Tyler tells me, public infrastructure is a path to public destruction.
Imagine a disease hitting a city population numbering in the millions, all biblical plague, and only those on private wells don't come out the other side drooling and pissing through an artificial kidney.
The power in owning land, Tyler says, is nothing except the illusion of having rights in your part and parcel scrap of government leasing.
If you're rich, solar panels, a wood burner, and a private well are a novelty and a navel gaze towards the future.
Otherwise, it's a code violation.
The reality of it is that not enough of them actually care to exercise this power they have.
One day, Tyler showed me where the fuses are on the powerlines. Like a huge paperclip holding two sheets of lightning together, all neat and obvious.
Electricians can't wear plastic because it will melt into their skin. Almost everything we wear is made of plastic, now, so those clothes are special order.
If you touch a powerline, a minimum of 600 volts will lance through your hand, burning a hole through your flesh. Electricity always has an exit wound, and it might be your foot. This damage is mimicked in your internal organs, so it might also be in your heart.
Tyler tossed me a hot stick and told me to get at it.
The thing about Tyler's burgeoning interest in the public good is, once I started seeing it all, I can't stop.
Wellhouses. Watertowers. Lift stations. If I had a pair of bolt cutters I could make sure the shit never leaves silicon valley for months.
Tyler croons, he tells me we've grown too big. We shit in our water and we drink our shit. You can't buy your way out, because're we're putting it right back down in the ground. Imagine all the water for the next thousand years, five hundred years in deficit already and cut with industrial sludge. Even the private wells can't run from that.
Tyler says, really, what we're doing is a kindness. It's all going to come falling apart, and if we do it now, maybe there will be something left to build from afterwards.
At the rate we're going, there won't even be kudzu to creep up the Sears tower.
It's all with a gentle fact, the things Tyler says. Like there's no reason to be worried, or to try bothering to convince me. Tyler's never tried to convince me of anything.
He knows I'd never doubt him. Or maybe he just doesn't care. I don't factor in to his vision of the world imploding in on itself, the ruptured veins of civilization spewing water and sewage out into the streets.
Fuses can be put back rather easily. They're a nuisance call. They're supposed to blow. County workers report a startlingly high monthly total of overcurrents, no one else bats an eye.
Tyler's got thoughts about becoming a bloodclot next.
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@tilltheendwilliwrite
It didn't matter.
Not that you cared what anyone thought.
Especially not him.
Not like there was anything going on between the two of you.
There definitely wasn't.
There never was.
You didn't look forward to seeing him strut through the building, hands shoved into pockets or busy moving around. His hands were distracting, almost as much as his eyes or the way he smirked. You dropped your head, letting it thunk to the desktop in front of you, scurrying to catch your cup when it teeters thanks to the motion.
Maybe he wouldn't notice?
But he had noticed when you had dyed your hair…
You needed to get some work done, maybe it would help, distracting yourself, and even if he did notice you could keep yourself busy enough to not notice his reaction.
It didn't matter.
But then he walked in.
Brock Rumlow.
And YOU noticed. You noticed when he slowed, that intense stare stopping on you. The way he ignored Jack as the guy kept talking, Brock's head slowly cocking to the side, lips pursing.
He didn't like it.
You felt sick. A stone sinking into your gut. You had done it out of sheer boredom, you had fucked with it since you hadn't done that in forever and now…
"Oh god.." you squeaked as he started towards you. It took all of five strides, long legs worked like that and you hadn't had enough wherewithal to push away from your desk and run away.
"You cut your hair," he bit out leaning a hip against your desk.
You couldn't stop yourself, reaching up to grasp at the end of your hair, not too short, not really, just shorter than what you had before. "I- yes I did. It's nice, quick and easy to care for…. Is it- do you not…?"
Brock watched you stumble over your words, eyes gleaming in a way you couldn't read, he leaned down close, eyebrow raising as he made an over dramatic show of inspecting it. You fought the urge to jerk away when he reached out and tucked an errant strand behind your ear, your breath escaping in a small gasp. Just short enough.
Brock shrugged thick shoulders, "suits you," he offered watching as you smiled up at him from your seat, he liked the way you looked up at him, the way you looked so innocent and the thoughts that brought up. He sighed heavily, leaning in closer, so that he could whisper his next choice of words, "still long enough to pull," he hummed under his breath, low enough that nobody else could hear and just for you. You shivered at the way his voice seemed to burn through your veins and pool low in your gut, eyes widening at his choice of words and making your brain stop working.
Brock smirked as he straightened and took in your wide eyed expression, the way you lips parted yet you made no noise. He wondered if you would be that quiet under him or if you'd be a little louder? "That's a good look on ya," he growled, shoving his hands in his pockets before he did something like tug your hair to see if he could get you to make a noise in the middle of the damned office.
You blinked and realized he had walked away, Jack following along and cracking into hard laughter. He had said that. He. Had. Said. THAT?! THAT had definitely just happened.
Theirs a line from a stand up bit from a comedian Bill Burr (highly recommend it the guy is the inheritor of George Carlins sense of humor) in his bit he talks about Feminism and how he knows it’s going to fail because despite the fact every scientific study shows women are smarter than men women can’t unite. Women don’t support the WNBA and would rather watch trash shows like Real House Wives, which is just a bunch of women tearing each other apart. He says that that’s the message women are sending “where are all the feminists?! That place should be packed with feminists!” They don’t want to watch women come together as a unit and achieve a common goal, they would rather watch them destroy each other. The WNBA is failing and those women aren’t making money because they’re not turning a profit for the nearly a quarter of a century, it’s a male subsidized league, men gave women a league and no one is showing up. He then went on to talk about how feminist successfully managed to remove bombshell models from advertising and replaced them with average looking models, they don’t turn and eye and no one knows who they are. He quotes a line you’ve probably heard a million times “how am I supposed to compete with that?” and his answer was both straightforward and packed with frustration over that statement “you can’t! How conceited are you?! These are 1 in a million types of women with so much money backing them! No man watches a movie and then Chis Hemsworth shows up shirtless and thinks ‘fuck how am I supposed to compete with that?!’ you’re not going to, it doesn’t happen!” it just encapsulates everything wrong with this generation of feminism. It’s less about womens rights and more of a council of bitter, jealous women using a civil rights group to tear into each other. It’s honestly really sad and when he frames it like he did it’s hard to argue that feminism won’t fail, because they keep sending the message that they hate each other.
A/N: this... Got out of hand. I hope it is good. Its RPF, but fictions so dont come at me just keep scrolling.
WARNINGS: SMUT. MINORS DNI. The sex happens. NO UNDER 18
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“I said don’t touch me, and I meant it. I’m not going to put up with it just to be polite.”
His large hand wrapped around your forearm, pulling you flush against his body forcing you to tip your head back to look up at him. "Did I give you permission to speak?" He asked in a demanding tone, delivering the line perfectly, thick brows drawn together and expression thunderous.
It wasn't the first time your friend had you stupefied at his talent, how easily he slipped into character and each one made just for him. This character was more than you could handle, the demanding voice, the way he carried himself, the dominating nature; it left you breathless and you regretted agreeing to running lines with him.
Henry gave you a wolfish grin as your eyes widened and you gaped at him. How many times had he invited you over to help him with preparing for his roles? Everytime he thought you would understand but always you pulled back and honestly this time? He saw the way your breath caught, felt the way you leaned into him, saw the way your eyes dilated.
"I think you got it Hen," you stepped back and he reluctantly let you go. You laughed softly as you stepped back, attempting to get your breathing under control. "Who got the role opposite you?" You asked, looking away, thumbs hooking in your jeans pockets.
"Ahhh, that woman, I guess they like the way we look together," he watched you for a moment before clearing his throat making you look at him. "Do me a favor?" Your brows rose in question, he grinned at you- patting his shoulder.
You nodded, moving to the couch where you kicked your converse off and climbed up. Henry chuckled softly waiting for you to sit up above the seat cushions and he sat in front of you between your legs. You set to work, kneading his thick shoulder with your hands and knuckles, "don't they offer you free massages? I mean, rich people get free shit right?"
"Now why would I want to do that when I can have you do this?" He asked, wrapping his hands around your ankles. You kicked lightly, a reminder of how ticklish you were and this prompted him to run his fingers along your foot.
"Hen-" it was a warning, he had known you long enough. You tugged at his ear when he did it again, "we are not going to start that."
"Why not?"
You ran your hands along his neck, smiling when he leaned into your touch, "you should really get a professional to do this…"
"You are a professional."
"Not a professional massage person, more like your slave."
"Is that right? Then you have to do as I say?" He grinned as you snorted softly before tugging at his hair, he ran his fingers along your ankles in retaliation.
You muffled a laugh, jerking your feet further back and out of his reach before getting back to working his shoulders. Silence fell between the two of you and Henry let his eyes close, enjoying the feel of your small hands on his back, he leaned into you. "I am glad you took this role, let's you keep all these curls!" You ran your hands into them, surprised when his breath left him in a sudden whoosh. "That feel good?" You asked, swallowing nervously as he nodded before repeating the action.
"Keep doing that Y/N and you might regret it," he warned quietly, head tilting into your fingers.
You slid your hands back down to his shoulders. Safe. You should be safe, but… you couldn't help it, you had always loved his curls. He growled as you ran your fingers along the nape of his neck, his head falling forwards, every little noise he made going straight to your gut, fire racing through your veins as muscles shifted beneath your fingertips. You slipped your fingers into soft curly strands, yelping as he wrapped a large thick hand around the back of your knee and tugging, effectively throwing you onto your back.
A little 'oof' escaped you and you brought your knees up almost immediately, surprised when he pressed them aside easily and leaning over you with his large frame. "Henry!"
He nudged your nose with his lips brushing over yours softly, a silent question. He needed to know, no more dancing around the other. You either wanted him or not and he was determined to figure it out.
You gasped, heart thundering against your chest, as he tugged at your knee, pulling you up into him as he ground himself between your legs.
"Feel what you do to me?" The little whimper that left you encouraged him and he crashed his lips over yours, grinning as you returned the kiss with equal fervor. Your hands found their way back into his hair, another growl escaping him as you tugged.
You cried out as he kissed his way down your jaw to your throat, teeth nipping along your skin, hands trailing along your legs, hips rocking into yours.
"Too much clothes," he bit out, tugging at your shirt as you reached for his, hands slipping under his tank to search out more skin. Fingertips trailing over hard muscles, over the cut ridges of his abdomen, whispering over warm skin.
Henry pulled back, quickly tugging his tank off before returning to kiss you, hands slipping under your shirt. Thumbs brushing along the edge of your shorts, before moving up along your sides to cup your breasts. You arched into him, flames dancing across your skin as he trailed kisses along your collarbone.
Henry pushed the fabric of your shirt and bra aside, wrapping his mouth around your nipple, cock twitching and throbbing with every little gasp. He sank his teeth into the supple skin of your breast, carefully reaching between the two of you and slipping a hand into the band of your panties, grinning as he ran his fingers along your soaked folds.
"All of this for me?" You draped an arm over your face, "what? Suddenly so shy?" He tutted, pulling your hand away, "watch me… such pretty little noises," you cried out as he sank two fingers in, "ahh sweetheart, feel that.."
You bit down on your lip, face heating as he watched you, watched your reaction as he curled his fingers, slowly pumping them in and out of you, as you lifted your hips, mouth falling open. You watched as he pulled his fingers from you and brought them to his mouth. Heat pooling and curling deep within you. "Your right-" you croaked, he cocked his head, fingers still in his mouth. "Too much god damned clothes.
He laughed, "let me remedy that," you squealed as he worked quickly and efficiently, ridding you of your clothing within seconds.
Your breath halted at the sight of him, cock hard and leaking precum, a little whine escaping you as he pressed up along your folds. "Henry… stop teasing!"
He pressed his lips to yours as he pressed into you, stretching you slowly, you groaned softly, dragging your nails along his shoulders as he took his time sinking deeper into you. He rocked back and forth, hips pressing your legs wide open, thick thighs pressing up against the back of yours as he drove in faster with little grunts.
"Fuck," he wanted to be careful, take his time, but then you hooked your leg around his waist lifting your hips to meet his thrusts and the way your eyes widened when he wrapped a hand around your throat- a devilish grin appeared. "Is that it?" He asked, tightening his hold and you moaned, "look at how flustered you are," he snapped his hips, pleased at the way your tits bounces with the move, repeating it as you circled your hips, walls clenching down on his thick cock. You gasped as he sped his pace, eyes rolling back as he reached between you and pinched your little nub.
It was too much, you lifted your hips, his grip tightened, and the growl… "Hen-! Angh!"
He smirked as he sank in completely, "go on honey, go on and cum for me?"
It was enough to tip you over the edge, body tightening as you cried out, an explosion of stars behind your lids as you came undone.
Henry nearly came as you tightened around him before your body relaxed, "oh my little ragdoll," he pressed down into you, hips snapping into yours chasing his own orgasm. "You with me sweetheart?" A little hum was your answer, all you could manage, "gonna come, wanna fill you, come deep inside you-"
"Please!"
Henry groaned at your desperate little plea, at how absolutely wrecked you looked beneath him, everything he had waited for and now… now… now he growled low and deep as he rutted into you, thick hot ropes of come filling you as he cried out.
You smirked against his shoulder as he panted, holding himself above you. "I think that was…"
"Fucking fantastic-"
You giggled, squirming under him as he nibbled on your shoulder. "Henry-" you could feel him still buried deep inside you. "You cant-"
"Oh, sweetheart… that was just the beginning. You've made me wait long enough."
You felt heat rush through your veins as you tugged at his curls and a low growl answered. "Fuck-!"
