One of the best things about being a writer is thinking of something small you can add to your work that’s just. Devastating. Like you’re sitting there going. Oh. That would be diabolical. People would get really riled up about that. Exquisite. Let’s do it.

I hate when I say things like "oh I want an ipod classic but with bluetooth so I can use wireless headphones" and some peanut comes in and replies with "so a smartphone with spotify?" No. I want a 160GB+ rectangular monstrosity where I can download every version of every song I want to it and it does nothing except play music and I don't need a data connection and don't have to pay a subscription to not have ads and don't have popups suggesting terrible AI playlists all over the menus.

Gimme the clicky wheel and song titles like "My Chemical Romance- The Black Parade- Blood (Bonus Track)- secret track- album rip- high quality"

*shane and ilya hugging, very early relationship days, prob at the cottage*

shane: squeeze me

ilya: what

shane: just. squeeze me. really tight.

ilya: *squeezes*

shane: tighter than that, come on

ilya: *squeezing a little harder* better?

shane: no. like. seriously, use all your strength.

ilya: i could hurt you, no?

shane: you won't, i promise. please just. tighter.

ilya: *squeezes shane as tight as he possibly can, grimacing a bit as he does it*

shane, groaning: thank fuck. do you have any idea how long i've waited to have someone strong enough to do this for me who isn't my dad

to me, there's an innate horror in tradwife content. it's always a pretty young girl in her late teens, early 20s. she's so young. she's basically a baby herself. maybe she's about your age. you just watch it happen. you can't save her.

either way, she always has at least three kids, sometimes more. you don't want to ask when she had them, but she had to have them young because her youngest had to have been born when she was at least seventeen based on how time works. you just watch it happen. you can't save her.

she's smiling but there's something missing in her eyes - a spark that should be there. there's no passion, there's just the movements of the day. sometimes she'll give an interview where she says she barely feels like getting out of bed, and other times she says nothing. you just watch it happen. you can't save her.

her world isn't real - it's neat kitchens and made from scratch cheese. she tells you how she doesn't need feminism because she likes this life, she likes wearing pretty dresses, don't you dare pity her. you just watch it happen. you can't save her.

you scroll up to an ex tradewife in her forties talking about how her husband divorced her and left her for a younger girl, leaving her destitute and penniless and twenty years out of the workforce. you scroll again to a pretty young girl saying she doesn't need a job, her husband will take care of her. you scroll again. you just watch it happen. you can't save her.

another woman, this time in her early thirties, talking about how she just managed to leave her abusive husband and has nothing and he took the kids, warning and pleading young girls to not fall for tradwife lies. you scroll again to a young tradwife girl saying that would never happen to her, and you're just jealous of her. you just watch it happen. you can't save her.

you scroll again. a teen girl tells you that she'll just track her period, she doesn't NEED a toxic chemical like birth control. you scroll again to an obgyn pleading with young girls to understand birth control is just hormonal, and that period tracking isn't effective. you just watch happen. you can't save her.

you scroll again, and it's jd vance saying how women belong in the homes and shouldn't be allowed to vote. that their husbands should decide how they should vote. you scroll again to a domestic abuse counselor telling women their vote is private and they can lie to their husbands. you just watch it happen. you can't save her.

she doesn't want you to save her. how dare you pity her. you just watch it happen. you can't save her. a horrible feeling washes over you. you just watch it happen.

BIG D!CK! Steve x reader

S5! Big Dick! Steve Harrington x reader WARNING: short one-shot, smut ahead! 18+ CONTENT, rough sex, praise kink, dirty talk, choking, unprotected sex, end of the world sex for Steve. Couldn't resist this. . .

"Between you and me," he said, his voice falling so low it became hard to hear through the glass, "I didn't think he had it in him."

Her face remained carefully neutral, "The mission or the volunteering?"

"No! Not the mission, no. Hell, he might have been more prepared than Martin and Annie. I'm sure you made sure of that." Something sharp slipped through underneath his laugh, but just as quickly it was sheathed and put away. "Very clever man. You always did put a lot of faith in him. Even when he wouldn't do the same himself."

"Modesty never suited him," she said. He hummed in agreement.

"But volunteering..." he whistled, shaking his head. "I mean, we were horribly unlucky. It all happened so fast. Sacrificing yourself with that little time to consider it takes courage. And well, you remember how Dr. Grace was."

"A coward?"

He raised his hands defensively, "Now you said it, not me! But... a little, yes. What is that American expression again—"

He drummed his fingers on his knee before lighting up. "Scaredy-cat!" he said, Russian accent wrapping thickly around the vowels. "That's him. Like a skittish cat. A good man—one of our best. But not a brave one. Not the stuff heroes are usually made of."

She pressed her lips together and rested her chin on her hands. "If anything it does him an honour. I hear they're already planning a memorial in San Francisco?"

"Yes. I will be attending," he murmured. He shook his head. "Funerals for the living. That is the world we live in, Ms Stratt."

They grew quiet. He blinked rapidly and grimaced, looking away. Suddenly, he burst into laughter. "Ah, damn him! I wish I could've said goodbye. Is that selfish?"

"Of course not," she said. Another scab fell loose. She pressed her thumb into her palm to stop the bleeding.

"He goes to save us all and I'm mad at him. But he was a friend. I wish the last time I saw his face wasn't while he was looking at me like a cornered animal."

"He was still afraid," she said, looking down at her hands. "Up to the very last moment. That's why he asked us to induce the coma early. Trust me, doctor, you wouldn't have wanted this. Neither of you."

They both gave the other a moment, eyes either shut tightly or resting vacantly somewhere above the other's head. A hand wiping across a face. The picking of a scab under a fingernail. A throat cleared.

"Well. As I said. Scaredy-cat." He wiped at his eyes, attempting a smile. "Cats like to go off to die on their own, I suppose."

Her nails bit into the meat of her palms. She said nothing.

Robert's a 𝓶𝓾𝓷𝓬𝓱

A/N: The engagement from the last piece was very motivating. So basically, this is y'alls fault. Enjoy the debauchery! Also, I made a banner. Go me, teehee (ﾉ≧ڡ≦).

I guess this is my first truly detailed smut writing. As always, engagement is appreciated. Reblogs, notes, and likes are great. Check out my other work here. Check out my short Robert Fic too. There's also a pt.2 and pt.3. Requests are open lovelies. Got a fresh ko-fi as well.

Warnings: MDNI. Smut. Female reader. AFAB reader. Cunnilingus. Referring to female genitals as she. Pet names. Filth under the cut.

— i promise none of this is a metaphor | clark kent

+ clark kent x f!reader

This has to be the best bad idea you’ve had in a while.

Is it completely delusional? Probably. 

Is that going to stop you from seeing it through? Absolutely not.

Clark is at the door; hair messier than usual, a white t-shirt delightfully clinging to every cut and crease, and a bag slung over his shoulder. His glasses rest on the bridge of his perfect nose, hiding his brilliant blue eyes as usual.

“I’m here,” he declares, a little throatily, and you suppress a smile.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” you reply, letting your gaze linger on the fit of the t-shirt before flashing him a cheeky grin.