#i will never be surprised by the audacity of the white woman

[tepehkwi]

it is so fucking exhausting and annoying how white women, including and maybe even especially in progressive and leftist spaces, continue acting like they are not themselves still beneficiaries of tremendous privilege simply because they endure sexist or misogynistic discrimination. being a woman does not excuse the fact that you are still white and you still reap the benefits of being white! you do not get to "but sexism!" your way out of being held accountable for saying and doing racist shit!

#i will never be surprised by the audacity of the white woman #xe speak

[infinity-mars]

Play With Me

Pairing: Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x f!reader 

Word Count: 8.5k+

Rating: Explicit Smut (18+ only) 

Summary: You go out for a night of fun and encounter an alluring cowboy that does everything he can to capture your attention.

Also posted on my AO3 !

You loved to dance. Those moments when your heart fluttered in your chest made you move like you could fly, relishing in the feeling of power it gave you. You weren’t particularly graceful or always on time, but there was a certain magnetic thrum in the air that bent you to its will all the same. 

From outdoor dance clubs to private velvet-roped lounges, discothèques, raves and rooftop bars, you’ve tried to see it all with your friend Kate by your side. 

The cool air nipped at you both as you finally walked inside the club, the heat of passing bodies a welcome feeling. The lit room had a hushed glow as people made their home for the night in plush seats off against the far walls. 

You imagined that the venue was similar to what Alice saw when she went down the rabbit hole and found herself in Wonderland. The bar certainly had the right name, you thought, the people walking around just as colorful as the children’s story. 

The bartender was quick and you were thankful, even though the drink he made was weaker than you preferred. Vodka burned as it hit the back of your throat, aided by the scoff that found you at the man chatting up your friend. 

Kate always had a thing for slightly pathetic men, like she could eat them alive. You were used to her routine by now, her colorful storytelling one of your favorite things to listen to over your morning coffee.

Honestly, you were both horrible together: you pitied the unsuspecting bystanders that listened in. Laughing at an old story she loved to tell at your expense, you didn’t see him at first. 

You wish you could go back to the moment he came crashing into your orbit, not noticing the person on your left until he made himself known. 

“Now what is a pretty bee like you lookin’ so bored all the way over here?” a gravelly voice spoke, the man’s lips tantalizingly close to the shell of your ear. 

Your eyes looked over before your brain could catch up, and what you saw certainly sidetracked whatever thoughts had possessed you before. Wearing a black leather jacket that swam in the neon light of the bar, he almost seemed to glow in a classic white shirt that tapered on his slim waist.

“I’m enjoying myself just fine thank you,” you retorted, taking a generous swig of your watered down drink to hide the rush of nervous energy that possessed you. You were used to beginning the chase, and it caught you off guard to be taken by surprise. 

How refreshing.

 A small grin flickered across his face at your answer. His dark hair and broad shoulders only made him more mysterious, the lolling drawl of his voice making you curious despite yourself. 

Men would approach you with the fashionable audacity they all liked to carry around with careless hands hoping for a quick fuck. Sometimes you’d indulge yourself, but the enjoyable heat of another person wasn’t worth it if they never shut their mouths. 

Your vibrator and weighted blanket made sure of that.

You were undecided if this man fit into that category though.

“That’s not what I see.”

“Hmm, what do you see then, if you know me so well?”

The man shifted his foot and leaned in closer, the subtle spice of his cologne clinging to his suede collar. The way he wore it was effortless, and you wanted to grab onto his jacket to either bring him closer or shove him back, depending on what he said next.

“I see a woman that’s bored out of her mind trying to convince herself she’s not, drinking alcohol not worth the proof on the bottle,” he explained, voice dipping lower as you turned to fully face him, finally meeting eyes that never strayed from you.”You want more than whatever junior over there could ever offer someone like you.”

“Someone like me?”

“Oh honey, I know I walked into that one with both feet. You’re just fishing for compliments now, aren’t ya?”

“Mmm, are you going to tell me what I wanna hear or are you going to buy me a drink?”

“The shit they mix here ain’t what you deserve, I saw that bartender mixing those drinks. Take a sip of this darlin’, and tell me I’m not wrong,” the man tempted, readily extending a sleek silver flask to you that was attached to his belt buckle. How scandalous .

The promise in his expression emboldened you. He had taken a drink from the flask himself before offering it to you in invitation.

“What’s life without a little risk?” His eyes seemed to ask.

You took the chance, the warmth from his hands lingering on your fingers as you took the flask from him.The delicate gold choker on your neck glinted in the light as you swallowed.

Taking a swig, you absorb the flavor. He knew his alcohol, and from the confidence of his statement nothing less than top shelf mattered. You could certainly respect that, wondering if his lips would have the same taste if he kissed you.

“You’re not wrong, it’s very good. I’ve always been partial to whiskey myself.”

“Just good? What you have in your hand is a rare share of Statesman Whiskey, made straight from the source in Kentucky,” he retorted, almost offended if not for the mischievous twinkle in his eye. Something you had said passed a test you weren’t yet aware of.“Even as a Yankee you must understand the quality of that. I knew you would.”

“You caught that, did you?” 

“I don’t miss a thing, and you have most certainly caught my undivided attention.” 

You shifted completely to turn your back on your friend and her man of the hour, uninterested in the conversation that no longer included you. 

This man was right about one thing: you had been bored, and hopefully he would measure up for the evening. He didn’t shrink at your gaze.

It was nice to be approached for once with an interest that could mirror your own. 

“I don’t know how you fit that ego of yours inside this place. This doesn’t exactly look like your scene if I’m being honest.”

He chuckles at that without taking offense and coyly tips the brim of his hat in your direction, smiling with a flash of tongue at your choked laugh that's just for him. 

“Let’s just say I’ve gotten a lot of practice over the years. Even more talking to gorgeous girls like you. A buddy of mine wanted me to check out this new place to meet up sometime for work .”

The queer way he said that wasn’t lost on you, but you figured it was just an inside joke of some kind. 

“You know that a honey bee can sting when it's threatened right?” 

The way he widened his stance in victory as you focused on him was intentional, the insufferable action the kind of cockiness you usually wanted to smother with your own if not for the way it oddly suited him. 

“Oh, that doesn’t deter me one bit. I’m sure your sting is just as sweet. I happen to like that.”

The grin peeking out from beneath his mustache looks genuine. You’re intrigued, looking at him now in consideration. As you checked him out from head to toe, one thing stood out rather prominently. 

“Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just really happy to see me right now?” 

New York might be a concealed carry state but he looked like one of the only men on the premises actually packing heat in all of the ways that matter. The well fitted dark blue denim hugging his thighs left very little to the imagination. 

He was tailored to torture you inch-by-fucking-inch.

“Why don’t you come dance with me for the next song and find out?”

Oh you definitely wanted to shut him up. Preferably with something else to keep that mouth of his busy. 

“No.”

“No? Give me one reason why not and I’ll leave you alone. You can take someone else home tonight and leave ol’ Jack behind.”

“So that’s your name then? Jack,” you reply. His eyes droop at the sound, half lidded and unhurried in the way he examines the way you say his name. 

You finally introduce yourself, like you hadn’t been bantering with the man for a while now. 

Like you hadn’t been imagining what he would look like after spending a night with you, scratch marks down his back a parting gift that'll make him think of you every time he moves.

“If you are so obliged, it’ll be the name you’ll be screaming later and that’s a promise,” he vowed, chewing on a mint he popped in with a cheeky wink thrown in your direction. On any other man that would be a turn-off, but you looked down and saw the way his hands clenched around nothing as you observed him. 

Jack was his own harbinger of surprises it seems. 

The second of silence that follows sears under your skin, charged and frantic for more friction. A quick reply caught on your tongue that you held in, keeping it for later: never let it be said that you didn't like flirting with delayed gratification every once in a while.

“How do you know that I don’t have someone already waiting in my bed for me?” You asked. Jack’s eyes were arresting, lingering lower on your chest for a few moments before looking into your own to answer you.

 He gave a satisfied hum when he found whatever he was searching for.

“I think the way you’re staring at me is all the answer I need.”

You’ll give him credit, he was saying all of the right things. Or at this point, you wanted them to be, your attraction only tipping in his favor.

“Now what is a Southern boy like you doing here? Not to be a cliche, but you’re a long way from home.”

“Oh, I’m just like anyone else. I work at the Statesman New York office, traveling a lot when I’m needed elsewhere. What do you do when you’re not talking to vagrants like me in strange bars?”

“I’m a romance novelist, dabbling in a lot of things really, you know how it is.”

“Hmm, now that sounds interesting. What words must form on that clever tongue of yours?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you flirted back. 

He began speaking again, the story he launched into exotic and altogether hard to believe, but it wasn’t the words that reeled you in. It was his large hands waving temptingly close that distracted you. You could care less about the time he almost died in Marrakesh after offending someone’s wife.

You’d commit the story to your memory later when the pleasant haze of him faded away.

His tale came to a close as you glanced down and laughed at the stereotype that for some reason didn’t surprise you.

“Can you even dance in those boots for anything other than a two step?”

“I can do a lot more than that.”

“With your shiny belt buckle and Stetson I’d almost think you’re compensating for something,” you teased. A flash of delight lit up his face at your observation, the smirk he sent your way something just north of sinful.

“Everything is bigger in the south darlin' and besides,” he trailed off, hands coming to slowly cage you in against the bar but not quite touching you. “Let’s be honest here, we both know you like what I’ve got underneath.”

You lean forward, a breath of air suspended between you as your mouth almost ghosts over his. Maneuvering out of Jack’s reach, you reach up and take the hat off his head.

You had no doubt he would have stopped you if he had actually wanted to, those large hands of his able to easily overpower and hold you down. 

You suppress a grin at the thought.

Putting the large hat on your head, you brushed out your unruly hair to make it stay firmly in place. His eyes unfocused for a moment before looking at you with renewed intensity, his jaw ticking to the side as he takes you all in. 

You loved the chase, but at that moment you were tempted to end the flirtation and leave the bar to see if those fingers would fill you up as well as they promised. 

“Come on, show me your moves," you dared, steeling yourself as you joined the growing crowd beginning to take over the dance floor. He convinced you. "Do your worst, Jack.”

A remix of one of your favorite songs set the pace as it moved through you. The bass was rich and dark in your veins as you danced, Wonderland falling away in the fury of bodies all around you. The charge that flitted low in your abdomen was one that threatened to crack you in two as Jack brought you back, your ass grinding into him after each beat.

It would be so easy to turn around and let yourself melt into the heat of him.

 But riling him up sounded like a lot more fun. So when the beat shifted so did you, one hand removing the hat from your head as the other reached behind you to bring him down to your level. 

“You know, there’s a saying I heard before that if you steal a cowboy’s hat you’re either fuckin’ or fighting, and darlin’ I don’t have any weapons on me right now. So what’ll it be?” He asked, his voice against your ear making you lean into his palms. 

You felt like smoke, weaving around him as you continued to dance.

“Mmmm, doesn’t a combination of both sound just as good?”

The reactive tightening of his fingers on your hips was just what you needed. The both of you were lost, the music loud enough to cover up how hard your heart was beating.

Jack runs his nose along your neck and jaw until he nips at the vein, the heat of his breath making your own decision for you.

Turning, you reach up and finally kiss him. It wasn’t a quick affair, the push and pull between you both a fight to see who would give in first. You wanted to memorize the feeling, imagining the burn of his facial hair on your thighs as you rode his face. 

You’d even wear his hat while you did it if he asked nicely. 

He tasted like mint and mussed hair dangled in front of his eyes, lightly brushing your forehead as you mingled together. 

You were both insulated in the crowd, kissing each other until you were hardly even dancing anymore. 

Ready to leave the liquor and low lighting behind, you stopped Jack in his tracks. Backing him into the wall of the hallway you ventured into, you did so firmly, hands holding him hostage as you clung to the lapels of his leather jacket. 

The hunger he saw reflected in your eyes pinned him in place, and that alone made him want to ruin you. 

Leaning up in your high heeled boots so that you could kiss his cheek, the remaining lipstick you wore smeared onto his skin like a brand, the red lip print left near his opened mouth telling him that you were dangerous.

Better yet, his favorite kind.

“Follow me cowboy,” you rasped, leaving goosebumps in your wake as you lightly skimmed over his skin with your teeth. The fever consuming from now was one he hadn’t felt bubbling in his blood ever since his last mission months ago.

 He craved it.

Jack vaguely connected that you were an unstoppable force to his immovable object, ready to crash into him like the paradox you were presenting yourself to be. 

When he had clocked you from across the bar earlier he had admitted to himself that you weren’t the usual type of woman he jumped to charm into his bed. You had looked wholly unimpressed with your surroundings before, swirling the ice in your drink as the yuppie next to you preened like a toddler with a captive audience. 

The oncoming storm he’d read in the lines of your body told him another story, however, one that swept him into you and past the redhead that had been trying to catch his attention since he’d walked in. 

The shadow of something wicked had made Jack eager to align your passions with his own.

Impatient at his composure as he thought of this, you hooked two fingers into his belt loops and tugged him off the wall and into you, that jolt he felt from before electrifying below his skin as you pressed against him. 

Reaching down and lightly cupping one of your hands over the denim of his jeans, you felt him squirm the longer you dared. 

 His dark brows furrowed at your forwardness, wanting to taste you again.

Your hands were firm on him, brokering no argument for the sly agent to persuade you with. He admired your drive, easily taking the momentum from him and twisting it to your desires. You kept surprising him, and by the way you delved into his mouth you weren’t afraid of showing him this side of you.

You wanted him to say something, anything, so this time you squeezed with intent, the hiss in your ear headier than the alcohol on his breath.

His cock twitched under your hand, and god it was power . 

You enjoyed him like this: slightly wild but contained, a groan threatening to break through clenched teeth as you felt him up in public so casually. 

You kiss him possessively in that dark room, drinking him up and daring him to consume you in turn like he promised. He might have approached you first, but you were going to finish what you both started.

It was desperate and messy and loud but neither of you cared.

A couple walked close to the both of you, forcing you to break from him in the narrow hallway to let them pass. Your absence made Jack swiftly reconnect himself with your body, his large hand sliding down into the pocket of your jeans to roughly squeeze your ass that had been grinding on him only moments before. 

Leaving his hand where it was, he used it to direct you outside into the street. The nighttime air filled your lungs with relief, cooling the sweat that dampened your neck.

“You're positive you don’t wanna go back to my place? I can assure you the view from my floor is nothing to scoff at.”

“While that might ordinarily be tempting, Jack, your apartment doesn’t have any of the toys that I like to use,” you retorted. 

You could already imagine flashes of the night ahead of you at your apartment. 

“A pity then, I just know that you pressed against my floor to ceiling windows when the sun rises would be a pretty sight indeed.”

“Let’s enjoy tonight and plan on that for next time.”

Shame was not an emotion that Jack entertained often and he wasn’t about to start now, leaving your lipstick where it sat proudly on his face. A few people stared at him in the street, but no one stopped your brisk pace. 

At the last crosswalk he pinched your ass in retaliation when you turned to kiss him harshly, nipping his chin as you leaned back onto your heels. As if you were dry kindling struck by lightning, his hands trailed flames in their wake, each touch only hastening your steps forward.  

Exposed brick, industrial lighting, and high ceilings were what attracted you to your building when you first moved to the area. Your small loft on the upper floor gave you the privacy you craved, the cityscape around you comforting in the way it always kept moving. 

While waiting for the elevator Jack untangled himself from you to lean against the wall on your right. He stood there appreciating you as a few of your neighbors walked around the lobby, Jack tipping his hat to them as they passed.

You didn’t even realize you’d dropped it at some point to kiss him earlier.

“Prettier than a peach,” he murmured, his hand reaching to smooth over his mustache in thought. He was earnest, the mood shifting into something unnamed as the elevator dinged. You huddled into him as people came and went.

"You know," you began, "I'd look even prettier with your hands wrapped around my throat."

 He coughed into his hand, not wanting everyone else in the lobby to see how tight his jeans suddenly felt. You laughed.

You both stumble into your apartment, the size of Jack overwhelming as he backs you into the closed door. His mouth was persuasive, like a switch was flipped now that you were both away from everyone else. 

He left bruising kisses on your neck, completely unyielding in his quest to mark you wherever he could reach. His hands were on the back of your head, holding you in place as he gripped your neck just so. 

For a long suspended moment you were frozen, wanting to regain the ground you refused to lose. But hell, could this man kiss the thoughts from your head. 

Then, all at once, heat spreads through you, thawing you into action. 

Holding onto his jacket with your fingers you tilt your head back with a breathless chuckle, making Jack look into your eyes. You take up one hand and grip his chin, the other drifting to caress the lipstick mark you shamelessly left on his cheek. Pressing down on it with more pressure to show you meant your next words, you wanted him to listen. 

He smirked into your touch, a cocky sort of grin showcasing his dimple that felt entirely warranted as your breath stuttered in your chest. 

“Go sit on the couch,” you ordered. Kissing you once more before moving away, a filthy moan left you as his tongue darted out for a taste. His eyes didn’t look away until you turned your back, shedding clothes in your wake until all you had left on was the lace you were wearing.

“Would you like a drink?”

“Sure thing baby, pour me a bit of whatever you’re having.”

You didn’t leave him for long, reappearing with strong liquor and the type of lingerie that made you feel like you could eat a man’s heart in the marketplace like Beatrice once said.

The warmth from the drink you’d sipped in the kitchen enveloped you as it licked up your chest— you were in your element now.

Grounded in your body, you took a deep breath. 

Emerald lace and satin embrace you, assured in the sway of your hips as you walked over to your cowboy. Handing him his drink and swiftly straddling his parted thighs, you let him take you in.

 You don’t know when he became “your cowboy,” but it sounded right, for the night at least.

Say what you will, but Jack was flexible with a change in plan. He just had to bide his time, finishing the finger of bourbon left in his glass before setting it aside.

The way you spilled out of your lingerie had him drowning in you. Champ once told him that he was an adrenaline addict, chasing every mission that got his heart racing. He wasn’t wrong—you couldn’t function as a successful Statesman agent without a dash of daredevil in you.

And he just loved the way you moved.

His mouth descends on you again, leaving you once to gulp in a desperate breath before attacking with renewed vigor. 

He hoarsely spoke your name, and it was the best thing that had left his lips all night. You wanted him to say it again but this time underneath you, unbidden and desperate at the way you pulled it out of him. You slid your tongue into his mouth and brought up a hand to roughly yank at the hair on the sides of his head, until he bowed his back and leaned into you for a moment.

“Is this what you want?” You asked, snaking your hand underneath the cup of your brassiere to shove it aside and caress your breast, a groan breaking through your composure at the way Jack bucked into you. Though his breathing was measured and even, his lips parted at the sight of your nipples pebbling in the cool air. 

“You know, when I saw you at the bar I knew I had to talk to you, take you with me when I left,” he murmured, quiet in his admission as it rang true on his face. 

“Mmmm, honey, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but...you’re in my apartment at the moment, on my couch no less, drinking my bourbon,” you answer just as quietly into his ear. You graze over it teasingly with your teeth just to see him shiver. “And I’m wearing a matching set right now. So who really took initiative tonight, hm?”

Jack laughed almost in disbelief at your words, his body responding for him. It’s an honest sound, one that makes you kiss him deep enough to taste his tongue in the back of your throat.

Ultimately what you saw in his eyes was patience. And that was hotter than anything else he could have done. 

 You sigh his name, letting your head fall forward as he seeks out another kiss from you. 

“This is just the preview. I want it all, and I know you do too,” he breathed against your lips. “Now are you going to let me touch you, or do I have to watch you fuck yourself on my thigh before I can taste you? You can only tempt a man so far.”

“Is that a threat or a challenge I hear?”

“I did promise that you’d be screaming my name, and I take that job very seriously. You'll hear no arguments from me.”

“You sure you can handle me like that, cowboy?”

Jack was wavering somewhere between wholly aroused and perversely indignant. No one questioned him like this, in the bedroom or otherwise if he could help it.

 He hated how it turned him on like this. 

You’re not sure what emboldens you to tease him; your resolve only heightens the longer he looks at you, as if you could spill over into him and it still wouldn’t be enough. 

“I have never been more sure than I am right now.”

He knew how to fire you up. In many ways, you were both quite similar.

Restless and insatiable. 

Purposefully running your hands down his chest only to stop your exploration at his belt, the rumble in his chest was one of approval as you scratched at his abdomen through his shirt. 

You enjoyed yourself when pleasure could mix with a bit of pain, and you had an inkling that Jack did too. You wanted to deny him, reduce this enigma of a man into a begging mess before the sun came up. But your own need to be touched by him won out, and damn him for kissing you like that—as if you were the antidote to a fatal poison he had drunk in an effort to forget you. 

“You can touch me, Jack, but there’s something I want to do first.”

You meet his gaze for a brief moment as you pause in this position on top of him, being perfectly still when all you wanted was to hold him close until there was no space for questions or distractions.

An understanding passes between you both. Your body buzzes with nerves, synapses firing as all thoughts focus on the man holding you.

He grabs at your hips, whispering encouragement in your ear as he guides you to settle flush against his lap with your legs on either side of him. The zipper of his jeans and his belt buckle rubbed into your clit hard enough to make you shiver.

“ Fuck… ”  

Jack  scrapes his teeth over your jaw. Barely there. More of a breath across your cheek than anything. 

You reach back and unlatch your bra, throwing it away as he cups each breast in his calloused hands. Arching into his attentive mouth as it reached your skin, you threaded your fingers in his hair, messing up the hat flattened strands and tugging on them harder when he bit down teasingly. 

Letting your nipple go with a wet plop, he leaned back into your hands on his head.

“God, I am so fucking hard thinking about licking into that pretty pussy of yours, bet you taste real good,” Jack groaned. You answered in kind, kissing him again to swallow his words.

This was just the warm-up.

“I’m going to cum just like this against you, but if you move any more then I won’t be quite so kind later. Wanna make you earn it. I’m a generous lover, Jack, but a fair one,” you simpered, grinding almost cruelly against the hardness of him that you could feel throbbing through his pants. “You want me to be nice, don’t you?”

“Oh darlin’, I’m sure you’re sweeter than a saint,” he grunted, words stuttering as you brought his head up closer to yours, lips touching but not quite. Rotating your hips, you sigh into his mouth as you move against him. 

True to his restraint so far, he kept himself in place, his breath hot against your cheeks as your pace quickened. 

“Mmmm, can’t wait to have you inside me,” you sighed, his muscles straining beneath your fingers. Shuddering at the feeling of him under you, your first orgasm was creeping closer as it began trickling down from the tips of your fingertips. “D-don’t want you to cum until I’m done with you.”

Jack’s mouth opened partly in awe as you grinded on him with even more force. 

He had a hidden strength to him, and by the way his arms flexed around you he could have easily moved you under him at any time. The fact that he didn't demand it was arousing.

Fuck you were wet.

Tilting his head slightly, he enjoys the view of you on his lap using him for your own pleasure. Your tits bounce as you move, and he’s torn between telling you how perfect they are and moving just slightly to bury his face in your softness. He whimpered silently as you pulsed around him, able to feel it over his clothes as you threatened to unravel.

“Oh, look at you,” he exclaimed, voice a low rumble that stokes the fire in your belly. “Just like that, baby. Fuck, come on. Take what you need from me.”

He says your name once, fervent and taut, barely able to keep himself in check. The fact that he was still almost fully clothed made him need more . You were all warm skin and curves and he wanted to feel every second of you wrapped around him.

He tensed his thigh and shifted slightly but you didn’t notice as you rode out the waves of pleasure rolling over your clit.

It was exquisite and hurried and not the end goal but you didn’t mind. You had wanted to see if he would listen to you. If he could take what direction you gave him. It was an entirely different high you’d surprisingly discovered in your twenties, having a man in your control, making him beg with just your body. 

And yet, Jack did not beg for himself. The look in his eyes was expressive enough. Still he didn’t move, and that was what finally pushed you over. 

Gasping in shock, your orgasm softly washed over your skin. He eagerly watched, memorizing the way your mouth hung open at the feeling of him grabbing your hips with bruising force to drag you over him once again.

When you finally opened your eyes Jack was already looking at you, and you did not shy away. His hair was tousled from your hands, lips swollen, eyes bright—you savored him like the Kentucky whiskey on his breath. 

“Mmmm, you were so good for me,” you praised, voice heavy in your mouth as you recalled how to speak.

As you came back down he chased your lips, taking his time to touch you the way he could now that you’d fallen into his chest. His mouth was a wanting, wretched thing, tracing a path from your lips to your chest. 

You pulled back for a moment. “Do you want to switch to the–”

“I’m not done yet,” he interrupted, bringing you back into a heated kiss that had you whining into his hold on you. He slips his tongue in your mouth and seems to slow time licking into you just so, making you shiver. 

His hands were frenzied in the way they glided over all the flesh he could reach. 

You would torture him no longer.

His blunt nails traced over your spine, and you wanted to ask him to do that again. 

“Now you are a rare gift, my dear,” he hummed into your mouth. “I would hate for you to be tired already.”

“Oh, you don’t have to question my stamina,” you slyly answered. Even now you are still hazy in your bones, tethering yourself to his firm grip on your ass. “Worry about your own.”

The chuckle that leaves him is telling, and you clearly feel his frustration rolling off him now that you can think in complete sentences.

You kiss the corner of his mouth and swiftly hop off of his lap, trembling for a moment as you right yourself. There’s a slight damp spot from where you were sitting on his white shirt that had been hanging over half untucked from his jeans, but you’re too drunk on endorphins to feel embarrassed. 

You did that .

Your heart stuttered for a moment at the raw ache you saw in his face. Hooking your fingers in the slim waistband of your panties, you then cast them aside. 

It felt like an afterthought after what you had both just done, but the way Jack looked at you was anything but unappreciative. 

What you inspire in him is so erotically charged that he is momentarily struck dumb by what you do next.

Falling onto your knees you look up at him through your lashes, taking the flask attached to his belt buckle, the surface slightly wet from your release making it slick in your hands. It was silent in the apartment, the only sound Jack’s breathing as he watched you drink from the flask that he favored so much. 

You could taste yourself around the metal and lipstick and whiskey. A theme of the night it seemed.

Awareness flows down your spine at Jack’s gaze. As you take one more pull, his hands reach up to card through your hair, holding it in a makeshift ponytail, reaching for you with a finality that has you arching into him.  

You lead him into your room, wishing you had cleaned up a bit before tripping on the rug, laughing as you both stumble into your metal bed frame. 

“Now Jack,” you begin, bracing yourself for the next conversation you rarely walked into without some gut feeling bracing you up. “Do you have a safe word?”

He didn’t answer immediately, but when he did he was entirely focused on you. 

“I do, pretty girl. It’s sweet tea.”

The way his mouth caressed each syllable with that slow southern drawl shouldn’t have been as damning as it was.

“How do you feel about ropes?”

The way he lit up was thrilling. He looked away with unfocused eyes, enjoying a private joke that only he knew. It was the expression of a man that delighted in his own mystery. 

You couldn’t deny that a part of you was burning to know what he locked away. He prowled with that hidden energy, and knowing what you’d experienced of him so far, you would have to work for a proper taste.

“I happen to be quite gifted with whips and a lasso if I do say so myself. I’m rather versatile in that regard. Rest assured it is not my first rodeo.” 

“In that case cowboy, I want you...to tie me up,” you said before grazing your thumb across his bottom lip. He nodded slightly surprised, with the way you had directed him earlier he had thought you’d wanted to tie him up instead.

 It wasn’t like he couldn’t escape from some ropes if he really needed to.

He had been amazing under you before, but you wanted more. You wanted him to take your body and make your need dissolve on your tongue as you cry. You wanted it to hurt.

Jack felt like you could read his mind, look into the very heart of him and learn all of his desires. Palming himself over his jeans, he imagined the warmth of your mouth and had to stop from outpacing himself.

You walked into your closet with purpose, toeing on your favorite pair of stiletto heels as you grabbed your selection of ropes from where they’re hidden.

His eyebrow ticks up at the sight of you naked with only your Louboutins on, the black ropes in your hands are just as daring. He waits for you to settle onto the pillows of your bed before methodically tying your hands to hooks in the wall on either side of your headboard.

 It took him a few moments but his knots were sound, loose enough but tight on your wrists so you couldn’t break free. You were grudgingly impressed with how fast Jack could work when he was motivated, filing it away where you could exploit later.

He throbs at the salacious painting you rendered, spread out and glowing in the warm lighting of the room. With your opened legs you were vulnerable and slick and soft. 

Jack didn’t want to wait any longer before losing himself in you.

He shifted down to lay himself between your parted legs. You swiftly stopped him with your left leg extended fully out, the stiletto of your heel digging into his lowered shoulder as he kneeled on the bed. The startled look on his face made you tease him, grinding it in a little further before moving it down his chest to stop at the length of his cock straining for freedom. 

Pressing down.

The choked groan that he involuntarily let out was painfully erotic. You wish you could record it and hit rewind.

“Hold your horses, Jack. You have far too many clothes on. Strip for me first before you get what you want.”

To his credit he didn’t jump up and frantically discard the remainder of his clothing. Like you before his expression turned calculating, methodically shifting off the bed and taking off his shirt and discarding his pants along with his underwear. All are then folded on your nightstand, neat and pricise to minimize wrinkles.  

You swallow at the way he ignores your anticipation, but it brings no relief. 

His skin is tan like the rest of him, belly soft and strong before a small trail of dark hair leads down to the base of his cock sitting heavy against his stomach. 

You imagine tracing your tongue over every inch of him seeing where he’d fracture and break in your hold, only to put him back together again when he asked.

He was incredibly distracting like that when he wanted to be.

Captivated, your eyes stop back at his chest, small faded scars criss-crossing his skin, one worryingly close to his heart that had you straining for a closer look. His muscles ripple as he moves, the veins of his arms as formidable as the rest of him. 

Jack was focused as he finally settled low on the bed, fingers ghosting over skin as he hitched your legs over his shoulders. Kissing and nipping at the inside of your thigh, he took in a deep breath and let out a little hum, puffs of air hitting your pussy as he adjusted.

He leaned his head on your left thigh and looked up at you briefly.

“You remember the safe word, sweetheart?” He asked. You nodded, almost drunk at the heat of him crowding you. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes Jack, I remember it’s sweet tea. Now are you going to eat my pussy like you mean it or do I need to get myself off again?” You answered, tapping your leg down on his back knowing fully well how it would rile him up.

He grins at you savagely, leaning down the remaining space to lick a long stripe all the way up your folds. 

You buck into his mouth, your already sensitive clit coming alive again. He moves his arms to cage your hips in his hold, bringing you flush to his tongue by grabbing onto your ass. 

He was nestled between your legs, mapping your body with licks and handprints. Your half-formed praises and keening whine made Jack a mess of a man, grinding into the mattress as he drank up everything you could give him.

He loved your voice and the way it scattered into nothing when he sucked your clit into his mouth. He made no pretense at staying quiet, noisy and whole in his destruction of you.

Coming up for air, his mustache glistened, cheeks red from his own harsh breathing against your cunt. His lips were wet and you wanted to taste yourself when he kissed you. He reaches down for a moment and pumps himself harshly, tightly fisted and the sound he lets out...you feel it like a pulse.

His nose brushes you as he dives back in. If he could sink underneath your skin you would burst. 

He slides two fingers inside, your muscles clenching around him as far as he could go. Curling his fingers upward and holding them there, a hot fusion of unnamed pleasure and painful awareness zips through you. You can't help but squirm underneath him.

There it was.

Jack wanted you to call his name until he no longer connected it with himself, an uncontained force that compelled him to do whatever you wanted if only you'd say his name like that again. 

Wanting. 

“Fuck, when you say my name like that I just burn all over,” he murmured. “You gonna cum now, baby?”

You hum distractedly, the coiled tether in your abdomen snapping when he doubles down just right. He eagerly laps at you as your pussy flutters, climbing higher and higher until plunging you into nameless bliss. Each limb feels liquid as you touch down.

Jack keeps sucking and licking you without stopping and you can’t cover your mouth to muffle the whimpers that slip through. He adds a third finger and continues to move through each aftershock that bounces through your body.

“Come on. Lord—when you sound like that I don’t want you to stop. You’re not done yet, I know you can give me another one. Look at the way you take me in.”

You wanted to dodge his mouth as he sucked on you again, even the gentle way he prodded at you felt like too much. You weren’t going to beg yet, even for a man like Jack. Despite your discomfort you felt yourself stir again, weaker but no less corporeal, as he pressed down hard on your clit with a pressure that made your breathing pick up.

With effort you rocked into him once more and strained to lock your legs around his head, squeezing when he nipped at you. A handful of minutes later you were boneless and spent, legs trembling as he drew your pleasure out.

 He moaned at the feeling of being utterly surrounded, desperately sending you over again so that he could breathe. 

You couldn't think past the wall of sensation you were being held against without mercy.

This orgasm was harder than the last, a juggernaut that only built on the first. A few silent tears trailed down your face, so overcome that his facial hair burned similar to the hand shaped bruise already forming on your hip. 

You close your eyes so tightly that sunbursts bloom behind your eyes as you breathe through it.

Standing up to catch his breath, he used some of the slick on his fingers to slowly cover his shaft, aching from being hard for so long already. From the sheer size and weight of him that you can see, you’re glad for the bottle of lube on your bedside table, though you’re so wet it probably didn’t matter.

Jack settles himself over you, tugging you up into a fierce, messy kiss, teeth and tongues and harsh breaths traveling from his mouth into yours. 

You were so relaxed that the stretch of him affected you only for a moment as he buried himself inside you. The gasp when he moves catches in your throat, a ghost of all the pleasure he had given you just moments before leaving your body.  

 His voice stutters as he slowly thrusts inside of you, setting a steady pace. “Should keep you right here just like this, make you cum until you forget your own name. Would you like that? Take care of you like no one else will?”

You swear, picturing his words as they traced themselves down your body. As heavy as the feeling of Jack resting his weight on you was, you thrived on it. Your arms felt strained from being tied, but he curled around you just so, keeping you both connected for as long as possible.

Jack’s arms flexed as he adjusted to reach for you, extending his fingers until they pressed into your parted lips.

Swirling your tongue around his two fingers, you could taste yourself on his skin. He then leaned down and used them to press into your clit. It had you closing your eyes, too overwhelmed to speak through it. 

You didn't have any smart comebacks in you now.

His unrelenting tempo jostled the bed against the wall. Moving back to lean on his heels, Jack pistoning into you at this new angle was overwhelming but you simply didn’t care. He yelled out in a voice you almost didn't recognize, hoarse and wet as it ripped from his chest.

“Come on Jack, cum in me,” you panted. “ Fuck , I know you’re close. Can feel you aching for it. You’ve been so patient. So good . ”

You intentionally clench around him like a vice, and it has him tumbling into his own release moments later with a startled shout.

Satisfaction seizes his veins in a chokehold.

He collapses into your chest, the both of you covered in a slight sheen of sweat that was beginning to dry in the cool air.

Whimpering slightly as he pulled out, he worked through his own lethargy to take care of you.

He leaned up and undid the knots holding you hostage. Immediately your arms flop onto the mattress, the burn of your muscles just adding to the mental catalog of sensations you take stock of. With Jack resting on your chest you card your fingers through his hair, the both of you too out of breath to say anything for a few moments. 

The weight of him on top of you kept you grounded.

Warm. Languid. Eyes drifting closed at how heavy you feel. 

“You are gonna be the death of me, woman.” 

“Mhmmm, if that’s the case then I’ll wait to tell you my proposal then. Wouldn’t wanna kill you before another round, Whiskey.”

He lifts his head from your chest at that.

“What did you just call me?” He asked, eyes unreadable as they scan your face. You didn’t care, the words light in your mouth as they leave you.

“Whiskey. You taste like it. And if you think this is the only time I take you to bed, then let me inform you: I still need to drink my fill of you.”

He scratched at his mustache for a moment in thought before he smiles, the most genuine of the night that makes his eyes crinkle with laughter. There it was again, that secret in his expression that has you eager to ask what he’s hiding.

“You’re a very perceptive person, honey. I am thoroughly surprised by you. Tell me what you have in mind when I come back.”

He jumps out of bed to walk into your en suite bathroom, his ass distracting as you watch him fumble around before returning with a warm washcloth to clean you up.  Each brush of his hands on your body is gentle, reverent even as it glides over you. He kisses where your hands had been bound, asking if he was too rough.

You almost laughed. 

You liked it that way. 

Something inside you wanted to stay in the moment, gazing at each other in the dimly lit room. Not forever, just a little longer. You imagine him walking away from you out the door, and it puts an unpleasant feeling in your gut, like you wouldn’t see him again.

You had the sneaking suspicion that if Jack didn’t want to be found he’d disappear.

“So I was thinking,” you began, finally tossing your stilettos off the bed to lay under your quilt. “I have an ungodly expensive espresso machine that makes a decent latte and fresh beans in the kitchen. How about we take a quick nap and then fire it up before round two? I heard once that drinking coffee makes the sex even better.”

“Don’t you mean rounds three and four?” He teased, that ego of his purring at the thought of how much you spasmed and shook around him.

If you weren’t so relaxed you would have probably grabbed onto his balls in response, made him swear around that crooked smile of his.

You'd learn how he liked it and edge him until he melted out of his damn cowboy boots. The thrill of him was delicious, and you hadn't gotten to take a true bite out of him yet.  

“You think you can go another round later and finally ride this prize stallion?” 

That makes you slap at his shoulder. His laugh diffused whatever seriousness lingered and you readily agreed, the both of you winding down as exhaustion hits.

 As his arms settle around you, you imagine the potential of a future with this man of mystery.

 He had barely scratched the surface of what made you wild, and you wanted to change that. Leaving Wonderland with him tonight was an event you were eager to repeat. 

#jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x fem!reader #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey fanfiction #kingsman the golden circle #kingsman #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #smut #one night stand #jack daniels imagine #jack daniels fanfiction #agent whiskey imagine #pedro pascal fanfiction

[lostlimerence]

The Youngest

CW: discussions of predatory behaviour.

He’s the youngest of the three, a fact that is all too easy to forget.

Sometimes, when he’s reminded, it’s something mundane, like when the boys have a disagreement and Steve, to ease the tension, jokingly ruffles Billy’s blond curls with some quip like, “respect your elders,” as Eddie nods sagely with a barely suppressed smile.

Other times, it catches him off guard, like the time he’d passed Billy a cup of coffee, “black,” (like he’d ordered) then watched, not without amusement, as the boy’s nose had crinkled in disgust at the first sip.

But then, far too often he’s reminded in moments like this. When the kid’s cornered by some self-serving adult.

This time it’s Karen Wheeler.

He watches as she crowds Billy, manicured talons glinting as she strokes the length of his arm. His back is pressed up against the Camaro, knuckles white where he grips the handle. When he sees a predator cornering it’s prey on Tv Jim’s skin pricks, just like it is now. He’s caught the live show and Billy sure as hell isn’t the predator.

Jim pushes himself out of his car, takes a breath, and tries to swallow the acrid anger rising in his gut. He needs to be calm. Diffuse and extract. He repeats this mantra as he strolls over.

“Billy!” the kid starts hard and turns, anxiety clearly coursing his veins. Karen just looks up, clear irritation spreading across her face.

Jim hates her.

He forces a grin “hey kid,” he shouts, flicking a pointed stare at Karen as he does, before focusing on Billy “why you still here? Pool’s shut, isn’t it?” Billy looks a little perplexed as he replies, “yeah, I was just, er, leaving, right Mrs Wheeler?” he turns back to the woman, who has at least taken a few steps back. She doesn’t look even slightly phased as she corrects him in a sickeningly sweet voice, “we’ve spoken about this Billy, call me Karen,” as she bats her eyes in a way that makes Jim want to knock her out.

It’s an image he allows himself as he closes in on them, stretches his grin further and says “with all due respect Mrs Wheeler surely Nancy and Mike are home by now,” she has the audacity to puff up at the dig “I was just about to head home Hopper. The kids will be fine for a bit,” Jim keeps smiling, “ of course Mrs Wheeler, you get back to your kids and I’ll take care of this one.” he says it in what El has affectionately dubbed his ‘Chief Voice.’ It leaves no room for argument. With a slight huff Karen shrinks back, sends one final sweeping glance at Billy, before retreating to the safety of her car with a sharp “Goodnight.”

He watches pointedly as she drives out of the car park, then turns to Billy. He’s strung tight, trembling and pale. Jim braces himself, ready for an argument as he speaks“you aren’t driving anywhere like this kid, get in my car,” he’s surprised when Billy complies. Jim follows suit, puts the car in drive, there’s no destination for now.

Billy’s shaking hands curl into fists as the car pulls out onto the road. Jim waits, gives the kid time to process. The silence is long but when the words come they’re seething “I was fucking fine,” he hisses, “I don’t need your fucking help,” he’s gritting his teeth, snarling like an animal, hackles raised. Jim won’t rise to it, he knows this is the ‘fight’ part of Billy’s wiring, something he calls upon constantly. Instead he simply and calmly states “no you weren’t, and yes you do,” eyes fixed firmly on the road.

His periphery catches the lock and load in the kid’s throat as Billy’s teeth grit impossibly harder, he twists in his seat and pulls the trigger as he roars “What the fuck do you know?!” it’s fucking loud, splits Jim’s ears, but he keeps his composure, because Billy is a fucking kid and he’s a fucking adult. Plus, Jim knows he’s being pushed for a reaction, violence is the only language Billy knows especially when it comes to adult men, and Jim will never speak it, no matter how hard Billy tries to make him.

He waits for a beat, listens to the kids laboured breathing before speaking deliberately and slowly,“she’s a predator Billy, old enough to be your mother. Hell, her daughter is older than you. She shouldn’t be anywhere near you,” he glances over, sees a little bit of the anger dissipate as Billy retorts “yea I know that,” he leaves a beat before adding “you old fucker,” and Jim does nothing but raise a brow, refusing to take the bait. He lets Billy stew until the silence becomes too much and the kid continues just to break it, “it doesn’t fuckin matter, it’s always like this, I know how to get away, it’s fuckin fine, I don’t need you,” he spits the word need like it’s poison on his tongue.

Jim gets it, he knows this visceral reaction to offered help is nothing but Billy’s innate survival instincts kicking in. The kid has never been able to trust an adult to protect him, never been allowed to need someone like that. He has no logical basis that would allow him to just trust Jim. But Jim is a stubborn ‘old fucker,’ determined to become someone Billy can trust. But to build that trust Jim needs to get through to the kid, and to do that, he knows needs to push, needs Billy to accept some sort of help. So that’s what he does, he pushes a bit, calm but firm “what were you gonna do Billy?” silence hangs, “to get yourself outta there?”

It takes a while but eventually Billy frowns and mumbles “dunno, but I’d have done something,” and Jim needs to drive his point home so he takes a bit of a risk and asks “would you have shoved her? Hit her?” and that gets a reaction, the kid shoots up straight-backed with an emphatic and horrified ‘No,’ and Jim isn’t proud of it but he has to keep pushing so he says pointedly “then what would you have done?” and the only answer he gets is an exasperated “ugh. I don’t. Fucking. Know.” the silence that settles is suffocating.

When Jim breaks it he treads carefully, speaks slowly as he chooses his words, “exactly Billy, you don’t know. Unfortunately, that isn’t a situation, though by god I wish it was, where I could’ve just arrested her. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t wrong, it just means our justice system is shite,” Billy flashes a brief smile at that “ so because I can’t just cuff her, we need an alternative plan.” Billy opens his mouth, likely to protest again, but Jim soldiers on “This is what is going to happen, you’re going to give me your work schedule. I’m going to give you one of my kids walkie talkie things, because it can reach my radio. If not me, someone from my team will be in the car park for every late finish and you are going to contact me with the talkie thing if you end up in a situation where you need me to come and get you immediately, Ok?” Billy doesn’t speak straight away, stares out into the darkness before answering in a voice that cracks just a little “fine, whatever old man.”

With that Jim lets the tension bleed from his body. He needs to speak to Billy more, needs to sit him down properly, have repeated conversations with the kid about personal safety, consent, hell maybe even stranger danger with how reckless he can be sometimes. But that is for another time, now he needs to get him somewhere safe, so he just says “great! Now where am I taking you?” Billy shakes himself a little “just home,” Jim questions that, pointedly glancing at his still slightly trembling hands, “is that wise right now?” Billy frowns a little but changes his answer, “Munson’s” Jim smiles. Eddie is so well attuned to Billy, he knows the kid will get nothing but comfort as soon as Eddie lays eyes on him (he also knows Steve will be with them in a flash).

He makes the short drive to Eddies, cuts the engine outside and turns to face Billy, “I’ll get you a talkie and give it to Eddie or Steve tomorrow ok?” Billy stares at him shocked. He looks so young, so lost, like he can’t comprehend the idea that Jim isn’t just all talk, it takes a while but he gets a quiet “yea ok,” before the kid is suddenly yanking the door open, turning to slam it shut with a brief muffled “thanks old man” slipping through the gap, before he’s off practically sprinting to the door.

Jim chuckles to himself, at least it’s better than ‘old fucker,’ he waits for Eddie to open the door, sees the blatant look of concern as he gently slides a hand into Billy’s and pulls him across the threshold, just catches a glance of Steve who’s staring worriedly at his cop car before the door swings shut. Jim sighs starts his engine and heads home.

Billy’s the youngest, the most vulnerable of the three, sometimes it’s easy to forget.

Sometimes it’s vital to remember.

#billy hargrove #jim hopper #eddie munson #steve harrington #mungrove #harringroveson #harringrove #stilldie #Karen wheeler #jim is Billy’s new dad it’s literally stuck in my brain #hurt/comfort #strangerthings #stranger things #fic #writing #dad jim hopper

[gritsandbrits]

So how;s adam and eve reunion gotta be ? it's must be full with drama

"So this is what youve been up to all these centuries?" Adam remarked, taking note of Eve's outfit. 

Gone were the elegant blue, pink and white robes that denoted her as his Other. Now she wore overalls and a plain gray shirt. A leather ultility belt hung around her hips. Her hair, once a luscious river of brown, was cut shorter and braided. 

"If youre here to take back there the answer is no," replied the brunette.

Hm. it seems looks werent the only thing that changed about Eve.

"I'm not here to take you back, Im just wanted to know how youve been," said Adam. Hs lips formed a sly grin. 

"Though if you want to, I can convince Sera to-"

"You will convince nobody, Im through with that place."  Eve's voice sharpened some more. 

Adam was taken aback. The audacity of this woman he grumbled internally. He didnt know what to think! He was so used to her soft, demure mannerisms. She never raised her voice at anyine not when the kids were acting up, and definitely not at him. 

What changed? 

Adam glanced over at his sweet wittle Abel, who only stood awkwardly at the unexpected family reunion.

Of course, if he played his cards right then Eve would be back by his side by the night's end. She would do anything for their real kids!

But then he remembered Kané. He had told her to hide, that he would not reveal her until he could persuade Eve to hear him out. 

Charlie felt it wasnt her place to interrupt. She didnt know what to say. But she did know Adam had a trick of his sleeve. So she sent him a warning glare, daring him to mess up.

"Ooh this is better than a soap opera," Angel Dust whispered excitedly as he cradeled Phat Nuggets. He was enjoying the mayhem unfolding.

"Normally I wouldnt care about Adam but I'm bored," Veggie replied with equal interest. Even back in her exterminator days it was no secret how Adam treated Eve. He never defended her when other angels scorned & looked down at her, so when news of her disappearance reached her ears, Veggie was not surprised. 

Besides, he had this coming a LONG while. She was glad to have a front row seat at the day of reckoning. 

Husk simply took out his flask. This was going to be a long night. 

All the while Kané stood in her hiding spot behind the cacti. She could see the resemeblance between her mama and Eve, even with obvious differences there was no doubt the First Woman Ever was their grandmother. The way she presented herself caused a wave of comfort for the girl, as if she could trust her with her deepest, darkest secrets. 

Adam was not moved. He didnt expect his wife, his soulmate to reject him like that.

"Now look after everything we've been through, you dont want to be in paradise? We worked hard for it, Evie! You deserve to stay here."

Eve crossed her arms. Adam began to sweat. He really wished he had his mask. 

"I mean, not here in this shitstain or Earth, but up there", he pointed up at the ceiling. "Please Evie, come back to us. We miss you, the rest of the brood miss you."

That part was genuine. He really did miss her. He hated that the one chance at being together again was slipping through his fingers. Lilith was probably cheering somewhere at this update.

Eve shuddered at the pet name. She loathed him for pulling that out, and loathed herself for nearly buying that. Centuries apart and he still managed to makr her weak in the knees.

But she had to keep going! Evelyn Lambert worked too far and too hard to succumb back to that demure helpless trophy everyone expected her to be.

"No. You dont get to call me that! You knew how they treated me and did nothing to stop it! All they did was insult and belittle me, you were my husband and supposed to protect me!" She pointed an accusatory finger at him. 

"Well what did you expect me to do punch every angel who ever looked at us funny? That's not exactly holy behavior," chided Adam. 

"Oh you are a real piece of work my love," Eve snipped. "Like we're all supoosed to ignore that you went off on a mad crusade because you were too spineless to admit all of us are capable of sin? You didnt even think twice that doing so would cause a war!"

Adam winced. He hadn't thought of that. But no matter! There was no war and a mere instance of hell figthing back didn't erase countless years of victories his extermination squad achieved.

"Hey a war wouldn't be possible anyways because look at them! We are much more stronger, they just got lucky," boasted the First Man. 

"And they cheated! That fucking thing stabbed me in the back!" He pointed at Nifty, who could only reply with a satisfied grin. 

"An unnarmed man! And left his kids without both parents!" Adam continued, hoping his put-on was enough to soothe his beloved' heart. 

Abel cupped his face and sighed. Even during a serious moment his fayher loved being a drama king. It was such a common put-on Abel could smell it a mile away. 

Unknown to him, Kané shared the same sentiment. She pinched her nose, wasn't Adam's arrogance the reason why he was in hell in the first place? Why is he regressing all of a sudden? She held her tongue.

Eve gritted her teeth. God, she was so done with her ex's mind games!

As if somebody left the window opened a cold wind blasted through the room. Everyone tensed, Vaggie and Angel ready to move in case things got uglier.

"Talk about hell hath no fury," muttered Kané shrinking hwrself further away. Whisps of curls flew about Eve's face, her eyes glowing even more purple with a protective fury.

Charlie tugged her jacket tightly, her drealocks blowing around her face.  She watched as Eve posed herself straighter. She swore she could see the faint outlines of butterfly wings on the woman.

Before Adam could say anything else (preferably HIDE), Abel finally stepped in and placed comforting hands on his mom's shoulders. He spoke to her in a language Kané couldnt ubdertand. It seemed to calm her down as the wind stopped blowing and the room temp returned to normal. 

"Come on, Let's all sit down and discuss this like real adults." Abel directed that last part at his dad.

"I believe this matter also concerns you Your Highness," he addressed Charlie. 

"Hopefully we can get all this sorted out peacefully," the hell princess spoke. She was ready to intervened one she felt that wind. She wouldnt let anyone get hurt, especially at Adam's hand. 

Shrugging, Adam went over to the table, as Eve Abel and Charlie sat down. The older brunette took a place on the opposite end but still kept her violet eyes on Adam. She had a good mind to throw a wrench at his stupid smexy face. 

Kané still watched as her family began to convers, interspersed with bits of Angel Dust's disappointment at the lackluster resolution. 

For some reason she couldnt muster the courage to step out. Was it fear? Eve would probably hate her if she found out she was Cain's grandkid. 

Suddenly she felt something tugging at the bottom of her jacket. She turned to see a little purple lamb nibbling at her. 

"Hey hey hey shoo shoo!" She spoke as loudly as she could to not give away her position. The lamb was too entranced by the flavor of unwashed polyester. Kané tried to pushed it away but some how she tripped.

"Gah! Fuck!" 

The poor girl fell forward, causing everyone to turn her away. The mischievous scampered off with its prize, a piece of green cloth. 

The four royals got up to see the irritated girl laying on the floor. Eve and Abel could only gape as Charlie rushed over the help her.

Adam froze.

The jig was up.

#hazbin hotel adam #hazbin eve #hazbin abel #hazbin fanfic #hazbin oc #oc x canon #platonic oc x canon #eve oc #oc: kane #oc: evan smith #oc: evangeline #charlie morningstar #hazbin hotel #hazbin tag #adam x eve #gb asks

[stevecoregirly]

Jungkook - Kitty Thief

Pairing - Neighbor Jungkook x Hybrid Neighbor Fem!OC

Type - Oneshot 

Word count - 859 words

Warnings - Kind of Dark Jungkook, Neighbors to lovers, Tiny angst, Jungkook is mean, OC is cute, Crybaby!OC, shy Innocent OC, Hot pissed Jk, Dom!JK, Sub!OC, Short Oc, Daddy Jungkook, name calling (he calls her dumb and stupid but she likes it so dw), mentions of punishment, Non idol au!

Summary - Jeon Jungkook was a meticulous man with a specific love for hoodies. So imagine his shock and anger when he finds out that his cute little neighbor is stealing his hoodies. 

Note - This was supposed to be a cute fluffy one shot, but it somehow turned out smutty. I’ve literally been putting posting this off for so long because I wasn’t happy or proud with it. But I just decided ‘fuck it’ and now im posting it lol. Feedbacks are always, and I mean ALWAYS appreciated!! Guys seriously send in asks, comments, reblogs literally anything, I love them. Also, this may still have some mistakes, pls ignore that! But Enjoy!

Jeon Jungkook was a meticulous man with a specific love for hoodies. He had thousands of them, all stacked up in his closet. But lately, his hoodies have been missing. Jungkook swears he isn’t being paranoid when he says this: his hoodies are gone.

No longer are they hung – thrown – across his closet. No, he did not lend them to his non-existent girlfriend (as his friend Namjoon had so sweetly suggested), and he definitely did not throw them out.

At first, he thought he had misplaced them. That perhaps he forgot them in the dryer, or at one of his friends house. However, all his friends had denied this –Jungkook wasn’t the type to forget or misplace his hoodies – his friends had said.  

So where were they? They had simply…disappeared.

A few days ago, Jungkook had left his hoodie in the living room before slipping into bed, but the next morning it wasn’t there. Thus at 9 in the morning, Jungkook was so sure that his hoodies weren’t misplaced, they were being stolen. Someone had the audacity to steal his things and the thought alone made him clench his jaw and roll his tongue along his inner cheek.

The police wouldn’t take him seriously. Who would? One look at his apartment and background and they’d tell him he could easily buy more of them considering his wealth.

One peaceful evening while slurping ramen, he convinced himself, that he would catch the thief all by himself.

..........

Jungkook was pretending to sleep when the balcony door in his living room squeaked with footsteps padding on the creaky wooden floor. The thief wasn’t exactly trying to be quiet.

How had he never heard them before?

Jungkook crawled out of his room, making sure to hide behind the furniture as he spotted a figure hoping around the room. To his utter surprise, it was a woman. A woman so oddly familiar in a hoodie and a skimpy skirt.

“Ha! Caught you.” Jungkook grinned, pearly white teeth showing. “Come on, turn around, you filthy thief.” He watched with an evil satisfaction as the culprit froze, a hoodie clutched in their hands.

The person remained frozen, and he rolled his eyes.

“Who are you? Why do you keep stealing my –” He paused mid sentence. His jaw flapped open, his eyes widened as the person finally turned around.

There stood his neighbor, Yn, dressed in an awfully familiar black hoodie and a  skirt.

“Hi…?”, she said, giving him a panicked smile and shuffling backwards.

“What...”

Getting out of the shock, Jungkook stalked up to her and slammed her on the wall.  A surprised squeak left her lips at his harshness, but his attention was no longer on the hoodie still clutched in her hands, or the way she gawked at him.

No, he was busy staring at the furry ears sitting on the top her head.

“What the fuck?” He mumbled under his breath and squinted his eyes at her. “Jesus, are you a hybrid?”

At his question she nodded her head and looked down. Her ears drooped and her tail stilled. Was he going to tell her he hated her and that she was disgusting?

While hybrids were common, he wasn’t expecting her to be one. His pretty little neighbor, the one he’d greet every morning, the one he’d occasionally see in the laundry room picking up her clothes. The one who always wore pastel skirts and familiar hoodies (now he knows why they were so fucking familiar, she was the thief.) Hell, she was the one he had a creaking crush on.

But not only was she a hybrid but apparently also the thief stealing his hoodies.

“Yn? Why were you stealing my hoodies?”

she stuttered, eyes roaming everywhere but at him. “I uhm liked your scent, it comforted me and oh! Your hoodies were so soft!”. She finally looked up at him, but had to tilt her head to match his tall height.

Jungkook’s heart softened at the tiny tears in her eyes, but his gaze darkened.  He raised his eyebrow and her cheeks heated at the way he tutted mockingly.

“Oh? Stupid girl stole all my hoodies because she liked my smell? What would I wear then?”

She ignored the way her thighs clenched at his words and bit back a whimper. Jungkook, though, noticed everything and smirked.

she sniffed. “I am sorry! Please don’t be mad. I’ll return it I prom-” her incoherent rambling was cut of when Jungkook wrapped his hands around her bare throat, and squeezed.

“Dumb baby, if you liked my scent all you had to do was ask. Daddy would’ve let you cuddle with him, wear his shirts all the time”, he whispered, his hot breath tickling her face.

“D-Daddy?”, she whimpered as Jungkook pulled her closer by the throat. He rubbed her ears. “Bet you did dirty things in my hoodies, didn’t you?”  

He stroked her cheeks, before landing a soft slap to them. He watched the way she squirmed, rutting against his thighs.

“But you had to be a bad little thief, didn’t you? Now daddy has to punish you.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thank you for reading!! Pls send in feedback. 

#Jungkook fanfic #Jungkook drabble #jungkook oneshot #Jungkook smut #Jungkook fic #Bts smut #bts fic #Jungkook #Jungkook x oc #Jungkook x yn #jungkook hybrid au #Bts fanfic #Bts drabble

[1k1ga1]

i can apply for a job for abel heilon from "i became the wife of the male protagonist" with a reading that dresses in black like ines valeztena from "the broken ring" (if you've read it you know what i'm talking about) that scene from everyone's wedding surprised by its beauty was WONDERFUL!or something along those lines? I'm just looking for abel's jobs and it's my first time here so I'm sorry if it was long or a little rude:)

💙

❝𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓…❞

𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐡𝐰𝐚 💭 𝐢 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 💭 𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐜𝐰 💭 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

( 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥! 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬! 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭! 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲. )

from the day a mere point of a six years-old child’s finger locked his fate, abel was never able to envision his future without you, his future betrothed. the one and only daughter of a revered duke who’s wealth and fame was abundant enough for the only heir to spend mindlessly throughout generations. yet, despite hailing from such an esteemed lineage, you were famed not as the most noble woman in aristocratic society, but as the ‘crow-like’ nun.

in spite of the huge inheritance to your name, you rarely invested in luxury jewelry and custom-made ball gowns. instead, you opted for shabby black dresses that covered from head to toe, barely leaving anything to the imagination.

though the aristocratic circles satirized you for dressing like a nun, they also commended your (assumed) efforts to stay chaste for your husband, incapable of comprehending that you merely wore what you found the most comfortable and efficient.

despite being at the center of ridicule and gossip, no one was there to defend you. your fiancée, who had indirectly caused the criticism to grow harsher due to his excuses to delay your wedding, was also territories away.

after years of enduring the scorn and mockery on your own, your shameless fiancée, who grabbed the opportunity to run away from his engagement by becoming the northern duke, dared to show his face at your doorstep. not to mention, he had the audacity to bring his adopted daughter along without a warning.

once abel had sat down (uninvited) and wore that shit-eating grin, you realized he was just the same as before. perhaps his physique had build, but that brazen and snarky personality of his was still irritating.

oh, the poor girl. you couldn’t imagine how hellish it would be to be such a man’s daughter. you were convinced he coerced her into agreeing, but decided not to voice your thoughts.

one thing you did appreciate about abel though, was the fact he always got to the point. but the audacity he has to order you to prepare for the wedding (which he quite literally ran away from) while he was still in the capital for his daughter’s debut was overly shameless.

so shameless that the fact you slapped him would be too merciful for a man who abandoned you to endure in humiliation for years.

regardless of the quarrel after not seeing each other for years, you did indeed organize a humble wedding ceremony that would only be attended by the royal family and close acquaintances. and on the most momentous day of your life, you walked into the banquet hall, figure adorned by rivulets of glimmering white that easily captured everyone’s attention. though the gown was basic by noble society’s standards, it complimented your body shape hugged your curves almost tantalizingly.

you could feel all the eyes enthralled on your figure. everyone was eating up your exposed neckline and bare shoulders after being conditioned to seeing you dressed like a nun for the majority of your life.

with a too knowing smile, you glance towards your soon to-be husband, and cerulean eyes widened in shock stared back at you, and if you squinted, you could see the soft flush of his cheeks under the bright chandelier. but you indulge his gaze no longer as you turned away, the quirk of your lips turning more teasing, knowing what you stirred up in him.

was it the blush and lipstick that captured their attention? no one knew. surely a white dress couldn’t make someone look so beautiful? but could it? or perhaps was it your captivating smile that was all too knowing that it put the people who ogled to shame? no one knew the reason, but surely you’d be the hottest topic in the capital the following day.

#manhwa x reader #i became the wife of the male lead #abel heilon #female reader #fluff #author of my own destiny #—ichigo 💭 #_𝟏𝐊𝟏𝐆𝐀𝟏_

[papirouge]

i'm so sorry to ask, but could you explain a little more about the selective white woman outrage stuff? I've been reblogging palestinian stuff for a few months but I wasn't aware there was a white woman vs. other women element to all this (not surprised tbh, but just, was unaware)

Sorry for the lack of context lol but this rant was me snapping at post of radfem making fun of pro Palestine leftists calling out "white feminism" because they seemingly where more bothered at people having the audacity to hold White women responsible in their accomplice silence on the murder of Palestian women - when they had no problem to speak up about raped Israeli women.

Radfem love saying how leftists hide their misogyny against women by attacking "white women", but radfem are being extremely disingenuous here because they act like there were no actual valid criticism to be held about the hypocrisy of white feminist women, and brush it off as misogyny. Because they are unable to take accountability without victimizing themselves.

That's how they manage to turn a discourse about murdered women EN MASSE about how they -sheltered western white women- have their feelings hurt by people calling them by name online... (many radfem are terminally online loser who conflate online culture with real oppression, which ironically puts them on par with the "misandry is as bad as misogyny" idiots 💁🏾‍♀️)

The fact that they went MIA for months to never address the situation of Palestinian women, only to wake up to white knight JK Rowling is everything we need to know about how disastrous those women's priorities are. But God forbid we call out their selective outrage exclusively centering White women "white feminism", because that's misogyny, riiiiight? 🤡

#answered #radfem #radical feminism #jk Rowling #terfblr #terfism

[flwersgarden]

Think about this for a second, singer reader singing a duet with another person BUT it's about romance and it looks like they're singing it to each other, causing the public to think that reader is having an affair with them. Making yandere elvis jealous AF- now think about that one for a minute👀

note: oh dear anon, im thinking about it.... like real hard....... long.... and hard..... sorry it's short (psss, come back tomorrow and i'll update it ;) i promise) 💕

' Y/N Y/L/N HAS TWO LOVERBOYS? '

elvis throws the newspaper to the dinner table, hitting some plates and forks, clenching his jaw as the outline mocks him.

his hands are in his hips, his eyes set in the first page.

he can't fucking believe the audacity you had sometimes.

“ FUCK. ” he screams. grabbing the newspaper before tearing it to pieces while he screams several curse words and incoherence following them, the small picture of you posing for a candid with a dashing smile falls slowly to the ground, on his feet.

️️ ️️️️️️️️️

you keep laughing, cleaning your tears as your duet keeps telling his story about how he met one of those amazing directors just to blew it by being dumb.

a harsh knock interrupts.

“ it must be that food. ” mildred whispers, making you chuckle.

you turn to the mirror next to you, checking your makeup as you were about to go out on stage and perform with alex.

️️ ️️️️️️️️️“ y/n. ”

you look at elvis, surprised at the use of your first name, smiling. a big difference to his angry frown.

“ hi, honey. ” you sweetly say, standing up. “ what-? ”

“ come. ” he extends his arm, his hand opened as an invitation. you knew it was an order.

you just nod but before you can walk to him, a hand grabs your wrist.

“ wait. ” alex stands up as well.

you widen your eyes as you gaze at elvis, knowing how he can be when someone touches you; even more if someone touches you to stop you going to him.

“ boy. ” elvis says with a warning tone. “ you better take your hand off my goddamn woman. ”

a silence enters the room and leaves you feeling uncomfortable.

“ alex, please let me go. ”

he does as he's told. you immediately walking to elvis and getting out of the room.

mildred just whistles. “ that's one couple... ” she shakes her head before sitting in the small couch. alex just scoffs.

️️ ️️️️️️️️️

you're just following his steps, hardly so.

your feet hurt like hell, thanks to the white heels you were wearing, your white dress flowing through the hallways like a ghost and your hair shining as elvis opens a door and pushes you inside. your hands hold yourself together with the wall, the room seemed to be an empty dressing room. elvis locks the door.

silence again. you hate it.

“ honey? ” you ask with the hope of getting an answer. you get nothing.

“ daddy? ” you try next. elvis' head moves to the side.

“ elvis. ”

you regretted saying his name.

in a swift movement he grabs your neck with his hand, pushing you to the wall.

“ i love you, i treat you right, i buy you things, i give you the attention you want whenever you need it. and that's how you pay me back? ”

you just try to focus your attention in the air that you feel leaving your lungs.

“ by being a fucking- ”

elvis closes his eyes. a moment passes. the only thing that can be heard are your pathetic attempts to breathe.

before you pass out, elvis finally leaves you alone. your hands work as support in the floor, your chest filling itself with oxygen as you cough. tears burn your eyes while you sniff. he has never do this to you. hell, he didn't even raised his voice when you were present. where is this coming from?

“ i won't insult you. ” he says, more to himself than to you.

you can't see it but he has turned his back to you, touching his forehead with two fingers.

“ because i love you too much for that. ”

you feel the air returning to your body, which makes you speak.

“ wh-what? ” your tone lost the sweetness to it, now a harsh almost hoarse tone accompanies your voice.

“ don't play stupid with me. ” he turns to you, pointing a guilty look at you.

“ b-ba-. ” you cough, trying to stand up; failing in doing that so you end up kneeling. “ baby, i don't know- truly. ”

“ i am a fucking singer, do you know that? ” he asks with a sarcastic voice.

he expected an answer. “ y-yes. ” you answer.

“ so? ” he raises his hands, mocking how dumb you looked just answering when you were the one with questions.

“ i-. ”

“ you ask that fucking dickhead to sing with you instead of me? your husband?! ” he screams the last word.

you sob, now your mind connecting the dots. “ i did-n't mean- to-. ” your sobs interrupt you, shaking your head before inhaling and continuing. “ i had no bad intentions, elvis, i swear. ”

you just cry when he grabs your throat again.

“ you must think i'm stupid. ”

you immediately shake your head. “ no! i swea-ar! ” you sob harder at the last sentence, why would he do this to you? what bad thing did you do now?

he squeezes the hold in your throat, making you whimper.

“ i could kill you. so easily. ” he mutters, caressing your lower lip with his thumb. it was trembling. he looks down. “ but i need you here with me. because without you, i would die. i would go insane. ” he just sighs.

he is a sucker for your love.

elvis looks at you and he can't keep his anger grow. the tears in your eyes and the weird voice you had broke his heart.

“ elvis... what are you talking about? ”

he knew how to read you... and you were telling the truth.

“ oh, darling. ” he whispers, kneeling to your side as he hugs you.

you were just crying, the moment of violence elvis displayed made you want to get out of his grasp but at the same time your brain knew you couldn't do it. he was big and tall. how were you supposed to punch him and teach him a lesson?

he raises your face with his hand in your neck. that starstruck gaze you loved now made you shiver in fear.

“ i get jealous, 'das all. ” he still stalks in a whisper. he now seemed afraid of your reaction to him. clearly ignoring your scared gaze and trembling figure besides him. “ you're so precious and anyone could steal you, like a diamond. ”

he chuckles.

“ my diamond. ” he mutters. his lips travel to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses from there to your chin.

“ would you forgive me, baby? i was just a bit jealous- please, understand. ”

you just nod your head, scared that the aggressiveness that he showed earlier would come back.

now the only thing you could think about is how you were going to explain the red marks on your neck and your sore throat.

️️ ️️️️️️️️️

as you walk to the stage you try to drink water to help your throat, shaking with fear everytime you remember how your voice sounded in your discussion with elvis.

“ hey. ” alex puts his hand on your shoulder.

immediately you shake it off, the thought of elvis dragging you again to just do the same thing invaded your mind. and you were already pissed at the fact that he ruined this show for you.

alex just frowns, taking a step back as he eyes you suspiciously. “ okay? ” he whispers to himself, making you shake your head. can't everyone just leave you alone for a second?

you try your voice, and again, hoarse and ugly.

catching the attention of your manager, she comes closer, her hand in your lower back. “ hey, is your voice good? ” and at the sound of that, everyone starts asking the same.

you just look at everyone around you, making you feel suffocated. like elvis had you.

“ NO! IT'S NOT FUCKING GOOD! ” you closed your eyes as you screamed, your hands turning into fists.

when you open your eyes, everyone is staring at you.

️️ ️️️️️️️️️

your eyes feel annoying when you try to blink, the amount of crying you did didn't help so, as you lied in bed, you just tried to think of something else. something else that wasn't how your career was on pause until your throat was checked and fixed, on how alex now doesn't want to work with you, on how you were being eaten up by the press saying the attack of insanity you had backstage.

elvis was on the bathroom, talking and laughing while you drowned in your sorrow. you were about to lose his career for his stupid jealousy and he was fucking laughing.

but what could you do? besides not paying attention.

he was elvis presley. and now, without your voice, you were nothing.

#request 🤍 #yandere austin!elvis #austin!elvis #austin!elvis x reader #elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader #elvis 2022 #yandere elvis

[girlreviews]

Review #263: Tracy Chapman, Tracy Chapman

You don’t get artists like Tracy Chapman come along too often, and it’s infuriating when they do, because you see the same old shit play out. People are threatened by their mere presence and the idea that they can make something so incredible, but especially that it might give marginalized people a voice. This record came out the year I was born, so it’s approaching its 36th birthday. It’s both unsurprising and also a little devastating at how relevant it remains in 2024. I’ll start by saying: I love it, her, I always have, and I have so many memories attached to this record. Some so sad and some really sweet, all really tender.

But I have something to say about both music critics and general white fragility when it comes to Tracy. Here’s a 1988 review from renowned critic Robert Christgau, self proclaimed “Dean of American Rock Critics” (are American rock critics some kind of authority too? Why’s that? Interesting.):

"Fast Car" is so far-seeing, "Mountains o' Things" so necessary, that it's doubly annoying when she puts her name on begged questions like "Why" and "Talkin' Bout a Revolution." Maybe I should be heartened and so forth that Intelligent Young People are once again pushing naive left-folkie truisms, but she's too good for such condescension--even sings like a natural. Get real, girl. B MINUS”

Where to begin? Firstly, that is the entire review. So you want to talk about condescension, Robert? You can start by referring to Tracy Chapman as a grown woman, which she is, and was, in 1988. And critic you may be, but you’ve never written a review that’s even half as good as Talkin’ Bout A Revolution, which is more relevant today than any of your writing. Why was about apartheid. Maybe you had the luxury of not giving a fuck. Assigning grades? B minus? Get real, boy.

Curious what grade you gave Paul Simon’s Graceland, an album recorded during apartheid, some in South Africa with an array of African musicians who he then toured with. This was both criticized and praised. The point is, it was very political, not in content so much, but in creation. So, when it’s done by an egotistical white man? Listen, I love Graceland but don’t think I won’t be looking into that with some serious side-eye. OH WHAT A FUCKING SURPRISE, PAUL SIMON’S 1986 GRACELAND RECEIVED AN A. Fuck all the way off, and then fuck off some more.

This album isn’t for you. Has it ever occurred to you that not every piece of music was made to be consumed by you? And to be declared worthy by you? Jesus fucking Christ, the audacity. She’s singing about poverty, the kind most people will never truly know. The traumatic kind. She’s singing about domestic violence, you know, the kind typically perpetrated by men against women and that too often takes their lives. She’s singing about a tense relationship with the police. She’s singing about escaping dire situations with a glimmer of hope that she might finally belong, that she might finally “be someone”… Only to find herself in seemingly just as dire ones. Do you relate, Robert? Let’s go back to 1988 and you just sit this one out. To be clear, it’s not entirely for me either! But when you have that awareness, you can hear something and still appreciate it. It’s not that hard.

Fast Car was still on the radio a good bit when I was growing up, and again, I think my Mom played this record from time to time. But my real connection to Tracy Chapman came to me in two different ways: VH1’s Pop Up Video, which I watched every single day before I went to school. Over and over, the same episodes. There was an episode that featured Fast Car, and I remember just being floored by the little facts that popped up. Her life had been so unbelievably difficult, with challenge after challenge — which is pretty damn clear in the song. The thing I always remember is that as a young girl, she had saved up her money to buy a guitar, and then her best friend stole it. As stupid as it sounds I think about that all the time. Anyway, this song is special, and everyone knows it, it’s massive, but it’s something different to everyone. Can anyone relate specifically to what she’s describing? Probably somebody, somewhere. Maybe lots of people. But I can tell you that I listened to this song curled up in my bed pretending to be asleep with tears streaming down my face. Wishing that some parts of it weren’t true for me, and wishing that some parts of it were. It’s both a gut punch and a cup of tea between my cold hands.

The second way was Baby Can I Hold You, which, and this kind of cracks me up, was covered by Irish boyband Boyzone in the 90s. Little baby me was pretty into Boyzone, but eventually learned that the original artist was Tracy Chapman. Obviously, her version is better. It hurts my feelings. Is it someone declaring their feelings? Or is it someone communicating the experience of an emotionally unavailable partner, and the words they long to hear? Either way, there’s an ache in it, and it’s beautiful.

Tracy Chapman has been having a major resurgence, because a white male country artist covered Fast Car and as a result an entire new generation of young people are being moved by it. While I kind of wish there wasn’t a cover like this at all, it’s been nice to see Luke Combs give Tracy Chapman the spotlight she deserves and make it her moment. They seem to have a sweet and thoughtful relationship, and he truly loved the record when it came out. He had it on cassette. It was really something to see Tracy on stage at the Grammys smiling, thriving, looking beautiful as ever and singing with that voice just shutting everybody the hell up. I also appreciate that he kept the genders the same in his cover. I’d love to know whether he chose that or whether she insisted upon it. Either way, it was the right call.

Chances are you’ve heard Fast Car, and maybe even Baby Can I Hold You. Don’t be a dweeb, this record is significant and I really believe you’re missing out if you go through your life without listening to it, but it’s your call. I’d like to personally thank Tracy Chapman and VH1’s Pop Up Video for their contributions to my life and the content of my brain. I love you both so very much.

#album review #music #music review #rolling stone top 500 #tracy chapman #fast car

[fantasies2paper]

"Can you run that by me one more time, Midoriya?" I couldn't believe what my, now ex, boyfriend's high school friend had just told me. "I feel like you just told me the guy I've been with for, oh I don't know, four years is cheating on me."

I saw a few things flit through his green eyes. Kindness, honesty, and maybe anger which I'm positive wasn't directed at me. He was currently sitting in my living room while I walked through the house grabbing various items that belonged to the offending party and chucking them in a box. Carelessly. No, violently. 

"I have done everything for that pap smear and he has the audacity to cheat?!" I growled to myself before stopping and turning to look at Midoriya. I didn't know him very well, just that he had always been kind to me and always offered company. "Why did you tell me this, Midoriya? You could've been laughing it up with him but you're here with me. Why?"

"In all honesty," he said as he stood up and slowly walked towards me, stopping in front of me and looking into my e/c eyes. "I told him you were too smart, too sexy, and too good for him. I also said that, if we found ourselves in a certain position, I'd gladly help you forget all about him. Call me Izuku."

The saucy smirk that followed made my breath catch in my throat. Midoriya was definitely a sexy male specimen. The white t-shirt he wore looked like it was hugging him in all the right places. I wanted to know if he had muscles underneath all those clothes or if it was just an illusion. The problem was he never seemed like he'd even seen a woman naked, let alone what to do with her.

"Look, Midor-," I paused at the heat in his eyes. "I mean Izuku, if I'm going to get under someone to get over him it has to at the very least be someone who knows more than me, ya know? I mean all we've ever done is missionary so I need to get wrecked."

I chuckled to myself, throwing another item into the box before Izuku pressed me into the wall behind me causing a gasp to fall from my lips.

"I can wreck you, y/n." His voice was low and his body was close to mine, one of his hands splayed on my lower back while one of his legs was between both of mine. "I'll have you screaming my name before the end of it, puppy."

My knees wobbled and my mouth went dry at the pet name. I'm sure if he hadn't pinned me to the wall I would've been on the floor. I darted my tongue out to lick my suddenly dry lips, my hands squeezing his biceps as I tried to compose myself. His arms were harder than I'd imagined making my core clench at the thought of his body pressing mine into everything in my apartment.

I slowly moved to kiss him and he gave me time to change my mind before pressing his lips to mine. His tongue flicked my bottom lip, seeking entrance while his hand pressed my lower body closer to his. I moaned softly into the kiss, his tongue taking the opportunity to slip into my mouth and explore. My hands found themselves his shirt, gripping it tight before he squeezed my ass.

"Izuku," I moaned against his lips, needing his skin on mine. I moved my hands to the hem of his shirt, helping him out of it before I lost my mind. He didn't show the same kindness with my button-up though because the next thing I knew he was ripping it off, buttons hitting the floor noisily.

He picked me up and I instinctively wrapped my legs around his waist, wanting my body as close to his as possible. I hadn't noticed he'd ripped my bra off until I felt my nipples harden against his already hard chest. It spurred me on more, making me suck on the tongue that was invading my mouth. He groaned into my mouth squeezing my ass hard enough to bruise.

I heard a loud thud and door swing open before he tossed me on my bed making me squeak in surprise. I looked up at Izuku, the predatory gleam in his green eyes made me bite my lip. He dipped down towards me, grabbing the hem of my yoga pants and yanking them down.

"You haven't been wearing any panties, puppy?" He groaned as he kissed his way down to my hip. "Such a bad, bad girl."

He stood up to take his pants off and I gasped softly at the hard length that came out of its confinement. I don't think I'd ever seen one that thick and solid. The head was leaking precum and I found myself licking my lips.

"Oh you're definitely gonna wreck me." I said breathlessly, standing up to bring his lips to mine again. 

His hand cupped my face, kissing me deeply and devouring my soft mewls. He pulled me down on top of him on the bed, my core sliding against the underside of his shaft. The solid flesh made a dam break between my legs and Izuku gripped my hips, stilling my movements.

"Mmm y/n, I'm going to take a guess that I'm bigger than he was." He said with a slight strain in his voice before he removed one hand from my hip, grabbing the back of my neck and pulling me down to kiss me slowly. "So we are going to take it slow, okay? I don't want to hurt you, puppy."

I was taken aback by his kindness. As beat up as I was about getting cheated on, the relationship itself left little to be desired. I had planned on breaking up with him the following day if I was being completely honest. So I guess on the brightside he'd done it for me.

Snapping my attention back to Izuku, I returned his slow sweet kiss. My hands slid up his hard chest and shoulders, disappearing in his fluffy green hair. The hand on my hip flexed giving me the okay to move again. I rocked back and forth slowly, the throb in my clit matching the throb in his cock. 

"Izuku.." I whimpered against his lips before sucking his bottom lip into my mouth. "I want more. I need more."

Smiling devilishly, Izuku rolled us over and began kissing his way down my body. Caressing and kissing both of my breasts, his hands stroking down my waist and stopping at my hips. He swirled his tongue around my nipples in slow circles before sucking the hardened bud into his mouth.

I sighed softly as I arched my back, pressing my body into him. I couldn't remember the last time I had been touched like this. As he did the same to the opposite nipple I melted into my mattress. Izuki kissed down my belly, biting my left hip gently and then my right. He hooked his arms under my thighs and spread them wide to give him full access.

"Puppy," he moaned long and low in his throat, making me look down my body and lock eyes with him. "So pretty and pink." He spread my lips with his fingers, exposing my deepest parts to him. "It's making my mouth water...looking at it get all wet and swollen for me."

"Izuku," I mewled desperately as he gently blew on my clit, the cool air on my hot flesh making me squirm with need. I had never had a mouth touch my core before but tonight was a night full of firsts. I watched his tongue dart out in what felt like slow motion and I hadn't realized I was clenching the sheets in my hands, but when his tongue made contact with my hot slit I would have done anything he told me for more.

"Y/n, you feel so soft and taste so sweet and you know what?" he asked, his lips grazing my intimate flesh and sending shockwaves through my body. "I've got a sweet tooth, puppy."

He licked my slit again, slow and deliberate before sucking my clit gently into his mouth. He was taking his time, licking and slurping every inch of my pussy until I thought I was going to scream from the overload of sensations. He devoured me like I was the first sustenance he'd had in months and I would fade away any minute.

My hands flew to his hair, not sure if I was trying to keep his head there or pull him back up my body. Sounds I'd never heard myself make before were falling from my lips in a jumble of incoherent babble mingling with the sounds of slurping and deep groans. My eyes were closed so tight I could swear I saw flashes in the darkness of my eyelids.

"Izuku I'm gonna.." I panted, but couldn't get enough air, my throat went dry feeling his wet tongue slide inside of me and rub inside my tight channel. "Oh my god!"

The rumble of his chuckle vibrated my sensitive skin, his hands gripping my thighs tighter and lifting to bring me closer to his mouth. He buried his mouth and tongue deeper inside of me making me arch my back and cry out his name. He moaned against me.

"All I wanna taste is this sweet juice flowing out of your pussy for me, baby. Say my name again, puppy."

His mouth found my sweet spot again, driving his tongue deep inside of me and moving it in circles. I couldn't hold onto my orgasm any longer and cried his name out as I came, clamping down on his tongue. My body was spasming from the shockwave as he pulled himself up my body, licking my taste of his lips.

He kissed my neck and jaw gently as he rolled us over, depositing me on top of him. "You're going to pleasure yourself with my cock, puppy, and I'm going to worship your sexy little body until you scream my name."

I bit my lip as I whimpered, one of his hands gripped my hip to steady me above his cock while his other hand held his cock upright. I felt the tip brush my entrance and a small noise left my throat before taking my lip between my teeth and lowering myself slowly. I clamped around him immediately and watched his jaw clench from his control. I felt like I was being stretched to my limit but it was delicious to feel so full.

When he was fully inside my body I could feel him twitch inside me and his fingers squeezed my hips but he stayed still, allowing me to get used to the feeling. It didn't take me long before I began to roll my hips in a slow circle. Sparks flew out to every nerve ending at the feeling. The new angle hit places in me I had no prior knowledge about and the feeling of being in control of my own release made me feel powerful.

I braced my hands against his chest and grinded my hips against him, moving back and forth awkwardly before I found my rhythm. He held my breasts in his palms, squeezing and massaging them while he rolled my nipples between his thumb and forefinger. His eyelids were heavy and his green eyes were dark with desire, making my core clamp around him at the knowledge that I was doing this to him.

My moans were growing louder as I rode Izuku, my eyes closed and my head rolling back as I lost myself in the feeling of him inside of me. His fingers caressed my skin where he could reach, from the hard peaks of my nipples to where our bodies were joined. I leaned forward and placed my palms on either side of his head, capturing his lips in a searing kiss as I lifted my hips up and down in a slow deliberate rhythm.

"Mmm, puppy." He moaned throatily against my lips, the sound going straight to my clit. "You feel so amazing, like my cock was made just for you. Don't stop."

The pleasure sliding through my body guided the rocking of my hips, my fingers gripping the sheets on either side of his head. My orgasm was climbing higher and higher with every stroke and moan that fell from his lips. I said his name over and over, like a prayer.

Izuku started thrusting up to meet my thrusts, sensing my need to come. I cried out everytime he hit a secret spot deep inside of me. When his fingers flew to my clit it was all over. We came together, my orgasm ripping through my body while I screamed his name. My body trembled from the aftershocks and I hardly noticed him cuddling against me and stroking my arm.

"Y/n never forget you deserve better than you think you do." He whispered softly. "You deserve to be worshipped and cherished because you're a beautiful person. Don't forget that or I'll have to remind you again."

"I'll have to keep that in mind, Izuku." I murmured quietly, I nuzzled into his chest further trying to enjoy this moment before I had to get up and finish throwing out the junk my ex had left behind. Izuku had definitely surprised me and I wouldn't make the mistake of judging a book by its cover anymore.

#deku #izuku x reader #deku x y/n #deku x reader #midoriya izuku #izuku mydoria #bnha deku #mha #bnha #smut #lemon #fic #fanfic #deku smut #my hero academia #female reader #fem reader #deku x fem!reader

[devisrina]

I kind of love coming on here and reacting to sydcarmy this season, it’s so refreshing. I was on Reddit during last season and it was so gross how they treated Sydney and I know it’s only bc the main demographic on Reddit are white men who have a clear view of what character should behave a certain way. Like Sydney couldn’t act or do certain things or else she would be crucified unlike her male counterparts. We know her being a black woman is a large reason why most can’t see her being with a white man but are okay when it’s another black person. It’s also why they were far quicker to warm up to the potential of carmy getting a love interest that resembled him culturally. But have the audacity to call us delusional bc there are very clear signs that say and carmy are soulmates, in every sense of the word.

Thank you for being one of the many sydcarmy acc that make it fun to be on this app!

I kind of love coming on here and reacting to sydcarmy this season// Yes! All the Sydcarmy blogs have the best analysis/opinion pieces on them and I enjoy reading and interacting with them. They are also really welcoming and intelligent beings.

I was on Reddit during last season and it was so gross how they treated Sydney and I know it’s only bc the main demographic on Reddit are white men who have a clear view of what character should behave a certain way.// They never have proper arguments about her without being completely wrong. Then, they accuse us of thinking everyone is racist for disliking her, and then they bring up the other cast members with diverse backgrounds to make their opinion on Sydney seem less out of racial bias. This show does a decent job of presenting people of colour in a nice light, but the main character is a white man, his "cousin" is a white man. And most of those people on Reddit blatantly favouritism Richie. And it's so stupid having to hear the same stupid argument "Am I the only one who thinks Carmen shouldn't have apologised-" Like no, there are a bunch of you assholes on here that think that. But Carmy was at the bigger fault, and the thing is she probably would've apologised, but she couldn't even get a word out without him telling her to shut the fuck up. He got mad under pressure, and he never gave her a chance to right her wrong. I get why Carmy was stressed, but he didn't regulate his behaviour well enough and that demonstrates poor leadership. And he rightfully realised this and apologised.

Sydney couldn’t act or do certain things or else she would be crucified, unlike her male counterparts.// For real. Like, they always crap on her for stabbing Richie, but it was clearly an accident. He backed into it. Yes, she held the knife wrong, but he was pissing her off the entire day out of spite. He had the audacity to ask her if she was blowing someone at the telegraph, and this wasn't the only time he made distasteful comments towards her. And Richie already knew he deserved to be stabbed, so why do people try to keep defending him for something even though he admitted that he deserved it? I'm glad he got development though. She put up with his shit for too long, she put up with everyone's shit for too long. Carmy fucking left her to run a brigade on her own with her coworkers which she barely got in tune with. And Carmy did not defend her in front of them whatsoever. And it was wrong of her to give in her risotto to that customer without talking to Carmy first, and she did mess up the to-go system, and she should learn to be more patient in the future. But that's the thing, she learns from her mistakes and she is seen to be more patient and technical with her work now.

We know her being a black woman is a large reason why most can’t see her being with a white man but are okay when it’s another black person.// This is so annoying, but also so realistic to how people react to white men displaying any sort of romantic attraction to women of colour. They get so surprised that you're not just sidelined by an attractive white guy and that they see you as attractive. There are relationships between people of the same race. Who cares if Sydcarmy gets together? Also, I feel like they would be one of the best-written interracial couples if they were to become canon. Also, I don't feel that Marcus understands Syd in the way that Carmy does/tries to. Marcus is caring and such a sweetheart, who I hope finds someone someday. But I feel that Sydcarmy would be so good together after they both work through things.

It’s also why they were far quicker to warm up to the potential of Carmy getting a love interest that resembled him culturally.// I feel like we all tried to like Claire, but it just wasn't working for us. She's just not that great to watch and it wasn't all that surprising that the incels on Reddit would like her because she was written to purely care about Carmy. She is fine and I don't mind her so much anymore.

But have the audacity to call us delusional bc there are very clear signs that Syd and Carmy are soulmates, in every sense of the word// There are so many hints in the filming directions, dialogue, and clothing that they are soulmates which could lead to becoming romantic, and the fact that people fail to see it just feels odd. But what I've chosen to do is talk more about them as if they are going to happen. I just really like them.

Thank you for being one of the many sydcarmy acc that make it fun to be on this app!// Awee thank you <3 My heart :) It's really sweet hearing people say all these nice things, I love each and every one of you so much. I mean, if we enjoy Sydcarmy, we should be able to freely make all of our posts in peace. And I'm really glad that they are seen by amazing people like you anon. Thank you :)

#sydney adamu #carmy x sydney #carmen berzatto #Sydcarmy #chaos menu #chefs kiss

[thedarkheretic156]

Eternal Flame

Sesshomaru X DemiGod! Reader

part 2

Parts: ❧ I II III IV V VI VII ❧

❧D̶̞̰͕̟̖̆̀̾͊e̸͕̋͊̓̈́̈̆̅̾̈́͠a̶̢̛͕͕̹̐͂̄̑́̄t̷̨̻̠͔̼̆͂͐̄̈́̍ͅḩ̵̢͔̤̹̰͇̯͉͈͌̔̽̍̽̀̀❧

His starlight hair danced lazily in the wind; against the stretch of fields he looked ethereal, like one of the marble sculptures in her father’s garden. My cousins and I would try to climb them as kids, even then I had always found them pitiful. Cold, lifeless, faces stuck in beautiful smiles, they couldn’t break out of.

“Lord Sesshomaru!” Rin called out, the human child ran up the hill and stood beside him beaming. The Daiyokai gave out no reaction, his amber eyes followed the windward direction, unyielding. As I neared his gaze shifted, lifting from the horizon settling on me. I averted my eyes at once.

I had never been more grateful for the mortal disguise. It would be mortifying if the Daiyokai actually recognized me. But no matter how much I tried to hide away, I seemed to have peaked his interest. I could feel his gaze pinned on my back when I turned away. I couldn’t tell if it was curiosity or his patience running thin.

Although cursed to be mortal, my mind was still that of an Ayakashi princess, not only was I horrible at being human, I was unbelievably arrogant. I had to bite my tongue trying to not speak to him informally. One little slip up was all it would take for him to finish me off, and obviously, Jaken chastising me every step of the way didn’t really help much.

“Y-You can’t cook?” it gaped at me. Maybe I’ll cook you.

“No.” I replied sharply, “But I can hunt.”

Jaken almost fell over laughing, “Hunt what human? Small rabbits and squirrels?” He prodded the stack of wood before her, “Just start up a fire, I’m surprised you can’t even do such small things, A woman your age should be prepared to be wed. And you can’t even cook and clean?”

“I never had to.” I grumbled out, standing up. I looked around the logs,

“Come on now, light the fire.”

I blinked at him stupidly, “With what?” Without my powers I couldn’t just flick my wrist and breathe a vortex into being.

I watched as color drained from his face. “Human were you born yesterday?” He cried out, actually 3 days ago.  “You must learn to use the firestones.” He replied, pointing at two white crystals near my feet. “Pick them up, and strike them together, no! not like that-“ He struck his wrists together, mimicking the stones, “Like that, like you’re trying to make a spark, don’t just clang them together like an idiot.” I groaned, squatting down, this was too much work. Far too much work for making a fire. The stones wet from the dew, slipped suddenly right against my finger, taking skin off. “Ouch!” I squealed out, tossing the stone away angrily. “No way that’s going to work.”

Jaken started at me a little exasperated. “Just stand back.” He said finally. He placed his wand over the logs and at once, one of the severed heads hummed to life. The corpse’s jaw dropped, breathing out a gust of blazing fire. The logs caught on fire instantly, blazing up towards the sky in great plumes.

Are you serious?

“If you could do that all along what the fuck were you lecturing me for?” I snarled at him. The frog had the audacity to look angry with me.

“All you own is a sharp tongue and no talents.” He retorted, “If you wish to be under Lord Sesshomaru’s protection, you must learn to help Human.”

I mentally let loose a long string of curse words. “I’ll… learn.” I gritted out.

At this point I really had no choice. If Sesshomaru did decide that I wasn’t worth the extra trouble, I would either end up as food for his sword or food for some random yokai. My best bet was to suck it up and stay under his protection until the prophecy the crone doomed me to was over.

Turned out that a human woman that couldn’t cook or clean in this place didn’t have much worth. Every passing second I was human, just reinforced my hate for their kind.

“Nee-san!” The child’s squeal rang out behind me. Before I could turn around, I felt Rin wrap her wiry arms around my waist. I pretty sure the reason I was even kept around was because the girl clung on to me like a little human magnet. Far too happy to finally have an “Older sister”, the child wanted do everything together, she wanted to braid my hair and nurse my wounds. Once during supper she had even crawled up and sat before me beaming, as if yearning for me to feed her.  

I didn’t really know how to react to her affection. There was only tough love in a noble Ayakashi house. But sometimes I surprised myself with the patience I would find around her. I would be surprised with how easily I would give in to the child’s wants. You’re going soft. I groaned at myself. But it was the same smile. It was unnerving how much this child reminded me of her.

“Wei-“

I jumped on hearing her name. It’s the name you gave them stupid. I reminded myself. It was strange how after so many years that’s the only human name I could think of.

The real Wei had been beautiful, kind, and heart breaking-ly foolish. A memory etched painfully across my mind. Rin replicated her grin as she pointed at the pile of fish she had gathered with Sesshomaru. “We got dinner!” she chirped.

“Wei, Lord Sesshomaru says we must leave by dawn.” Jaken told me. I nodded, we never stayed at once place for longer than a few days. Obviously the Daiyokai himself was nowhere to be seen. Probably sulking off somewhere.

Apparently they were tracing some dude named Inuyasha. Rin and Jaken had blabbered something about his half-brother and a priestess being reborn? It was far too confusing and completely irrelevant. But that meant the 4 of them were constantly on the move.

Rin poked the fish through a clean stick, setting it to roast at once. But the sound of the name had made me loose most of my appetite. I tossed the long braid over my shoulder, “You eat first.” I told Rin. Her face fell and my heart tightened. “Okay,” Rin replied straightening herself, “I’ll save you some!”

There’s no point in softening your heart for things doomed to die.

I watched Rin’s smaller figure crouched by the fire, chatting away to Jaken.

Humans die in a flicker, their lives hold no meaning. Wei would have disagreed. She would have smiled her beautiful smile and called me dense.

But only fools listen to the whispers of the dead.

----

He was last person I expected to meet there. Seriously, my human self was really unlucky. Everytime I made an effort to put distance between us, I would somehow find myself around him again. He was lounging in the dew soaked grass, his armour stripped off his torso.

Something I had never felt before curled in my stomach. I knew in that moment that I was intruding. I should have just walked back, but my feet stood rooted to the ground. His fingers were coiled around my sword. Mrutunjai gleamed in the starlight, the percolated sheath looked so perfect in his arms it gave me chills. My sword, connected to me in my blood and bones, a sword so bloodthirsty, it couldn’t be tamed by even the most powerful Ayakashi in the east. And he held it like he was always meant to.

The sight was so intimate for me, I could hardly breathe.

"You're sword." He spoke. Voice like the patter of rain. Of course he had noticed me. His hair fell over his shoulder and he turned his head, "Where did you find it?" he asked curtly. I tore my eyes away from his face. It was the first time he had shown curiosity towards her. It was the second time he had spoken to me directly. The first was to ask my name. And I had lied then and I knew I had to lie now.

"I found it." I replied, "It belonged to a traveler from the east." I looked up at his eyes, "He left it behind, I happened to pick it up."

I could tell he didn't buy the lie at all. But he turned away, placing the sword beside him. It had been made for me, but in that moment felt more alien that anything I knew.

"No man just leaves behind his own sword." He replied, after a stretch of silence. As if he knew I was waiting for him to say more.

I felt a ghost of a smile lace my lips. It was an old saying in the east, "A dead man might."

Something in his demeanor hitched, but it was gone before I could tell what it was. I decided it was my cue to leave, I could just comeback for Mrutunjai later.

The sight of his long fingers curled around the sheath of her sword, surprisingly gentle, brandished in my mind. There just might be more to the marble sculpture than I had expected.

--------------------

OMG i know its been ages I PROMISE i'll upload another chapter by tomorrow with more AcTion.

#reader x sesshomaru

[smokeybrandreviews]

As the World Turns

This Jonathan Majors sh*t done took a turn. Dude was in court to make his plea and they set a date for August 3rd. I cannot wait because, holy sh*t, this doesn’t look good for ol’ girl! First and foremost, the inciting event of the entire situation was that, apparently, Majors was “cheating” on his then white girlfriend, Grace Jabari with some black woman. There were “salacious” texts Grace had come across to this mystery ebony temptress which sent her into a rage in that cab. At the time, we didn’t know which black woman he was talking to but she accompanied him to this past court date. It’s f*cking Megan Good! Yo, Megan Good is the woman Grace felt threatened enough by, to physically attack Majors in plain view of a driver and on the car’s camera! And rightfully so. Megan Good is one of the most beautiful women on the planet AND she’s black! That is an affront to an affluent white woman like Jabari. How dare Majors use me to support his dreams and then step out on e with a darkie who is several times hotter than me? The utter audacity!

So Grace attacks Majors in the cab and he bails. The cabbie attests to the fact Majors never once became the aggressor, that he never even raised his voice. Dude is more than willing to testify to that under oath. He tried to leave the car and she pulled on him so hard, she tore his clothes. In plain view of random NYC tourists! More witnesses to the utter nonsense! Not only that, but he stopped and took photos and videos with these people, who openly comments about how nice he was, on camera, moment after being accosted by a jealousy fueled, crazy white woman! At this point, the to separate. For actual goddamn hours. Seven, to be in fact. Majors checked into a hotel across town, sent a break-up text, and turned off his phoned. After ha, he didn’t see nor speak o grace for seven goddamn hours! and his is where he plot thickens!

Majors was across on in a hotel while Grace went to a club called Loosie’s. A club she stayed in, partied, and got absolutely sh*tfaced, for at least three hours. She can be seen, on camera, using the hand with the alleged broken finger, in no pain whatsoever. Hugging, dancing, using stairs, holding drinks; Not even a hint of a broken anything. Now, i make it a point to say that because the assault which lead to the broken finger and bloody ear, took place in the car where the cabbie said nothing happened. The car Majors fled and took selfies with those tourists. So Grace is in this club, dancing her sad away after getting dropped by the up-swinging Majors, drunkenly makes her way back to the penthouse they share, drinks more liquor to the point of throwing up, chases that with sleeping pills, and passes out. My mistake, blacks out. How do we know this? Because she said so to the goddamn cops! This next part is what really sets the tone for this entire bullsh*t situation.

Majors comes home, like i said, seven hours later and find a closet locked. He can’t get into it so he called the handy man to open  it. There, they both find a half naked and unconscious grace on the closet floor. Majors then calls the cops, who show up and comment about how nice the apartment was, how they are so surprised someone so young (read BLACK) could afford a place like this. They wake Grace, take Majors away, and interview her. The sh*t goes nowhere because she’s drunk and off those sleeping pills. The body cam footage literally has her looking down at her broken hand and saying out loud “What happened to my hand?” Bro, if your giant, rich, black, ex-boyfriend shattered your phalanges, you’d remember that, right? There’s a reason why she recanted and apologized to Majors. Twice. And it’s because she did that sh*t to herself in a drunken stupor over getting dumped by on of the most famous dudes in Hollywood. Which is what i said when this sh*t first broke all those months ago.

So what’s the motive for her to lie? Why did sh press charges? Grace didn’t. She tried to back out of the entire situation the day it all went public. Why do you thin she gave those two, sworn statements, voluntarily, to Majors’ lawyer? No, this sh*t smacks of an overeager prosecutor in the DA’s office, trying to make a name for themselves. Cats have come out of the woodwork with allegations and statements of victim hood at the hands of the “violent psychopath” Jonathan Majors but that’s all they have; statements and testimony. Words. Accusations. Majors wants this to go to trial. He wants all of this out in the open. Grace is the one who doesn’t. His lawyer has evidence, had evidence, to back up her timeline. She has eyewitness, video, and corroborating statements. Does Jonathan Majors have anger issues? Maybe. Did he cut a bloody swath through his college campus way back when? Could be. Prove it. Show me physical evidence that would speak to this current situation because, after reading about all of this new sh*t, Majors is looking like he’s getting that Depp treatment and it sucks major ass.

#Jonathan Majors #Some ol' bullsh*t

[fangirleaconmigo]

Both Unwanted Daughters

Yennefer x Renfri. Rated mature for references to Renfri’s past.

Here is what I imagine would have happened if Yen came to Blaviken instead of Geralt.

—-

Yennefer pretends she does not sense the wild woman in the smoky tavern approaching her. But she does. She has no choice.

The woman’s chaos is like frenzied sparks broken free of a wildfire. The warmth skitters across Yennefer’s skin. She has to focus to prevent herself from visibly reacting to it.

When she raises her eyes and gets a real, proper look at the woman, she reacts anyways, with a sharp intake of breath.

Yennefer has grown inured to beauty. In her world, beauty is an object created for display. It is one tool among many, used to impress and manipulate people. After decades of attending lavish parties with caviar illusions, false white smiles, and finery created with the burnished skin of endangered species, she has forgotten what it feels like to be awestruck by beauty.

Actual beauty.

Beauty that does not exist to be observed. Beauty that roars to life, streaked with dirt and clad in audacity, and sinks its claws into your flesh.

The woman swaggers closer still, her scabbard slapping softly against her hips. The way she moves suggests that her slight, gently curvaceous body is far more powerful than it looks. The table full of craven thugs she has just left in the corner studiously avert their eyes.

“Madam Yennefer of Vengerberg.” Her eyes glitter with a mocking humor. She bows so low that her honey brown curls tumble forward, momentarily obscuring her face.

“What do you want?” Yennefer demands sharply, pretending to be very interested in her cup of wine.

It isn’t true that Yennefer feels nothing in the face of beauty. Dangerous beauty. Ungovernable beauty.

She feels plenty. She feels irritated.

“Well.” The woman smirks and leans rakishly against the bar. “I love a girl who gets right to the point. My name is—“

“Princess Renfri of Creyden.”

Princess Renfri’s eyebrows shoot up. She is surprised, but pleased. “How did you know?”

“I know about every political intrigue that happens in the North.”

Bitterness briefly clouds Renfri’s face. “Is that what it is called in your world when a man rapes you and tries to kill you?” She aims a scornful glance at the sorceress. “Political intrigue?”

Yennefer cannot help it. She snorts. She is not given to snorting. But it is so childishly naive and stupid.

“Just barely.”

“What the shit is that supposed to mean?”

Yennefer shrugs. “You are not a proper heir. So, I would call it minor political intrigue.” She waves her hand casually. “And you only qualify as that much because in recent years, the exploits of Meve and Calanthe have convinced a few powerful men to pay more attention to disaffected little girls.”

Renfri does not like disaffected little girls and her eyes blaze. But Yennefer pretends not to notice.

“Your situation is worth, at most, a mention near the end of a meeting, just when things are wrapping up and people try to cram in the smaller matters that do not actually warrant conversation.”

Renfri’s face hardens. Her body bunches up and her anger is raw. It infects the flavor, there is no better way to describe it, of her chaos. It tastes exactly like the thing that she is—-an unwanted daughter with a weeping infected wound. It is too familiar. Yennefer feels it like a stab to her soft fleshy underbelly and she has to harden herself to mirror the anger she sees in the princess.

“And who the fuck are you to speak that way about me?” Renfri demands.

Yennefer spins on her stool and looks at her defiantly. “Even less. If you are minor political intrigue, then I am what minor political intrigue shits out. Unlike you, I have never had a throne to lose. Unlike you, I have nothing to reclaim. There is no greatness awaiting me with open arms. I was born into pig shit and thrown out with the refuse. How dare you ask me for anything?”

Yennefer can feel heat creeping into her voice, so she stops abruptly and turns back towards the bar again.

Renfri blinks, clearly taken aback. Clearly considering the twist the conversation has taken. Yennefer drinks her wine. She nods at the bartender to indicate that she is finished with her plate.

“I misjudged you.”

Yennefer ignores her. She is still trying to stifle the emotion that sent the heat into her voice.

Renfri stands and watches her in silence. It should feel awkward. Dishware clinks and men sit at tables telling foul jokes. And Renfri is silent.

Yet it isn’t awkward. Once Yen is calmer she feels a tinge of regret. Her anger is misplaced. Misdirected. Renfri hasn’t done anything wrong.

“Wait,” Renfri says, breaking the silence. She has just thought to ask something. “How did you know I was her? You’ve heard the stories. But how did you connect them to me?”

Yennefer glances over and looks her up and down. “Only a Princess would be so utterly, comically shit at tailoring the clothes she stole off an oversized thug.”

Renfri chuckles. Her shoulders have loosened now. She thinks they are on the same side. That is dangerous. They are not on the same side.

“You lie like a fox, Lady Yennefer. I look dashing.” She pulls down her vest and pats her hips as though to make sure everything is still there.

Despite her best efforts, Yennefer’s eyes follow the movement of her hands, lingering just a precious beat too long on her waist. On the spot where it swells elegantly into her hips. Renfri’s lips curl into a smug smile.

Yennefer yanks her eyes away but Renfri has smelled the blood in the water. She leans against the bar, sliding closer, until Yennefer is forced to look directly at her again.

“So that is how you knew I was a princess? I look like utter shit?” Her voice is sing song and mocking.

Yennefer rolls her eyes. “That and the squad of goons at the table who obviously defer to you. What other wild woman roams the countryside looking deranged and commanding an assortment of idiots with clubs and daggers?”

Renfri laughs again. It is throaty and self assured. There is nothing calculated about it. No wonder they fucking hated her at court.

“Now that you have confirmation that I am a princess, are you intrigued, Lady Yennefer?” Her eyes slide from Yennefer’s face down her neck. She wets her lower lip. “Tell me. Have you ever wanted to bed a princess? In your very long life?”

Yennefer purses her lips and ignores Renfri’s attempt to goad her about her age. “Just tell me what you want. I don’t have time for games.”

The smile does not leave Renfri’s lips but she grows serious. “Alright. I need your help.”

“That’s better. I prefer honesty.”

Renfri laughs. “I was being honest. I would kill to make those enchanting violet eyes flutter closed in ecstasy-“

Yennefer holds up her hand. “Stop. Just tell me what you want so I can tell you no, and so you can leave me in peace, disgraced, feral, exiled Princess Renfri of Creyden.”

Just as she did not respond to Renfri’s attempt to goad her, Renfri manages not to take the bait.

“Fine,” she responds. She lowers her voice and scoots closer still. Yennefer can no longer see her cup of wine because her entire view of the bar is blocked by Renfri. She turns the full force of her doe eyes on Yennefer. They are light honey brown like her hair, shot through with green.

“You are in town to meet with Stregobor. And I want to kill him.”

Yennefer blanches.

“That frightens you?”

Yen carefully returns her expression neutral. She thinks quickly.

She is there to meet Stregobor because after twenty years of clawing and scraping and scheming, she is finally on the precipice of being appointed to the Council. Stregobor, who has always disdained her, but who she has thoroughly outmaneuvered, is her final hurdle to being seated on the council.

It is a done deal. A formality. But Yennefer is wise enough to know that done deals can unravel at the last possible moment.

She cannot afford to go into this meeting ignorant of a crime Stregobor has committed. She must know what his vulnerabilities are. Who his enemies are.

Whatever the contemptible, awful little toad has done to Renfri, Yen can use that information to curry favor with him. Or to manipulate him. Or to blackmail him. She doesn’t know yet. But information is power. And the fact that she doesn’t know why Renfri of Creyden wants to kill him is an unacceptable, even shocking, lapse in information and power.

She must get the princess to share. To speak freely. She must make sure her appointment goes off without a hitch. So, Yen goads her again, but hopefully in a less obvious way this time.

“Not frightened. Just surprised. Stregobor is so respectable. So highly regarded. It simply surprises me that he could have done something to deserve death.”

“Liar.”

She speaks the word as though it is real. But she seems amused. Like Yen’s lie is a joke they are both in on.

“What did he do?” Yen repeats.

Renfri casts her eyes down, then looks up fetchingly.“I will tell you, but it will take some time.”

Yen leans forward as though she is telling her a secret. They are so close now that she can feel Renfri’s breath on her. “I have time. I don’t meet him until tomorrow.”

Renfri considers for a moment. “May I join you for dinner? In the private luxury suite you have no doubt rented for the week?”

It is both the worst and the best idea that Yennefer has heard in ages. It is a dangerous game being seen with a woman who wants to kill the man with final approval for her appointment to the council. But she can use any information she gains to her advantage.

Any desire, any deep burning want she feels for the princess is entirely incidental.

“Shall I change into court attire?” she teases. I have never had a private dinner with a princess.

Renfri smiles and drags a finger down a lock of Yennefer’s hair. She watches the soft, shiny lock slide between her fingers. “Actually, the less attire the better.”

She barely has to move. It is just a subtle lean.

And they are kissing.

——

I have been dreaming of writing this fic for probably the past year and a half. Then I heard The Calling, off of The Amazing Devil’s Ruin album. And I thought oh. This is Yen and Renfri. And I started writing.

I will probably work on it here and there until it is done. But since I know it is really almost exclusively for me (not many Yenfri readers) I will take my time. But I’m putting my whole heart into it.

#the witcher #yennefer of vengerberg #renfri of creyden #descarada writes #descarada writes yenfri #the amazing devil lyrics as fic titles #yenfri #the calling #the amazing devil #yennefer x renfri #Renfri

[adrianasunderworld]

I had this silly Idea for the Shrouds- so back home they a three headed dog- buts it’s the smallest crustiest little white dog you can think of. Is probably over four hundred years old, will be standing over Idia’s grave one day. Sebby was their dad’s but their mother is the only person that Sebby seems to love. This dog fears no god or man. Yes it is in Mrs. Shrouds designer purse on the rare event they go out. Yes the dog has a matching hat with Mrs. Shroud. This dog will bite Leona with its remaining teeth and it will be on sight with malleus. Malleus And Lilia have never seen a creature filled with that much hatred before. And mrs shroud just picks up the baby shrugs and says, “he doesn’t like strangers.” Yes starts shit for funnies then runs to mama shroud and plays the victim. Idia never forgave him for peeing on his manga, just knows the dog did cause he accidentally steeped on tail once as a kid.

I feel this in the pit of my soul, because I know of the crusty white dogs well. The woman who was my childhood babysitter always had dogs in the apartment. And the one beast that outlived them all, was her daughters crusty white dog, Odo. That mf was mean, he would constantly bark at me, he was small, but he was made of purely audacity. I don't think I ever saw emotion in his little black eyes. And this woman loved Odo like it was her other child, he went wherever she went. Like have him sit in her lap while driving or wander in the backseat of the car like a cat. I haven't seen them years, but I would not be surprised if that dog was still alive.

So Sebby is their mom's favorite child. That thing has known Idia since infancy and it never once liked him. Little Idia would just be playing, minding his own business, and Sebby would just run into the room, barking up a storm until Idia hid behind something and then run out. Only to rinse and repeat this several times. Idia once woke up in the middle of the night only to find the dog sitting on his bed, right up against his leg, staring off into space. How did it even get in there? He didn't know, but he refused to move to avoid setting off the dog. And that dog hardly ever eats dog food, because Mrs. Shroud will scoop whatever food they have into his bowl. Some meat, some rice. Lil man gets a plate like everyone else at her insistence. On the rare occasions she's out without him, Sebby will stare into the souls of all the Shroud men until he gets his dinner.

#twisted wonderland #idia shroud #twst idia #the second you said crusty white dog i knew #the war flashbacks began lol

[insane-control-room]

(Throws Tablet)

In which Evans lets Elise see some of Doug's texts to him, because this time he's gone too far.

a friend sent me this incorrect quote; made a fic. https://www.tumblr.com/darkdeception-incoquotes/705849624478597120/elise-throws-phone-at-the-wall-in-a-fit-of incorrect quote from: @darkdeception-incoquotes my requests are open btw :3 also this isnt canon to most of my stories i just lost my mind at 1am

Rated: G (Implied suggestive content) Warnings: referenced/implied cheating ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47867194

(Fic under cut)

“That cheating prick!” Elise growled, gripping the tablet hard enough to make slight white spots appear under her press. She stared at the pictures, face white with rage. “That lying, cheating prick!” 

“You can’t say I didn’t warn you,” Evans sighed, trying to be as gentle as he could with her. Normally, Evans simply pleaded with Doug not to cheat on Elise, tried to get him to change his ways and go home instead of ‘working’ late in his office. This time, though, Doug had the audacity to text him some pictures snapped during his illicit exploit. Evans had threatened Doug that if he ever dared do such a thing, he would show the images to Elise, and, well, now he was making due on that very remark. He hated watching Elise’s rage at the confirmation of her suspicions. Even if Doug never denied her accusations of him cheating, she never had any proof, and it was enough for her to cling to. But now…. “I’m sorry, Elise.” 

“No. Thank you, Evans,” Elise shook her head. She took in a deep breath, and looked back at the pictures. “I needed this. Goddamnit, I needed this.” 

Evans shifted, slightly uncomfortable, as she began to scroll through his and Doug’s text history. He bit his lip to keep from protesting. She had a right to see, even if he hated sharing any glimpse of his private life with anyone. She laughed incredulously, venomously. 

“He even tried to get into your pants!” she scoffed, pausing in her scroll. Evans’ cheeks heated significantly while he recalled the several soliciting, salacious texts Doug had sent him. “Good on you for shutting him down! God, that backstabbing, crass, disgusting shit!” 

Evans tried to calm her down, but he was a moment too late. The enraged woman threw the tablet against the wall. Evans winced as it shattered.

“Um, Elise?” Evans quietly remarked, his hands shifting to hold each other in his meekness. “That was mine.”

Elise stared at the broken device for a moment before a soft pink blush colored her cheeks. 

“Oh,” she replied, sounding surprised. She pursed her lips for a second before commenting, “I’ll pay for it.” 

“You don’t have-”

“I’m going to use Doug’s card.”

“Oh. I see,” Evans nodded. Fair enough. “I’d appreciate it.”

“You know what I would appreciate, Detective?” Elise asked, looking at him through her lashes. He swallowed down a blush, shrugging. “If you’d be a sweetheart and cuffed Dougie onto a chair.” 

“Seems like a mild punishment,” Evans dryly remarked. 

“It’s so he could watch me go down on you,” Elise explained, dancing her fingers over his chest. 

Evans felt all of his blood rush to his face, and he choked on air, gaping at the coquettish woman before him. 

“I have to go,” he stammered.

“See you around, Detective,” Elise grinned, and winked. She called after him. “I think it would be a great way to keep him from cheating!”

“Not listening!” Evans answered, still blushing. 

#dark deception #control art #control writes #fic #fiction #dark deception fic #elise houser #doug houser #detective evans #referenced/implied cheating #mild humor #mild comedy #fluster #attempted seduction #banter #implied suggestive content