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mysecretlittlelibrary · 8 months

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After The End

Pairing: Bucky x Reader/former Steve x Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: idk... there's lots of arguing and resentment

Genre: mostly angst some fluff here and there

Summary: It took you ages to put yourself back together when Steve chose to stay in the 40s, what happens when he comes back two years after

***

Life after Thanos was hard. Watching some of your closest friends disappear was not something you would ever be able to forget. Especially with those of you that were left scattered around trying to patch up what could be saved. Those five years were hard, but harder still was having almost everyone you loved return only to lose others. If you had known that beating Thanos would mean losing your boyfriend you might not have tried so hard. It's selfish to think that way, you know it is but you had a whole life planned with Steve, and being heroes you knew there was a chance you wouldn't get to see it through but losing him like this was- almost too much to bare. All he had to do was return the stupid stones to where you'd gotten them from to save the universe. It was supposed to be simple and there was something soul shattering about him choosing not to return to the team, to you. He took the stones back and then he stayed. Chose a life with Peggy that was never his rather than the life with you that he already had. It was agony, for months you were heartbroken. But you got through it. You mourned that life you envisioned, you mourned him, and while you'll probably always love him, you refused to let his choice destroy you. And you considered yourself lucky because Bucky was there for you through it all. On nights that were really bad, Bucky would stay with you even if you were up all night.

You aren't entirely sure when it happened, even now, looking back on it you can't pinpoint the moment late night conversations and afternoons completing chores became... more than that. You guess in spending so much time together you started to see Bucky in a different light. You'd always cared for him but what happened with Steve seems to have created a level of closeness you didn't expect. That first night that you kissed him was unexpected even to you. You'd been talking about nothing of consequence, he was lying on the floor of your room while you were in your bed, both of you staring at your ceiling for the most part. There was a lull in the conversation so you said the thing that had only clicked for you the week before at that point.

"I can't believe I let myself feel inadequate for so long." You sighed. You'd convinced yourself, for weeks, that Steve leaving was because you weren't enough, and only now were you coming to your senses about it.

"I'm sorry." Bucky had whispered it so quietly you almost thought he wasn't talking to you.

"You're sorry? For what? You didn't make him leave." You scoffed at him.

"For letting you feel less than perfect."

"Come on Buck, that's not on you." You'd rotated onto your stomach with a chuckle at his words. He'd cracked one eye open to look at you when he realized you were staring at him. Before you let yourself think about it too hard, you had leaned over the edge of your bed and kissed Bucky. It was quick and a bit awkward because of the angle but you made sure not to shy away from his surprised stare after.

"Did you just-" Bucky didn't even finish the question.

"Yeah. I guess I did." You'd smiled slowly watching a slight pink warm Bucky's cheeks.

You wish you could simply say 'and the rest is history' but that makes it seem like things were way easier than they were. It wasn't a smooth transition by any means. That night neither of you spoke for far too long, and when you could muster up something to say it wasn't to address the rapidly growing elephant in the room- it was to dispell the tension. You and Bucky spent two weeks dancing around the subject before he finally asked you if you were even ready for another relationship after Steve. That's when it clicked, why he'd been avoiding it in the first place, he was considering the possibility you were rebounding. Understandable concern but nope. It had been months, almost a year actually, since Steven had left. You knew you were in a place to begin again and you wanted to do it with Bucky.

Now the rest is history. You've been together ever since. About a year and a half at this point and you can't remember the last time you were this happy. The two of you meshed so well you can't believe there was a time you thought your future was with another man. You smile to yourself as you think about it while working on a painting. There's a knock at the front door that you almost don't hear.

"Y/n can you get the door? I'm in the bathroom!" Bucky shouts.

"Oh shit, of course!" You put down your brush and head to the door. You can't describe the shock that gripped you when you open the door.

"Steven." You blink at him.

"Hey. Nat- told me you'd moved. Luckily she uh, had your new address so-" He trails off with a shrug.

"Look not to- sound rude or anything, like I'm glad to see you, I think but, what are you doing here?" You ask.

"I thought- I thought I knew what I wanted but I got it wrong. I got it so wrong. My life- my happiness, it's here. With you." Steve steps towards you and you instinctively step back, placing a hand up gently to indicate your boundary.

"Hang on a second Steve. Just because your plan didn't work out doesn't mean you can just waltz back into my life like nothing's changed."

"Y/n! Who's at the door?" Bucky's voice calls from inside.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." You call back.

"I- didn't realize you'd have company." Steve mutters.

"Oh I don't. That's-" Before you can explain, Bucky's asking something, now walking over to join you at the front door.

"So who's this unbelievable surprise guest of-" Bucky's hands drop from where they were just about to settle on your waist when he finally glances out your door. "Steve." He says stepping back.

"Told you, you wouldn't believe me." You toss over your shoulder.

"Hey pal. Long time no see." Steve says. You can't tell if he's totally put it together yet but the strain in his voice tells you he at least knows something's changed between you and his best friend.

"I'll say. What happened to growing old with Carter?" Bucky asks, stepping around you to half hug Steve and offer a shoulder pat.

"I realized that- wasn't the life I wanted. I mean it was once upon a time but, not anymore. Things have changed." Steve shrugs.

"I see." Bucky nods.

"Well, Steve you're welcome to stay here with us while you- get back on your feet in the 21st century! Right Buck? Or I can send you over to Sam, he's back in Louisiana with family right now but I'm sure he'd love to see you too." You say.

"Oh, yeah, we can set him up in the extra room although- your art stuff is in there, did you want me to move it into my office or should I put it in your room?" Bucky hums.

"Do you have space in your office? Cuz I definitely can set it up in my room-"

"There's tons of space in my office." Bucky shrugs before you can finish. Steve clears his throat and you turn your attention back to him.

"Sorry to interrupt your- logistical discussion about all this, I j- I didn't realize you two were living together." Steve says.

"It's been two years. Like you said, things have changed." You say.

"You haven't told him?" Bucky looks at you.

"Well in my defense I was about to when you walked over here and the conversation kinda pivoted." You say.

"Okay well, do you want to do it or should I?" Bucky asks.

"I mean I don't want to but- it should be me, yeah." You mutter.

"Okay, can we stop doing this sidebar thing you guys are doing? Tell me- what exactly?" Steve asks. Bucky's hand settles comfortingly against your back, it's out of Steve's line of sight and you appreciate it greatly.

"Bucky- Bucky's my partner." You say.

"In the- you go on missions together sense or the 'my girlfriend is dating my best friend' sense?" Steve asks.

"It's been two years Steve-"

"So you replace me with my closest friend?"

"No. I moved on and yeah it was with Bucky but that was by chance it wasn't about you at all. Don't make it personal."

"You just happen to move on with my best bud? It feels pretty personal." He scoffs.

"Okay! Let's settle down. Steve, if you're gonna take our offer to stay I will show you to your room. Nat has some of your things at her place, the rest of it is in a storage unit. I'll take you down after." Bucky interrupts the would-be argument by changing the subject. You step out of the doorway to let Steve walk in as Bucky tugs him along.

"Why are my things at Nat's?" Steve asks.

"Well some of the more valuable things y/n held onto for a while but when she didn't want to keep them around here anymore we gave them to Nat to look after until we came up with a better plan since we didn't wanna leave them in a storage unit we'd barely go to." Bucky explains as the pair walk further into the house. You can't hear Steve's reply as you walk into the kitchen to regroup. Letting him stay here is going to make shit so weird. You sigh to yourself, with any luck he'll get on his feet pretty quickly and this will only last a couple of months. You can do a couple of months.

The first few weeks are, tense. You're not sure if Bucky is as aware of it as you are but your house is awkward and quiet most hours since Steve showed up. It's like most of your routines have been disrupted and you're not sure which ones are best left for after he's gone. Right now you're on your balcony with a cup of tea. When you glance over the ledge, you see Steve trudging into view. You watch curiously to figure out what he's doing, not even realizing Bucky's snuck up behind you until his arms settle around your waist.

"Penny for your thoughts my darling?" Bucky asks.

"Things are weird. Maybe I shouldn't have offered to let him stay here." You frown.

"Don't be silly. You wouldn't be you if you hadn't offered." Bucky chuckles.

"Sure but- now I'm worried I've put us- put you in an uncomfortable situation." Bucky spins you around to face him. His hand comes up to the side of your face, fingers grazing your cheek softly.

"I'm fine. Are you uncomfortable with him being here? Because I can suggest he spend some time checking in with the others if you'd-"

"No, I don't want to kick him out. I just- I don't want you to lose him because of me." You say taking his hand in yours kiss his knuckles.

"If 70 years and Russian brainwashing couldn't destroy our friendship I think we can make it past this." Bucky winks at you. You glance over the balcony again in time to see Steve toss some wood at a growing pile.

"What is he doing? Why is he piling wood?" Your eyebrows scrunch up.

"You can just ask him you know." Bucky muses.

"It's not harming anyone. I don't need to know." You shake your head.

"You wanna ask don't you?"

"It's just strange." You say fighting a smile.

"Just ask." Bucky laughs leaving you to your tea on the balcony. A moment later you let your curiosity get the better of you and lean against the metal railing of the balcony.

"Steve hon, what on earth are you doing?" You ask him.

"A tree fell, so- I'm breaking it down into firewood."

"Stevie it's August, we're not using the fireplace." You shake your head with a laugh.

"Better safe than sorry." He shrugs.

"You must be incredibly bored." You muse.

"No, I just like to be prepared." He says. "Alright, I'm a little bored." He adds with a sigh after a moment.

"Well if you need something to do- I was catching up with Nat the other day, she said a couple of the tenants in her building moved out for whatever reason, you should talk to her about applying." You tell him.

"I'll give her a call." He squints up at you.

"Good." You nod heading back into the apartment. That's honestly the longest conversation you've had since the day he moved in. Usually, you spend all day avoiding him- or he spends all day avoiding you- you're not sure but you don't speak really, except you make a point to ask him about dinner, if he has plans, or if he'd like to join you and Bucky. You're a good host, but you don't talk to each other much. Not that you expect any different, you were together for six years and he up and left but he's back now- and things are not what he thought they'd be. What else could be said honestly?

You actually don't mind the silence between you two, because the day Steve decides to break that pattern brings forth the worst conversation. The type you've been dreading since the moment he appeared at your door. You're cleaning around the apartment and Steve offered to help, first you worked in silence, just the music from your speaker filling the air until a particular song came on. One you played for Steve once that he immediately fell in love with. It became your song. You only recently stopped associating the song with him but you forgot it was in this playlist otherwise you would've picked another one.

"You still listen to this song?" Steve asks. You keep your back turned to him as you wipe down the coffee table.

"Of course I do. I knew the song before- it was, ours." You say.

"This is the first time I've heard it in a while." He muses.

"Duh the song didn't exist until the 2010s." You scoff.

"Yeah I guess that's- that's true. It's strange though, that awareness of what's to come."

"Yeah that's why most of sci fi warns you not to go time jumping."

"You clean with different products now." Steve points out. You're not sure what he's trying to do here but you are in no mood to dance around awkwardness with him.

"Scented products are easier for Bucky. He says plain bleach smells too sterile." You mutter. It's Bucky that buys most of the cleaning products anyway, but he always buys citrus stuff.

"It's not easy, you know, seeing my best friend with the love of my life every day." Steve says after a stretch of silence. At this, you turn to face him, trying to stifle that frustration bubbling inside you.

"You left me. Left us. Not the other way around Steve. You don't get to complain about us having picked up the pieces." You tell him.

"I still love you, that's not something I can just pretend isn't there." He says.

"And I love Bucky." You shrug.

"Not me?"

"It doesn't matter." You shake your head.

"It does."

"If it mattered to you at all you would've never left." You grit out.

"So say it." He says quietly.

"What?"

"Tell me you don't love me."

"Steve-"

"Say it. If what we had is truly all in the past for you tell me you don't love me. That there's no place in your heart for me and- I'll move on."

"This isn't fair." You shake your head.

"No?"

"No! You got the life with Peggy that you thought you wanted. You abandoned me. Now you're asking me to choose you when you didn't choose me. How can you expect me to do that?"

"I'm choosing you now!"

"And I've chosen Bucky. I wanted the world with you. All you had to do was come back to me. And you didn't. It's too late now Steve. You needed to choose me two years ago."

"You still haven't said-"

"I don't love you. That's what you want to hear? You lost me the day you chose not to come back. I shouldn't have to spell it out for you. I chose Bucky, yes. But you-" Deep breath. "If you can't handle me and Bucky together in our home then- maybe you should go stay with Sam or Natasha." You say. You're not going to argue with him.

"Are you kicking me out?"

"I'm offering you an alternative- because, I will not be choosing you. Not now, not ever again, you had your chance and if you can't come to terms with that, if it's too difficult to be around reminders that you fucked up and I kept living life without you then by all means don't destroy your mental health staying here. You have other friends."

"How can you expect me to just- pretend what we had means nothing? How can you pretend it means nothing?"

"I'm not asking you to pretend shit. I also am not pretending it means nothing I'm just aware of the reality that it's over and that's something you need to come to terms with because you left and Bucky made me feel alive again when your leaving nearly killed me. It's been two years, did you think I would simply be waiting indefinitely for you to decide I was worth something to you again?"

"Wait a second you have always been worth something to me. You've always been worth everything." Steve frowns.

"You don't get to say that! You don't abandon people that are 'worth everything' to you. You chose someone else and that's a choice you have to live with." You say, your finger practically in his face. The sound of the apartment door opening disrupts your anger enough that you step back.

"Hey guys- did I miss something?" Bucky frowns looking between you two even though you've already stopped back over to the coffee table. Bucky's quick to come to your side, scanning your face for any clues as to what's going on, although he heard the last bit of what you said as he was coming down the hall. "Baby?" He coaxes gently, his fingers stroking against your side.

"I'm gonna go to Sam's for a little while." Steve grits out.

"Feel free to stay there." You clip before you can stop yourself. Steve's footfalls pause for a moment at your words but he doesn't respond before eventually he trudges out the front door.

"Feel free to stay there?! What... happened while I was out?" Bucky asks with a disbelieving chuckle.

"He has... a lot of nerve." You force out through clenched teeth.

"You're gonna have to give me more details than that so I can understand what's wrong doll."

"He just told me how hard it is to watch his best friend with the 'love of his life' every day. The love of his life that he left to be with a woman that lived and died without him. He asked me to choose him. Because after two years I'm supposed to still love the man that left me. Because it's not enough that he almost destroyed me the last time. Because for some reason he thinks I'd rather be picked two years too late."

"He's hurting."

"Yeah well, so was I. Two years ago. He'll live. I did." You shrug. Bucky pulls you into a hug, kissing the top of your head as he gently sways you both back and forth. You lived through hell that day you realized Steve chose a life with Peggy. You'd be damned if you ever let that happen again.

***

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers #bucky x reader #bucky #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fluff #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fanfiction

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astroboots · 11 months

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EVERY YOU EVERY ME: Issue #2

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: Your streak of bad luck continues as you find that the universe is not done putting you in harm's way. Luckily, you have grouchy Spider-man to save you.

Word count: 3,500 words.

Content: Slowest of the burn, near death experiences, the emotional whiplash of Miguel O'Hara being a rude bastard and a total softie.

Astroboot’s Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

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According to an article that ran in the New York Times: one out of every 40 New Yorkers will have a run in with a Superhero in the time they live here.

That might not sound like much, but considering that nearly 8.5 million people live in this city, it adds up to a lot of people. In fact, most in your friends circle have their own anecdotal story to tell.

I ran into Tony Stark at the Brandy Library and he asked me for my phone number. Bit of a sleaze but he bought our whole table a round of drinks.

Captain America landed on my Fiat on Manhattan Bridge. He dented the roof, but he was very polite about it.

Daredevil was hanging out at the fire escape ladder above the Meatball shop. Gave me tips on what to order.

It's nothing short of a miracle that having lived in this city for as many years as you have that this is the first time you've had a Supes encounter.

It'll be a great story to tell at parties. You fell out of the Chrysler building and were rescued mid-air. It blows all the other stories out of the water. Though, you'll probably leave out the part where he wished he'd left you to die.

You stare blindly at your computer screen. There are endless rows of cells on your excel sheet no matter how far you scroll. Uninterrupted numbers and reference codes for insurance claims that are waiting for your attention. But the numbers and letters all blend into an indecipherable sludge soup. All you can focus on is: 'I should've let you fall.'

Heat prickles your cheek, as you replay his words in your head.

What the hell.

That was entirely unnecessary.

You didn't deserve that.

Over the course of the last 24 hours, you've played the scene on an endless loop in your head, until the memory is worn and scratched like a used up VHS tape.

Did you do something wrong? You must've. Who has ever heard of a Superhero treating a civilian in this manner? You’re just a hapless innocent bystander who fell out of a building due to a supervillain battle they started. To blame it on you and then call it a mistake. Isn't that something a supervillain would do?

Gritting your teeth, you feel yourself seething of the memory of the windows next to you breaking and shattering out of nowhere as a bird-person villain with mechanical wings tumbled past you. Next thing you knew you were tumbling out the window.

And then he saved you.

Did he mean to save someone else? Is that why he was so annoyed? But, you didn't see any other people falling from the building on your way down.

You replay the memory. Again.

The looming silhouette of his towering frame over yours as he sneered down at you.

He looked at you like he knew you. Like you had offended him with your mere existence. But you don't understand how. You've never met him before. Never met anyone who looked even remotely like him. You would've remembered a man with red eyes, they're not exactly common. Plus, you don't think you've ever met someone quite so tall. Your neck hurt with the angle you had to crane just to look at his face.

What could you possibly have done in your lifetime to piss off a Superhero you've never met before?

For that matter what Superhero is he anyway? You think back at the dark navy suit clinging onto every inch of skin, embellished by that bright angry red in the emblem of a spider.

Spider-man...

Except Spider-man is known to be a swell guy with a great sense of humor. Not a rude asshole.

Aren't his colors inverted too? You pull up the browser on your screen and google "spiderman outfit". There's over 800 million hits. In all of them Spiderman's suit is primarily red with blue embellishment.

Whoever the guy is, you don't think he's your friendly neighborhood Spiderman that every New Yorker knows and loves.

With a hapless sigh, you click aimlessly on your screen, trying to look busy at work for the next twenty minutes until you can go on your lunch break. You go through the motions of your soul sucking tasks. Tagging each insurance claim into one of the following categories: approved/rejected/further missing information required.

Peering over your cubicle wall to the wall of windows, you spy the section that has been zoned off since yesterday. The broken window you were knocked out of has already been replaced, but there's still shattered glass and debris nearby.

Your stomach drops, the phantom sensation of the ground beneath you giving way. For a brief second you swear you can feel the weightlessness of soaring through the skies without anything catching your fall.

You stand up from your desk, solid ground meeting the soles of your feet to remind you where you are.

The office.

There's a monotone drone of workers all around you grumbling and sighing just as unhappily. The quiet tip-tapping of keyboards of the working masses.

Is this the life you managed to escape death for?

Is this it?

It's kind of sad isn't it? You nearly died and lived to tell the tale, only to return to a life so unremarkable your brain didn't deign it necessary to provide you with any highlights (cause there are none).

The most exciting thing that has happened to you the whole of this year was being insulted by a grumpy superhero. The most you've wanted to live was during that span of ten seconds when you were falling out of a building to your death.

You glance at your clock, still 15 minutes before noon. You log out of your desktop anyway.

You barely make it across the street from your office. The light is green as you cross Lexington Avenue when the screeching noise of tires tears down the street and rips through your eardrums.

A yellow taxi hurtles towards you at full speed. Through the car window separating you, the cab driver is staring up at you with wide-eyed horror. In that fraction of a second before the hard metal is going to collide and shatter every bone in your body, you only have one thought: Oh god, this is going to hurt.

Life doesn't flash before your eyes. All you see is the familiar blur of shiny blue and red.

Go figure that's the only moment extraordinary enough for your brain to think it's worth replaying before you die.

There's a blunt and forceful shove to the side of your ribs. Softer than you would've imagined a two tonne vehicle slamming into you would be. It doesn't hurt. It reminds you of that time you played football with your cousin and he body slammed you to the lawn. You've heard about this phenomena, the brain will try to protect itself by going unconscious if the pain is too extreme.

But there's no bright light, when you open your eyes all you see is the familiar shiny blue fabric.

A firm weight wraps around your shoulders, and you recognize this, the feeling of being held as you're pulled into their solid chest. There's not enough time for you to look up, you're slammed onto the ground, the solid warmth wrapped around you, absorbing the fall.

The pressure wrapped around you shifts then lifts away entirely. When you open your eyes for a second time, there’s no one there holding you.

There's no one else there with you. Just the standstill traffic of cars and pedestrians gawking at you.

A concerned woman runs over to you, bending down to help you up on your feet. "Are you okay? That car came out of nowhere."

Your legs feel unsteady, wobbling as you put weight on it to stand up.

“I’m fine, I think,” you respond, and look down on yourself. There are no scrapes, just a bit of dust on your work-attire from traffic.

"You're so lucky, Spiderman was there to save you."

You blink up at the woman in dazed confusion and it takes your brain a few seconds to process what she's telling you.

Spider-man...

In your mind's eye the flashes of blue and a vivid red invades your vision. It wasn't just your life flashing you by. Not just a figment of your imagination.

He was here. He saved you. (Probably not) Spider-man saved you (again).

A wave of gratitude washes over you. You take back every unflattering thought you had about the man not five minutes ago. Rude? Would a rude man save you, not once but twice in one day? No, of course not, you probably just misunderstood him, or misheard. After all, if he truly regretted saving you, he wouldn't have done it a second time... right?

When you get back at your desk, there's a post-it tacked to your computer screen, with an angry scrawl of a handwriting.

'Look BOTH ways before crossing!!!!!'

You stare at the note, and the way the word "both" is capitalized and aggressively underlined.

Rude.

The universe is out to kill you. You're sure of it.

They say that death comes in threes after all. So no one can blame you for being a little bit on the edge after you've gone two for two within the time span of 24 hours.

You stay away from windows in tall buildings. You look both ways, twice, before crossing the street. You try to go straight home from work the minute you clock out from work, turning down any and all initiations with friends to go out after out of precaution. It's just not worth the risk.

And for a while it seems to work. For a while, there are no more incidents. A week goes by and your nerves start to settle and you are lulled into a temporary sense of security before it all goes to shits.

A ceramic flower pot on a windowsill tumbling off the sixth floor of a brown house by Chelsea that would have dropped on your head and split your skull if someone hadn't bumped into you from behind that you weren’t able to catch sight of.

A piece of scaffolding that comes loose and falls from a construction site in West Village as you happened to walk past, and would have been crushed under if you weren’t tackled away at the last second by someone who fled the scene before you could thank them.

A hot dog cart runs amok, hurtling downhill towards you between 184th and 190th street in Manhattan when the cart suddenly out of nowhere, against the very laws of physics like it’s being pulled by an invisible force and changes direction mere inches in front of you, hurtling through the air and crashing into the windows of a bodega instead.

Each and every incident leaves you with an ever growing sense of paranoia that this cannot be explained away by being merely pure bad luck. There are cosmic forces at force that clearly want you dead.

On Thursday, there are leftover cupcakes from a client conference. Mary, the secretary in your team, boxes up four of them for you and tells you to take them with you, because, "you've had a rough week, toots."

It’s not a flattering assessment of you, but when you see your own reflection in the mirrors of the office toilets, you can’t help but think it’s an accurate one. You look rough. Eyes bloodshot with deep furrowed lines underneath. Your face is gaunter than you remember seeing it too.

You take the cupcakes.

It's the first good thing that has happened to you all week, and as small of a comfort it is, you take it as a win.

You eye the box from your desk the rest of the day, squirreled away in your tiny cubicle. You are determined not to eat one while at work. Because you'll be damned if Matt from accounting catches a whiff of your cupcakes and asks you to share one with him. You want to properly savor them in the comfort of your home at the end of the day.

But as often is the case when you have something to look forward to, the seconds, minutes and hours tick away with a reluctant drag as if time itself knew you wanted the day to end faster and decided it'd be fun to flip yet another cosmic middle finger in your direction.

When it's finally time to end work, you get off your chair so forcefully it knocks it to the floor. You are practically jogging through the lanes of cubicles to get to the elevator, and nearly smack the security guard on the other side with how hard you swing open the front door.

It's pouring outside, which, of course it is. You take off your jacket and cover your cupcake box with it, because you're not going to let the universe ruin the one good thing you've got going for you this week, as you run towards the station.

The moment you step into the damp and sticky station any remaining sense of joy in you evaporates. There's a hoard of tourists swarming the subway paying no attention to their surroundings. Tourists wearing their caps and backpacks and wheelies knocking over a 'Caution Wet Floor ' sign as they gather in a throng in front of the subway map, blocking the way as you hear the train approach.

It's not that big of a deal. A train comes every two to five minutes, and if you miss this one, you'll just get on the next one. It's not the end of the world. Logically, you know that. Emotionally and spiritually however, the world around you has just taken a little bit too much from you for you to concede to this minor little loss.

You are going to make this goddamned train.

Taking a determined step forward, you shoulder and push your way through the throng of people to fight your way to the front of the track.

You push a little too hard. Your feet skid across the slippery tiles, leg buckling from your own weight and you lose control, tumbling forward.

In your peripheral view there's a blinding light approaching. There's wind beating the sides of your face, and you can hear the screeching metal of the train right next to you. Your foot drops into empty space and you are falling into the tracks.

Oh god why...

Why?

You just want to live.

The cupcake box flies out of your grip, splattered somewhere across the front pane of the train. There's a hard tug on your shirt as an invisible force you cannot see yanks you back, hard.

Your head whips back and for a fraction of a second, there are crimson eyes staring back down at you, you blink and then it's gone.

You land on your ass with a bruising force to your tailbone with a bone-breaking thud. The subway whizzes by with a demonic roar past you, inches from where you're sprawled on your ass on the dirty tiles of the subway station.

In front of your feet, there's a long streak of white frosting trailing down from your feet to the tracks of what looks like a crime scene.

Maybe it's the stress. Maybe you've just had a bad night of sleep (after many successive bad nights with little to no sleep). But something in you breaks at the sight of the frosting smeared across the dirty subway tiles.

Your eyes sting with exhaustion. Chest drawing in tight with a crumbling ache that makes you want to curl up on the cold tiles. You're just so tired.

There are people around you staring at you. No one in their right mind who lives in New York would sit on the floor of the subway.

But your legs are heavy and numb. You can’t move from the spot. Everything tastes like bile. You try to swallow and force it back down but it's no use, your throat has swollen shut. Your cheeks run wet and you press your palms to your eyes to make it stop but that only seems to make it worse. Snot runs down your nose and drips down your wrist. You're crying and you don't know how to stop.

Is this the rest of your life?

In the morning, you wake in your bed with a sore ache that gnaws at your bones. Swollen eyes and a soreness that scratches the lining of your throat.

Your back hurts, and as you try to turn to your side to get out of bed a sharp pain surges up along your entire spine.

Fuck.

It's too bright. The sunlight is offensive. It stings your eyes and makes you sick to your stomach. You only have vague memories of how you made it back home. Feet shuffling through the subway in a daze like the walking dead.

God is that what you are? A dead man woman walking?

You crane your head and catch a glimpse of your clock on the bedside table. 9.13 You're late for work. But that's mind as well, you don't have it in you to make it in.

What's the point anyhow? You hate that place.

Besides, if the subway on the way over doesn't finish off the job this time around, then eventually a taxi will. Failing that the universe is probably going to send over a ninja assassin rat from the subway to come after your life.

There's a soft breeze coming in from the open window that grazes the back of your neck and you turn your head towards it. All you can see from your window is the brick wall of the neighboring building. Even though your apartment is on the sixth floor, you can't see a speck of the New York skyline.

Still the breeze is nice, though you don't remember opening the window last night. You never usually do. It is silly and paranoid. No human robber could possibly climb up your six storey building just to climb into your window and rob you. If they could, they’d find that there isn’t much to rob in your apartment, the most valuable thing you own is a complete Le Creuset Cookware set.

Your eyes glaze over your work tote bag on the floor next to the window, drifting upwards and spot the pink box sat on the window sill and you stop.

You didn’t put that there.

You sit upright in your bed, setting your feet to the floor and force yourself to leave your bed as you pad over to the open window.

It's a fancy looking thing. Baby pink, and chiffon ribbon on its side. Wrapping your pinkie around it, you tug it loose. You perch your thumb against the corner of the lid when you stop.

It's not another one of the universe's assassination attempts is it? You're not going to open it to find a bomb ticking down are you?

You hesitate for another moment, taking a deep calming breath before you gather the courage to finally lift the lid. Inside, there is a gorgeous display of cupcakes adorned with white and pink frosting, topped with strawberries, chocolate shavings and on two of them there's mini macarons.

Way fancier than the day old Costco cupcakes you'd lost yesterday.

Picking up one, you take a bite. The frosting is light and zesty. The refreshing lemon melts on the tip of your tongue as the buttery cream floods your mouth with the rich flavor. It's the best thing you've ever tasted.

Lifting the box, you check the sides of it to see if there's any note left behind, but there's none.

Gladis Bakery. It's from a bakery you've never heard of before. When you google the name the place is outside of New Jersey, 58 minutes away and you would need to take a subway then switch to a tram.

There's no note attached, but you don't need one. The list of candidates who would be physically able to climb up six floors up the bricks of your apartment building to leave cupcakes on your window isn’t a long one.

Something warm blooms in your chest at the thought, and your fingers linger on the top of the box, savoring the taste of lemon and sugar still lingering on your tongue.

You put your head out the window, not sure what you're expecting to find but find yourself disappointed all the same when there's nothing there. No people in the quiet street below, and nothing unusual above.

"Thank you for uhm... saving me,” you say into the silence with nothing but the traffic noise below to answer you.

“And the cupcakes," you add.

There's no reply.

~ To be continued.

I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

#miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #marvel #miguel ohara x reader #oscar isaac #spiderverse fanfiction #across the spiderverse fanfiction #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x you

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victoirey · 1 year

Note

Okay but imagine:

Neteyam and Lo’ak both falling in love with reader after seeing her threaten Tuk and Kiri’s bullies and seeing her become close friends with their sisters and them both pining over her from a distance but never actually talking to reader and driving Jake crazy until her smacks some sense into both of them

♡. "king(s) of your heart" —

synopsis / in which the sully brothers are head over heels for you.

gn!reader | this is basically headcanons on a polygamous relationship between the sully brothers. polygamy is where two or more people share one person and only one person. they dont love eachother romantically. it is 1:40 am and I'm tired. yes that is a taylor swift reference in the title. lotsa words

i am a firm believer that these boys like girls who, although kind, are still rough around the edges in some way. they see you cussing out aonung and his possé? instant attraction. instant. like *snap* instant. they see you playing with children and chasing them around? instant INSTANT infatuation. no joke. literally down bad seven seconds in.

thus, it starts the pining.

you start seeing little trinkets next to you, coincidentally left by the wind ( or by neteyam's tail swooping them into your vicinity ) — but still, you love them. you keep them. you cherish them. neteyam is ecstatic and lo'ak is NOT having that

lo'ak starts giving you a bunch of well thought out gifts. from afar. he steals the method his brother uses. his brother is pissed. jake sees this. is entertained at first. but then it just gets boring and he has to go all military dad on them.

"you two love them is what I'm seeing. you two love them so bad it's disgusting. am I correct?"

"yes sir."

"...good. you three remind me of me and your mother. but, if you keep on going like this, just pining over them without them knowing who you even are, then you'll never get them to be yours. your mother and I agree on polygamy being alright, but we also agreed on you two being cowards. ask them on a date. both of you. figure something out. I will not have cowards as sons. okay? okay. now go get 'em."

that half encouraging speech half scolding was EXACTLY what they needed. they settled everything aside, realized that love triangles were for white people, and instead settled on a polygamous relationship between you and them, based off of communication and shared love.

#bondingbrothers

the only problem was getting you to accept both of them... so let's go depending on your species,

if you're a human, you'd probably be more open to the idea which is obvious considering that humanity has always had polygamy in its history. so, it'd be easier for you to accept, and you do.

if you're a na'vi, a race that is canonically and strictly monogamous— you'd be conflicted. you wouldn't know whether or not this was right, except, you would follow your heart, in the end, wouldn't you? you'd be theirs as quick as a human would be. primarily because I know all of you are down bad for the sully brothers. it would be near impossible for a na'vi to enter a polygamous/amorous relationship canonically.

alright, im in the mood for a mini drabble, aren't you? ( featuring dreamwalker , aka , human reader !)

"...what???" you breathed, confused. you had been caught off guard, initially, with how you'd been receiving trinket after trinket both in your avatar and out— and honestly , you thought it just couldn't get anymore surprising.

it did.

somehow, the culprit, or rather, the culprits, were the sons of Jake Sully, who is ... alot of honorable things. so , naturally , you're confused.

"we know that we like you, y/n— and we heard that polygamy was practiced amongst humans... so, you know, we wanted to see if you were for it." neteyam started, and lo'ak continued. "but if ya aren't—"

"oh I'm for it. I'm for this." you interjected. "just.. why me??"

they looked relieved but also offended at how you judged their tastes. how dare you , how could you not be confident in yourself !?!? absolutely unacceptable.

they'll love you until you're able to love yourself, and after that.

"excuse me-uh!" lo'ak gasped, his offense shown. "I will have you know that you are not just you??? where do you get that from?!? you're someone whose struggled through so much stuff and you're so strong and—" "

"quiet, skxawng." neteyam shushed, and lo'ak glared but reluctantly obliged. neteyam awkwardly coughed into his hand, picking up the pieces his brother dropped. "what we're saying is that— you're ... pretty cool. so, be ours?"

"but only if you want to!" lo'ak interrupted once again, then his head snapped to neteyam— "what'd i do?!" he said, as his brother punched him ( gently. ) they bickered, and bickered - and bickered. that is until your snicker caught them both stilling.. they smiled, knowing that they had both made you smile— and you laughed.

"you're both idiots!"

they took that as a yes, and it was.

ALRIGHT IM TIRED OF BUILDING THE RELATIONSHIP ITS TIME TO ACTUALLY GIVE YOU A PEAK ON THE OFFICIAL RELATIONSHIP except we'll take it one step at a time <3

— early days

first things first, things get so awkward between you guys ! this is your first relationship. this is neteyams first relationship. this is also lo'aks first relationship. and it's a polygamous relationship! it would've been a lot of work to communicate in the earlier days, especially since lo'ak and neteyam butt heads constantly.

lo'ak and neteyam are constantly planning fancy dates to surprise you, which can also double as brotherly hang outs, yeah, but they're so focused on wooing you in their own ways they forget to compromise and find a way both of them can woo you.

of course, you see this, and reassure them that hey— you don't have to spend this much time to make me happy! you guys already do by merely existing (and it is definitely not because the "y/n" we are speaking about is a reader insert and every reader is down BAD bad for the sully brothers)!

naturally, that doesn't solve the problem.

what solves the problem is you sitting down with them to communicate. you all guide eachother to a compromise, something that suits all of you. the brothers agree on an alternating schedule. one day would be a day where you'd just chill with primarily lo'ak, and one day would be a day where you'd just chill with primarily neteyam. however, Sundays? Sundays are bonding time between the three of you it's like a date! neteyam and you, lo'ak and you, and then its like reconnecting and bonding between brothers when it comes to lo'ak and neteyam.

the schedule worked well for you guys! neteyam could do his own thing, so could lo'ak, and they'd only have to cooperate for one day, which would still strengthen their relationship! also, you'd be showered in love all day!

perfect !!!!

— getting to know eachother better

naturally, they were not born on earth. you weren't either, but nonetheless— as a human, you know more about humanity than they ever will. especially since you keep yourself updated on trends & history & human literature — so naturally, they feed you information while you feed them information.

you tell them stories of human mythology and they stand in awe at how complex humanity can be in many other ways besides weapons. there is more to humanity than what meets the eye, and you show them that. you bring them local human foods like fries because I am a firm believer that the lab has an artificial garden that grows potatoes. they are in awe. they love fries. I hope you love fries too, reader. personally fries are the only thing I can imagine eating besides noodles.

other than the difference in species and the fact they're curious about your differences— they're also curious about you in general.

what is your deal? what makes you tick? what makes you happy? what has you absolutely excited? they hope you indulge them, and you hope they indulge you.

— general headcanons

neteyam prefers to keep affection private— the most you'll get from him is a forehead touch or kiss, and maybe a tail wrapped around your waist.

loak however is the opposite. kiss him, hug him, climb him, he'll absorb everything like a sponge. he's for pda 100% he will take any chance to show people he loves you more than he could love anyone else.

neteyam and lo'ak, ever the competitive siblings, love to compete in things — racing eachother, sparring with eachother, you name it— they're doing it and all in the hope of impressing you.

they're also very protective of you, in and out of your avatar body. you fall off a branch? "LO'AK GET THE FIRST AID KIT—" "GOT IT!" "GUYS ITS JUST A BRUISE—"

naturally, Jake is supportive of your relationship. he's seen alot of polygamy and polyamory in his lifetime, and he's not against it. he's all for it actually!! Jake Sully Number 1 LGBTQ+ Ally on Pandora. he rolls with the lgbtqia+ plus , guys. every moment. like, not to call people out but have you seen max patel???? that man is MORE THAN JUST AN ALLY and also it's quite literally 2100s. come on now. you can't tell me he wouldn't be an ally.

the siblings are willing to learn more about polygamy and welcome you with open arms! kiri is basically your best friend — tuk is the one child you swore to protect like seven seconds into meeting her. spider and you, both being human, are also friends! you exchange stories with eachother and also bicker alot!!

you cant expect neytiris support to be more than just advice or knowing looks. personally, I think she's more open minded than people take for. I have no evidence. I'm just right. she mothers you in no time.

you, lo'ak and neteyam are new to polygamy, and although no one can promise a peaceful ride— you could care less.

you can get through anything with eachother.

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virgobingo · 5 months

Text

maki is an interesting character, bc she is generally acknowledged to be one of gege's best written characters in jjk, period. regardless of gender.

but the reason she is so great, is because her arc is centered around her experiences as a girl in a patriarchal society. not one that fits into the standard either.

she's born into a family that is considered misogynistic by other clans' standards. as a twin, no less, which is considered a bad omen. with little to no curse energy to boot.

still, for a large portion of her life, she desired to prove herself to them. in a way that reminds me of the myth of meritocracy? that idea of "if you work hard enough, you can do anything you want and you can prove yourself to the naysayers."

but in her journey she learns it's impossible for her to rise in an institution that actively works against her.

this happens, specifically, when she goes to the zenin clan during the culling games (to simply collect tools). she's confronted by reality in ways that echo momo and nobara's conversation (about the weight of misogyny in their lives).

"A scar on the face can be a good thing for guys. But not for girls. You think the world of Jujutsu Sorcerers is based on skills? [It is] Sure. But only for guys. Even if a girl is skilled, if she's not cute, she is looked down upon. Of course, if she's only cute without any skill, it's the same. Women Jujutsu Sorcerers aren't expected to be skilled. They're expected to be perfect." (Momo, Chapter 40)

the first thing she is told when she visits the compound is "yikes, what a face. that ain't gonna heal. what are you gonna do Maki? [...] all you had going was your face and now it's wrecked. no one will even look in your direction anymore." (Chapter 148, p.2-3)

after that, she crosses paths with her mother, who, at face value, echoes the horror tropes of mothers that "fanatically conform to the institution" (i think her actions later make her more complex).

then, finally, maki comes across her father, who remarks on maki and mai's "worthlessness" to him. he's convinced himself he would be better off in life if they were dead.

maki's continuously told she has no value in this world. for things that are out of her control.

of course, this all leads to the loss of mai, who sacrifices herself in order to essentially push maki forward as a character bc "to gain something, you must offer something," in the world of jujutsu kaisen. this is not exclusive to them. it also leads to mai telling maki something that aligns really well with what "female rage" means to me:

"Destroy… Everything" (Chapter 149, p.12)

why?

i think there is no amount of climbing you can do in a society that is actively pulling you down. no way to become clan head in an institution that wants you dead.

i believe it's this realization that causes maki to embrace her "monstruous femininity" that ultimately results in her ascension (as a person, as a sorcerer).

i know some people criticize her decision to kill the zenin in honor of her sister's memory. but, i think the message here is that some institutions simply cannot be reformed.

also, note that with their destruction, maki's narratively released from their expectations.

anyways, what comes after is honestly hilarious. i think it's a mockery of what gege expected misogynistic readers to say. "you're not toji!" (Chapter 151, 6-19) as if drawing a parallel implies that she's his copy.

another charming detail to maki's character is how sumo helps her find freedom/her groove. considering how, in traditional sumo, "women are considered impure and cannot step into the ring". it's just something so fitting for maki who continually defies gender expectations.

long post to say: i honestly love her and i think ppl often ignore how entrenched her story is in the female experience bc they just see how buff she is.

#maki zenin #jujutsu kaisen #jjk meta #tags suck and i am never consistent

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divinehedons · 9 months

Text

illicit affairs.

navigation: masterlist

pairing: dbf!joel miller x afab!reader

word count: ~5.8k (OOPS)

summary: the moment you graduated from college, you enter your young adulthood and begin a secret, messy situationship with the texan contractor next door.

warnings: this is an EXPLICIT FIC! minors and ageless blogs, DO NOT INTERACT or i will liberally use the block button! explicit, unprotected p-in-v sex, big age gap (r is in their early twenties, joel is in his mid-40s to early 50s!), oral sex, wet dreams, ass play. joel is an unintentionally selfish lover so expect some(?) angst and miscommunication.

note: much of this fic was pieced together with wildest dreams and the titular song, illicit affairs playing in my head. circe is in her swiftie era and i'm not sorry :'D nonetheless, i sincerely hope you enjoy and reblogs and comments are much appreciated!

You swore you could recall the day you met him easier than it is to breathe air.

You, wearing your graduation robes, glorious, and brand new with a college degree. Months later, he'll tell you the first thing he saw was the flash of skin from your leg, leaving him mesmerized until your father knocked on his door. Your dad, bless him, who invited the Millers for a spot of lunch to celebrate with your special day.

Him, in his best t-shirt (at least the least wrinkled), urging Sarah forward with a nudge to the shoulder, standing in your living room with a sheepish grin. "So you're the missin' college kid?" You laugh, moving to shake his hand firmly after having met his daughter.

"I guess that's me." You tell him your name, listen to the way his tongue traces each syllable. He says it again, squeezing your hand. It was then and there that you felt it— that shocking zap of electricity passing between you so firmly, that which you could only interpret as the barest inkling of desire.

You can still picture the glint in his eye. The slight raise of the brow. A silent question. You're just a sneaky little minx, aren't ya? Back then, you smile playfully, pulling your hand away to turn back around.

You see the end before it even begins. You see heaven tinted with the colors of hellfire.

"Pleasure to meet you, mister Miller!"

—

You dream of him after that meeting. Flashes of skin, you and the shape of him tangled between the sheets, his large hands cupping your warm cheeks, chuckling down at the sight of your bright red mouth. You dream of his thumb smearing your lipstick while those warm eyes take you in.

You dream of him between your legs, the scratch of his beard glorious against your shaking body. You dream of his chuckles vibrating against your thigh. You dream in flashes. Him pinning your hands above your head in one. Him leading you by your waist atop of him in another.

When you wake, you feel your cunt soaking and needy. You try and touch yourself to soothe the wanton need.

But it's not enough.

It's not his large callused hands. It's not his bulging arms. It's not him and it's not enough.

Fuck. You're down bad for Joel Miller and you only met him once.

—

The summer that follows was filled with stolen glances. You, taking your morning walks just as Joel and Sarah drive off for her summer job and his work. Joel, watching you whenever he comes home too early to see you enjoying a swim in your pool. Then ensued what to him was a moral digression, a moral challenge.

Does he dare desire someone as young as you? Someone a few measly years older than his own kid. Does he dare to encroach that wretchedness for something so pure and sweet and so fucking brand-new?

Take that weekend, for example, with you bent over his kitchen counter while you helped Sarah with painting her nails, the oddly familiar scent of nail polish barely distracting him from you and the knowledge that he had to squeeze past behind your bent-over frame to get a beer for him and Tommy in the garage. He'd asked for you to come because he needed someone to keep Sarah distracted and away from the garage. With a promise of recompense one way or another once they had it done.

Didn't know you're a real softie, mister Miller.

Call me Joel, kid. You'll make me feel all ancient an' shit.

At the end of it all, regardless of how everything turned out, you both agree it was the spark that eventually fanned out to a flame.

You, ass plump and presented despite your awareness, and his own clothed crotch passing by you and providing a minute second of contact. Contact that, if you dared confess, was nowhere near capable of satiating your curiosity about the much older man. You try to hide a sharp breath between your lips, pretending to pay him no mind as you gently blow on Sarah's nails.

"You have a really good eye for color," you commended the girl, smiling at him with a giggle just as Joel disappears around a corner.

Joel who hands Tommy his beer and, seeing how flustered he had gotten, clicks his tongue. "That girl again?" Was it that clearly written across his face, the insatiable desire to have you?

"Shut up," he'd mutter, sipping from his bottle before moving to get back to their weekend project. A shelf for Sarah.

When he tells you his side of the story, it goes like this: the sound of the hammer beating the wood, rhythmic, consistent, patient.

Thud, thud, thud.

And right after: it's the sound of your headboard hitting the wall while your parents are away for a date, Sarah on some sleepover with friends. His thrusts the same, insistent, rhythmic pattern, your same plush ass moving against the force of his hips, your whining little mouth crying out into the empty house.

He doesn't know how he got you. But, by Jove, he'd be a goddamn fool to say that he didn't want this. But the one thing he wanted to be certain of was that you wanted this. That he didn't imagine the tension between you.

"Tell me you love this, baby doll." He grunts, pulling out to flip you over on to your back so he can see you. "Tell me I'm not makin' you miserable."

You reached up to him, tangling your fingers into his hair and pulling him closer. You catch eyes, and you see he means it. Sees that he'll stop if you said nothing. Or if you asked him. That, despite the intensity of his thrusts, the same softie you saw that one weekend ago is right there. Vulnerable and willing in your touch. You can't afford having him stop. Not when you're so close. Not when he's all you've dreamt about since you came home. "Don't you dare stop, Joel..."

It's all the confirmation he needed. He looks at you with a look of recognition and you immediately understood. The man himself was memorizing every part of you; every mark and quivering muscles. He kisses you, and you understand him even without words. A part of you wanted him to confirm it. To say he'll remember you— legs spread and moaning for him, pleasure coursing through your veins only brought about by him.

You want him to tell you he'll dream of you for the rest of your life.

The same rhythm follows him into the dark night, only characterized by streaks of the color of your hair, your skin, your mouth... it's all he hears in his head, apart from your moans.

Thud, thud, thud. The iambic beat of his heart, pressed against the palms of your hands. I am, I am, I am.

It's the words he does not dare tell you. Words punctuated by the rhythm of his thrusts where you want him most.

Yours, yours, yours.

—

He does not catch you on the Fourth of July weekend that follows. Your parents tell him you're meeting friends and hearing from jobs you applied to. That you've been a nervous wreck, only placated in seemingly random moments of peace, coinciding with the first time he wound up in your bed, heaving as his bones creak from history gone by. So he spends it the only way he knew to, in that primordial existence he lived before you came into his life in broad strokes of color. He spends it drinking cold beer, watching Sarah, and ignoring the sticky stares handed to him by single mothers that barely held a candle to your beauty.

The fireworks are things he does not hear without you there. He smiles for Sarah, reminds her not to get too rough in your parents' pool, periodically bringing her food to make sure she was keeping herself fed.

Later that evening, with Sarah finally in bed and his world finally exhausting itself of so much celebration, Joel hears your car pull up, the racuous noise of a friend of yours as you try and lead them into the house. From behind his curtains in his dark room, he hears your explanation over the loud laughter of your companion.

"She had no way of getting home safe, mama," you tried to explain, much to your mother's understanding as she and your father helped your friend inside.

Joel sees the slight tilt in your step. The slight unsteadiness. His own pretty girl, tipsy around people he doesn't know, and it fills him with an indescribable sense of envy. It's a sensation that oozes through his very veins, sludging until it completely covers him; like the hands of a murderer marked by his prey. He tries to resist it, that ancient calling of his very veins. Or, alternatively, he tries to resist letting his cock take control of his very being.

You were young and you deserved to experience the world. You were young and you never told him you belonged just to him. He shared some of your nights, yes. But it didn't mean he automatically became the king of your heart.

He paces his bedroom, back and forth, repeatedly, again and again and again. Count to twenty, take a deep breath.

And just like that, he feels like a teenager again. Sneaking out of his house and into yours.

When he finds you, he recognized the surprise on your face. The sudden, hushed, What are you doing here?

"Just missed ya today, 's all," he says softly, immediately pulling you into your own room, quietly shutting and locking the door behind him. "How's your friend?"

You giggle softly, evidently still a little affected from alcohol. "You didn't see her when you passed the couch?"

He smirks, stepping close to you, finding you adorable as you stepped back, chased by him until the back of your thighs hit the very edge of your bed. "D'you think I have eyes on anything else when you're around, baby doll?" You peer up at him and see the utter desperation in his gaze.

You hum thoughtfully, tilting your head to the side. "You missed me, daddy-o?"

He chuckles, moving closer to press a kiss to the very crook of your neck. He doesn't answer. He dares not confess the vulnerability you've seared like a mark on his skin. But he did. And he showed you that he did.

He pushes you down, falling to his own knees, legs thrown over his shoulders pushing your skirt up, your shaky breaths feeding directly into his ego. It's so easy to want you.

So he takes. With his tongue, with his cock, with your mouth happily taking his length down your throat. When he fucks your mouth, his hands cover and pinch your nipples, growling softly, trying not to risk being caught with a daughter so beloved, and him, the depraved devil defiling you.

"Gonna swallow all of me, baby? Yeah? Good fucking girl..."

You whine against him, squealing as you feel him lean down over you to pay attention to your needy cunt. Both hands, spreading your folds open with his tongue tasting everything he can take.

"Together, baby. Sounds good?" You hum against his skin, your legs beginning to writhe from the concentrated build of pleasure he orchestrated.

So he counts you down. His hips stuttering, your toes clenched, and his hands pinning you down.

Three. His body covers yours as his hands pull your legs back, the back of your thighs exposed to the cool evening air.

Two. You dig your nails into what you could of him, anyway to pull him closer. The taste of his skin on your tongue, the desperation of you trying to hold on to your orgasm to be his good girl.

One. Warm spurts of his cum shoots down your throat as the blinding flash of pleasure takes control of you. You don't know what it was about Joel. You don't know what it was about yourself either. The next time you opened your eyes, you caught a glance of his beard, completely soaked just as you see, too, the last spurts of your fluids, dampening the sheets beneath you.

You make up as lovers do, with him staying in your bed, your frame snuggled into his muscular form as you feel yourself drift in and out of sleep. "We should be more careful, darlin'," he whispers to you, pressing a kiss to your temple. You hum sleepily, pulling the sheets over your head.

"Says the man who sneaked into my room for a quick fuck," you say with a chuckle. You do not see the slight frown on his face. You do not comprehend the tug on his heartstrings at your words. "What, you wanna start texting?"

He groans, quietly climbing up above you so he can watch your features in relative silence. "Too old for that and ya know it, doll." He smirks, huge hands cupping your face gently, rolling soft, careful circles against your cheeks before he pinches them lovingly. "You're just a little fuckin' baby, aren't ya?" You giggle softly, trying to be quiet in a house full of sleepers.

"Isn't your window right across from mine?"

That makes him raise his head. Gently, moving away from you as naked as the day he was born, he crosses your room to peer out from behind your curtains and into his own quiet house. His open window from when he lost control, his own curtains dancing in the wind. He didn't even notice. Perhaps there was salvation for the devil after all. If a god was capable of blessing him with the sheer luck of having his window across yours...

"Why don't you hang that pretty lil dress of yours by the window if you want t'meet up, yeah?"

"Ah, yes. Joel Miller's very own cum rag."

He smirks, looking back at you as he leans down to press a final kiss on your forehead. "And I'll hang that shirt I wore when I met you if I want the same, yeah?"

It's thrilling to think about. Thrilling to think that you can share a language in windows. Like spies. You've read spy novels as a kid. It was always so fascinating, the hidden messages in invisible ink, the necktie knots that mean one thing or another. Discreet meetings, longing and wanting in every gaze.

No one else will understand. But you and Joel will.

You feel your heart flutter, reaching up to mess his hair just as the older man turns away to dress himself again in the shirt and shorts he had worn before. "You're lucky it's summer. You wouldn't have to make an excuse why you're burning bright red and sweaty." He manages a chuckle, looking back at you with a wink.

I'm good at secrets, kiddo.

He leaves, and you hide the way you feel the pit in your stomach as he quietly shut the door behind him. He moved noiselessly, while you lay on your back, staring up at the ceiling. Joel Miller has fucked you twice and yet, you're still just that.

A kid, a baby. Fresh-faced doll girl he has to check in on in the evening after a night out.

Waste not, want not, you began to think. I feel wanted. Am I also being wasted?

—

Joel dreams, sometimes. He hasn't dreamt for years before you came into his life.

That night, as he walked home in silence, cloaked by the dark of night, he feels the bed calling to him. The white noise of his fan calls to him as he strips, sinking into the sheets. The smell of you sticks to your fingers as he groans.

You, you, you. Naughty little minx, you.

Sleep had never been easier.

And just like that, his dreams bring him to you in some skimpy number, swimming through your parents' pool, making your way to him in clean, smooth strokes. You flash him a smile, pool wet and cheeks sun-kissed.

Hello, you.

You, willing vixen and goddess divine. You, willingly approaching his wide open arms. You, pressed with your front against the pool wall while Joel dreams of pulling your bathing suit aside and be so close with you.

That night, he dreamt of fingering you in the pool, your breathy, wanton moans escaping in a soft, steady stream of heavenly music. His breath, warm against the back of your ear, your neck marked up by his mouth, a visual he could never truly dare away from his dream world. It was too risky, too obvious. But in his dreams, he marked you, sucking skin between teeth and biting almost teasingly.

In his dreams, he could push the limits, too. He dreamt of his thumb, brushing over that tight, puckered backdoor. Dreamt it made you whine. Dreamt that you moved closer to him.

"D'you know, angel... that I want to be the only one who can ever have all this?" he whispers, free hand taking your chin to kiss your moaning mouth with a breathy chuckle. "Fuck... this little darlin's been so deprived, hasn't she?"

And in his dreams, he owns you so completely. Every hole claimed, stuffed full, and leaking. In the morning, he'd wake with the scent of damp mushrooms, boxers damp, and cock hard, the image of you fading away to the sound of Sarah moving in the kitchen.

Outside of his dreams, his life moves forward. And it does not stop.

—

He called for you more than you did him. It's easy to figure out. It's easy to pretend to be picking something up from the mall. It's easy to disappear for ten minutes before meeting under the peach tree in the parking lot. Sometimes he drives you to a motel. But there are times, like today, when you run into his arms in the early afternoon Texan heat, where he's immediately pulling you to the back of the truck, beard prickling against your warm, sensitive neck.

"Joel," you start, trying to pull away from him. "I came to talk to you—"

He plants a chaste kiss to your mouth, Shit-eating grin as he slips two fingers down your shorts to feel you getting wet through your underwear. "This pretty lil thing right here says otherwise, baby doll." He pulls back, fingers brought to his mouth to take a taste. "Fuck. Just so fuckin' sweet for me..."

It knocks the wind out of you. The news on your tongue dies away as you watch him, skies of hellfire colored in his eyes. With a shaky breath, you nod slowly.

"Haven't seen you all week, daddy-o." It's enough. It's crumbs that feed the insatiable man that just cannot be fed.

A goddamned beast, precious and divine.

"I know, I haven't been takin' care of the prettiest girl there is." He kisses your cheek, sitting across the backseat of the truck, pulling you to his lap with your legs straddling him as he grits his teeth eagerly. "Been so deprived, haven't ya, baby?"

Despite the arrogance, you were inclined to agree. In Joel's absence, consumed by his work, by his family, and you distracted with your efforts of making it into the professional world, you had to rely on yourself for pleasure. But your fingers were too small, too short, and cannot have the same impetus as that of his touch. And the very smell of him, the very presence... you were drawn to him, salivating and hypnotized like a moth to a flame. So you come forward, singing. "It just wasn't the same without you, Joel..."

He growls, cussing as he barely pulls his pants down to free his own wanting cock. A desire unquenched by his fist in the darkness. And it's easy. So fucking easy to rub his thumb in circles on your clit, making your cunt openly weep for him, as well as making it easier for you to welcome him.

"Take it, baby. Take it for yourself, c'mon," he whispers, and you do. His very own Jezebel, entrancing him with the way you rose up, bracing yourself on his shoulders while his left hand grips your hips, his right hand guiding his cock for you to sink down on. He lets out a pleasured breath, jaw clenching just as a moan emanates from you. You're warm and tight like a vice around him. He's stretching your willing walls in such a familiar way you almost think you feel at home.

Freely, he kisses behind your ear, marking the skin there where it's concealed just right by your hair. His hands assist your movement just as you began to rock back and forth over his cock, grinding your hips and squealing at the sensation of not just your cock filled to the brim, but the sparks of pleasure from how his skin brushes against your own clit.

"Fuck, baby. What d'you think your dad would say if he found out you're fuckin' his buddy in the back of a truck like a lil slut, yeah?"

All you do is respond with moans, whines, noises that show how desperately close he has you. Right on the brink of an electric glow, powered only by the desperate need to peak, to find bliss. He clicks his tongue, moving to cup your face with both hands while he thrusts up into you, watching the way your eyes roll back from need, making him growl as he presses one hand on the expanse of your jaw, making your cheeks puff up and your lips part willingly for him.

Just then, he chuckles at the portrait of depravity before him. "Such a noisy lil mouth on ya, baby. So fuckin' loud for me, yeah? Does daddy have to be the one to shut you up?"

You squeal, eyes brimming tears. "S'all for you," you whisper, hands pressed against the seat to balance yourself, chasing your release in intermittent bursts of energy. Just then, two beefy fingers from the man who has such a hold on you plug up your mouth, immediately turning your breathy whines into quiet hums, throat constricting around his fingers. He fills you up so well, even with just his fingers, and it makes you weak in the knees.

"That's it. Just needed something to suck on, didn't you, baby?"

Just then, he turns the pleasure to its very limit. His own hips, speeding up his own thrusts from below, his warm breath heating up your face, his free hand wrapping around your neck and squeezing the sides with a dark chuckle. His eyes, two shades darker, makes you quake, your noises multiplying when you reach the very peak of pleasure. His own moans intermingle into the humid air, groaning needingly against you.

"That's it, baby. Come an' cream f'me. That's it, that's it..."

The permission granted to you makes you feel alive. Driven by a purpose, your orgasm comes as bright and clear as day. Spots of sudden brightness momentarily blind you with a gush of happy hormones. You scream against his fingers, the vibration from your noise making him smirk proudly down at you, so willing and filled by him and only him.

Good girl. Good fuckin' girl f'me, baby...

You both come down from the high with him nestled deep within your cunt. Your head, leaned against his shoulder while he tries to regain his breath from the effort you both gave.

The words return slowly.

"Y'want me to drive you back?"

You peer up at him, lashes fluttering softly. "Are we being obvious now?"

He smirks, kissing you again, brushing your cheek gently. "God, kid. The mouth on ya."

With that, you begin to slowly pull away from him, reaching for your underwear the dress yourself. To suddenly feel his cock that once filled you pull out, manage a quiet shudder. The sudden emptiness as stark as the sudden urge to leave.

"I..." You breathed in sharply. "I wanted to tell you I got a job."

The silence between you is thick with tension. You don't know what to say next. And neither does he. "Oh!" You look to him with longing glance, just before you check yourself in the mirror with a shaky breath. "So you'll be busy..."

You shrug, breathing in sharply as you try and make yourself seem less dishevelled. "I guess."

You give him one last look, one last chance to try and read him. Only to find his walls built up, features unreadable. You knew for yourself that one word from him and you'd lay down your guard. You'd let him drop you home. You'd let the world know you like him. But, without any indication of him wanting anything but your body, your cunt, or your mouth, you think of it as a shame.

And to think you had been driven to ruins by wanting him. So instead, you sigh, opening the truck door.

"I'm not a kid anymore, Joel."

—

taglist! @captainmads2092 @dev1lm4n @yrbxdyisnxthing @csarab615 @jessie8605 @buttstrawberry @reallyidontcare @jbb-98

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel miller x reader #dbf!joel miller x f! reader #dbf!joel miller smut #the last of us fanfiction

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hero-israel · 4 months

Note

I think there needs to be a reckoning about how so many white (passing) American secular/nonpracticing antiZionist Jews can say "Not in my name, Israel doesn't speak for us!" and then think they can speak for Israel. How so many of them can have a limited familial connection to Israel, have such a disdain for Israelis, Israeli culture and society, and Israel as a concept, and then have the gall to act like their opinions matter?

I see their attitudes be described as fear, but to me it strikes me as more than just fear. A lot of them, I suspect, have incorporated antiZionism as a fundamental part of their Jewish identity. It's not just a disagreement, they're not just saving face. Take away the Goyim and talk to them privately and they still believe what they believe, and express it in the same way. They hate Israeli Jews.

And Israel is only going to become less Ashkenazi (aka less "white") as time marches forward. The bad faith hysterical Israel bashing and condescension is only going to look more and more like Orientalism, and frankly, racism.

I think it's very possible that calling something antisemitic can't just be a catchall term when this chicken comes home to roost. I think if there aren't already, there will be distinct forms of antisemitism, some that only Diaspora Jews face and some that only Israeli Jews face. And if this is true or will end up being true, it's pretty important that we not speak over each other's experiences. To do that we have to recognize these experiences and respect them. Do some Israeli Jews disrespect the Diaspora experience? Yes, from what I've seen. Is it nearly as vitriolic and is it growing nearly as quickly as the disrespect for the Israeli experience among antiZionist American Jews? Not even close.

All this divisive language to say: sometimes when Israelis say "so and so is antisemitic!" in the context of antiZionism, they're talking about themselves, their experiences, the stakes for them, and not Americans. So maybe we should all learn to stay in our lanes sometimes.

A lot of Israeli Jews disrespect, or at least are unable to grasp, diaspora existence, particularly when it comes to Americans. I can't even count the number of times I read Israelis say "Why are you American Jews so upset about Trump? Don't you see how good he's been for Israel?" Which is the worst damn argument a person could possibly use - it feeds into both left-wing and right-wing antisemitism, while ignoring that American Jews live HERE and are at risk from Trump's fascist cult and general lawlessness. And it is bad FOR EVERYBODY to have "pro-Israel" become the position of stroke-babbling grotesque racist criminals, and also for America to be too focused on anarchic decomposition and Yugoslav-style street warfare to be able to support Israel like it traditionally has.

And because turds of a feather flush together, Netanyahu wants ALAN DERSHOWITZ to be Israel's advocate if the ICJ case proceeds. I knew Netanyahu was a senile failure undermining all the strengths he had ever built for the country and this is just the shit cherry on top of the shit sundae. Alan Dershowitz is the ultimate stereotype of a Boomer who was kind of useful in the 1980s-90s and became awful and embarrassing now, Trump is surrounded by them (i.e. Rudy Giuliani). Your grandma in Florida remembers Alan Dershowitz for writing "Chutzpah" and being tough and quick-witted, and everybody under 40 knows Dershowitz as a Trump cultist and Epstein fuckbuddy. Big "Vladek Spiegelman can only compare his artist son to Walt Disney" energy. There are surely thousands of lawyers better-suited for the role, just off the top of my head I'd prefer Eugene Kontorovich and so should anyone who is more aware of the world as it actually is than how it was in 1994.

I say all that to parallel your original point, not to contradict it. Yes, the American Jews who performatively loathe Israel are by and large just an Extremely Online phenomenon of the most college-town bubble-protected, least observant, least affiliated, and least aware of non-Ashkenazim. It is not so hard for American Ashkenazim to stay protected from antisemitism as long as they totally unplug from their Jewish identity and any public-facing aspects of it. Can't be killed in a synagogue or JCC or kosher store if you never go in, head tap.

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dungeonpuppykai · 9 months

Text

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Summary: Your father had outdone his own selfishness when he had handed the train off to Curtis with no regard for you. But was it so bad, really?

Pairing: Dark!Curtis Everett | Cruel Brat!You.

Disclaimer: I (unfortunately) do not own Curtis Everett. This story contains dark and mature content so browse at your own discretion, please. Minors do not interact.

Warning(s): Non-con/Dub-con, dark-ish spoilt Princess reader becomes Curtis' bitch, gun play, spanking (with a belt), humiliation, degradation, pet names, fear kink, finger sucking, age gap (reader is 20's, Curtis is 40's), leash, objectification, sloppy blowjob turns rough, untrimmed lumberjack Curtis, hair pulling, boob play, mentions of complete submission, questionable shit that I am unapologetic for.

Note: This scenario has been living rent free in my head ever since I watched the movie. Fair warning, it is pretty dark. But then again, so is Curtis. Feedback is much appreciated 🩷

MASTERLIST

"I can smell you, dolly~" your heart hammered inside it's cage as you clasped your shaky lips to a halt, suppressing your laboured breathing as you peeked with one eye to see where the giant man was from your position behind one of the huge shelves in your father's cabin.

Curtis Everett took his sweet time investigating the space, searching for you calmly as he called out to you. His sweet coos caused the hair at the back of your nape to rise. He was covered in dust and blood, a gun carelessly hanging by his fingers. Your thighs quivered as you tried to breathe as quietly as you could, feeling a tinge between your legs.

The fear was messing with your body and the terror of what might happen to you once he did find you -which let's be honest, was inevitable since there was no where to run- caused all kinds of reactions within your body.

"Are you over… here?" A gasp threatened to slip past your trembling fingertips when he very effortlessly toppled over a chair dangerously close to you, chuckling to himself and tutting when your position continued to be a mystery. "You know I'll find you now or later, Princess…" Curtis was now passing right by you. "You're only making it worse for yourself by hiding, you know~" your shoulders relaxed a little when he lingered in front of you for a moment but when passed by. "If you come out now, I won't have to-" his terrifyingly convincing words had your body acting before it could stop itself.

The sound caused by you crawling out of your hiding space had the tall man spinning on his heels. A smile settled on his lips when he found you peeking up at him from your position on the ground.

"Already crawling for me?" His condescending words had you quickly scrambling to your feet as you whimpered in response to the proximity his quick walk towards you had caused between your bodies. "Aren't you just the most precious little doll?"

"Y- You said…" The desperation of your voice made you feel disgusted with yourself. You hated your father. A bile rose in your throat when you lowered your head in response to his sharp gaze fucking your body in the most humiliating way. He didn't even try to hide it. "You said you w- wouldn't hurt me if I didn't h- hide" these people were nothing. You had never cared what your father or the people of your section thought. To you, the lower sections were just filth to stomp on. They were nothing more than unfortunate degenerates that lived to serve you.

"I said I wouldn't have to do worse" the muscles in your thighs clenched when he caressed your cheek with the tip of the gun. And now because of your bastard father, you had no choice but to rely on the mercy of these lowlifes. "Hmm… so pampered and soft" Curtis sighed when he cupped your face with his other hand now, his coarse thumb tracing the shape of your lips before he pushed the digit inside.

You gagged in response to his dirty finger intruding you so intimately. He let out a heavy chuckle, taking it as an invitation to push it further in until he was knuckle deep, sighing to himself as he explored your warm and wet cavern. Your eyes filled with tears as the humiliation washed over you and overwhelmed your already overstimulated senses.

"Aw, you don't like this, Princess?" His taunt triggered a flashback where you had said the same exact thing while torturing someone from the tail section about a minor inconvenience while you made the others watch. "Too bad you don't have a choice, huh?" Your fists clenched as you suppressed the urge smack the smirk right off his disgusting face.

The thick hot tears finally trickled down your cheeks. His thumb made you gag again as it dipped down to your throat, the salty and metallic taste coating it making your mouth sting. Curtis refused to let you hide your face away so you could hide your tears and your arms were too lifeless for you to simply wipe them away.

"Hm, I wonder…" The gun now trailed down from your jaw to your neck, circling around the locket you always wore as your mother had left it to you before slowly trickling its way atop the valley of your breasts. "If Goddesses look the same as us lowlifes under their fancy little attires…" Your heart threatened to burst right out of your chest. More flashbacks followed as you winced now, having no choice but to unintentionally suck his thumb when you tried to breath. Your eyes shut themselves in embarrassment after a few more tears spilled.

You forced the tail section to hail and bow down to you every now and then merely for entertainment. You made them tell you you were their Goddess and the only one that should be worshipped. Those who tried to resist faced horrible consequences at the hands of your personal guards and servants. Your 'royalty' was the only thing your otherwise unavailable father had been good for. It was the only thing he had given you in your whole life. So you took to both using and misusing it in every way you could.

"Or are they really are different from the rest of us degenerates- tsk" he clicked his tongue before patting your cheek. "Come now, doll. Let me see those Godly eyes" a shiver trembled itself out of your body.

You had no choice.

Just how they hadn't.

Curtis felt a pang of excitement trickle down his spine when your now reddening eyes opened back up and you tried to look anywhere but at him.

"Hm… they seem pretty ordinary to me…" The comment was for your eyes as the gun intruded your neckline more and more with the passing second. "What about…" The man hooked the weapon under one of your breasts and pushed it up and out of the fabric covering them as he tilted his head, the humiliating concentration on his face making your cheeks burn as you whimpered against his thumb again, gagging when it started to massage your tongue.

The tingles in the spot between your legs in response to the whole experience increased all the while.

You dared not ponder over it, afraid of what horror laid in the reason behind it.

"Hm, you know what?" Curtis suddenly deprived you of all touch. Wait, are you wondering why you know his name? Have you forgotten already? You had asked him what it was before you made him kneel on all fours on the ground before using his back as a chair while you had the workers take the newborns under your father's orders. Why? You simply didn't care why. "I want it all off." He used the gun to gesture towards your clothes. "Because so far I haven't seen anything that makes you any more special than the people you loved to shit on" more tears spilled from your eyes.

Your usually loud mouth seemed to have forgotten all words today.

"Come on, Princess. I don't have all day…" His words were followed by his fingers undoing and freeing his belt before he held in a manner that looked threatening enough for you to let out a sob as you slowly shook your head before muttering out a plea. Curtis coldly chuckled. "Hm, adorable. Now, come on." You flinched when he tapped the side of your thigh with the belt he had doubled over in his hand.

"P- Please…"

"You wanna please me?" The only things he could remember was the hopelessness and humiliation she has wreaked upon the tail section all those years ever since she was a child. "Aw, doll. That is sweet of you." Another sob left her. The man was unfazed as he continued to caress the side of her leg with the belt, dark eyes running up and down her body.

"N- No, like… please… please…" He sighed as his eyes hardened.

"You really want to make this worse than it already is, huh?" The seriousness of his tone caused a tight little hot ball to form between her hips. "Little brats like you just can't help themselves, can they? No, they love to get in trouble. That's why they go out of their way to create it. So someone can come along and show them their real place, huh?" The knot of heat rolled further down your abdomen.

What was happening to you?

You went to speak but were cut off. "If these pretty little clothes don't come off by the count of three, I will take them off but in front of the entire tail section waiting to claw you to pretty little bits and pieces right outside this room…" Your breath hitched in your throat when the tip of the gun collected the sweat beads formed on one of your temples. "Would you like that, huh, doll?" Before he could even start the countdown, you hiccuped before a few sobs followed the quivering breaths and your numbing fingers reached for the zip and harnesses of your dress.

Without allowing yourself to ponder over it, you quickly rid yourself of the fancy fabrics, knowing that it was inevitable and the other way would be much more unpleasant than this. You had degraded these people in the worst ways possible for many years, if you still got to have some form of mercy, you were going to take it.

"The rest too, giddy up~" your wet cheeks burnt hotter as you averted your eyes to the floor, keeping them trained on the spot between his feet as you blinked the tears away and complied to his orders, depriving yourself of all dignity with your own hands. "Hmm…" Curtis seemed unbothered by your nudity. Like nothing was out of the ordinary and it was just a normal day.

As if this was the natural way of things.

"I don't anything special here" the pressure between your hips increased when he started to poke and prod at your hardened nipples with the tip of the gun before he circled you like a hungered animal does a piece of meat, continuing to press and caress random parts of your body. "Let's see…" Curtis sighed now. "Spread these pretty Princess legs, now. Maybe there's something special there that makes you feel obligated to act that high and mighty" you felt the belt penetrate the space between your legs.

You bit your lip as more and more flashbacks resurfaced, haunting and mocking. Your chest heaved for air the more you sobbed, bending forwards as your hands reached for your ass cheeks and you spread your legs before parting them for him to look at.

You were well familiar with the desperation in the eyes of the tail section lowlifes to know that if you didn't obey and maybe pleased him however he wanted, you would suffer the same fate as everyone from your side of the train.

And nothing was worse than dying.

… Right?

"Hmmm, nothing special here either" the male's tone was scalding as he spread your nether petals with the tip of the gun -that caused a new kind of rush and panic within your body every time it made contact with it- before he pulled the metal weapon away. "So you really are nothing special, after all…" Your eyes continued to watch his feet and how they appeared before disappearing for a few moments each time he completed a round around your naked and shaking body.

"If anything," a loud shriek ripped itself out of your throat when he suddenly landed the belt on your ass, the swat catching your hands holding them apart in the process. You quickly retreated them, causing him to scoff at your reaction as you held them to your chest, sobbing and blowing on them as you rubbed them to try and soothe the burn. Another lash was given to your sensitive and fragile skin that wasn't used to being handled roughly. But now a thick angry red line appeared across your lap. "You're worse." The next blow landed on your ass again, but this time your knees buckled up and you fell on your hands and knees.

"Because even though you could be ripped to shreds at any given moment upon my command, you're leaking like a desperate little breeding bitch all because I forced you to strip for me" you felt him place his dusty boot on your back before he pressed it down against you.

Fuck.

That was going to leave an imprint.

Your whipped thighs trembled and body jerked forwards when he landed his belt against your ass again. The only things you could register and process was your own crying, the humiliation his words were causing and the hot pain his merciless belt was inflicting upon your ass cheeks.

He just kept going, loving the welts and bruises that were forming on your formerly spotless skin.

"P- Please!" You forced yourself to plea out loud when he just wouldn't stop. "Please! I- It hurts! I am s- sorry! Please!" He just chuckled in response, pushing you against the ground harder and harder with each hit.

"Maybe your father knew this is exactly what you needed, huh? Someone to come along and beat some sense into that smooth brain of yours." Out of all the things he had said to you, this one stung the most. Perhaps more than the physical pain he was inflicting upon your ass. "He knew that you couldn't carry his legacy. Your little brain is too small for tasks like that, isn't it? Brats like you are only meant to be broken into submission and then made to serve" the hits finally halted. He removed his foot. Your seething ass cheeks were parted again but with his fingers this time.

Your body shook from how violent and loud your sobs had gotten. Curtis chuckled at something before you felt him get closer to your head. A thick and rough band snaked around your neck before you felt it getting tighter until it was wrapped and locked around your throat. You winced when you felt a tug at it. His belt.

"Look, doll." His thick beard scratched against your ear as he whispered right into it. "Your mess on the floor is confirmation" the bile in your throat felt tighter against the makeshift… leash. "Whether you want to admit it or not… you are loving this" you wanted to vomit. The taste of his thumb was still very strong on your tongue, the pungent scent of his body further aggravating your already distressed senses. "I knew it."

Curtis stood up to his full height and tugged at the belt, causing your neck to humiliatingly jerk in the direction of his pull. "Come on." He started to march you towards the chair your father always sat on. Your weak and sensitive knees burnt and screamed at you to stop. But the moment you'd falter, the leather wrapped around your throat would forcefully pull you forward, making you almost slide behind him.

"There we go~" the man took a seat on his throne -your father had treated the chair as no less- before he started to wrap the belt-leash around his big and rough hand until his blistered knuckles were touching the sweaty and cold skin of your neck. You almost retched when the tip of your nose grazed against his crotch since he had forced you right between his giant legs that he had spread open.

You tried to back up; break free. But there was no way to turn or move with how tightly he held the belt. You did your best to control your breathing and not lash at his face with your claws. He had a gun and an entire army of savages waiting outside.

For better or worse, he may be your only chance at surviving this in one piece.

"You look prettier than what I would imagine every night after the day you would visit the tail section" a shard of icy fear tore down the ligaments of your spine before spreading in all directions at the base. "Submission looks so good on you, doll." He leaned forward and you shuddered at the sensation of his breath hitting your mouth. So close. Your feet tickled. "You wanna be good for me, right?" The tears in your eyes refused to stop flowing. You hated them and yourself for being so weak. It was shameful to let others see you cry. But you were so helpless without your guards and servants.

Weak.

You had no choice but to take whatever he decided to give you.

The pressure between your hips worsened.

Whore.

"Nod and tell me yes" the heavy thumping of his fingers against your cheek brought you out of your head. A wince shook its way past your lips when your spanked ass touched the heels of your feet. The overwhelming pain caused you to jolt forwards, going nose first into Curtis' face and making him chuckle. "Aren't you the most eager and adorable little doll?" Your face burnt in humiliation as you tried to pull away again but in vain, he only further tightened his grip around your windpipe. You choked, his face hardened. "I told you to nod and tell me yes."

The realization of the power imbalance between you two drove shards of shame down your limbs as you lowered your head and whimpered. "Y- Yes…" Your words followed a humiliating nod.

"Yes what?"

"Uhmm… C- Curt-" a loud gasp elicited out of you when you felt a punishing smack deliver to the side of your head which lolled due to the impact. Your bottom lip trembled as you blinked the stars away before peeking up at him through your lashes.

"Sir. It's sir to you, dimwit" he smacked the back of your head again, but this time the pain was felt in the base of your stomach which soon morphed into a hot ball that flooded down your holes.

Curtis moved back and leaned his back against the chair lazily, lacing the fingers of his free hand through your hair before he trained his eyes on you from scanning the rest of your body before pulling at the strands roughly. You cried out and pouted, he silently cursed and pressed his legs against your arms.

"Come here and undo my pants" your eyes widened but the second tug at your scalp had you complying before you could think twice. "Hmmm…" As your shaky fingers fiddled with the fly, he continued to play with your hair. "Maybe I should cut all this pretty hair off. Mayhaps make you a cute little slutty cue ball…" Your heart leaped at his words. Oh God no. "Turn you into a clean little slate to paint and mould however I please… This is a fresh start, after all" his nails scratched against your scalp and you sobbed in the musky scent that wafted out from inside his pants. "Hmm… Now pull my cock out" you sighed in relief despite how horrifying his words were.

At least his attention wasn't on your poor hair anymore.

What kind of a twisted person can say something like that?

Sure, you playfully suggested for the tail section ladies to cut or buzz their hair sometimes but it was only because they didn't have the proper facilities to take care of it.

You gulped to yourself and felt your core throb when you went to pull his cock out and it just seemed to never end. Four pulls later, Curtis' brutally thick and monstrously large cock was standing angrily in front of your face, his pubic hair decorating the organ and his matching ballsack.

Fuck.

It was almost beautiful.

"Put those slut doll boobs around it" your breath hitched at his words but a firm tug at the hair on the top of your head had you obeying his order. Anything but your hair. Biting your lip, you lowered your eyes before gathering your breasts in your sweaty hands. But you stopped when he clicked his tongue and tutted. "Now, now. Why are you shying away, Princess? I thought you liked to look into people's eyes, hm?" You felt like kicking yourself.

He was tormenting you for the torture you had inflicted on him and his people for so many years.

"Look me in the eyes while you do it" this time the pull was at the leash. You gulped again before you slowly looked up at him, a whole new sense of shame wrapping itself around your body when you saw the smug expression on his face. "And tell me yes sir."

Your palms met with the base of your breasts again. "Y- Yes, sir." Before you slowly moved forward and tried to ignore the fear and disgust boiling in your loins.

"Smile and thank me for being so generous and merciful" your knees almost buckled up when he scratched right behind your ear with the hand that was laced through your hair.

Your body was just confused… right?

It was just scared and excited– panicked because of this sudden burst of stressful emotions.

Since you had never experienced any of this before and now were suddenly being subjected to so much all at the same time, it didn't know how to act.

Yes, that had to be it.

You slowly smiled, feeling his nether hairs tickle the skin of your breasts as you clamped them around his cock, shivering at the contact. His veins were so thick and hot against your skin. "T- Thank you so much for being so generous and merciful, s- sir." Curtis bit his lip.

"Fuck, doll. You're just a natural, aren't you?" His musky scent filled up your senses as you continued to smile, not knowing what else to do. The man suddenly spat on his cock, some of the splatter also falling on your breasts. You flinched and nearly broke away with a gasp but his grip on your throat and head both warned and restricted you against it. "Move. Up and down, come on. Move and take the tip in your mouth, like the little slutty Princess that you are."

You almost faltered. But the darkness in his eyes quickly reminded you of the situation and so you started to move, your bottom lip wobbling once more. Your belted thighs burnt from the movement and knees ached. But you knew better than to stop.

Your breathing became laboured the more you moved, the thick red tip of his cock brushing against your lips each time you went down. Curtis hissed and grunted, snarling out condescending praises while his hips rocked against your boobs. He demanded you to take him inside his mouth again. You complied, gagging at the strong salty taste of his warm cock once he was finally inside. Your jaw ached. Fuck, he was big.

"Such a perfect cum dumpster" his voice was turning hoarse and animalistic, fingers tightening around your hair and causing a dull ache in your scalp. The belt would restrict you of oxygen every now and then, his cock hitting the back of your throat and making you gag to probably reach the desired effect. Stars littered your vision each time the male decided to restrict you of air.

Some things ached, others burnt. But nothing hurt harder than your pussy. Your abdomen was in actual pain at this point, thighs clammy and bruising cheeks squelching due to the amount of the white matter seeping out of your hole.

"That's it… such a perfect cum rag. Made to serve her Master… right?" You nodded, trying to peek up at him as your hollowed cheeks made humiliating sounds. "Good fucking cum dumpster Princess" you had told them that the lower classes lived to serve their Masters. He was only throwing them back in your face.

Oh, how the tables had turned.

Eventually, the slow and sloppy blowjob turned into fast and rough face fucking. Curtis slapped your hands away before he parted your hair into two pigtails and wrapped them around both his hands at either side of your head for a firm grip. From that point on, your slowed brain could barely register anything. The only thing you could hear was your own moans and retching as your tits flew left and right, ass burning each time it would come in contact with your heels due to how violently he was bouncing your body up and down like a yoyo.

Your head bobbed up and down his fat cock, pre-cum and spit oozing out of your nose as you choked each time he would penetrate your throat a centimeter more. Your red face was coated in sweat and tears, fingers curled around his calves for support.

Curtis grunted as he thrusted in and out of your mouth, tipping his head back and nearly growling when he finally orgasmed, tightening his grip on your hair as he jerked his cock inside your throat fully and finally. While his length violated your hot cavern in the form of quick jabs, your throat stretched and jaw nearly dislocated from the girth of his ballsack penetrating -or trying to- your mouth.

The taste of his salty cum took over your sensory buds. Your eyelids became droopy and chest heaved due to the lack of oxygen, brain making you nearly pass out when Curtis finally released your hair and pulled out, cursing as he jacked the rest of his orgasm out and all over your face.

Your whole body shook as you collapsed against one of his thick thighs, landing on your cheek and letting your eyes flutter close against the bursts of his cum.

Ever since you could remember, you had been given all the power possible in the world you had opened your eyes in as compensation for an unavailable father and no mother. An only child with everyone bowing down to her with an authority she didn't understand, you had used it for everything you could. Necessities, entertainment, emotional needs and voids, it was all you had; all you knew.

You had never known balance nor restraint.

The concept has ironically existed all around you but never made itself acquainted with you.

So you rebelled. Assaulted. Violated. Misused. In the hopes that someone would step up. Teach you. Take the overwhelming amount of power away from you. Of course it wouldn't be easy. But it would put an end to this frustration, this loss of direction, nonexistence of purpose you had suffered your whole life.

As you slowly opened your eyes and peeked up at the man softly panting while watching you, softly scratching your aching scalp with his nails. You felt a strange kind of light dawn upon you. A new kind of hope and warmth washed over you. Your body curled against his.

Savior.

"... G- God…?" Curtis blinked before he registered what you had just said. A smile slowly pulled itself on his face.

A God is a savior, right? Someone who provides a direction and protects from follies like excessiveness and uselessness. A being who provides a sense of purpose. Helps exercise balance. Protects yet destroys. Batters but builds. Shatters and then mends. The mighty and all powerful; one who controls and regulates.

"Definitely yours." You softly sobbed and smiled, whispering out praises and thanks as you kissed everywhere you could reach him. Curtis slowly shook his head as he caressed your head, silently commending himself on how accurately he had read you.

You were exactly what he had thought.

Just a pathetic little brat with unbalanced power she didn't understand nor deserve.

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thatonewatching · 10 months

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John Doe headcanons

⬆️ That fella up there

(Canon: Bisexual, Fluid-Nonbinary, 20-40, 'Regular Guy' is his species, always messy hair, hair can move on its own, pupils expand when excited, tongue is a cute heart shape, too many teeth, his teeth aren't dirty, just naturally yellow, scars aren't because he's 'sad', doesn't know how to wear his jacket right, 112 pounds, 4 fingers on each hand, three toes on each foot, 5'8, tongue is very long, naturally black nails, shirt changes every time you look at him, has eyelids and chooses when he blinks, body has a clay-like texture, he doesn't have any organs but can for them if he or you chooses, and he has a hard time closing his, mouth fully.) All of that is canon, and I'm referencing the canon ref sheet from the actual creator of the game. You can find it on the John Doe Wiki. <3

He can't seem to get the hang of technology. No matter how many times you explain what to press and click and download, he didn't seem to be interested. Not until he found out that he could contact you through it, that is.

He immediately tried to understand it after finding out he could talk to you while you were away, instead of following you to work. That's not going to stop anytime soon, though. He just can't handle you being away!

Purrs, kind of. Like if he's happy or something, or just feels positive in general. Curls up when he sleeps, always in the fetal position when he sleeps, as weird and uncomfortable as it may seem.

He likes animals but won't get any because he feelsit'll take some attention off of him, and we can't have that, can we? No. Prefers animals like rats and snakes because they fascinate him. Doesn't understand their 'workings' as he says.

Doesn't need to blink. He doesn't have the need to wet his eyes, considering that they're for show. Sleeping, as well. Doesn't feel the need to sleep, but he learned how, in his own way. It's not sleeping, exactly. It's more of a state of tranquility and peace. The first time you fell asleep, he thought you died, never having seen a being sleep. He understands now, though, so it's all right.

His hair is very weird. Sometimes it's soft, fluffy, and sometimes stiff and matted. He sheds a lot. It doesn't matter what he's done or is doing, his hair gets everywhere. He's not allowed near the food when you're cooking, because you don't want hair for dinner. He says it adds flavor, seeing it as a way to be closer to one another.

Likes piercings. He enjoys the thought of having needles go through his skin to add element to his body, but not vice versa. Refuses to think about you getting hurt, even if you assure him it's fine. Will not allow anyone, including yourself, to hurt you.

Likes fire. It makes his clay-like skin hardened, rather than how doughy it usually feels. Unlike fire, he hates water. Makes him all gooey and slimy, and he doesn't like that. Wants to feel solid-it's better for hugs.

Speaking of hugs, he is practically attached at the hip. Always has some part of him on you and vice versa. Whether it be holding hands, a finger through your belt loop, or just a hand in your back pocket, he's content. If physical touch isn't your thing, then he'll tell you how much he adores you. You don't like words of affirmation? No problem! He'll do anything you need him to! Feel bad for him doing so much? Spend some time together! Whether it be watching a movie, cuddling, cooking (even though he sheds and doesn't know how to cook in the slightest), or even just being around each other, doing your own things. Need your space? Don't have to tell him twice! He'll get you some gifts. You said you wanted something three years ago? Done. Any physical item or thing he can provide to you will be provided. Long story short, he'll do whatever you want.

Wears a lot of different types of clothes. Skirts, pants, crop tops, shorts, whatever. One thing he doesn't love is jeans. He'll wear them, but he prefers sweats or skirts. Can't deal with the feeling of scratchy clothes. Will literally chew them up and throw them away. Speaking of clothes, he steals yours. Especially if they're dirty or need to be washed. Wears them until you take them for the wash. Gets sad when you take them.

His voice cracks occasionally, and he gets so upset about it. Will take a deep 'breath', or the closest thing he does to breathing, and says the sentence again. He doesn't like when it happens and stops talking until you force him if it happens a lot that day.

The first time that you told him you loved him, he wanted to cry, even though he can't and doesn't fully understand why people do it in the first place. "Why are you crying?" he asked, squinting. "Because you're suffocating me!" you wheezed. "Oh."

He uses his one-eyed form at home, knowing you understand it's easier and more comfortable. He really doesn't understand how to read all that well, so you taught him. He got the hang of it quickly and likes to leave you notes and texts. He constantly has tabs on you. Whether it be him coming into your job to walk around and talk to you, or him being in his hair ball form and in your shoulder or bag or something. Always around you. Always watching. Always comes back. (I'm so sorry.)

Calls you things like my love, dear, my dearest, sweetheart, gorgeous, beautiful, and things like that. Loves, loves, loves when you call him pretty boy/girl. Practically melts in your arms. They also love when you call them sweet things and mumble sweet nothings in her ear while you're together, especially when you're cuddling. Adores it when you run your fingers through her hair, and a soft purring emanates from him.

It may or may not wrap around your hand when you try to pull away....

That's all for now, guys! I'll be making more of these if I think of them. Requests and asks are open, so feel free to do that! (I'm so bored.) Stay safe, hydrated, and happy! Love you all! <3

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1000sunnygo · 5 months

Text

One Piece Academy chapter 40: Cora san part 2 (Quick translation)

source | part 1 | index

Sanji: Huh..? Aren't you...?

Luffy: Who?

Nami: Luffy! We've just seen this guy in a photo a while ago!

He's Corazon!!

Cora: Guh..!

*tap tap*

Nami: Ah, he's running!

*wham*

Nami: Ah, he fell ;;

Cora: Law, what's the meaning of this? How did this place get busted?!

Law: I'm in a state of shock myself... I swear I wasn't being tailed by anyone.

You guys, how did you...?

Robin: Underestimated our skill of gaining intel, haven't you?

Sanji: You did a good job hiding your tracks, but...

[flashback]

Luffy: Traffy... he's totally gone, huh.

Bart: Ah, Luffy senpai! It's been a while beh!

Luffy: Oh? Isn't that Romeo!

Do y'all know Traffy's place?

Bart: Naa I don't.. Gambia, do you?

Gambia: I dunno. Lemme ask my granma at home.

Gambia: Helloo, granma! Do you know where Trafalgar Law lives?.. Hmm, hmm... oh?

*pulls up a map*

Gambia: She says he lives here! Even gave us details on how to enter!

Bart: Granma really has all the wisdom beh~!

Luffy: COOL!! Thanks!!

Cora: THIS IS WAYY BEYOND THE REALM OF WISDOM THOUGH!!

Usopp: She also said, "if you're worried about the doorknob's prickly static shock, just touch the wall with your palm first."

Law: So she shared some real wisdom too? That damned Bartolomeo!

Zoro: A man believed to be missing is here, 'hiding' so nobody can find him - so it seems.

Corazon:...!

Since I got busted already, I guess there's no going back.

*cracks knuckles*

I'll make sure to make you feel at home.

Coby: Woah!

Law: DON'T START A RICEBALL PARTY!!

Luffy: What flavor is that one, Corao?

Cora: That's umeboshi! Law hates it.

Law: Cora san... ;

Cora: It's okay, Law..

Cora: After all, the only visitors we get in this home far from the town are Bepo and team. And that's just Law's pals.

Law: They're... not exactly pals...

Cora: That said, it's not like someone is expected to live here. The entrance is far down some secret underground passage. We buy our groceries from the neighboring Swallow city.

*clang*

Nami: Why all these secrecy?

Coby: Where are you going?

Cora: Follow me! I'll show you.

Luffy: Traffy's place seems fun!

Law: Make sure not to ravage it.

Cora: This is.. The Doflamingo countermeasure Headquarters.

Nami: The Doflamingo countermeasure Headquarters?

Luffy: That's a lot of Mingo!

Cora: You get the gist of a secret opposing faction, don't you?

In short, we call it "Vs Doff.." "Quarters.." well, something.

And not just Doflamingo, we collect information about the Family executives.. Even about the Onigashima middle school.

I investigate here everyday.. *tapping some keys*

And think of countermeasures.

Coby: YOU JUST SHUT IT DOWN!

Cora: Crap, I blew it up again...

Nami: Cora chan, might you be a bit clumsy?

Cora: I have always been a clutz. It doesn't get better.

Vivi: We know that Doflamingo is a bad guy who needs to be stopped.. But do you, as his brother, have any specific reason for your action?

Cora: As his younger brother, my goal is...to prevent my older brother Doffy from falling into the dark world.

Brook: Dark..

Chopper:... World?

Cora: Do you know what they call Doffy in the town?

Coby : I'm pretty sure it's Joker, "The Town's Charisma"....

Cora: He's a regular hot topic among young admirers, my brother's got that talent in him. But..

He's being approached by the people from the dark world - meaning the Bad adults, as they observed those qualities.

To be honest, brother does have the predisposition and ideas for 'evil.' He's already a bad guy, you can't call him good even as a flattery.

Zoro: Will he remain as the Town's Charisma, or become a Charismatic Evil?

If it's the latter, that'd be way more serious that being just a bad, flawed person...

CONTINUES IN REBLOG ⬇️

#one piece academy #one piece gakuen #one piece #donquixote rosinante #donquixote doflamingo #donquixote corazon #trafalgar d. water law #one piece luffy #monkey d. luffy #one piece translations #one piece bartolomeo #one piece manga #trafalgar law

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mostlysignssomeportents · 7 months

Text

For 40 years, Big Meat has openly colluded to rig prices

On October 7–8, I'm in Milan to keynote Wired Nextfest.

Noted socialist agitator Adam Smith once wrote, "People of the same trade seldom meet together, even for merriment and diversion, but the conversation ends in a conspiracy against the publick, or in some contrivance to raise prices."

Smith was articulating a basic truth: when an industry grows concentrated, it grows cozy. Cultural differences between dominant firms are homogenized as top executives move from company to company, cross-pollinating attitudes and approaches. Ambituous, firm-hopping workaholic top brass make all their friends at the office, and so their former colleagues from one or two jobs back remain in their social circles.

Once an industry consists of half a dozen firms, the people running those companies constitute an incestuous financial polycule. They are executors of one anothers' estates, best men and maids of honor at one anothers' weddings, godparents to each others' kids. They play on the same softball teams and take family vacations together.

It would be heartwarming if it wasn't so costly to the rest of us. Remember Smith's maxim: "the conversation ends in a conspiracy against the publick, or in some contrivance to raise prices." Class solidarity among corporate executives forms a united front to screw us in every conceivable way, from corrupting our politicians to maiming and cheating workers to gouging buyers.

That's the basis of American antitrust law. When Robert Sherman was stumping for the passage of the Sherman Act, America's first major antitrust law, he thundered "If we will not endure a King as a political power we should not endure a King over the production, transportation, and sale of the necessaries of life. If we would not submit to an emperor we should not submit to an autocrat of trade with power to prevent competition and to fix the price of any commodity":

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/20/we-should-not-endure-a-king/

Or rather, that was the basis of American antitrust law – until the Reagan era, when the fringe theories of the Nixonite criminal Robert Bork were elevated to a new orthodoxy. Under Bork's conception of antitrust, monopolies were evidence of excellence. If a company puts all its competitors out of business, that must mean that it is "efficient."

In Bork's fantasy world, the only way a company could attain dominance is by being so beloved by its customers that every competitor withers away. Governments that bust monopolies aren't protecting the public from "autocrats of trade"; they're overthrowing the winners of an election where you "vote with your wallet" to pick the best company.

But Bork and his co-fantasists couldn't quite manage all that with a straight face. They grudgingly admitted that a certain kind of bad monopolist could hypothetically exist, one that used its "market power" to raise prices or lower quality. Only when these offenses against our "consumer welfare" occurred should the state step in to protect its people.

This may sound good in theory, but in practice, it was a dead letter. The consumer welfare test isn't as simple as "If prices go up after a merger, punish the company." Instead, the government had to prove that the price raises came from "market power," and not from an increase in energy or labor costs, or some other "exogenous factor," like Mercury being in retrograde:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/10/you-had-one-job/#thats-just-the-as

And wouldn't you know it, it turns out that the mathematical models prescribed to distinguish greed from unavoidable circumstance inevitably "prove" that the monopolist wasn't at fault. Surely, it's just just a coincidence that the priesthood that understood how to make and interpret these models were Chicago School Economists who sold model-making as a service to companies that wanted to raise prices.

Pro-monopoly economists insist that this isn't true, and that their theory still has room to prosecute bad monopolies and cartels where they occur – more, they say this is already happening. In particular, they insist that "greedflation" can't be real, because it would require the kind of conspiracy that Smith warned of, and that their sickly antitrust enforcement is sufficient to prevent:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/11/price-over-volume/#pepsi-pricing-power

This strains credulity. After all, the CEOs of giant companies in concentrated industries openly boast to their shareholders about how they've used the covid and Ukraine invasion shocks to hike prices to increase their profit margins – not just cover their additional costs:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/23/cant-make-an-omelet/#keep-calm-and-crack-on

While excuseflation is new, open, naked price-fixing by industry cartels is not. Take the meat-packing industry, dominated by a tiny handful of giant corporations whose executives literally ran a betting pool on how many of their workers would get covid each week while working in their cramped, unventilated factories:

https://www.bbc.com/news/world-us-canada-55009228

These companies have seen their margins soar – up 300% over the lockdown – while their payments to ranchers and growers cratered:

https://www.reuters.com/business/meat-packers-profit-margins-jumped-300-during-pandemic-white-house-economics-2021-12-10/

All this might leave one wondering whether there isn't something a little, you know, "conspiracy against the publick"-y going on in Big Meat?

Let me tell you about Agri Stats. Agri Stats has been around since 1985. Every large meat packer pays to be a "member" of Agri Stats, and they each submit weekly, detailed statistics about every aspect of their business: all their costs, all their margins, broken out by category. Agri Stats compiles this into phone-book-thick books that each member gets every week, telling them everything about how all of their competitors are running their businesses:

https://www.agristats.com/history

The companies whose data appears in this book are anonymized, but it's trivial to re-identify each supplier. Tyson execs hold regular "naming process" meetings where they go through new books and de-anonymize the data. A Butterball exec confirmed that he "can pick the companies for rankings with 100% certainty."

As David Dayen writes in The American Prospect, these books are incredibly detailed: "bird weights, freezer inventory, and 'head killed per operating hour.'" Within the cozy meat cartels, Agri Stats acts as a clearinghouse that allows every business in the industry to act in concert, running the entire meat-packing sector as a single company:

https://prospect.org/power/2023-10-03-lawsuit-highlights-why-meat-overpriced/

As interesting as the list of Agri Stats members is, the groups that don't get to see Agri Stats' "books" is just as important: "farmers, workers, or retailers." Agri Stats also offers consulting services to its members. As an exec at pork processor Smithfield put it, Agri Stats advice boils down to four words "Just raise your price."

Agri Stats ranks its members based on how high their prices are – they literally publish a league table with the highest prices at the top. Meat packers pay bonuses to their execs based on how high the company's rank is on that table. Agri Stats meets with its members throughout the year to discuss "price opportunities" and to advise them to "exercise restraint" by restricting supply to keep prices up. When one Agri Stats member considered leaving the cartel, Agri Stats wooed them back by telling them how to make an additional $100k by raising bacon prices.

The reason Dayen is writing about Agri Stats now is that the DoJ Antitrust Division has brought an antitrust suit against them. This is part of a wave of antitrust actions brought by Biden's DoJ and FTC, who, along with his NLRB, are shaping up to be the most pugnacious, public-interest force against corporate power since the Reagan administration:

https://www.meatpoultry.com/articles/29124-doj-sues-agri-stats-for-complicity-in-meat-market-manipulation

All this enforcement isn't a coincidence. It comes from an explicit rejection of neoliberalism's core tenets: inequality reflects merit, monopolies are efficient, and government can't do anything. In Biden's DoJ, FTC and NLRB, they're partying like it's 1979:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/party-its-1979-og-antitrust-back-baby

What's amazing about the Agri Stats conspiracy to raise prices is that it's been going since the Reagan administration. It's a smoking gun proof that "consumer welfare" never cared about price-fixing and robbing the public (can a gun still smoke after 40 years?). There was never a time when consumer welfare antitrust cared about consumer welfare. It was always and forever a front for "a conspiracy against the publick," a "contrivance to raise prices."

Big Meat has been robbing America for two generations. Some of those stolen funds were used to corrupt our political process. The meat sector gets $50 billion in public subsidies and still gouges us on prices and rips off its suppliers:

https://www.ewg.org/news-insights/news/2022/02/usda-livestock-subsidies-near-50-billion-ewg-analysis-finds

Which means that it's possible that we're simultaneously being ripped off with meat prices and that meat prices are artificially low. Try and wrap your head around that one!

The do-nothing, pro-monopoly neoliberal antitrust is a virus that spread around the world. The EU's antitrust laws were reshaped to mirror American laws after the war through the Marshall Plan, but since the late 1970s, European lawmakers and enforcers have ignored their own laws (just like their American counterparts) and encouraged monopolies as "efficient."

This Made-in-Europe oligopoly, combined with energy and grain shocks from Russian invasion of Ukraine, created the perfect storm for European greedflation. As food prices spiked across the EU, Austrian hacktivist Mario Zechner set out to investigate Austrian grocers' pricing. Using the grocers' own APIs, he was able to compile and analyze a dataset of prices at Austrian grocers:

https://www.wired.com/story/heisse-preise-food-prices/

When Zechner open-sourced his project, collaborators showed up to expand the project across other EU countries, and an anonymous party donated a huge database of prices stretching back to 2017. The data reveals clear collusion among the grocers, who raise prices in near-lockstep, and use gimmicks like cyclic price drops to hide their collusion:

https://github.com/badlogic/heissepreise

Not every grocer has an API, and even the ones that do have APIs could easily block Zechner and co from accessing their data. When that happens, they could – and should – turn to scraping to continue their project. They should also scrape grocers elsewhere, including in Canada, where grocers rigged the price of bread:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/25/deep-scrape/#steering-with-the-windshield-wipers

Because Big Meat's "conspiracy against the publick" isn't unique to meat. It's in all our food, it's in all our goods, it's in all our services. The fact that the meat industry was able to rob American buyers, ranchers and farmers for two generations under a 200' tall neon sign that blinked "AGRI STATS AGRI STATS AGRI STATS" night and day is frankly astonishing.

But there's never just one ant. If the meatheads running Big Meat were able to do this in broad daylight since the NES years, imagine what all the other industries were able to get up to in the shadows.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/04/dont-let-your-meat-loaf/#meaty-beaty-big-and-bouncy

My next novel is The Lost Cause, a hopeful novel of the climate emergency. Amazon won't sell the audiobook, so I made my own and I'm pre-selling it on Kickstarter!

#pluralistic #meat #monoopoly #price fixing #antitrust #austria #mario zechner #scraping #adversarial interoperability #greedflation #price inflation #market power #david dayen #agri stats #meat packers

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