and self.

Solidarity will save us. Radical feminism will only divide and destroy.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Watch Your Mouth

Dealing with someone talking shit about your man and you stand up for them because you're not about to let someone talk crazy about your man. A/N: I like to imagine this as an office girly scene and you have that one hater ass bitter coworker [Requested by: onliafaze]

Zayne

You could tell you were coming down with a cold and it was going to be a bad one. Zayne just so happened to have the day off and you were struggling to make it through your last shift before your days off. So being the loving boyfriend that he is, he brought you homemade soup and some cold medicine. He even kissed you before leaving not caring that you might get him sick as well. Just another reason to spend the day in bed with you. You sat at your desk with the biggest smile on your face. Suddenly a bitch with a voice like nails on a chalk board decided to insert herself into your bubble.

Hater: If you took better care of yourself your man wouldn’t have to waste his time coming all the way here to bring you soup MC: Weren't you sick last month and your man told you he was going to leave until you were healthy again and proceeded to ignore you for a week? Hater: ..... MC: Just because your man doesn’t care about you doesn’t mean you need to project on me Hater: I’m not projecting! MC: ………Whatever helps you sleep at night miss girl

Once you get home to tell Zayne what happened when he left, him being the sensible person that he is, suggests that maybe your coworker was just in a bad mood.

MC: Don't defend her Zayne: Sorry I meant her man hates her MC: Thank you

Rafayel

Rafayel truly had eyes for you and you only. He cared very little for others feelings you were the one and only exception. He also hated to be touched so when your coworker saw you constantly having a hand on him, when he would come by the office, she thought she’d try her luck. Rafayel immediately looked at her like she smeared the most vile thing known to man on his arm.

Hater: Your man is rude as hell MC: To you. Hater: No he’s just rude MC: To you. Hater: Why just me MC: You’re weird … who grabs on another woman's man right in front of her? You’re weird Hater: You’re rude as hell too you guys are made for each other MC: Cry about it

Rafayel stared at you in admiration while you told him what went down after he left.

Rafayel: Have I ever told you how hot you are when you get serious? MC: Yes all the time

Xavier

“Damn it I left my tea in my car” You had gotten all the way up to your desk when you realized what you were forgetting. On top of that it was cold so you were dreading having to walk in it again. Maybe you could make a cup in the office kitchen, but they only have sugar and you prefer honey; you prefer your tea. “I’ll go grab it for you just stay here and warm up” Xavier said as he appeared next to you with that soft expression he always has when he looks at you. “Thank you Xav you’re so sweet” You handed him your keys and watched as he quickly made his way out of the office before turning and smiling to yourself.

Hater: What is he a dog? Does he do everything for you? MC: ….. You know if your man hates you just say that Hater: M-my man doesn’t hate me w-why would you say that? MC: Look at you stuttering and shit did I hit a nerve? Hater: Whatever MC: Have the day you deserve babes!

Xavier approached you right as your coworker barged past him almost knocking the tea from his hand. He looked back with confusion etched across his face before turning back to you.

Xavier: What happened? MC: She was just admiring the relationship we have Xavier: What really happened? MC: She wanted smoke so I gave her a barbecue

Sylus

Thanks to Sylus wanting to spoil you at all time your office was the most decorated with all new everything and was even professionally designed to be organized and efficient. People loved to come by and admire your office set up. Except for one person who just seems to turn her nose up at you. She pouts for hours on end when Sylus makes his appearance to bring you lunch, flowers or even a ‘just because’ gift when he wants to see you. You ignored this bitter coworker day in and day out because why would you need the kind of negativity in your life? One day though she finally decided to voice her unwanted opinion to you.

Hater: You only have all of that because your man buys you everything MC: Yea … he does … tell your man to work harder Hater: That is so insensitive what if I'm single? MC: I can see why….. Hater: What's that supposed to mean!? MC: You're insufferable I wouldn't date you either

Sylus always found your attitude cute and it was even better when it wasn't directed at him.

Sylus: You said she was insufferable? MC: Somebody had to do it Sylus: and you were the perfect one for the job huh? MC: I was defending you praise me Sylus: I've never been defended before thank you Princess

[autisticandoddlyspecific]

My contribution: Not only that, but get to know your neighbors and find any common ground you can. Support the people around you.

Humanity's greatest strength in my opinion is our ability to survive crises when we stand together. Not just literally in front of a government building, but support each other emotionally and materially in any way we can.

The people of Poland for example would not have made it through WWII if they didn't work together to survive day to day.

Whether you're anarchist, socialist, social democrat, communist, or just think republicans are nuts who can't be trusted with the country/wish you could be left the fuck alone, our TOP priority is surviving, so find any common ground as you can with your neighbors. A lot of union workers are actually conservative leaning construction workers, for example. Talk with them about advocating for themselves as union workers, and find friends and allies wherever you can.

As for me, I'm starting with my irl friend group. We're fortunately already close and meet up often, so I'm letting them know I am happy to help them with whatever I can. My older sibling will likely be going back to places they used to be a regular to and rebuild a group of interpersonal connections with which to survive, and we can connect our friend groups together to maximize support.

A proper crisis mode involves generosity and helping others as much as we can manage. Like, don't hurt yourself obviously, but taking care of one another makes us stronger over 99% of the time. A good group will also take care of you as much as possible anyway.

Now I know a lot of people on this site are disabled, so I will once again say that you only do what is possible for you, but if at all possible, try and improve your health. Going into a mini-crisis mode involves changes in lifestyle, and one thing is that many of us simply will not be able to afford poor health. I will see what I can do to put some much-needed physical activity into my day and eat nutritious meals so that my health is as good as it reasonably can be.

And finally, do allow yourself to mourn the future you hoped for, but taking action once it's a feasible option for you is important. My heart goes out to everyone this week, and I hope we'll be able to pull ourselves together enough to push against fascism.

no matter the outcome of this election: organize, build local community, build strength in masses. elections aren't the only time politics happen, it also happens on the streets, in the community and by mutually supporting each other.

the way forward is together. we build power from the ground up. in the US and everywhere else in the world.

a better world is possible and we can start building it now, by ourselves. anarchism starts in the now.

hack the planet

[karaeilishh]

TAKE ME BACK : smut

summary: you're going to a party with your cool girlfriend. When she stops paying you proper attention, you switch to a random guy in a bar. and she won't like it at all...

warnings: dom!billie, sub!brat!reader, jealousy, strap (r receiving), degradation, oral (r/billie receiving), r called a slut many times

w/c: 3,4k

a/n: eng is not my first language! enjoy this dirty shit <33

requests open!

“Hey babygirl. You look upset. Can I please you with a cocktail?”

You roll your eyes once again, sitting on an uncomfortable couch in the corner of some club that Billie brought you to because her friends really wanted to see her. You were on the other side of town and you knew that you wouldn't be home until morning, because it was well past midnight, and your girlfriend didn't seem to be leaving anytime soon. Billie was drunk enough and this evening you regretted not drinking alcohol. At least you wouldn't be so bored and lonely.

You've been hanging around your girlfriend for the last two hours so that she would pay attention to you, but her attention was only on her friends, whom she hadn't seen for a whole week. You didn't know why everything turned out this way today, because usually Billie can't take her eyes off you; You put your head on her shoulder, pressed your bare thigh against her thigh, you whispered in her ear, but you only got: “Babe, later.” Later? Fine. Your patience has run out.

You step onto the dance floor; hungry glances at your beautiful curves. Billie told you to wear that fucking mini dress that hugs every muscle on your stomach, your chest and parts of your thighs. Who can blame other people for their looks when you look like a damn angel? You don't even start dancing; you walk away to someone's brazen whistle; what do these men allow themselves? It's always like with a piece of meat. You want to go to Billie, but the thought of her telling you to just sit in silence again is maddening; you go to the bar. There are a lot of men, but you carefully walk past them and sit on the bar stool. 

“What?” You woke up in a few seconds. There's a guy in front of your face now, no, more like a man. He has an atypical neat outfit for a place like this. The club stinks of other people's sweat and drunk people, but it has a nice perfume. You don't know why you noticed it. His perfume? You can definitely feel it, he leaned closer, repeating his question.

“I asked if I could buy you a drink?” You heard him this time, but you couldn't answer him right away. You can't agree because you're here with your girlfriend, you're taken. But does she even care about you now? After all, nothing will happen if you just talk with someone at the club while your lover is not paying any attention to you. “Please don't tell me you don't drink. I'm not creative for another reason to get to know each other” Actually, you don't drink, but you can agree, right?

“Um, could you get a mojito for me? I don't like strong drinks.” The man nods knowingly and smiles. “Everything for a sweet girl in a bar” He signals to the bartender, apparently they are familiar. 

“Did you hear what the lady said? Mojito. And pour less rum” He turns to you, saying that your mojito will be done in a minute. You nod and thank him, trying to fight the strange feeling in your chest. It's like you're going to be punished for talking to him.

“You're very beautiful, but you're not talkative. I bet you don't go to places like this often?” He tilts his head slightly, as if trying to figure out what and who you're thinking about right now. You adjust your dress and look up at his face. “Yeah, I don't like noisy places.” His gaze darted to your hands resting on your hips.

“I get it. Well, tell me, what's your name?” His voice echoes in your head. You want to tell him that your acquaintance shouldn't go that far, you're going to say “No” when you hear a familiar voice behind you. “No.”The smell of her perfume hits your nose, her tired face with bruises under her eyes is in front of your eyes, her hair is scattered on your bed. Her voice is usually gentle, but not now.

“I'm sorry?” He's not looking at you. He's looking at someone behind you and you know exactly who it is. Her hands are on your waist, on your hips. She's only been here for a few seconds, but she's already been able to claim you. You can't see her face, but you know damn well she's giving your new friend a murderous stare right now. “Apology accepted” The next moment, she drags you through a crowd of drunk and stoned people right to the exit of the club. She's a little shaky because of the amount she's drunk. It's cool outside, but your body is burning because of her. Billie drags you on until you're around the corner where no one will bother you. Your body hit a cold brick wall, her voice cut through the tense air between you, you shuddered. “What the fuck do you think you're doing?”

Your fingertips touch the wall behind you, her drunken breath on your face. You didn't like it when she drank, but the smell of alcohol was never annoying. “I was just talking to him.” You sound quieter and more insecure than you thought you'd be. Your eyes are directed straight to her eyes, hungry and greedy, you are breathing heavily. “Is that why he's ordering you a drink and trying to find out your name? Have you even seen the way he looks at you? If he offered to fuck you, would you be so responsive?”Her voice is loud and a little hysterical. Her hands are in the pockets of her shorts, but you can feel how much she wants to touch you.

“You're exaggerating, Billie.” You look at her, your voice is cold, but everything inside you is burning. You know that she always turns you on like that, even though you hide it. “Am I exaggerating? Are you fucking kidding me right now?” She grins, her hand on your wrist, until she interlaces your fingers randomly. She takes you to the car and you try to tell her that she can't drive, but she shuts you up. “If you act like a slut, I'll treat you like a slut.” Billie pushes you into the car and buckles your seat belt. She's so damn angry, the veins in her arms are bulging, but she still cares about you, and this one makes your hips clench harder. It makes you wet. The air in the car heats up when she slams the door and sits in the driver's seat. Her gaze is focused on the road, but her mind has turned into your home.

The long drive home is accompanied by her rapid breathing. You can literally hear her heartbeat. You can see the different scenarios of that night unfolding in her head. All of them are ended by your face pressed against the mattress while she fucks you. Her hand squeezes her hip, she bites her lip and you feel what's happening to her. You know for sure. You gently take her hand and put it between your legs. She swallows hard, her fingers squeeze your skin and you melt under her touch. “You're fucking driving me crazy, you know that?” She parks the car in the garage of your house, and the next thing you remember is her all over your body, when you crash into the bedroom door, Billie, dragging you inside. Your body falls onto the mattress, your breathing is knocked out, and your hair is already slightly disheveled.

“You're going to have to apologize properly, angel.” You're breathing heavily, looking into her eyes with obvious desire. You feel completely naked under her gaze, which screams at you that you are a fucking slut. For her. Billie's movements are feverish as she pulls off her shorts, reaches for your favorite drawer in your bedroom. Your eyes widen when she picks up your favorite strap. His curves were perfect for you, hitting the right spots. You're looking at it greedily. And Billie saw it.

"Such a greedy girl for a dick, don’t you?" She grins as she puts the toy down on the bed next to you. Her body hovers over yours as she devours you with her gaze. Her hand flies to your neck, squeezing tighter than usual. "I wanna destroy, babe. I wanna fucking destroy you so that you learn your lesson." Your mind is drifting because of her words, you want to push her to do it.

"It was your fault." You look into her eyes, clearly seeing something snap inside her. Her grip on your neck tightens and you feel like you're getting less air. "What?" Her voice was so threatening that you were almost sure your underwear was already soaked. You knew that no matter how mean she was, she would never hurt you more than you asked for.

"I said it was your fault. You ignored me all night! What are you-" Your words get caught in your throat when you feel a painful blow on your thigh. You swallow hard, looking into your girlfriend's eyes. You've seen her lose control when you act like this. But how can she blame you when you're so desperately begging her to destroy you?

"You dare accuse me of acting like a slut, craving my attention? Well, you'll get it." Billie's voice drips with arrogance. She knew she should have given you some attention, but she's always been too much of a bitch to admit she was wrong.

She pulls you to your feet, forcing you to stand in front of her as she attaches the strap on her hips and sits on the edge of the bed. "You wanna be a brat, babe? Then I'll have to shut you up." She looks up at you, then leans down and whispers, "Knees."

Right now, you want nothing more than to drop to your knees and take her strap so deep that tears run down your cheeks and your knees are red. "I'm not being a brat." You hiss, looking into her eyes. You know this won't turn out well.

"Didn't you hear me?" She raises an eyebrow and pushes you down, causing your knees to hit the floor hard. You whine, clutching her knees for support. “Angel, don’t make me move your head on my own. I know you want this.”

You gasp at her words, tucking your loose hair behind your ears. You lean down slowly, running your tongue along the length of her cock. Your eyes lock onto her face as you slowly push the strap into your mouth. Maybe your slowness was on purpose. “Come on babygirl, I know you can do better.”

She rolls her eyes, grabbing your hair. Your head moves at an unusually fast pace. You grip her hips tighter, trying to slow her down and suppress your gag reflex. Tears roll down your cheeks as you try to keep up the pace and not choke on the silicone in your mouth. You try to moan her name, but Billie just smirks.

“Good sluts don’t complain, huh, babe?” She pulls your head away from her cock, holding your hair. Your lips are smeared with your spit, your cheeks are wet with tears. You breathe heavily. “You are my good slut, aren’t you? Use your words.”

“Yes, yes I am…” You swallow hard, looking at your girlfriend with undisguised desire. You knew this night would be long, very long. “Very good….”

Billie takes your hands and lays you down on the bed, her eyes wandering over your body, your mess. “Such a beautiful angel for me. Too bad I have to ruin you.” She chuckles and you whine, squeezing your thighs together tighter. She reaches for your legs, lifting your dress up to your waist. Billie smiled at the beautiful underwear you’re wearing . “For me?” She smiles, spreading your legs and pressing two fingers into your soaked panties. “Fuck, baby, you’re dripping!”

You gasp when you finally feel her hands on you. You bite your bottom lip, watching her tease you. “Did you get wet kneeling in front of me? Or was it when I called you a slut at the club, hm?” Her eyes are playful as she looks into yours. You both know the answer, you both know that she doesn’t have to do anything to you to get you wet. “At the club…” You answer quietly and Billie bites her lip. God, she looked so sexy doing that.

"And who are you so wet for, huh?" She takes off your dress over the top, her mouth flies to your breasts. She bites it through the fabric of a lace bra. You moan, throwing your head back. "You, you, Billie… Please!" Your despair causes sincere satisfaction in your girlfriend. She knows that you will never want to leave her for someone else. She will make you squirm under her touch while you repeat that she is the only one for you.

“Good girl. Such a good girl for me,” Billie praises, kissing and biting down your beautiful body. She adored your body. Such a divine and only hers. You could feel the marks on your skin under her touch. “Bils, I need you. I really need you...” You're whimpering, making her smile.

“Do you think you can handle it?” She bites her lower lip, tilting her head to the side. Her gaze makes your body weaken even more. She had no idea what kind of influence she had on you. “Yes, yes I can, I promise!” You get up on your elbows to get a better look at her face.

“What a dirty girl,” Billie giggles, bending down to pick up the edge of your underwear with her teeth. Oh, you were crazy when she did that. Her every action, her every breath and look made you lose yourself in love with her. Even if she was going to destroy you right now. Your woman.

“Baby, you're so wet. Is my girl ready for me yet?” She smiles, easily sliding two fingers into you. Her palm pressed against your clitoris, adding extra friction. Her fingers slid inside you so easily that you were ashamed of how wet you were because of her. “Just shut up...”You exhaled heavily, covering your face with your hands. She laughed.

“Oh, my little slut wants to shut me up? I don't think it's going to work, baby.” Billie abruptly pulls his fingers out of you, bringing them to his lips. She greedily licks each phalanx of her fingers, moaning contentedly. You looked at her from under your eyelashes, still feeling the aching emptiness without her fingers inside you. As soon as Billie cleaned her fingers, she licked her lips, bending over your body. “You need to learn to watch your tongue, angel.”

These words sounded more harsh than anything else. Billie grabbed your hips and turned you over on your stomach. Your face was buried in the mattress and your ass was hanging in the air when Billie left a few ringing slaps on your delicate skin. “Hey!” You're whimpering, looking at her over your shoulder. “Oh, spare me those pathetic sounds.” She presses your head against the mattress, burying her hand in your hair. The tip of her strap teases your entrance, making you gasp with desire.

“Please, Bils...”You close your eyes, praying that she will give you what you want. “Not a brat anymore? It seems you just need a dick to shut that beautiful mouth.” She grins and you feel her cock slamming into you. Silicone slides easily inside you, making you grab the sheets and whimper into the it. After making a few slow thrusts, you feel Billies's hips against yours. She entered completely. “That's it, baby. You take me so well...”

You let loud moans fly from your lips when Billie finds the perfect angle, driving into all the right points. There are new tears in your eyes. A new pleasure. Your hair is disheveled and tangled because of your girlfriend's tight grip, and there is no trace of evening makeup left. She's always made you like this. She destroyed you with her presence, her voice, her gaze, her dick. “Faster...”

Billie grins at your plea, but obediently complied with your request, pushing into you with a new speed. You grab the sheets, looking at her over your shoulder. How sexy she looked. “Where's my sweet angel, huh? You're such a mess, baby.” You whimper when you see how she looks at you.

“Billie... I'm so close...”You're mumbling to yourself, praying that she'll hear. Of course she did. But she was such a bitch tonight. “What? Angel, I don't understand a word...”She was teasing and playing with you. You both knew what she was waiting for.

You want to sigh, but only moans come out of you. On trembling and weak hands, you get up on your elbows and try to talk to her the way she wants. Politely. “Billie, I wanna cum... Please, can I?” You immediately fall back, burying your face in the sheets, when pornographic moans come out of your mouth.

“Mm, such a polite girl... Cum for me” You laugh hysterically, feeling your walls squeeze her strap. It was the best feeling in the world. Your eyes are tightly closed, you literally bite the sheets, arching your back as you cum on her dick. You can't see her face, but you can tell for sure that she's smiling, watching what she's did to you. Not that guy from the bar, not anyone else. She. Only she could do it.

“Jesus, Bils...”You're breathing heavily, lifting your head from the wet sheets. Her strap is still moving inside you, helping you overcome a hard orgasm. “That's it, baby, you did so well...”She praises you by stroking your hair. It's one step from tenderness to rudeness, huh? Her grip tightens abruptly, forcing you to look at her through tears. “God, my poor baby. What a pity that I'm not finished with you yet” You're breathing hard, your mouth is dry, and you're sticking your tongue out like a fucking puppy after her games. Billie leans closer, her face inches from yours, and you already know what she's going to do. You always know what's behind that look. She collects saliva in her mouth for a few seconds and spits on your fucking tongue. As if you didn't ask for it yourself. Her warmth spreads over your tongue and you close your mouth. “Swallow” You obey and she gently kisses your cheekbone. The only thing she did gently this evening.

Billie turns you over on your back, laying your head on the pillows. She settles between your legs, devouring your body with her gaze. “Open wide for me, love” She purrs and you obediently spread your weak legs. Billie runs his fingers through your folds, collecting moisture. She brings her fingers to your mouth. “Suck” You swallow hard and take two of her fingers in your mouth, circling each with your tongue.

While you're engrossed in her fingers, Billie bends down to your pussy and runs her tongue over it, making you sigh and bite her. She hums into your flesh, looking up at you with adoring eyes. “No teeth, baby.” She grins and continues to devour you like a hungry animal.

Your sensitivity made itself felt and you tried to pull out her fingers to tell her, but she just pressed them against your tongue, depriving you of any opportunity to speak. You instinctively raised your hips, warning her. Your legs were shaking with pleasure and pain from over-stimulation. Your heels were crumpling the fabric of her shirt. You almost choked her with your hips. But she was just getting turned on.

Billie tapped your hips, giving you tacit permission to cum again. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, showing you the stars of pleasure. You can't help but bite her fingers again, but this time she lets you, seeing your condition. She helps you get through your orgasm and gets up to put her head on your chest.

“I'm so proud of you, dove... But we'll have to change the sheets.” She starts laughing, and you can't help but pick up on her laughter, even though you're a little embarrassed. You gently run your hand through her hair, removing the hair band that has almost come off her hair. You put the band on your wrist and hug her tightly.

“You know you're my only one, right?”

“I know, angel.”

[103rafes]

TAPE 008 ᯓ★

"The fuck is she feelin' on you for with Hollister on?"

in which BF!Rafe underestimates how possessive citygirl!kook!reader can get over him.

warning : 18+ , smut is involved , slut calling (from reader) , creampie (???)

BF!Rafe and CITYGIRL!KOOK!reader

A party after a solid win at the Enduro, is definitely needed after seeing your boyfriend throw himself at a dirt bike for pride. Well, that's what you think to yourself while you swirl white wine in your glass, the liquid sloshing slowly in the wine glass you had, held between your index and middle fingers.

White, sparkling rhinestones bedazzled the Signature of the Sun mini dress you wore, pearly and almost reflective of the flashing purple and blue lights that happened around the big yacht Topper had rented just for the win; the one which Rafe had rented in advance because he'd known he'd win, and he did in a sense.

You played with the strand of hair you had, curling it around your finger. You'd gotten your hair done for this, to come to the party as Rafe's plus one; his girlfriend - and where was he?

Talking to Topper and Kelce, Ruthie stuck to Topper's side like always. God, you were seriously beginning to hate that bitch, she seemed to be getting more opportunities to talk with your man than you were. You couldn't help the way your face changed into one of clear distaste, rolling your eyes as you turned to converse with your bestfriend who you'd thankfully met at the party.

Versailles, your bestfriend was in her own little designer outfit, a black dress sparkling in polar opposite eye candy to your own. "Is that not your man there, babe?" She asked, an eyebrow raised while you had to this time fight the massive eye roll you were about to, at just the mention of Rafe.

"He's busy," You responded curtly, not trying to be rude but it was getting to you. Seriously, why did he do this? Versailles nodded, but you could sense something off, she seemed uneasy. That didn't sit right with you, "What's up wit'chu?" You asked, and she shifted on her heels, eyebrows raising quickly while her head turned away, glass held to her pink glossed lips, "Does your man know any blondes that aren't his sister?" She muttered low, and you whipped your head around to where Rafe had been, the curls from your high pony bouncing.

Sure enough, you saw Rafe seemingly immersed in conversation with his friends still but with the addition of some blonde chick. Your stare turns into that of a nasty, snake like one, lips curling, "Who is that?" You sneered, and Versailles shrugged, "I don't know, but I saw a ton of guys trying to advance on her, but..she's been giggling and talking to your man for a while now.."

That only made you more angrier, "Seriously? The fuck.." You mumble to yourself as you analyze the random blonde from afar. Hollister clothes from top to bottom, it made you want to laugh. "Where'd she come from, Goodwill? Maybe a goddamn No Frills." You scoffed, eliciting a laugh from Versailles, "Girl..cool down, I'm sure Rafe can handle his own, he's your boyfriend for a reason, right?" She questioned.

That eased your nerves a little; Right, Rafe could hold his own, he wasn't disloyal by any means.

A deep inhale through your nose, and you sighed heavily, "You're right, I'm stressing fo' what..let's go get another drink, mine's out." You murmured, to which Versailles grinned and excitedly linked your arm with hers, practically sprinting you two towards the bar somewhere down the yacht.

The two of you had ended up talking a while longer near the bar as you grabbed your refills, and after a nice 10 minutes did you two finally come back to where you'd originally been. You were laughing hard at something Versailles had said, not tipsy enough to be considered drunk but certainly not sober enough to control your emotions.

Versailles was talking, and she suddenly cut herself off with wide eyes, "Hey, look." She tapped your shoulder before pointing somewhere. You felt slight unease creep into your skin, because you knew that direction was where Rafe was. Begrudgingly, you turned around and were met with the one sight you didn't want to see.

Rafe looked slightly annoyed, hands trying to pry the blonde off him carefully as she tried to grind up on him, getting her hands all over him as the open zipup she wore fell off her shoulders, revealing her tight crop top, and those ass hanging shorts.

Pure adrenaline began to rush through you at the way she so casually touched Rafe; who the hell was this hoe?

Before Versailles could grab you, you were stomping over, the sound of your heels seeming to burn out the sound of the loud music playing on the yacht as you pulled the chick off Rafe by her open, soft blonde hair.

"Get the fuck off him skank!" You snapped, and you could hear the "'ohhh"s that began to come out from Topper and Kelce, looks already coming your way. An offended gasp left the blonde, and her fists clenched, "What the fuck is your problem?!" Her voice was scratching your eardrums in a way that could've made them bleed out, and it only fueled the irritation you had, "My problem? Why's your ass all up on my man?" You asked with all the venom you could muster, the glass in your hand threatening to crack from how hard you were gripping it.

The blondie looked taken aback, seeing someone as gorgeous as you putting a claim on Rafe, but it didn't help her hold her tongue, "He's your man? Does he not have standards?"She spat, and that could've made you see red. "Standards? Don't come talking to me about standards in an all Hollister outfit, bitch!" Your voice grew louder, and heads really were starting to turn.

Rafe meanwhile was visibly cringing, and he tried to grab your bicep, "Hey-" He tried, but you weren't having it, tugging your arm out, "Let go of me!" You snarked at him too, turning your attention back on the girl infront of you, about to speak once more before Rafe grabbed you even firmer by your wrist, "Hey, let's go..c'mon, s'not worth it." He murmured low into the back of your neck, hot breath make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

You really wanted to keep this going, put more wood to the already burning fire but deciding better of it, you tugged your wrist out and simply turned on your heel, starting to walk, "Come on Rafe."

Commotion seemed to be settling down a little, your anger somewhat beginning to clear while you prepared to leave, before words caught in your ear.

"Yeah, run back to a Hooters, they need fake boobs there anyway!" The blonde yelled behind your back. Rafe's eyes widened, and he knew what you were about to do. "Shit. don't-"

But you'd already turned right back around, storming right up to the chick and throwing the remnants of your white wine all over her clothes, gasps you didn't care about ringing around the crowd before you threw your glass on the ground and struck, fist colliding in a stinging pain that you replaced with the satisfaction of seeing the blonde stumble and yelp out.

You were pissed; you didn't want to get your nails done again after this, but then again acrylics were purchasable; Rafe was not. Here you were, brawling this chick and her audacity into the ground, a couple of hair pulls that caused your beautifully done hair to become a perfect mess.

"Fucking slut! Go find some other guy to give blue balls!" You yelled, as the girl tried to give you her own punches, failing miserably as she flopped and squirmed like a fish without water, "You fucking witch!!" She shrieked, as you delivered another right hook to her nose, and just as you were about to make her see light, large hands hailed you off the withering girl.

"HEY! C'mon, knock it off!" It was Rafe, and he couldn't believe the effort it took to basically rip you off the girl's body. You panted heavily, reaching down the adjust your heels before you spat on the girl, "You can find ways to fill your pussy at a 99 cent strip club, whore!" You yelled loudly, voice subtly cracking from the frustration bubbling through your body while Rafe tugged you towards him sharply, not with the intention of harming you but rather with the notion to get you to shut up.

"Cut this shit out, she's down, y'did your stuff now let's leave. Now. 'Don't want you causin' more of a scene." He gritted out, and just as you were about to protest, a sharp glare silenced you and you simply shut up.

You could feel the burn of numerous eyes all over your body, some whispers flowing out. Some people were amused at the way you'd put that blonde down, some people were upset you'd overreacted.

But that didn't matter; not with the overbearing that now filled Rafe's truck as you two drove off. Arms crossed over your chest, you didn't know what to say, or how to really start a conversation after all that. You could feel the tension in the car, and Rafe's unspoken words hung heavily in the air.

After a while, you decided to break the ice.

"Listen, you know I-"

"You've done enough."

You fell quiet at that, brow twitching as you scoffed, feeling some uncertainty, "Why was she feeling up on you, Rafe? Especially in fucking Hollister of all clothes-"

"S'not the point here. You punched her, I mean- God, you couldn't keep it in?" Rafe questioned, trying not to be upset. It was difficult, but he also felt guilt; he knew you probably had thought foul things seeing the girl practically climb on him, even if he tried as courteously as possible to get her off.

Your eyes narrowed, now not in the mood to talk. Damn him, he didn't get it.

Rafe knew the game you were playing, and he sighed deeply, "Look, baby, jus'..I'll make it up t'you..a'ight? Jus' calm down." He spoke in a more gentler tone, and it somewhat soothed the wild rhythm that went on in your heart.

A simple hum left you, indicating a half-assed yes that made Rafe relax just slightly.

The two of you got home eventually, Rafe pulling into the driveway and killing the engine, a long exhale leaving him while he got out of the black truck. The two of you stepped inside, locking doors and it was silent for the moments it took for you both to go upstairs. It was like there was a fog between you two, and it made you uneasy. Had you really made Rafe upset with you?

Just as the subtle anxiety of such a thing began to itch at your skin, rough but slender fingers trailed the sides of your waist. "Let me help you outta this.." He murmured, a soothing balm to the worries you'd had moments before. You nodded quietly, feeling slow caresses to your waist before Rafe went to unzip the designer dress off you, giving him view to your back.

Mindlessly, he dragged a cold hand to your spine and it made you shiver a little. Soon enough, the dress was coming off and before it could pool around your ankles to the floor, Rafe caught it and watched as your stepped out of it in your white Miu Miu heels, those satin slingback pumps you adored secretly clicking against the wood look porcelain.

Rafe stood up to full height, putting the dress over the fluffy chair infront of your vanity, all types of makeup over it.

His eyes flicked over your figure, taking in the curves that were now bare to him. He couldn't help himself when his hands slowly massaged the skin of your hips, fingers teasingly hooking into the black lace of your panties, the bows on either side, "You look good in black," He complimented low into your ear, and you felt your heart constrict.

"I know," You answered, trying to keep some of your dignity with you. That dragged a light mimic of a snicker out of Rafe, and his hands began to travel up your body, to where those layered rhinestones sat nicely on your neck. He unhooked the clip behind them, taking the necklace off you, "Jus' wanted to make sure you do.." He set it to where your vanity was, "Thing's a mess," He mentioned, but it wasn't condescending. Teasing, that's what it was.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes with your arms crossed over your chest and weight shifted onto one side, hips angled. "K, you're not a girl, you won't understand," You muttered, which caused Rafe to chuckle wile he walked back to you, "Sure I won't, baby.."

It was quiet for a bit, and he could tell the earlier situation was still in the back of your mind. Sighing, Rafe brought his hands to fiddle with the back of your matching lace bra, "I'm sorry..seriously," he started, and when you didn't respond, his brows furrowed with slight desperation, "c'mon..don't be like that. 'know I meant it when I said I'd make it up to you." His hands continued to trace idle patterns, a finger hooked under the back of your bra.

It filled you with anticipation; you knew he was waiting for your answer. With a few moments of contemplation, all you could do was nod. Rafe mentally sighed of relief, and with practiced ease he unclipped your bra, hands moving to slide under it and cup your tits as it slid off, "Fuck..don' know how you 'xpect me to stay sane when you're this gorgeous.." He pressed kisses to the back of your neck, and you leaned into it, feeling heat in the aftermath.

Rafe carefully led you to the neatly made bed you two had in your room, flipping you before pushing you onto the bed gently. He made your legs straddle his waist, his lips connecting to your collarbone and the dip between your breasts, hands softly flicking over the buds in a way that made you keen out.

He knew what he did to you, all your soft spots and everything to make you shake. After a bit of kissing and leaving some new dark spots on the span of your collarbone and neck, his hand moved to palm you where your pulsing cunt was, making a shaky breath leave you. Rafe slowly rubbed his hand where he knew you entrance was, taking great satisfaction in the way soft sounds escaped your soft, glossed lips.

"Look at you, all laid out f'me.." He murmured, "this the girl who just beat some chick to the ground?" He teased as he rubbed two fingers idly over where your clit was covered beneath the lace, giving you no room to respond with soft gasps leaving your throat. He smirked, the one that drove you off the rails as he pressed kisses to your jaw, his hand leaving from between your thighs to take his belt out from it's loops, before pushing his pants down with his boxers, his semi-hard cock freeing itself from it's confines.

He grasped himself, kicking his pants down to his knees before he used an elbow to brace himself over your body, rubbing the head against your pantie covered pussy, "Y'want this, huh? 'Want this thing buried in you, hm?" He almost mocked you in the way he asked, and you softly exhaled, "Don't tease, that's a bitch move."

Rafe snickered at the words, and he rubbed more firmly, making sure you made atleast a little whimper as a quiet groan left his own mouth, "Yeah? You fuckin' love that though," He muttered, "love when I make bitch moves."

He relished in the way your pussy got wet enough to slightly soak your panties, and a soft laugh left him, "Jesus..m'not even in you 'n you're this wet? Must be needy.."

You would've kicked him in the stomach if you didn't have your heels on, which frankly you don't know why Rafe left on. Your train of thought was disrupted when you felt Rafe moving your panties to the side, "Spread." He ordered, not firm but in a way that hinted authority.

You obliged in a way that made you seem desperate, legs spreading nice and easily. Rafe could've moaned at the sight of you obeying so effortlessly, rubbing the tip against your soaked folds. It made your thighs twitched a bit, anticipating in a way that made your tummy heat.

"Rafe, fuck stop-" The words choked up in your throat as you felt your pussy being stretched from Rafe slowly pushing the tip inside. Rafe grunted as his cock bullied it's way past your tight ring of muscles, a groan when he finally felt the head squeeze in, "God, you're tight- always tight." He muttered, slowly moving his hips to have you ease your walls around him, mindless and silent sounds leaving you as your eyes fluttered close.

It took a minute before you felt Rafe beginning to slowly thrust, your walls opening to his intruding dick. Your back arched in a way only Rafe caused, a moan leaving your lips before it was swallowed by Rafe's own against it, kissing you with fever.

Your hands found it's way to the back of Rafe's neck, moaning right into his mouth as his pace begun to speed up, his fucking you nice and deep as his cock forced it's way through your walls, mindless moans beginning to ring throughout the room as skin to skin wetly met with it.

"Oh my fuck, Rafe!" You practically whined out, before a loud whimper and gasp mixed into one when Rafe's tip connected right to your cervix, toes curling at the sensation that filled your entire being.

Rafe panted slightly, muscles constricting as he let go of your panties, both hands now moving to throw your legs haphazardly onto his shoulders, ignoring the dig of your Miu Miu's against his back and neck as he fucked into you deeper, bending down to kiss at the corner of your lip; so close yet so far.

He was hitting that star spot inside you with every thrust, ripping moans and cries from your throat as constellations practically spilled across your eyelids. You felt that coil in the pit of your gut ready to snap.

"Yeah..yeah, moan jus' like that..all f'me, huh? This pussy's mine, 'know I'm not gonna go lookin' for pussy that isn't yours." He muttered between breaths, his thrusts beginning to grow sloppy as he neared his release.

You were so close, you could feel it in sparks as Rafe gave you bliss that you were always reminded of time and time again. Rafe gasped out when he felt you squeeze him like a vice, "Fuck, you're eating my dick," he laughed in disbelief, putting more forces into his thrusts as he reached his thumb down to gather some wetness from your slit, using it to coat your clit and flick it in quick motions, eliciting shaky cries from you.

"Rafe, I'm coming!!" You cried shakily, and Rafe sniffled, sweat coating his back, "That's it, come f'me..c'mon." He encouraged, a husky tone. With a few more thrusts to your bruised cervix, your high hit you with a brutal force, your entire body shaking as you creamed over Rafe's dick, who didn't stop fucking into you until his own release hit him, a loud groan that could've woken the dead up leaving him as he painted your insides with hot, white streaks.

The two of you basked in the aftermath, your bodies trembling faintly while both your highs slowly settled. Rafe brought a hand to lightly brush your hair out of your face, eyes half lidded. He leaned down, gently pressing a kiss under your jaw before you grumbled, "Want me to book you an appointment to your nail tech?"

Your chest rose and fell at a slow rate, heart racing still before you closed your eyes, swallowing. "..Yeah."

Rafe hummed lowly in acknowledgement, face pressing into your neck as he groaned, neither of you in the mood to get up, "K..I'll Applepay you like..$2000." He muttered. Your eyes opened, squinting, "What? Nails are only 150 Ra-"

"I know. You can shop after. S'my way of saying sorry for not jus' shoving that girl onto the floor." He joked softly, and you couldn't help but smile, a slight smack to Rafe's back.

Well, you got clothes out of that one. It was a win win.

-

note: I'm gonna decompose cuz'a this, I can't BELIEVE I jus' wrote this but ykw I need the likes so whatever it takes, fan service behaviour. Hope this catches the RIGHT side, I'm not actually freaky but I gotta do what I gotta do. PHYS ED 'n biology taught me this for what.

isn't proof read, will be soon though!

[yourlocalbreadenthusiast]

Kindly take a break from scrolling to read this, it's important.

Take your time to grieve and come to terms with the election results, but once you've done that, it's time to get to work. We have two months. And a lot to do in that time. We have to prepare, to be ready.

Be careful about what you post or say online. Anything potentially incriminating should be avoided. Threatening language, even if clearly a joke, can be used against you.

Know someone who's trans? Someone who's had an abortion? Someone who's LGBTQIA+? Someone who's an immigrant? Someone who attends protests? Someone who's disabled? Someone who might in any way be at risk due to laws being put into place? No you don't.

Move away from social media platforms and browsers that require you to use your real identity or input a large amount of personal information. Now's a good time to find alternate means of communicating online. Tails, Element, Tor, Mastodon, Firefox, and Lemmy are all decent options.

Find a community. Someone you can talk to, either online or in real life, that you'll have reliable contact with. We need to try and create a network, but one that's as anonymous as possible.

Start scrubbing your trail as much as possible. Get rid of old accounts that can still be traced to you but are no longer used, delete personal data off the internet. There are websites out there that will freely remove your data from the internet, but be careful about which one you use, make sure it's safe and legitimate first.

Change any usernames that you can that contain any personal information. Names, birthdays, anything.

Plan B has a four year shelf life. Stock up, but don't take more than you you'll need. We don't want a COVID repeat where everyone buys an excessive amount of things and leaves none for everybody else.

There are doctors that will sterilize you, if that's the way you want to go.

Stop using online period trackers right now. Delete all data from it if possible first, then delete the app itself. If you must, write it down, but in a subtle manner and on something you keep at home. Don't label it, just put the dates. If you're really worried, discard older records and only keep the most recent few, and label the dates as other random events, like "go to mall" or "chicken salad for dinner this night"

Get your vaccines now.

Save money.

Archive. We have to start collecting records, media, data, books, and articles now. On racism, on fascism, on homophobia, on gender, on self-reliance, on survival, on safe travels routes, on equality, on justice, on anything that may be useful and/or censored soon. We can't let them erase it.

Collect those online resources. Bookmark them, copy files into your storage, Screenshot pages. Create a decentralized library where everyone is working to be part of a whole, storing what they can individually and sharing it between one another. Again, be careful about doing this.

Second-hand bookstores are your best friend. Books are usually very cheap in them, and they often have a decent stock. See what you can find.

When buying ANYTHING I have mentioned above, or anything else that maybe put you in danger, try to use cash to reduce your spending trail.

Check your car information online, many newer models can be remotely tracked.

Turn your phone completely off if you may be at risk due to your location and current activities. Turning off your GPS also helps.

Take note of where you are. Who are your friends? Who's a safe person? Where can you go besides your own home that you know you'll be safe? Establish these connections now.

Who around you is not safe? Who and where do you need to avoid? Do you need to move? If you cannot afford moving but need to, there are fundraisers that can help you. If even that is not an option, at least try to make sure your home is secure. Have someone who can help you. Have a fallback safe place.

And finally, I want anyone with resources to put them in the replies. Flood it with useful links, information, tips, anything. We're in this together. Do not panic. Organize.

[northwest-cryptid]

So I realize that a lot of people might take this response in bad faith, and while I don't have a catch-all answer to the problem. I do want to state a few things I've seen and that I fear we in the left are chronically bad about. I genuinely hope that people won't view this as some ignorant idiot running their mouth; and rather as someone who's looking to help, because what I'm going to ask of you sounds a little accusatory.

A big thing is that you have to stop with the generalization. I've heard people say "but they do it" and "but it IS most of them" and such. I get it, I get it but you can't say "Cis, Straight, White Men are bad" and then expect the good Cis, Straight, White Men to still stand up for you. I've always been told "but the good ones won't care!" Yes, they will.

I was once told by a Rightwinger on a forum that "the Left are a powerful force in converting people to be conservative." When I asked him about what he meant exactly; he explained (with the use of far too many slurs and insults I'll be omitting) that essentially when otherwise Left-Leaning individuals see the way Leftists talk about them or people like them, it's very easy for Rightwingers to sweep in and basically say "we're not going to judge you like that." Of course they hide the fact they will judge you in other ways, but for that moment; they are a beacon of shelter from the otherwise very loud mob of Leftists who would deem you literally the most inherently bad person for being... a cis man.

Am I saying you have to go out there and start forgiving every bigot, humoring every fuckboy; stop holding sexists accountable for their bullshit? Absolutely not. In fact, what I'm asking you to do is stop firing a shotgun at a target that can only be hit properly with a sniper rifle. I'm asking you to stop giving the bad actors a scapegoat. I'm asking you to be specific.

If you take a young man, who doesn't have any concept of things like gender identity, the patriarchy, homophobia, etc. You take that young man and you look him in the eyes and you tell him:

"Men are a disgusting and violent gender, men do not deserve respect. The only good man is a fictional man. All men deserve to be treated poorly, women shouldn't have to put up with men. Cis men are the worst. Straight Cis Men should go to hell."

He's going to become a conservative rightwinger, because at least they won't hate him for being a man. They'll just hate him for being the wrong kind of man. It's easier for that man to seek acceptance through forcing others to be below him, than for him to accept that he is inherently a problem. If you instead literally word it as:

"Sexists and bigots, who would view women as nothing more than objects are disgusting. Anyone who would look down on, and see someone as lesser because of their race, gender identity, or sexuality does not deserve respect."

Well now he's not a target. Because he doesn't see women that way, he doesn't have racist thoughts; he's not currently a bad person and you're not talking about him. Now I know that a lot of people say "but I'm NOT talking about people like that!" I know that, you know that; you know who doesn't know that? The young man who's reading your posts, the young man who hears you at the store, the young man who read your forum response 3 months ago. What they see, plain as day is "men are a problem" and they're going to seek shelter from that.

Unfortunately for everyone involved; the shelter they end up finding so many times is conservative rightwingers. There are tons of people you can hear talk about this on youtube and forums, people who got indoctrinated because they would rather be praised for being a man than hated for it.

Now you might not talk this way, a lot of people don't; but a lot of other people DO. I see a lot of "the only good man is a trans man" or "the only good man is a fictional man" type posts, and even if you want to say it's just a meme or it's all a joke. You need to understand that when you speak generally, a man, especially a young man is going to see that and react to it. It's going to shape their idea of how the Left, who you represent to them whether you want to or not; see them.

If a young man who currently is unaligned on either side of the political spectrum sees a bunch of gay and trans people shitting on men for simply "being men" and not for the patriarchy, not for the sexism, not for male privilege and all that. Not actually educating anyone, not speaking out about the injustice; not discussing toxic masculinity or anything that may even shine a light on the issues people face. Just saying "men suck" and leaving it at that. Only to then see a bunch of Rightwingers saying all those gays and trans people are stupid and they are bad people and they hate men for no reason. That young man is going to make a no-effort decision in that moment to side with the people who do not openly hate him.

It's genuinely that easy for someone to become indoctrinated. Once they're in, they're rewarded for thinking less, promoting the ideals that promise them a higher spot on the social ladder; and generally following the mentality that Leftists are bad, and Rightwingers are good. They keep digging themselves into that hole trying to find a place they belong, somewhere they won't be hated; somewhere they don't need to feel guilty and wrong for just being who they are. Until they learn that the Right also thinks they're bad and wrong, they're a "beta" because they haven't fucked someone yet, they're a "soyboy" if they're not benching 200 pounds, making six figures, and banging a new girl each week. So now the urge for acceptance has shifted. Being a man means nothing if you're not "the right kind of man" if you're not an alpha, if you're not a sigma male then you're not good enough.

Go figure now they start viewing women as objects. That's not a woman, that's a ticket to not being a beta virgin anymore. She can be bought, she can be manipulated because he's an "alpha" he has money, he has control; he's a man. He's been taught all of this, he's been taught that "bitches don't matter." He's been told that working out and having money can get him any woman he wants. He's been taught women are dumb, that they're materialistic; that they don't matter outside of being a quick fuck. If someone tells him off, or doesn't like him it's because "she's a crazy bitch." I was once told "men don't have friends, men have competition." This is how they're taught.

So now you approach this man in some attempt to help him understand the faults in his ways. The problem is he's been convinced for the last so many odd years that by simply being a Leftist, or by being gay, or by being trans; you're wrong. Before a single word leaves you mouth. Because "all Leftists are special snowflakes who just get triggered by everything." Which unfortunately the internet has "proved" to him because of those videos of gay people screaming at cameras, or posts that generalize all straight/white/cis men to be bad people.

Again, this isn't some catch all solution. It's not going instantly turn the tide or something, but you have to stop using general terms. Be specific; don't say "men" say "Sexists" if what you mean is "sexist men" then say "sexist men." Because when you just say "men" you do imply "all men, including you; the man reading this." Whether that's what you mean or not. I don't believe that men are inherently born with a want for things like sexism and racism. I really don't believe men are some inherent evil born with bad intentions. I believe it's a combination of the way the popular culture tells them they should be something great; and the way the Left tell them they're a horrible person for how they were born. That's a fast track for becoming a "Crypto Hitler."

I cannot tell you how many genuine conversations I've been able to have with Rightwingers, where I've been able to sort of get them to see my side of things even just a little. Because I didn't point a finger at larger audiences. I was talking to a man on a forum just a few days ago about the inherent issue of sexism in an abortion ban. I made sure to use the word "sexists" and the word "men" as separate entities. When I was discussing how men have bodily autonomy that women don't, I would say just that; when I mentioned that sexists want to control a woman's body I would also say just that. He still mentioned several times "Well I never said I wanted to do that." To which I had to point out to him that I never said he did, I said Sexists did; so if he wasn't in fact Sexist then the shoe doesn't fit.

My goal in all of that was to absolve him of blame; but only so long as he didn't fit the bill for the sort of people who deserved the blame. I let him see it as a matter of simple fact. No different than saying "if you didn't shoot this man then you're not the murderer." I didn't say "everyone with a gun shot this man and therefore everyone with a gun, including you; is in fact the murderer." Because doing so would cause nothing but argument. Rather I treated the whole thing as though he couldn't have possibly been at fault right? By the end of it he came out of it saying that abortion still goes against his religious beliefs; but that he can understand how it's specifically a women's issue; and how there should be further discussion about the effects of abortion as a treatment that could potentially save lives. Crazy how that works right? I got a Rightwinger to admit that hey, abortion isn't an issue men should be speaking on. All because I ensured that he didn't feel as though I was pointing a finger specifically at HIM as a man, for being the problem; and instead let him come to the conclusion of whether or not he specifically fit the mold of a "sexist" or a "man." He told me that I was a lot smarter than "those autistic leftists" but he never knew I in fact am an autistic Leftist. That's literally just because in his mind he knows what an "Autistic Leftist" is, what they will say; how they will act, how they'll react. By not being that stereotype; he couldn't just label me some buzzword and write off what I was saying. In his eyes I was a man with a wife and was merely concerned over the safety of our wives and daughters.

Sometimes that's what it takes to make someone see things your way, if I explained to him that I'm a pansexual genderfluid individual who never intends to have children and just believes women should have the right to bodily autonomy for the sake of bodily autonomy the same as cis men have; well he'd probably write me off immediately.

I'm not saying you have you hide who you are, I'm not saying you have to appeal to their bigoted whims and humor their insults. However I am saying that you need to conduct yourself in a way that's going to show young men that you care about them too. That even the young cis white straight men have a place in a Leftist society; that they won't be hated for simply being true to themselves, how they identity; and how they love. That what we want is equality for everyone; and specifically what rights they have for simply being those things, that the rest of us don't for simply being who and what we are.

tl;dr We can save a lot of young men from becoming Crypto Hitlers if we actually stop talking about men in general like they're already Crypto Hitlers.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[redclercs]

DELICATE✰CHARLES LECLERC.

xv. he was sunshine, i was midnight rain

— the one where you broke his heart 'cause he was nice.

❝𝘞����𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘸𝘦 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨? 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘸𝘦 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨? 𝘖𝘩, 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥? 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥? 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥?❞ —𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐘, 𝟏𝟑.

warnings: angst, not proofread and pls go easy on me i'm coming out of the worst block everrrrrrrrrr. our girlie is making poor choices pls hate her a bit for it, the last bit is charles centered. 2.23k words (+articles!)

masterlist ✢ next

by Tom Gill

The worst time to have a carreer on Public Relations is when your client is as unhinged as y/n y/ln has proven to be. Many people, myself included, can't help but feel sorry for whoever is on her team because there's only so much someone can do to put out a fire when the person burning is the same one who keeps lighting the matches.

y/n just can't stop messing up, can she? Just when her fans thought she would rise from the ashes with an outstanding movie deal, the 'Queen of Romcoms' has to go ahead and mess things up by proving that people who aren't blinded by her master manipulations are right: y/n y/ln is in fact a cheating snake.

The Deuxmoi post talking about an actress involved with a Formula 1 driver and her presence at the Italian Grand Prix last Sunday are enough confirmation of the fact. y/n is not ashamed to be seen on broad daylight with the guy that broke off her engagement.

Don't kill the messenger, y/n fans. Aidan Kim and Victoria Presley did warn you.

New York, United States, September 10th.

It feels like you've just finished unpacking when you find yourself throwing stuff in a suitcase once again. There is little to none excitement in you as you decide between a couple of blouses and recite Amy's lines outloud inside your messy apartment.

"Wait—that's not right," you huff, unaware that you've let the blouse you like the least inside the suitcase. The lines slip your mind like butter on a pan. Honestly, you've started to wonder if several of your braincells died in the past month. Nothing other than 'I want to be great or nothing' seem to have stuck. So much for how well that single line applies to your life.

"'It looks like it's never done a day of work in its life'," you mutter, picking the script up from the dining table. You have studied it a million times, gone through lines and rehearsals and a thousand other things. You have called Greta and Timothée and Saoirse and they have called you on their own accord to agree the accurate tones of scenes and interactions, and yet you are sure you are still going to mess everything up once the camera starts rolling. "God, help me."

The clock on your phone tells you it's 9:30 a.m. and you are nowhere being done with your luggage. Also, Charles' plane lands in less than an hour and you are not making it to the airport in time. He has a busy month race-wise and he has still made some time to come to New York before you leave for Boston in a couple days and you are both turned upside down with the Asian race-tour.

There is one reason—and one reason only— that Mildred has agreed that you should have these two days off. That reason is not Charles Leclerc, given the fact that she has grown to hate him even if she can admit, albeit to herself only, that he has done nothing wrong. You are supposed to be preparing more interviews and then a prolonged stage of silence while you focus on filming Little Women. Mildred has a whole plan laid out and that is another script you have to follow. No improvisations though, you have been warned.

─────────

Time has a funny way of passing by when it comes to Charles and yourself. Your whole relationship feels contained in a moment and also in a century, and every time you see each other again, even after just a few days a whole other bubble of time seems to have passed. You think it's Charles' way of making it feel special, making you feel special by looking at you like you're a part of him he's constantly missing when you're not right next to him. A 'lovesick fool' you have heard him been nicknamed by people who try to be nice, at least a little bit. Others sneer at how they can't wait for the 'honeymoon phase' to be over.

And it's precisely the way he looks at you before he's crushing you against his chest that makes you hold your tongue for the rest of the day. You cannot bring yourself to tell him the plan the people around you have made without asking for your input—much lesser his— to salvage your career and your reputation.

It nags at you how stupid you're being. Maybe some part of your brain did die between Sunday and today, but you are certain you won't be able to bear the disappointment in Charles' eyes when he finds out what you agreed to.

This visit is less touristy than the last time Charles came to New York. He's leaving tomorrow and you, the day after for Boston, so you want to bask in each other's company as much as possible. You go to a cupcake place and take pictures, all while Charles re-tells everything people have said about his win on Sunday. He's become even more of the Golden Boy he already was in the eyes of Ferrari fans, and you feel love swell in your chest at the fact. You love that he's loved, there's nothing he deserves more than to be loved.

"Will you show me the script now?" Charles asks, taking his light jacket off as he crosses the door to your apartment. A slight feeling of embarrassment flashes through you when you focus on the different disasters around the house but Charles either doesn't notice or doesn't mind as he makes himself comfortable on the couch where several pairs of your shoes are scattered.

"I think it would violate my contract somehow if I did," you chuckle, noticing that your travel kit toothbrush and toiletries are on the coffee table. "I was sure I had those in my luggage already," you groan, pointing at them.

Charles laughs, patting the spot next to him and motioning you over excitedly. "Can I see it please?" he elongates the 'e', with a mocking puppy eye look on his face. "Read me some of your favorite lines," he's suggested so several times and you refuse him every single one. It's not like he hasn't seen you act, Charles admitted in one of your phone calls to have binged all of your movies.

"I can't," you fall into the couch next to him, wrapping one arm around his neck. "You make me nervous, it won't turn out good."

"You see me work all the time," he grumbles against your hair, "And you too, make me nervous. You're being unfair."

"Oh, booohooo," you mock, nuzzling into his neck. "Your job is far more exciting than me reciting lines."

"It is not—"

His complaint is cut short as you kiss him, once, twice, so many times you lose count and he kisses you back between snickers and fake complaints about how there's only so much his heart can take before it explodes. It's so cheesy it makes you both cringe and burst with laughter before starting the scene all over again.

A re-run of a Foodnetwork reality show is playing in the background when you open your eyes after a short-lived nap. Charles is swiping through his phone with his other arm around you, the light in the apartment has faded almost completely giving way to late evening.

"Do you want to go out for dinner?" you ask pushing off of Charles' body and sit and rub your eyes. "Or should we order something?"

He locks his phone and stretches, still laying on his back. "Whatever you want to do, soleil."

You two are way too comfortable in your little cocoon to mess it up by going outside just to eat. Charles smiles, knowing you've already made your mind up.

You argue on the couch for ten minutes about what take-out to get and after you've finally placed the order on your phone, you get up to make some space the dining table.

"Here," you throw the bunch of papers at him softly. The 'Little Women' script is anotated from page one, and it is true that you probably shouldn't be showing it to him, but it doesn't really hurt anyone either. "Not a word, do you hear me, Leclerc?"

Charles laughs before crossing his heart with his index finger, eager to read about your next big thing.

You throw more stuff on your open suitcase, wipe the table down and look through your kitchen for an unopened bottle of wine while Charles reads and occassionally shouts something from the living room. He's so genuinely excited about seeing you bring Amy to life on the silver screen.

"Gooodddd, what's taking them so long?" you whine as you return to the living room. The 'your order is in progress' notification still alive on the screen of your phone. Charles doesn't seem to mind as he makes space for you to sit with him again.

"Couch potato," you stick your tongue out at him, placing your feet on his lap after reaching for the TV remote. You surf through a few channels, trying to remember what the name was of that crime documentary you wanted to watch on Netflix.

"...y/n y/ln making headlines again with her messy love life," the E! Show that's starting has your picture and Charles' next to each other.

Charles' eyes move from the last pages of the script to the TV and then to you. "Change the channel, love," he says as he reaches for the remote himself.

"Yeah," you click on the Netflix logo on the remote and the screen goes black as your phone pings, letting you know your food has been delivered to your apartment complex's lobby.

─────────

There is something beautiful about domestic life with Charles even if it just exists for scarce moments like this. The smell of coffee and the sound of his humming lull you into a peaceful state of mind as you prepare breakfast before once again leaving for the airport.

Messages from Mildred, three or four already, remind you that you must be ready for the list of things she had also reminded you of a million times already.

'how did he take it?' you read from your phone, Mildred again.

You look at Charles and open your mouth. Maybe now that he's leaving in a couple hours you'll work up the courage to tell him about how Mildred is staging your break-up right this second. Which means nothing, right? Keeping it lowkey is for the best, even for him.

Right?

You open your mouth and close it several times looking at your disheveled boyfriend and his sweet smile.

"What?"

"There's something I have to tell you," you breathe out, screwing the already too tight cap on the empty bottle of orange juice that rests on the table.

"So tell me," Charles' smile widens as he puts both elbows on the table, ready to listen.

"I'm really going to miss you." you chuckle awkwardly, and there is momentary gesture, barely perceptible, in Charles' face that tells you he knows that's not what you really wanted to say.

"Me too soleil, but we'll figure it out," he's reaching for your hand with a weaker smile on his face this time.

AFTER months of speculation about the nature of y/n's relationship with Formula 1 Pilot Charles Leclerc, a spokesperson for the actress has made an exclusive statemen for PEOPLE.

"They have never been romantically-involved," the source said. "Their friendship is undeniable but there's nothing more than that."

y/ln and Leclerc have been linked since April and spotted in public together several times, including at the Italian Grand Prix on September 3rd.

"Since becoming friendly they've ran into each other at several events," the source continues, "They are often surrounded by friends they have in common, such as Matilde Bassi and Timothée Chalamet. y/n knows it's too soon to put herself out there romantically."

Despite a rumor surfacing on an online gossip site that they took a romantic vacation together in Greece, y/n's spokesperson tells PEOPLE that "pictures are often released without context to create controversy."

Charles Leclerc has been blind-sided. Which, to be fair, in his career field is something he should be used to. But the feeling doesn't compare to being blind-sided by the person who is supposed to be your partner.

Charles understands, he always understands, or at least tries his best to do so. But this time, it really feels like he's reached his limit. It's not even about how he's become even more of the laughing-stock within his group of friends about how he's been parading y/n around and defending her honor for her to call their relationship 'casual' rather than not even getting a heads-up from her about the matter.

"Is there something you would like to talk about now, y/n?" Charles questions, trying his best not to let the anger flow into his voice.

Charles thinks the worst part is how long she stays silent, but it's not even close to what comes next.

"I tried telling you," she lies.

"When?" there is no point in hiding his anger anymore, even if he doesn't want to fight. This is one of those unavoidable things you expect to hit somewhere down the road in the relationship, not a month into it.

"I TRIED!" she repeats, unable to come up with any argument in her defense.

"You never tried! See that's the thing about you, you just wait for things to happen and then you 'try' to deal with the mess!" His accent is thickening with every word.

"If it bothers you so much—"

"What bothers me," he cuts her off, "Is how you cannot trust me with these things? What did you think I would say?!"

"Exactly what you're saying now, Charles," she sounds defeated and it manages to irk him an extra mile. "You don't understand—"

"I don't understand how you still care more about what people are going to say than about talking to me. I'm your boyfriend!"

There is another long silence during which he can hear faint yelling in the background of her side of the line. On his side of the world it's nearly midnight.

"I've been thinking," y/n nearly gasps, "That maybe we rushed things."

"Rushed things?" his voice is so small now he wonders if it can really travel half-way through the world.

"I— Maybe Mildred is right— I wasn't, I am not ready for a relationship." She stammers, and Charles can picture her pinching her thigh in that nervous tick she can't quite manage to get rid of.

"You can't even take responsibility for your own feelings?"

It's always Aidan, Victoria, Mildred... a handy list of people to put part of the blame on for when she doesn't want to say things herself.

And Charles accepts it. He accepts her messes because he wants her, but now apparently y/n doesn't even want him back.

"What do you even mean by that?" y/n scoffs.

"Can you even be honest with me, then? Say that it is you who doesn't want this relationship, y/n, don't put it on—"

"I'M NOT PUTTING IT ON ANYONE! THIS HAS BEEN A MISTAKE SINCE WE LEFT MYKONOS I—"

Charles didn't want to fight and now there is nothing to fight for, anyway. So he hangs the phone up, because sometimes things end in silence.

It's three am, and Charles Leclerc just got his heart broken.

─── team principal radio: ❝why hello there, i don't even know if you remember this fic but it is for my own peace of mind that I have to finish it!!! also i love these characters a lot, even when they're acting so selfish and stupid—looking at you y/n. Thank you if you are still here and like me, had to reread it to get to this chapter.❞

✰ paddock club members: NO PADDOCK CLUB THIS TIME BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW IF ANYONE STILL WANTS TO BE TAGGED.

[mintmatcha]

So does Kirishima ever threaten sero when he keeps asking about reader?

Sero's phone buzzes across the table, barely audible over the thrum of fake gunfire. The round's just begun, so Kirishima tries to ignore it, but his friend is already squirming in his seat.

"Someone's home from cram school." Sero's hunched over himself, controller basically in his face. His smile is suspiciously taut, lips parted over his perfectly straight teeth. "I'm out after this round."

Of course he is. That's all these sleepovers have become: charades for him to sneak over and see you.

"My dad's going to be pissed if he finds out you snuck out." Kirishima says. It's not really true - he'd probably applaud Sero before anything else - but the lie feels good to say. He's already jamming the controller harder than he should, the plastic edge digging into his palm.

"I'm not scared of your dad-- he loves me."

Kirishima sinks back into the couch. His character's already dead, laying there, waiting to be revived.

"I just-" He shouldn't say anything. "Can you not mess with her, please?"

With a snort, Sero looks over, his expression unchanged until he takes in Kirishima's look.

"What do you mean?" Sero shrugs, turning back to the television. "We just, like, hang out and junk. Watch some anime, make out. Nothing major."

"But she's really nice," Kirishima says, carefully. "And really lonely. If you're just gonna treat her like-"

With a grunt and a gasp, Sero's character's dead now too. He places his controller down pointedly.

"Like what?"

Kirishima swallows down the lump in his throat.

"Like every other girl." The red head crosses his arms. "If you're going to treat her like every other girl, you should just leave her alone."

Scoffing, Sero looks at his friend, lips parted in a clownish frown. "What does that mean?"

"You know what it means."

Sero pushes off of the couch.

"Whatever, Kirishima." He tucks his hands into his pockets, fists balled. "Just because you don't like girls-"

Everything goes hot. From his fingertips, to his toes, the the space behind his eyes, every part of Kirishima's body suddenly burns. The heavy space in his throat is suddenly dry, crumbling, sticking up any words that could possibly come out. All he can do is sit there and stare, eyes wide, expression gaunt.

"I like girls." Kirishima can't help but think that Sero looks particularly good in the low light - those soft child's features melting away into his late teens, cheekbone cut by the diffused light of the television screen- and that makes his stomach even more sour. "I'm not-- "

The tension shrinks out of Sero's body as he seems to process what he said. "I didn't mean it like that."

"I like girls."

"I didn't mean it like that, Kiri, just-"

Kirishima finds his feet. Sero's taller, but Kirishima's bigger, muscle built out from training. When he folds his arms, he bunches his biceps up and tucks his fists behind them. The harrowed heat inside him has changed to a burning anger.

"Do you even like girls?" The words tumble out on their own. "Because all you do is treat them like garbage. "

Sero laughs, light and airy in the way that only fuels the flame.

"We all know you're just acting like this-" Kirishima shouldn't say it. He's not even supposed to know; it's drama passed to him through classmates, whispered behind Sero's back- "Because your dad cheats on your mom."

Sero blinks as if he's been slapped. Then, he blinks again. His tongue rolls over his teeth, measuring his emotions.

"Don't talk about my mom."

"Don't say that I don't like girls!"

The silence between them is wild, like static. It burns, it demands to be filled by something other than Kirishima's heavy breathing, but instead they both look at each other, firm, resolved.

"Fine." Sero snatches his phone from the table. "Whatever, Kiri. Least I get to make out with people."

In three big steps, he's gone, into the hall and presumably out of the apartment all together. Kirishima's silence goes softer.

"I like girls," he says to the television screen.

[backinmyphase]

Just a heart broke bitch!

Synopsis. Only 24 hours passed since your ex ended it. So why did you find yourself in a club waiting for someone to fuck? Someone like Satoru Gojo?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, college! Gojo, Satoru is down bad and reader doesn't know, overstím, (not mentioned but reader is on the pill), nipple sucking

Word count. 2.2k

A/N. I have never written smut before, so this is more like an experiment hehe

"Shouldn't we at, fuck! hah~ l-least have a first date?"

Gojo had that smug smile on his face as his eyes looked down at your body, inspecting the sweat that was shining from your naked chest. Behind his smugness you could see his back tense up. Just as sweaty as yours. His hair disheveled, standing up in all directions.

"S-shut u-AAAAAAh-" you gasped and couldn't keep the moan in as he made you shudder with his-

"Up."

A little context to this situation you found yourself in. You were in a shit position. A couple of hours before you sat at the table of a cafe trying to grasp what was happening right there.

"What?"

"We should break up." your, well now ex-boyfriend didn't have any readable expression on his face. "I can't do this anymore."

"What do you mean with this?" your body stiffened, no seeable reaction shown.

"I heard about how you acted in high school. About your little adventures with your friends." his look was different from before. It was filled with- "I don't want a girlfriend which is a slut. Who sucked off more men than she kissed."

Your hand gripped your glass of coffee harder. "Excuse me?"

He shook his head. "You know what I am talking about. Let's just end and forget about this relationship. It was never that good anyway."

And like that he got up and walked away.

And you really wished you got up and gave him a piece of your mind. Tell him how it really was at these parties which you were back then to young to go to. And how the guys you met there knew that. How they used that.

Tell him what kind of entitled asshole he was, to shame you for your old ways of seeking validation.

Back then you were only seventeen. And they were at least twenty one. But you were the filthy slut, who was to wild and surely not loyal enough to be in a relationship, right?

You hated how even now you just swallowed your emotions, your tears and your feeling of self worth.

Because you shouldn't be crying about such an asshole, right? Your friends, well they called themselves that, said not to sulk just search for a new one in the club. They probably told him all about your old stories. Like always when things were going good for you.

They were the only people you had, who stuck by your side. So was it really your fault that you took out your black dress, with your six inch heels?

Yes.

Because even though you wanted to deny it, you liked this boy you had dated. He was your first real relationship, shouldn't that mean something?

But it was never that good anyway, right?

While sitting and sipping champagne in this nightclub, you could already feel your common sense slipping away.

Stupid like back then, because you should know that your friends wouldn't bring you back to your home. Isn't that how you ended up in all these beds? Them doing drugs outside while you were drinking with a guy who will bring you with him, no matter what you really wanted.

You shouldn't trust those people.

It was always just drunk calls, drunk texts, drunk tears, drunk sex.

And those days were behind you. Right?

You wish you could say that. But then you wouldn't be sitting here, dressed up to forget what was really going through your mind right now. No, they weren't behind you and maybe your ex was right.

You stopped smoking along time ago. You stopped following these things that told you you were only something with them. But today was different.

You took some cigarettes that were given to you from some dude with a devious smile. Not your best move. But right now anything was better than you alone in your head.

"This seat free?"

And then there was this guy like your fate was laughing at you. This guy who had this gorgeous white hair and kind of boyish smile. Like a perfect opportunity to forget tonight.

"Yeah, no worries." you were kind of surprised at the sound of your own voice. It was raspier than usual. Like the smoke already made it's mark.

His tall frame lowered onto the seat next to you, his body facing your direction, instead of the bar. He already had this curious look. "So what brings you here alone?"

You shrugged and gave the bartender a sign as you finished your champagne. "Two more wines, please."

The bartender just nodded and fetched you your first one.

"Woah, slow down." The white haired mans expression changed. "That bad down to get wasted?"

"Yeah, well wouldn't be in a Club if not, or would I?" you looked up at his face, and now was your turn to check him out. Other than the fact that he was tall and he was insanely pretty. That was no problem, in fact it helped. But his almost concerned expression wasn't.

"I guess." He tilted his head a bit. "What's your name?"

Maybe it was the alcohol but for some stupid reason you just told him your name. And he leaned forward and whispered.

"I'm Gojo Satoru."

That wasn't ideal. While you didn't really care about your college people, he had quite a name in your college. But any critical thinking was thrown out of the window since your second shot in the last hour.

Amd as you looked at those eyes that had the for you known look in them you whispered back.

"You want to fuck?"

Yeah, your thinking really did leave an hour ago. Because you swore that you would never be in these surroundings and would never ask such a question a stranger again. But like back then you just wanted to forget.

You didn't remember what came next and how you did end up in this small apartment. All you did know that you were impatient at Gojo because he took too long to get on the bed and fuck you.

Why were there two glasses of wine on this table next to him? Were you talking to him? You couldn't remember.

You just knew that you needed something to keep these thoughts away.

"God, you are driving me crazy." he was on top of you, his hands were everywhere, touching you, heating up your body.

"So beautiful for what?" he mumbled, his naked body (wait when did he get naked? When did you get naked? Oh what does it matter...) was pressed against yours as he kissed your lips.

"I need you now." your arms now around him pressing him closer to your, trying to get your aching pulse down there closer to his.

He laughed and laid his head back. "You are acting like a dick you know that?"

"Well you might as well stick it in."

And that's how you ended up under Satoru Gojo as he bullied his far too big cock inside you.

And you could almost swear he was in love with you, with how he clashed on your teeth so messy, so hot, so starved. Like he couldn’t get enough with the way he hastily moves to press wet, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw. 

"Oh. Fuck. You are so unfair you know that?" he was heavily gasping for air, but still made sure to leave a kiss after every deep thrust inside you.

"Is that what you wanted? No more thoughts because I fuck you so good?" and he went all the way back out of you just to slam his hips back down again.

"fuck!" you almost screamed as he hit that spot inside again, holding onto his back, no more like clawing at his back for dear life. "right t-there, please!"

His head went lower with his trail of kisses until he reached your chest. "No need to beg, pretty."

Your body is slick with sweat and only growing hotter by the moment; the sound of his rough panting coupled with the occasional whine he lets out only has you panting more.

And he has the nerve to go faster while thrusting inside you. Making you see stars as he kissed your nipples, sucked on them, made out with your chest.

"Satoru!" you moaned, you couldn't do anything else. "You are killing me!"

And even though you were far gone and overstimulated to the moon you could feel his cocky smile at your chest. And he didn't even consider slowing down at your plead, no he more seemed proud of himself making you so fucked out.

How is he fucking you like his life depended on it, couldn't he get tired? Every lasting slap! at your walls had you gasping for air, while he had to close his eyes at how your walls clamped down around him and sucked him back in.

Was this heaven?

"Are you close?" he was out of breath while he stopped sucking for just a second and you would be lying if you said you didn't want him to just continue.

"Yeah, please keep going."

"What did I say about b-begging?" he moaned again. " I'm getting closer myself. Where do you want it?"

And for some dumb reason you screamed-

"Inside!"

And he did. You felt the hot spurt inside you, filling you up, making you feel so full. And yet he didn't stop, no still helped you to reach your high.

And you couldn't help how his frantic hits against your core caused your toes to curl and your back to arch further than ever before as you’re slowly being brought closer to your tense, and awaited edge. “Cumming, cumming!”

"Yeah, just let go for me..." his voice was low amd his face suddenly no longer on your chest, but so close to your own. "Cum for me, pretty girl."

"Ooh... Ah!" it was almost embarrassing how hard you came. But you needed that at this day. Maybe it was far more embarrassing how you were asleep five seconds later.

"Fuck, baby, you are so beautiful..."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"Want a glass of water?"

Your eyes were still sticky, the last night not fully slept away. Where were you? This wasn't your own bed.

You sat up, but realizing that your head would spin and push you down before you could steady yourself. And as you looked up you saw him.

And you remembered what had happened yesterday.

"Wouldn't hurt." he answered himself and sat down next to your, heavy, heavy body and somehow lifted your back so you sat. Bringing the water to your lips.

"Drink so you don't throw up on me now."

You just obeyed him and sipped on the cold water, that went down your aching, dry throat so deliciously. You downed it in one sip.

"That's right." his hand went up and down your back soothing. "You and I had maybe too many drinks yesterday."

And then you realized the situation.

You were sitting here. On the bed of a stranger. With still no clothes on. As you drunkenly followed him into his apartment. What was wrong with your brain?

"Thank you." you took the glass from him. "I'm alright now."

He had that soft smile and something inside it punched you inside your gut.

"Alright I'm doing breakfast now." he stood up and looked amused as you hid yourself under his covers. "You can come when you're ready."

And like that he was out the door. Breathing began to be so much easier. You had to find a way out of here. And quickly, before this was becoming more awkward than it should.

What were you thinking yesterday? Fucking Gojo Satoru of all people? You just proved the point of your ex. You really were a slut.

Your things were all around the room, probably disgarded in the act yesterday. Picking them up and dressing yourself in them again felt nasty, like last night was sticking onto you.

You opened the door and looked around to see the exit. And there it was. The wardrobe with your shoes. You tiptoed there, softly.

"Leaving already?"

You turned around to a Gojo Satoru leaning against the doorframe of the supposed kitchen. He looked amused and had one eyebrow raised.

"Well, yeah... I completely forgot about it, but I have some things to do..." you fiddle with your shoes impatiently.

"Alright, should I bring you home?"

"NO!" You cleared your throat. "I mean- there is really no need."

He shrugged. "If you say so. But be safe and drink at home again."

You nodded and with that you were out.

You didn't remember your old one night stands to be that open and smily. No, they just told you how to leave and slept through the morning, while snoring.

Your phone vibrated inside of your bag. And you could see a message of a new number.

Satoru <333

Hey, get home safe!

Oh and we exchanged numbers yesterday, if you don't remember.

You couldn't help but feel guilty, but you left him on read. Why did he message you? Why was he so nice to you like he wanted to get to know you.

How could you tell him, that you just used him as a good fuck?