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megamindsecretlair · 9 months

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Been an (Awful) Good Girl

Pairing: Rich!Tre x Babygirl!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

*This is separate from Mr. Black but with a similar style. Can be read as a future imagine for these two.

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. This shit rated PORN. Established relationship. PWP, cursing, PIV, fingering and oral (fem receiving), edging, orgasm control, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, size kink, daddy and breeding kink if you squint, roleplaying as Santa, all consensual.

Summary: Tre has taken you away to a cabin in the mountains for a romantic getaway. He roleplays as Santa so he can shimmy down your chimney.

Word Count: 4,653k

A/N: Chile, ya'll can blame this good ass edible and @planetblaque for this one! Sweet lordt. I had to take SEVERAL breaks. Don't look at me for this one. I'm not responsible for what the jazz cabbage provides. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Masterlist if you're interested about Mr. Black!

Tagging the folks who love Mr. Black: @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @honeyoriginalz @blackerthings @sevikasblackgf @henneseyhoe @miyahmaraj @pinkpantheris @my1onlysenpai @darqchilddaydreamz @badassdoll @playgurlxoxo @eggnox @abeautifulmindexposed @theyscreamsannii @melaninpov @mcdesij @kholdkill @blowmymbackout @theunsweetenedtruth @monaeesstuff @cocoeffects @soft-persephone @duckiesfairy @slippinninque @prettypink-princesss @westside-rot @the-crystal-one

A heavy thud made you gasp with excitement and fear as you headed down the stairs. A man dressed as Santa bent over near the Christmas tree, inspecting the presents there and leaving a few more. You tip-toed further down the stairs until you reached the bottom landing, placing your hand on your hips.

“I hope you’re leaving a good present for me,” you said.

Santa straightened up and turned around slowly, revealing a thick ebony-skinned man. He wore Santa pants with unlaced black boots. Santa’s coat hung open revealing a wide expanse of sexy midnight skin. Rock hard abs was under a subtle layer of fat. There was a Santa hat hanging loosely on his head. He was a man.

God and it killed you every day that you got to love on this man. That he was yours to do whatever you wanted with.

“That depends. Have you been a good girl?” The deep timbre of his voice only added to how aroused you were. When he suggested this getaway to a mountain cabin, you thought that he was out of his rabbit ass mind. Black folk didn’t “do” cabins.

However, you couldn’t resist all the things he’d been teasing you with all week. Every day, he’d whisper something else naughty that he was going to do to you leading up to Christmas. He detailed everything he was going to do as if it were its own treasured present.

All week, he had been edging you, playing with the outermost edges of your clit and pussy. He’d get you so hot and bothered that you thought you’d cum from his voice alone. No matter how many times you begged and pleaded, he refused to allow you to cum. He would whisper all kinds of dirty shit.

When you got to the cabin, he stayed true to his word. Except that he’d edged you more. You were sexually frustrated and you wanted dick right now.

“I’ve been an awful good girl,” you said with a sultry grin.

Santa absently rubbed his stomach as he crooked his finger and you walked closer to him.

He had done a good job of getting the cabin ready for you both. He did all the research, ran it by you for approval, and set to work getting it set up for Christmas. The tree was understated and beautiful with copper and blue baubles. A Black angel in gold robes sat atop the tree with lights lit in her hands.

He had a fire going in the hearth now, warming the entire first floor. It was a good thing too. You were not accustomed to the freezing temperatures in the mountains. The day time wasn’t so bad. But at night? You were shivering your ass off upstairs.

Santa licked his lips as you approached, looking over your outfit for the day. You practically cackled while you were in the store, spending all his money on lingerie. Tonight, you chose a forest green teddy, with gold straps across your hips. It showed off the planes of your belly and connected in the back. It was flimsy and you felt incredibly sexy in it.

By the look in his eyes, it was very much appreciated. He grabbed your hand and made you do a spin for him. You moved your hips dramatically, like a model to show him exactly what he’s been teasing all week.

“Good girls usually stay sleep when Santa comes to visit,” he said. He pulled your hips backwards so that your ass could grind into his hard dick. You bit your lip and suppressed a shudder. You were so needy, you’d suck his dick till the morning if only he’d let you cum already. He grazed your left ear with his teeth.

“I’m too curious,” you said.

He chuckled and you felt the vibration down your back. Did this man have any clue how fucking sexy he was? He had to. He had to know that you were down bad for him.

“Too curious about your presents? That’s very naughty,” he said, drawing out the word. His teeth on your ear were sending electrical currents straight to your pussy. You ached. You needed stimulation and you were tired of waiting. He was a mean asshole but he wasn’t typically this cruel. You didn’t know which side of the bed he woke up on, but he needed to switch up real quick before you got pissed and didn’t want to play anymore.

You took a few deep breaths to calm down. You were too excited. Your teddy was already growing damp. That was just at the promise of dick.

“I’ve been good all year. Can’t I take a little peak?” You asked.

“Hmm, how ‘bout you come sit on Santa’s lap and tell him what you want. Let’s see if Santa got it right this year,” he said in your ear.

He stepped away from you and dragged a chair closer. The cabin was so quaint and adorable like all them cheesy ass Hallmark movies. The chair was antique, lovingly restored with a dark stain on it. You were nervous to defile it so crudely, but whatever. Shit wasn’t going to last forever.

He sat down and slapped your ass. You shrieked, not expecting the bite of pain. You looked over your shoulder at him and he gave you a saucy wink. He spread his legs wide enough for you to squeeze your luscious body in between. You sat on his lap, feeling his dick again. You were turned on, he was turned on, was all of this really necessary?

You knew better than to question him. Once he got an idea in his head, it took damn near a miracle to get him to switch it up.

The fabric of his clothes were plush. You settled on his lap and he pulled your hips back until you were all the way on him. He tapped your thighs to get you to hang them over his, leaving you just as spread as he was. More so, since your legs dangled outside of his.

The heat of the fireplace slammed into you, fighting with the heat from inside of you. Your breaths were growing too ragged and painful in your chest. “Nuh-uh, breathe baby girl,” he said. “I ain’t even touch you yet.”

He was right. He thought he was always right but in this instance, he really was right. You took deep breaths, looking into the real flames behind the black grate. Santa’s hands rubbed over your thighs and you gasped, jerking away from him.

He continued to rub your thighs, getting you used to his touch. If you didn’t calm down soon, you were going to burst into little tiny pieces. His hands worked inwards, getting closer to your pussy and you began to grind on his dick. You used the arm rests for support.

You couldn’t help it. You needed to move, to ride. You needed some damn friction. “Tell Santa what you wanted this year. Anything that pops into that pretty empty head,” he said in your ear.

He returned to nibbling on it. You started and stopped multiple times. The heat began to duel in earnest now, sweat gathering on your forehead and in between your breasts. “Since I’ve been so good, I want a new car,” you said.

He knew you had a really hard time asking for shit. He made good money and he liked taking care of you but every single purchase was a small battle of wills. You always lost, but he was getting sick of the guilt you felt over each purchase.

His project this year was to get you to ask for the most outrageous things so that his gifts were “small” in comparison. Last year, his project was to make you rest. He whisked you away for an entire year and refused to let you do anything but sleep and hop on his dick.

“What kind of car?” He asked. “Be specific.”

You whimpered as his pinky fingers played with the very edge of your teddy. It skimmed the sensitive skin in the crease of your legs and you gyrated again, unable to stop.

“I-I want a Range Rover Evoque, Black, 2024 model,” you said. He moved his fingers closer. If he went a bit farther, his fingers would finally rub on your clit.

You were having a hard time breathing. You were out of air as your brain turned fuzzy. Maybe it was the lack of oxygen. Maybe it was how turned on you were. You weren’t sure and didn’t care to know.

“Tell Santa why you want it,” he said.

You weren’t sure it was safe for a human body to contain so much heat. You flushed with it, as if it were a wall of pressure inside of you. You huffed. “It’s simple and unassuming. But has all wheel drive that I can take anywhere,” you said.

“Where you trynna go?” He asked.

“To our winter house in Northern France. A chateau with a huge green house I can visit and walk around all the new plants. Then it has to have a garden too. So big I could get lost in it,” you moaned.

He moved his fingers over the lace covering your clit. That tiny strip of fabric was all that separated you from his fingers. You wished the fireplace would leap out a tiny flame and burn the fabric away. You hated being teased and the bastard knew it.

“That’s my girl,” he said. He moved his right hand and slipped it under your teddy. He groaned when he burrowed his fingers in between your soaked folds.

“I don’t know. You still might end up on the naughty list. Do good girls let Santa play with their pussy?” He asked.

You nodded and shivered. Tingles shot up and down your thighs. Your toes curled around his calves. He was trying to kill you. He was actively committing murder and you were letting him. “Yes. Santa has to be taken care of too, right?” You asked.

“What if I had a Mrs. Clause?” He asked.

“Then she’d be having a very lonely Christmas considering it’s my pussy you’re playing with,” you said.

Santa chuckled and removed his fingers. “Wait! No!” You cried.

He moaned while he licked his lips. Smacked his lips. “Good girls don’t have filthy mouths, baby girl,” he said.

“Wait, I’m sorry. I’ll be good!”

“Tell me what else you want and maybe I’ll go back to playing with it,” he said.

You grunted in frustration. You were going to get his ass back for this. When he least expected it. Maybe the next time he showered, you were going to drop to your knees and suck him to the point of cumming. Then you were going to stop and make him suffer like he made you suffer all week.

The thought helped you plan your next ask. “I want a private island. With a private plane I can take whenever I want,” you said.

“A private island, huh? With on site staff?” He asked.

“Yes!” You ground into him based on that hit of gravel in his throat. He wasn’t entirely immune to what you were doing. He liked to act a big game, but he wasn’t made of steel. Although with that thing between his legs…

“What you gon’ do with this private island?” He asked.

“Walk on the beach naked,” you said with a grin. He couldn’t see you, but your words hit their mark. His hips slipped forward. He chuckled.

“Oh, we got jokes tonight,” he said.

You shuddered. “Fuck,” you panted. “I will walk around naked, get in the water naked. I might even lay on my beach and fuck myself with my fingers.” You moved your hand to do just that. Fuck him. He pushed you too far this time.

His fingers searched for your wet heat, pushing inside and you cried out. You leaned your head back, leaning on his shoulder. You were at an odd angle, your back curved a touch too far. You didn’t care. He was finally touching you.

Your pussy clenched around his fingers as he dipped three in at once. “Oh fuck! Oh fuck,” you moaned. Your right hand reached back to grip his bicep. The muscles squeezed and you held on by digging your nails in.

“I can definitely deliver on some of them things. But I think what I got you is much better. That’s if I decide you’ve been good,” he said.

You didn’t give a fuck what he said. You were grinding on his fingers while he pumped them inside you. Your arousal made you grip his fingers and he groaned at the extra pressure. “Nahh, you been too naughty. Talking back, disobeying orders, potty mouth.”

You whined. “Please, I’ll do anything,” you panted.

“Anything?” He whispered in your ear. You nodded, wiggling your hips. Fuck! His fingers weren’t enough!

“Sit on my face then,” he said.

Your hips stuttered as his words sunk in. He couldn’t be serious. “I don’t want to squish–”

“I die, I die,” he said.

You laughed despite yourself. “I’d miss you too much if you did,” you said. Fuck. You wanted his dick and he wasn’t going to make it easy. How did he know you so well?

“Okay, okay,” you agreed. Fuck it. Santa chuckled as he withdrew his fingers again. He sucked on them, groaning at your taste. The small room was filled with the scent of your arousal. The thick musk tickled your nose. You felt naughty as hell. Okay, maybe there was something to this role playing business.

You stood up and the chair scooted across the hardwood floor, grooves be damned. Before the hearth, there was a thick bearskin rug. On top of it, there were two other thick blankets with smooth downy fabric.

You knelt down while Santa joined you. He got onto his back. The Santa jacket and boots had come off. His skin flickered with the light of the flames. Shadows played across his chest. You licked your lips as you straddled his chest. He scooted down while you scooted upwards towards his mouth.

Nerves made your hands shake and thighs quake. Your pussy moved over his face and he adjusted himself beneath you. He pressed his nose into your wet core and breathed deeply.

“Fuck,” he groaned. He flicked his thumb over the thin material before yanking your teddy to the side.

“Shit’s so fucking creamy, baby girl,” he said.

You moaned while he pulled you down onto his face. You tried to use your knees to hover, but he was yanking you down anyway so that you literally sat on his face. His tongue started to move, flexing with his jaw. He was in it deep already. His thick beard rubbed your pussy and you moaned uncontrollably.

“Oh my god,” you moaned. Your hands dropped to his head. Your body started to move, riding his face. You were flooding his face with your arousal. It practically dripped out of you and onto his chin, into his beard, and into his mouth.

He moaned while he ate you out. The vibrations made his lips tingle. Pressed against your clit just so, you twitched and were shaking out your release. Your moans bounced in the cozy cabin. You screamed it all out. Such undiluted pleasure had you seeing through the roof and into the starry night sky.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned.

Santa continued to slurp up your essence. The loud sucking made your pussy flutter. “So fuckin’ creamy, shit,” he moaned. Harsh breaths escaped him and you felt slightly guilty. However, not too guilty because fuck that was amazing.

You didn’t have to worry about crushing him or wondering when he would tap out with an apology. Your head was silent for once. You were just a vessel for pleasure and at his mercy.

“Roll over,” he said.

You climbed off of him and flipped onto your back. He moved and leaned up onto his knees, scooting in between your legs and dropped his pants. He pressed his massive thighs against yours, pushing you nearly in half.

He laid down into a push-up style position. His hands were on either side of you, pushing your thighs down even more against your body. He wiggled his hips and the tip of his dick swung lazily over your pussy.

“Oh please, baby. Please, please,” you begged with an edge of panic.

Your feet dangled over his shoulders and you pushed them inward, wrapped around his head. He finally lined up perfectly, and began to sink in slowly.

Your mouth dropped open and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. “Fuck, me!” You moaned.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” he moaned tiredly.

He ought to be fucking tired from all that teasing he did! You bit your lip to keep from cursing him till kingdom come. He knew how long and thick he was. He knew he needed to get you sopping wet before even attempting this shit. But a week? A week of fucking teasing?

Your tight hole squeezed his dick and he moaned, stopping about halfway in. “Breathe for me, baby girl. Breathe and let me into that sexy pussy,” he coaxed with a deep rumble in his chest.

You took deep breaths and willed your body to relax. You were just so excited, you didn’t know how you were still conscious. You relaxed enough for him to keep sliding in deeper. You jerked and moaned as he kissed your cervix. You grunted and groaned, a delicious burn working its way around the edges of your pussy.

Fully seated, he stopped and let you adjust around him. He didn’t wait long to pull out and then slide back in, rougher. Your thighs slapped together like a thunderclap. You panted and your legs shook over his shoulders.

Your hands flew to your knees to keep them closed around him. Otherwise, your legs would drop open and he’d split you in half. On second thought…

You let your knees fall open, opening you wider. Santa grinned, looking between your bodies at where you joined. His jaw worked, gathering spit, and spat on your pussy. An inhuman glint entered his eye as he fucked it into you.

Your moans continued to get louder as he slammed roughly into you. That long dick speared you from the inside out. But he was immediately hitting your G-spot. Your moans turned feral and animalistic as you felt indescribable pleasure.

Your thighs made loud and filthy smacks the harder he clapped your pussy. You gushed on his dick and the sticky suction noise joined the symphony of filth.

“I’m-I’m-I,” you couldn’t speak.

“That’s okay. You let me worry about that. Don’t you want me to feel it?”

You nodded and blinked into his eyes. He looked down at you. “Aww, look at you letting me hit this fuckin’ raw. You been such a filthy slut this year,” he said.

“Shit,” you moaned.

“You hear how hard I’m beating this shit?” He asked.

You could only nod. He licked his lips as he looked at your bouncing breasts, barely held in check by the teddy. “Pussy talkin’ hella loud.”

“Oh my god,” you breathed. You were shaking badly now, twisting and writhing beneath him.

“Mhm, keep talkin’. Keep talkin’ to me.”

You finally let go, the orgasm wrapping a giant hand around you and squeezed the very breath from your lungs. Your mouth worked, but all you let out was a strangled, incoherent moan.

“There it is. Ou, feelin’ so fuckin’ good. You such a filthy little slut, ain’t you? Gettin’ dick from Santa this year. Let me hear that pussy screamin’ for me,” he said.

Your chest continuously caved in as you screamed with pleasure. Screamed to the heavens above that you were getting phenomenal dick that constantly emptied your head of all thoughts. You operated on pure feeling now. The deep, long strong of his dick. The slap of his thighs on yours. His groans and grunts as he watched himself disappear inside of you.

You shook violently on your way down. You pouted a bit. He didn’t cum. You stuck your bottom lip out and he grinned. He leaned down into the pushup, pressing his lips to yours. He dominated your kiss, running his tongue in a circle around your lips. Then he dived his tongue inside. You still faintly smelled yourself on his breath.

“You think I’m done with you?” His lips hovered above yours and you whined, wanting to continue kissing him. He lowered but before your lips fully connected, he leaned back. You chased his mouth but he leaned too far away.

You turned puppy dog eyes towards him and stuck out your bottom lip again. He chuckled. He bit your bottom lip and pulled. His hips still worked roughly against you, fucking into you with reckless abandon.

“You’ve been a naughty girl this year,” he began to kiss down your body. He licked certain parts of your skin, before zeroing in your nipple through your teddy. You hissed and jerked, moving away from it. He held on, getting the fabric wet with his spit.

“Not even this sweet pussy of yours can make me put you on the nice list,” he said.

“Shit,” you moaned. You threw your head back as another orgasm tugged on your core. He leaned up and licked this thumb, pressing it against your clit. You growled as your pleasure seemed to ramp higher and go further. You clutched onto his forearms, too weak to say or do anything.

Your eyes crossed while his thumb furiously worked your clit. “Get that pussy talkin’ again. I ain’t hear her the first time.”

He slipped out of you while you were still shaking from the last orgasm. “Ohhh.” your lips moaned, a desperate echo making your voice warble. Your body twitched beneath him. He just watched as you squirmed. 1

“How many orgasms does it take to get me to bust?” He asked.

His dirty words were activating a different switch in your mind. You became competitive and pathetic as you gyrated, trying to shove his dick back inside. You wanted his cum and you hated that he turned you into an animal, too fucked out to care about how you looked or what you showed him in your eyes.

He scooted back and roughly turned you over onto your knees. You flopped around, your arms too weak to help yourself. “Get up on them fuckin’ knees.”

You whined and whimpered as you slowly got into position. He pushed your thighs further apart with his knees and entered you in one deep thrust.

“Fuck! Baby! Too much!” You pushed your hand back against his broad chest. He slapped your hand away.

“Nuh-uh, move that hand,” he said.

“Too much, Daddy!” You screamed. His strokes were hitting the deepest part of you and you were screaming the national anthem for all you knew.

“Oh! I’m Daddy now?” He asked.

“Daddy, please!” You whined. You slammed your ass on his dick with his help. His hand smacked your ass with such force that you fell back from the recoil.

“Fuck! Look at that shit go,” he grunted. Your hand pushed against his body again.

“Move that fuckin’ hand, now!”

Your wails were grating on your own nerves. You moved your arm. “You know what I wanna hear if you want me to stop,” he said.

No, you didn’t want to use that word. The minute you did, he would stop and want to check in with you. You didn’t want words now. You didn’t want to reason and explain yourself. You just wanted to blow your hip out.

You gripped the sheets beneath you and held on. “Yeah, that’s right. Good girls listen to Santa,” he said.

You gripped his dick and rode him like your life depended on it. He landed a few more smacks to your ass. “Watching this ass shake, hmm, I’m ready to bust. You think this one gon’ be it?”

You drooled onto the bed as your orgasm crested once more, putting pressure on your lower belly, and gripping him tighter. You bit the blanket beneath you as you groaned. Your eyes rolled and eyelids fluttered.

“Hmm, don’t she talk so pretty,” he moaned.

He grunted as he finally spilled inside of you. Fuck, there was so much of it. You worried briefly if you wouldn’t get fucking pregnant off of this. You were meticulous about your birth control and you weren’t ovulating.

But you could believe it if you ended up pregnant off of this dick tonight. If he had some type of magic dick that got you pregnant with a single thought. He fucked his cum into you, plugging you full of it.

“Goddamn it, baby girl,” he grunted. His leg shook as the final pulse pushed into you deeper.

He retreated slowly. His cum immediately pushed out in a thick, creamy wad. You groaned as it slid down your pussy and dripped beneath you. You wouldn’t be able to look at bear rugs the same.

“Shit,” he panted. He spread your ass cheeks so that he could watch himself leak out of you.

“Might fuck around and give you some kids, baby girl. Would you like that? You want my baby?” He asked.

He rubbed your ass as he continued to watch his cum leak from your body. You probably looked like a stuffed donut.

“Nahh, not yet. I’m not done spoiling you,” he said.

You sniveled as tears ran down your cheeks. You were so full of love for this man. How he always took care of you and pampered you. You didn’t have to lift a finger when he was around. It was so intoxicating. You feared that one day you truly would let him spoil you and not give two shits.

He wiped your tears away and brought it to his lips. He moaned when he sucked your tears off. “Fuck, baby girl. You wanted some more dick, this is how you ask,” he said.

He entered you again and you cried out. You fell face forward onto the blanket, your face facing the hearth. Heat waves warmed your face instantly. The light cast long rays in your vision as it swam with tears and bliss.

Your fingers were too weak to properly hold onto the blanket. Your cheek rubbed against the damp spot from your spit.

“She got somethin’ more to say, huh?” Santa asked.

You nodded and moaned as your wails reached a new crescendo. You gripped his dick again, sucking him deep into your body.

Santa moved his left hand to palm your scalp. He flexed his fingers and pulled your hair back. His right hand smacked your ass once and then he was pushing it into your anus. “Oh shit!” You moaned.

“I’m gonna have to bring you more of these from the North Pole, baby girl,” he said.

“I bought two of every color,” you said.

His hips snapped forward as he unloaded again inside of you. Hot splashes of his cum pushed against your G-spot and you cried out, sinking onto his dick with a powerful, gut-wrenching, mind-blowing orgasm that twisted you like a pretzel and folded you like a bagel.

He lazily continued to fuck into you as he groaned and spent every ounce left in his balls. He leaned forward and bit your shoulder.

“Damn, baby, thank you,” he whispered and kissed behind your ear. You were too fucked out to respond. You just softly moaned.

He dropped a kiss to your cheek and you felt him smile against it.

“Wait till you see what I do to you on New Year’s.”

If you liked this, then you simply must know about Mr. Black! Masterlist

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year

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Washington State's capital gains tax proves we can have nice things

Today (June 3) at 1:30PM, I’m in Edinburgh for the Cymera Festival on a panel with Nina Allen and Ian McDonald.

Monday (June 5) at 7:15PM, I’m in London at the British Library with my novel Red Team Blues, hosted by Baroness Martha Lane Fox.

Washington State enacted a 7% capital gains tax levied on annual profits in excess of $250,000, and made a fortune, $600m more than projected in the first year, despite a 25% drop in the stock market and blistering interest rate hikes:

https://www.theurbanist.org/2023/06/01/lessons-from-washington-states-new-capital-gains-tax/

Capital gains taxes are levied on “passive income” — money you get for owning stuff. The capital gains rate is much lower than the income tax rate — the rate you pay for doing stuff. This is naked class warfare: it punishes the people who make things and do things, and rewards the people who own the means of production.

The thing is, a factory or a store can still operate if the owner goes missing — but without workers, it shuts down immediately. Everything you depend on — the clothes on your back, the food in your fridge, the car you drive and the coffee you drink — exists because someone did something to produce it. Those producers are punished by our tax system, while the people who derive a “passive income” from their labor are given preferential treatment.

The Washington State tax is levied exclusively on annual gains in excess of a quarter million dollars — meaning this tax affects an infinitesimal minority of Washingtonians, who are vastly better off than the people whose work they profit from. Most working Americans own little or no stock, and the vast majority of those who do own that stock in a retirement fund that is sheltered from these taxes.

(Sidebar here to say that market-based pensions are a scam, a way to force workers to gamble in a rigged casino for the chance to enjoy a dignified retirement; the defined benefits pension, combined with adequate Social Security, is the only way to ensure secure retirement for all of us)

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/25/derechos-humanos/#are-there-no-poorhouses

Washington’s tax was anticipated to bring in $248m. Instead, it’s projected to bring in $849m in the first year. Those funds will go to public school operations and construction and infrastructure spending:

https://www.seattletimes.com/seattle-news/politics/was-new-capital-gains-tax-brings-in-849-million-so-far-much-more-than-expected/

That is to say, the money will go to ensuring that Washingtonians are educated and will have the amenities they need to turn that education into productive work.

Washington State is noteworthy for not having any state personal or corporate income tax, making it a haven for low-tax brain-worm victims who would rather have a dead gopher running their states than pay an extra nickel in taxes. But places that don’t have taxes can’t fund services, which leads to grotesque, rapid deterioration.

Washington State plutes moved because they relished living in well-kept, cosmopolitan places with efficient transportation, an educated workforce, good restaurants and culture — none of which they would have to pay for. They forgot Karl Marx’s famous saying: “There’s no such thing as a free lunch.”

The idea that Washington could make up for the shortfalls that come from taxing its wealthiest residents by levying regressive sales taxes and other measures is mathematically illiterate wishful thinking. When the one percent owns nearly everything, you can tax the shit out of the other 99% and still not make up the shortfall.

Meanwhile: homelessness, crumbling roads, and crisis after crisis. Political deterioration. Cute shopping neighborhoods turn into dollar store hellscapes because no one can afford to shop for nice things because all their income is going to plug the gaps in health, education, transport and other services that the low-tax state can’t afford.

Washington State’s soak-the-rich tax is ironic, given the propensity of California’s plutes to threaten to leave for Washington if California finally passes its own extreme wealth tax.

There’s a reason all these wealthy people want to live in California, Washington, New York and other states where there’s broad public support for taxing the American aristocracy: states with rock-bottom taxes are failed states. All but two of America’s “red states” are dependent on transfers from the federal government to stay in operation. The two exceptions are Texas, whose “free market” grid is one nanometer away from total collapse, and Florida, which is about to slip beneath the rising seas it denies.

Rich people claim they’d be happy to live in low-tax states, and even tout the benefits of a desperate workforce that will turn up to serve drinks at their country clubs even as a pandemic kills them at record rates. But when the chips are down, they don’t want to depend on a private generator to keep the lights on. They don’t want to have to repeatedly replace their luxury cars’ suspension after it’s wrecked by gaping potholes. They don’t want to have to charter a jet to fly their kids out of state to get an abortion.

This is true globally, too. As Thomas Piketty pointed out in Capital in the 21st Century, if the EU and OECD created a wealth tax, the rich could withdraw to Dubai, the Caymans and Rwanda, but they’d eventually get sick of shopping for the same luxury goods in the same malls guarded by the same mercenaries and want to go somewhere, you know, fun:

https://memex.craphound.com/2014/06/24/thomas-pikettys-capital-in-the-21st-century/

We’re told that Americans would never stand for taxing the ultra-rich because they see themselves as “temporarily embarrassed millionaires.” It’s just not true: soak-the-rich policies are wildly popular:

https://balanceourtaxcode.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/02/WA-State-Wealth-Tax-Poll-Results-3.pdf

The Washington tax windfall is fascinating in part because it reveals just how rich the ultra-rich actually are. Warren Buffett says that “when the tide goes out, you learn who’s been swimming naked.” But Washington’s new tax is a tide that reveals who’s been swimming with a gold bar stuck up their ass.

It’s not surprising, then, that Washingtonians are so happy to tax their one percenters. After all, this is the state that gave us modern robber barons like Bill Gates and Jeff Bezos. And then there’s clowns like Steve Ballmer, star of Propublica’s IRS Files, the man whose creative accounting let him claim $700m in paper losses on his basketball team, allowing him to pay a mere 12% tax on $656m in income, while the workers who made his fortune on the court paid 30–40% on their earnings.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/08/tuyul-apps/#economic-substance-doctrine Ballmer’s also a master of “tax loss harvesting,” who has created paper losses of over $100m, letting him evade $138m in federal taxes:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/24/tax-loss-harvesting/#mego

These guys aren’t rich because they work harder than the rest of us. They’re rich because they profit from our work — and then, to add insult to injury, pay little or no taxes on those profits.

Washington’s lowest income earners pay six times the rate of tax as the state’s richest people. When the wealthy squeal that these taxes are class warfare, they’re right — it is class war, and they started it.

Catch me on tour with Red Team Blues in Edinburgh, London, and Berlin!

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/2023/06/03/when-the-tide-goes-out/#passive-income

[Image ID: The Washington State flag; the circular device featuring George Washington has been altered so that it is now the head of a naked man clothed in a barrel with two wide leather shoulder straps.]

#pluralistic #steve ballmer #irs files #washington state #soak the rich #capital gains #taxes class war #euthanasia of the rentier

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