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what im learning from my years of being one of the annoying woke black people on here is that a Lot of white and nonblack people really do not understand what racism is and what it has done to African Americans. like when we learn abt it in schools they dont really tell you abt the mass rape and genocide and torture of Africans by white slave owners, they dont talk abt the murder of babies and the cannibalism either. its all in The Past so we should just get over it, lol. and then when nonamerican's colonial past gets brought up they start throwing tantrums too, because antiblackness is a global thing, many countries have exploited Africa and its people. this isnt unique to one nation. its so funny how all these Smart Communists are so ignorant abt racism in america and globally, and then when black leftist/progressive tumblr users try to say anything abt their real actual Lived Experiences as Black people its met with dismissal and hatred and condescension and Um, Actually, im not from america, can you talk to me like im 5 about racism please :) and if youre anything but Nice they will call you a slur
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one last fuck, to be more exact, between you and vacation!price before the world and callings from home forced you back into the unforgiving grips reality… work and grocery shopping and paying bills. all the things john swears he would very much pay someone else to do for you while he’s paused mid-thrust. belly rising and falling against your back as he huffs out the gruff promises. flexing himself inside you at the same time he grabs for handfuls of your sides. palms hungry.
a thick sound grunts out of you when john collapses on top of you, his cock slicks the remaning veined legnth inside you. you curse, eyes trying not to roll when the man readjusts, somehow sinking himself deeper, head nudging against a place that warms you well past the capabilities of the setting sun.
“oh, my g-god.” you gasp. and then gasp again, reaching but failing to grab onto something as his beard drags along the skin of your shoulder.
“i mean it, dove. give y’anything ya like. get ya set up real nice. a house. dog. whatever you want… jus’ come home with me.” john’s vows come out low, just at the shell of your ear. in between each sentence, a long, dragged-out drive of his hips. always concluded with a smacking of his sack, heavy with need, and a squeezing of john’s embrace around your shivering, sweaty figure. he’s holding you like you’re already his. as if you’ve already agreed to leaving all you know by replacing it with him. john fucks you the same way, raw and sticky skin and to pattern of silent claims. “and just think… we can do this every night, ’n then some. keep y’nice ’n full. drunk on me, yeah?”
with blurred vision, you mumble and nod. drunk on him. drunk on the way he’s fucking you from behind, smushing you under him. drunk on the very recent memory of how you sucked him until he painted your mouth, then the feeling of his fingers swiping against your swollen lips to rub in the thick seed. drunk on the pants at your ear and the cream you can feel forming a ring at the base of john’s cock. drunk on the possibility of feeling like this again and again.
tears in your eyes, you clench at the building of hot pressure that has you barely able to breathe. john’s really taking you now. less rambly and more focused, hips striking your ass, pumping inside you with deep desperation. he’s got you pinned and closer enough to wail at how his weight won’t let you do anything but take it.
“ah… f-fuck. go-gonna come again… i–john…” your croaks tug a smirk at the man's lips.
“s'alright. go ‘head ’n come if it’s a yes, dove.”
with a croak, you gush and cry around john, who’s already wondering what color to paint the bedroom.
for those unaware today india experienced one of its biggest protests in half a decade. there were protests all over the nation for various causes but the major one was in delhi. all we asked for was the resignation of the education minister because he's failed the students of this nation time & time again. but we were met with brutality, the police had barricaded the main site of protest (jantar mantar). metro stations were shutdown, the public was restrained from reaching the protest site and all the adjoining areas had signal jammers to make sure the crowd had no access to constant updates. they had us blocked from all the sides. they were lathi (baton) charging students from one side & releasing tear gas from the other. you couldn't walk 100 m on streets without having a tear gas shell thrown at you. there were many students, women & kids bleeding — some from their head. some couldn't walk anymore. the police had removed their nameplates & acted with full impunity to resort to unprecedented levels of violence. they were pelting stones at us, beating up people for no reason, forcefully detaining them and attacking us constantly with tear gas & rubber bullets. they wouldn't let you exit either. the crowd was peaceful & looking out for each other yet they were met with violence. i made a friend who was all alone & she asked to join me & my friend because a policeman wouldn't leave her alone. he constantly prodded her for personal info, invited her back to the jeep saying they have food there, wouldn't stop following her around. you couldn't call or ask anyone for help, we were left to fend for ourselves & be on a constant lookout if you did not want to be beaten up to death by police. all for what? asking a resignation? shame on this country.
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treating whitaker like a blorbo will always be indicative to me that a tumblr user has underlying misogynistic and racist biases like you people would say a broken chopstick dredged out of an nyc sewer was transmasc coded and had religious trauma if it was white