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twola · 5 months ago

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just saw a post that said “missionary, so we can keep arguing” and i feel like you’d do that justice if you’re ever in the mood to write it lol xx

Oh holy shit. I’m now in the mood. Here’s a low honor Arthur secretly has feelings, but they are way WAY underneath. Also shoutout to @shootybangbang, who insisted on a few points to add to this.

Fortitude

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI ➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link ➵ Next

“Who is it?!”

“It’s Arthur, idiot!”

His deep voice booms across the camp and the onion you were dicing suddenly becomes victim to very vigorous chopping. The knife slams on the butcher table loudly as you grit your teeth.

Mary Beth looks up at you with a curious stare. “Are you…alright?”

“Never better.” You mumble as you continue to chop at the onion.

You wipe the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand, letting out a long breath.

“Oh, Arthur, how nice of you to return!” Dutch’s sarcastic reply echoes across the way as he moves to clap his hand across Arthur’s back in welcome. “Anythin’ good out there?” He hands Arthur a bottle of beer, and immediately Arthur begins to drink.

“Shoah. Plenty to keep me out there. Better than loungin’ around here.”

Dutch guffaws at the pointed comment.

You grit your teeth again as you pick up the next onion. Laughter surrounds the campfire for several moments as you continue to chop. Arthur slugs back the rest of his beer before tossing it to the ground. “Now if you don’t mind me, I have a lady to see.”

You try to ignore his heavy footsteps approaching.

“C’mon now, missy. Let’s get outta here fer the night.”

You pause a moment before placing the knife down. Mary Beth gives you a look as you sigh, wiping your hands on your skirts. You give her a mumbled farewell as you turn to Arthur.

He stands there, all six feet of the fearsome enforcer of the Van der Linde gang. Able to tear men limb from limb. Hand on his gunbelt, the brim of that old gambler’s had shading his eyes against the sunset. A beard showing weeks out on the land.

Damn him, damn him to hell.

You take his outstretched hand and follow.

It’s not terribly far away from camp. Just far enough not to be bothered. He stops his horse in a small forested glen and swings off of the saddle, tying the mare to a tree branch.

“C’mon now, girl. You seem so pleased to see me.” Arthur grunts as he unloads his small tent from his saddle bag, turning and immediately starting to

“Very pleased. Been waitin’ on you every night to come back.” You retort, sliding off of the rump of the horse and turning to unfasten the bedroll from his saddle.

“That’s more like it,” He smirks back at you as he pitches the tent, “Don’tchu worry, I’ll get you right.”

When he’s finished with the tent, you stoop down and roll out his bedroll on the ground within, climbing inside as the dusk falls. Arthur follows you, stooping to his knees at the entrance of the lean-to. He tosses his hat toward the back of the tent.

“Get on yer knees.” Arthur orders as he starts to undo the buttons of his workshirt.

“No,” you huff, sliding back on your bottom atop the bedroll. You start unlacing your boots and pull them off, chucking them toward the entrance of the tent.

“No?” Arthur’s eyebrow quirks as he rips his gunbelt off.

“I ain’t gonna let you treat me like some two-penny whore. You’re gonna at least have the decency to look me in the eye.” You rasp up at him as you start unlacing your dress.

He kicks his boots off smugly. There’s something ironic in the way the two of you are quickly shedding your clothes to the back and forth going on in the tent.

“Oh, too good to bend over but not to get on your back for me?”

You shimmy out of your dress and quickly pull your chemise over your head. He works his pants down with his drawers.

“Too good for you to fuck me like I’m any other hole.”

“We’ll see about that-” Arthur chuckles as he stands on his knees opposite you, completely nude, cock blood-swollen and bobbing with his movements. His hands grab at your hips, grasping those dainty bloomers you’ve taken to wearing and pulling them down your thighs, over your knees, and completely off, chucking them to the side.

He licks his lips, the bastard, at the sight of you on your back for him, naked in the waning hours of the day. And yet, here you are, angry but desperate to be wanted, you just want… a little something more.

Arthur spits in his hand, slathering it on his cock. Climbing atop you in his bedroll, you spread your legs for him. The head of his cock catches on the rim of your cunt and he pushes inside, growling as he does so.

A whine, desperate, claws its way out of your throat as you clench at his forearms at the feeling of several hot inches of him splitting your core, filling you fit to burst. It’s the pain on a knife’s edge that seems to placate the aggravation in your soul.

He’s not gentle - you know that, you’ve never expected him to be. He fucks like he works - with physicality and brute strength.

He does, at the very least, stay buried within you for a moment, his hips shoved completely up against yours, all those hot, pulsing, hard inches of him having carved a blazing path through your core. He does, at the very least, give you that moment to accept him, grow used to him, before grabbing your hips and starting to buck against you mercilessly.

“You’re -hah- infuriating,” Arthur spits out, locking his elbows as he finds a rhythm of slamming his hips into yours, the slap of skin on skin loud within the tent. No wonder he dragged you away from camp.

“You’re a lowlife -ngh-” You are able to grit out as he tries to fuck you into submission. But you know this game, you know his game. He may be the feared enforcer of the gang, but you’re not some feeble woman willing to let him do with you what he wants.

“Ain’t too low for you to let me fuck you.” He growls, words interspersed with his thrusts.

“Ain’t the same gettin’ myself o-off.” You sputter as he slings your other thigh over his shoulder and slams his hips down on you to effectively cut you off. You cry out in surprise at the change in angle of his thrusts, loudly to the point he slaps his hand over your mouth as he moves above you.

You sink your teeth into the meat of his palm. He hisses, pulling his hand away quickly. He looks down on you with annoyance.

“What the hell is wrong with you, woman?”

You grit your teeth against the anger that has been eating at you this whole time.

“I missed you, asshole.”

Arthur stops, jaw unclenching, cock halfway sheathed in your warm cunt. He looks down at you, eyes wide, brow unfurling, and the fire in his gut subsiding.

“Ain’t you ever think when you’re out for weeks at a time that you got someone to come home to?” You scowl up at him as he slowly lets your leg down from his shoulder.

Arthur frowns, biting the inside of his cheek.

“When you’re gone for weeks at a time, then come back bragging about it, it’s like you ain’t want to be with me. At least that’s what you got me thinkin’.” You lower your voice and encircle your fingers around his forearms. Your thumbs rub gently at his wrists, “So when you drag me out here to fuck you, are you telling me that’s all you want?”

“No.” He gruffly responds.

“Then act like it.”

He lowers himself to his elbows slowly, his cock slipping further inside you and you give a little whine in response. Arthur angles his forearms inward, giving him the ability to brush some of your hair from your forehead. You wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his hips, plastering your bodies against each other fully.

“Just - try not to stay out as long. Or maybe take me with you. The cot gets awful cold without you in it. If we’re together, I want to be treated like we’re together.” You whisper, the anger in your blood finally dissipating.

He hovers above you, finally, a fond smile replaces the previous bombastic smirk on his face.

“Want me t’ write you some poetry?”

“Kiss me, you fool.”

He immediately complies, smashing his lips on yours, tongue pressing against your lips, which you open to him. You moan throatily as he rolls his hips in a full stroke, pulling his cock near completely out and thrusting back in. He repeats the motion again and again.

“Want to be beneath me every night? That’s what my girl wants?”

Your reply is half a scream, “Y-yes! E-every night, Arthur-”

“Goddamn- yes, oh shit, that’s it-” he babbles as his strokes start to come unwieldy.

The molten fire burning in your core licks at your gut, the muscles in your legs start screaming - you know that you’re quickly going to reach your end with each time that he shoves his cock deeper inside you.

“I’m go-gonna come, Arthur -ngh-”

“That’s it, darlin’ girl, come all over my cock.” He croons, changing his motions by pushing himself as deep as he can before gyrating his hips, trying to hit everywhere within you.

You seize up, your thighs clamping around his waist as you cry out to the heavens above, some garbled noise that sounds like the syllables of his name.

Arthur coos, in that teasing way that he does, shutting his eyes as he takes in the feeling of your pulsing core on his cock. The gush of wetness that surrounds him, starting to leak out onto his balls as you thrash and cry.

When finally you begin to calm down, he yanks himself from you and sits up on his knees as he squeezes his eyes shut, pumping his cock as if coming would save his life.

You shoot up, leaning on one elbow, and bat his hand away from his cock, wrapping your fingers around his base and guiding it into your mouth.

“Aw fuck honey-”

He doesn’t last long. How could he? Not with your perfect mouth around him, not with your tongue pressing against the sensitive slit, not when you suck. With a strangled shout of your name, he comes, spurting warm down your throat. Salty and bitter, just like him - but you suck him dry as if you couldn’t get enough.

He flops down on the bedroll next to you, panting as you curl your body against his, placing your head upon his chest, your hand spread wide over his racing heart. Another centering moment later, he winds his arm around you.

He’s not going to confess his love for you. You may never get that. But being tucked in his embrace as he holds you to him - for now, you are placated.

He kisses the crown of your forehead gently. You snuggle even further into his embrace.

This you could work with.

#arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan smut #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 fanfic #twolafic #voluptatem

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ddejavvu · 1 year ago

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hi! i loved loved LOVED ur bestfriend!james who doesn’t know any boundaries 🙏 can u make another one? maybe like sirius and remus catching them “platonically” kiss or something 😆 it can’t be surprising given that james hands was on inside her thighs??

thank uu!! love u lots

saw a headcanon once that james is an excited kisser and i've never seen him any other way since

Sirius and James are prolific gamblers. No matter what they're betting on, be it how many first years will stumble on the moving staircases in one week, or which corridor Ms. Norris will catch two fifth-years making out in tonight, they bet like addicts slumming around a glittering casino.

Today's bet was this: If Hagrid and the new Care of Magical Creatures Aid, a fairy brought in to offer insight into creatures' anatomy, don't notice that their respectively oversized and undersized silverware have been switched at the staff's table, Sirius wins. If they do, James wins.

Hagrid, absentminded and happy-to-be-there as he is, doesn't mention the tiny fork that he's been given, if he notices at all. But the fairy struggles to lift the rather large knife sat beside her place, and flutters beside Hagrid's hand, setting her own on his callused skin. She speaks in a low voice, soothing and sweet, and he's more than happy to switch with her when they realize what's happened. You're not sure what her end of the conversation contains, but Hagrid's voice is loud and proud as he theorizes about a particular group of Gryffindors and their penchant for pranks.

"Shit," Sirius grumbles, at the same time that James cheers, "Fuck yeah!"

One of his hands clenches into a fist at his side and he jerks it towards his side in a celebratory motion, but his excitement can't be contained in the simple gesture, and he rounds on you to get the rest of it out.

It's with a gleeful grin that he presses his curved lips straight onto yours, hands shooting out to clutch at your cheeks, preventing you from moving away. It's a habit he's got, neither good nor bad, that compels him to lay a smooch on whichever one of his friends is near when he's feeling extra excited. It's been you more times than you can count, and you let him smoosh his lips to yours at his secured victory.

You're barely able to laugh a broken, "James!" as he pulls away, still muffled by a mouthful of breakfast. Sirius and Remus are very vocal in discussing their repulsion at that particular fact, watching you chew and swallow with exaggerated grimaces.

"Mate, there was still food in there," Sirius hums, sounding wounded, "You can just take more eggs from the dish, there's no need to scavenge for hers."

"Oh, fuck off," James reaches for a strip of bacon on Sirius's plate, gleeful excitement at having won not yet faded, "I won. You owe me your sausages for the rest of the week."

"I've only got one sausage," Sirius laments, looking down past his plate into his lap, "But if it'll settle the score you can have a taste, mate."

"N'thanks," James snickers, barely concealing a look of his own disgust at the thought, "Moony might start resource guarding."

#james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #james potter one shot #james potter one-shot #james potter headcanon #james potter headcanons #james potter hc #james potter hcs #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter fic #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter dialogue #james potter fluff #james potter x reader fanfiction

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thesummerpetrichor · 5 months ago

Text

𝓖𝓸𝓭’𝓼 𝓰𝓸𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓬𝓾𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷

Dark!Javier Peña x afab!fem!reader

Summary: What you assumed would be a routine sale to a regular customer turns into a drug deal gone wrong when you realise it's not her, but her uncle, that has showed up to bury the hatchet

Warnings: 18+ only minors DNI you will be blocked. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT DDDNE, NONCON/R*PE, mentions of DEA, age gap [reader is in her early 20s Javi is in his 40s], reader sells drugs, reader wears a skirt, rough sex, semi public sex, knife and threats with blades, reader is actively experiencing Stockholm syndrome, degradation, dumbification, humiliation, victim blaming and punishment [he is teaching her a lesson], size difference [Javi is bigger than reader and can lift her], using panties as a gag, crying, very mean!Javi, domineering!Javi, slight praise, petnames, choking, creampie, unprotected P in V [don't do it!!] this is much darker than my other work. I may not have included something that could potentially trigger you, so please proceed with caution. I am not responsible for your media consumption.

Word count: 3.8k

A/N: Surprise dark Javi Peña for you lovelies. Please heed the warnings, this may not be for you, it gets pretty dark. If it isn't, scroll past. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Big thanks to @toxicanonymity for brainstorming with me about this like a year ago (when it was meant to be about Joel) lmao! I finally finished it!! Anyway, I hope you enjoy!! Mwah!!

Masterlist

You can run on for a long time

Run on for a long time

Sooner or later God'll cut you down

Go tell that long tongue liar

Go and tell that midnight rider

Tell the rambler, the gambler, the back biter

Tell 'em that God's gonna cut 'em down

What you did was a little side job, a way to make a quick buck after long school hours had tired you out beyond measure. Frankly, that was all you had to say about it.

Business in the wealthy part of town was far from rough- kids in picket fence houses were your prime demographic, after all. They had the time, and they sure as hell had the money. If you weren’t going to supply it, someone else would. Of course, if their parents got a whiff of how their children scrambled to you like a pack of dogs you wouldn’t hear the last of it.

It's not like anyone would have suspected anything to begin with– not from the neighbourhood’s golden child. But you had to thank your parents for that reputation. No one would expect something like that from a sweet thing like Sarah either- which is why you were surprised when she rang you up on your second phone shortly after her 18th birthday.

It had been a couple of months since she’d been coming to you– before parties and such. You didn't ask many questions. She was only a senior, but who were you to play moral policeman? You were barely two years ahead.

Besides, she wasn’t really a resident of your neighbourhood– just came to hang at her uncle’s every weekend.

It probably felt a lot more dirty considering you knew him quite well. Well, knew was a strong word. Your parents were acquaintances and he’d helped fix the fence of your house a few years prior. You’d see him every now and then and even tried the batch of cookies Sarah had roped him into baking and sent over.

He’d often see you around and ask about college and the like. He had quite a good impression of you and you just couldn’t stomach telling him you sold his niece drugs on the weekend. Especially because, when he wasn’t getting roped into baking cookies, in his day to day life, Javi P was your neighbourhood’s most beloved narc.

You wondered how Sarah didn't let the fact that her uncle was the head of the DEA and its most notorious, cartel busting agent, deter her from calling upon your services. You couldn't deny, you felt quite bad. You usually wouldn't. His job be damned, something felt a little dirty about lying to a sweet, kind man like Javier.

But that was not your problem.

Everytime Sara showed up no qualms- with the money, and her backpack, in the exact location you instructed her to.

Spring came and went. So did summer. And before you knew it she had become a regular.

Which is why you weren’t irked at all when on a drizzly autumn Friday Sara had asked to meet you around 5pm in your usual spot– near the fence behind the Willson’s orchids– in between those brutalist brick sheds you’d sneak off to with boys you liked.

She was punctual, in fact she was always there a good ten minutes before you showed up just to be sure– which is why you continued forward when you caught a shadow and a rustle of the leaves emerge from the shed’s side.

You brushed a stay raindrop from the side of your cheek as you looked up at the grey, drab sky. Thank god for the leaves– they painted the brown of the path and all that stood in your way fiery reds, yellows and oranges.

As you approached you heard the wet ground crinkle under your feet– the leaves and the mud swallowing your shoes with every step forward. You felt them stick to the soles, and you made a mental note to leave Sarah as quickly as possible as to not be late to family dinner. There was no way you could walk fast- or even briskly, considering the state of the ground.

When you neared the shed and rounded the corner however, you noticed Sarah's shadow seemed to have caught the light a different way– looking a lot taller, a lot more elongated under the last of the autumn sun before the clouds completely eclipsed it.

She looked a lot taller, a lot more imposing, with broader shoulders and a cut jaw, with short, curly, dishevelled hair. A crack of thunder sounded in the distance. At a moment you knew that shadow, and you scrambled back on your feet to get up and out the Wilson’s orchid.

But the mud in the ground was damp from the rain, and your shoes were stuck to it like toffee, and before you could realise it was pouring rain. You stumbled on the garden rake that had been leant against the shed.

A voice called your name from behind it.

You might as well have thrown up seeing simple, warm eyed, cookie baking Javier Peña leaning up against the wall instead of his niece – looking neither simple nor warm eyed, and sporting the scent of a hard day’s work out on the field rather than the scent of baked goods.

You desperately tried to suppress the lump in your throat as he came into full view. His white button up shirt was damp from the water the trees had been steadily dripping onto it, his hair dishevelled, curls haphazardly sticking to his forehead. Another crack of thunder sounded, closer this time, and you felt your sweater become all the more wet every passing second.

For a moment you contemplated playing coy, but you knew that he knew exactly what you were doing there. If he had a problem with his niece ’s purchasing habits he ought to take it up with her, you were merely supplying a demand. And that was exactly what you told him– albeit a lot less courageously than you would have liked. You could barely recognise your own voice- monotonous and flat, but importantly shaky and scared.

And he noticed.

He scoffed, shaking his head and giving you a slow once over– in your tattered socks and sneakers. “Disturbing the peace of this neighbourhood, corrupting the kids with your behaviour. You’re ruining it.”

“I-” a leaf drifted through the wind and landed on your wet hand, cutting you off as you squeaked, dusting it off yourself.

He stepped to the side, then took another menacing step in front of you. By the time he’d met you chest to chest you were backed up against the wall without realising it– unable to escape, trapped. He smiled at you- tight, and sickly sweet. He reached for the damp hem of your skirt. You felt your skin crawl under his touch.

“Goddamn. To think I thought ya were a good one” he shook his head, a humourless laugh ringing in your ears. “Should’ve known…” You shivered when he lifted his hand to your cheek, stroking your face with his thumb and a false sense of gentleness.

“Those whorey little skirts- tight lil tops” the lump in your throat grew as he continued, mind blank and racing simultaneously. It was nothing short of appalling. His words were harsh and cruel. His hands dropped to the waistband of your skirt, fingers slipping in to curl it. He didn't care that you recoiled at the touch, and attempted to shake off his prying gestures. He laughed again. “‘S the only way remembered ya played tennis”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, watching horrified as he grabbed your shoulders and shoved you backwards. Your back hit the shed once again, more violently than the time before thanks to his push, his voice had picked up that aggressive tone that had simmered down since he first started talking once again, and you felt your heart jump at the change.

“Y’a poor dad thought I was so invested in your lil family…” his fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin, toying with your sweater to expose your soft flesh to the harsh cold of the autumn rain. Each swipe of them leaving a trail of fire behind.

You didn't dare meet his eyes, nauseous at the very thought. You caught a bolt of lightning strike behind his back, the grey sky complimenting the tone of the entire situation. The fingers that had been drawing shapes on your hip had slid up your chest to find home around the column of your throat, and as they squeezed– gently but threateningly, you felt your legs finally begin to give way under you. “Shame ya ain’t a good girl huh..”

“Real fuckin shame.” he shook you lightly, and your hands flew to grip his wrist. Unsurprisingly, your efforts were to no avail. His hand maintained the unrelenting grip on your throat, his eyes trained on yours like a predator. You screwed your own shut, unwilling to meet the fury in his.

The sound of the swish of a blade barely registered in your head. Before you could look down to catch a glimpse of the utility knife Javi had clicked into place, it was being pressed gently against your jugular. “To think ya had the nerve baby…”

The blade grazed your skin, a hair away from piercing your skin and slicing it open. “Couldn’t even keep yourself away from the girl with a DEA agent for an uncle?” The tear that streaked its way down your cheek almost burned a hole in your skin. Followed by what seemed like a thousand more, your watery eyes set you a harsh reminder of the mess you’d fallen into. And yet you couldn’t seem to muster up the courage to actually respond to him.

Javier seemed to like those tears though. “Oh baby, babygirl…” the hand that wasn't holding the blade against your skin came to gently cup your cheek. “Shhh, shhh, my babydoll.” With his thumb Javi wiped the tracks off your face, leaning down and kissing the dampness lightly on each side. The touch of his lips made you wince. “Don't wanna cause a ruckus..” That sweetness of his voice made you shiver, made your chin wobble.

“Please, Mr-”

You yelped, feeling that blade press just a little harder against your neck, then drag itself to lift up the hem of your sweater and move under to shift between your breasts. “I said shut that whore mouth.” There it was, that harsh, cruel tone once again. You felt the blade drag up and down your skin, then hook at the collar of your warm sweater to slice through that cable knit pattern you so loved.

The sound of the wool fraying and splitting apart rang in your ears, distracting you momentarily as Javi bunched up the fabric of your skirt, grabbing you by the thighs and hoisting you up against the rough wall of the shed. You had no choice but to wrap your legs around his waist to keep yourself stable, and away from the knife that was so close to your throat.

The rain thundered and came down against you, its sounds drawing out your weeping and whimpering. A sheet of mist and water engulfed the both of you in a horrid blanket of union. You felt Javier’s hard length press against your clothed core and you shivered. Despite it all you felt your panties dampen at the contact.

He chuckled against your skin, knowingly, mockingly, and slid his fingers between you to rub your now wet cunt through your panties. “Cant even help yourself can you?” you felt the arousal pool in your panties, but shook your head nonetheless. Your eyes rolled back at the feel of his fingertips drawing slow circles on your clit. “Look at that, sluts gettin’ all wet and achy, huh?”

The thunder and lightning only picked up pace as his calloused fingers pulled your panties aside roughly, fingertips grazing your swollen, sensitive flesh. “Fuck, such a pretty pussy” The elastic of your waistband tugged against your soft skin, rubbing against you– leaving you sore, tender. You were dripping, and the feeling made you turn your head away from Javier in disgust.

He notched his tip at your drooling entrance and you whined, wiggling your hips to shake off the desire that stirred in your tummy. “Don’t ya worry baby, gonna take care of this tight little snatch.” You shook your head no, and he only responded with a laugh.

In a sharp, single thrust you felt his throbbing, hard length stretch you open. There was no mercy, no grace period, just a snap of his hips towards yours and his cock parting your insides in that cruel, uncaring manner. “Y’a gonna shut your ass up take what I give to ya because it looks like you’ve got no choice.”

“Excited for family dinner? Gonna be a lot more fun when you’ve got my cum leaking out of ya.” The length of him stretched you open, no time to adjust with his sharp, quick thrusts. The pain came in sharp just the same way, made you wince and squirm at the burn.

You had never felt so full, every sensitive spot inside you being nudged just the right way by his cock. He continued to thrust inside your wet heat, fast and deep. A tightness began to build in your tummy.

His thumb brushed your lip and the urge to part your lips to take it into your mouth for a sense of comfort overtook you. Had you not been as frozen as you were, you would have acted on it. But that thumb pressed itself against your lips, a silent order to hush yourself as Javi’s thrusts became all the more gruelling, faster, harder, harsher.

“Ya’ might be an adult- but y’a sure as hell act like a dumb little girl” The drag of his cock against your throbbing walls had an unwelcome moan tumbling from your lips–the pleasure more horrifying than the pain. His words had your stomach flip flopping.

His fingers wrapped firmly around your throat, palm placing enough pressure against your skin to stutter your breathing. “Listen baby, I know words are really fuckin hard… they’re so big, and confusing. Too much for your pretty little head.” He heard you heave a loud, stuttery breath, but left his hand where it was for a few more agonising seconds. “So I had’ta’ tell you a way ya understand”

You felt the blade that had momentarily lost contact with your flesh drag slowly against your waist and under your skirt. Yet again the sound of fabric ripping rang in your ears, the elastic of your panties snapping against your hips only marginally less painful than the feel of Javier's thick cock splitting you open. When you turned your head to catch Javier’s gaze, his own eyes were inspecting the tattered white cotton that had once had a place on your hips between his fingers.

“Goddamn. Pretty even underneath it all? Expected something more…” He laughed maliciously, then turned his head like he was searching for the right words. “Slutty…..? whorish?” His relentless thrusts didn’t cease. “But goddamn, like keepin’ it holy dont ya?” His hips snapped towards yours again, and he groaned in pleasure. “You ain't foolin’ me.”

“No-” you were promptly cut off, face unable to dodge his hand. Javier rolled his eyes, annoyed by how animated you were being– too much for his liking. He forced the fabric into your mouth, and you had no choice to let him.

“Goddamn, that college degree don't count for much huh? That oughta shut you up, bitch.” Soon enough, and to your horror the wetness between your legs began to spread, each movement of his prompting more sounds of pleasure than pain to embarrassingly get muffled against the fabric of your own panties.

The way his brow furrowed, the vein on the side of his neck bulged from the strain, from how good you felt around him, from the way your pussy was milking his cock, it was all a lot more appealing of a sight than you were willing to acknowledge at the moment. “Fuck, should try whoring out this pussy for some extra cash too.”

“Next time ya wanna make a buck, walk that pretty little ass down the block” Splinters from the wooden shed wall grazed your skin, poking through the cable knit ever so slightly, an uncomfortable little pinch that palled in comparison to the delicious stretch of his cock splitting you open.

“Would be nice. Won’t have to drive on down to the whore house.” His cock thrust achingly out of your wet heat, building a tension inside you so strong it set your skin on fire. “Would fuck this pretty little cunt in my bed.” Your hips felt heavy, the spot between your thighs tense, aching with a desperate need to feel a release that had unwillingly been building inside you.

“Fuck ya till you’re a mess.” He growled in your ear, lips ghosting your skin. “That’d be nice, huh? Might let ya scream that time..” The image of Javier shoving you on his bed and taking care of you flashed in your mind– perhaps a soft, gentle, deep lovemaking that you were horrified to find appealing at the moment.

At some point the expanse of his chest became a security, his broad, looming shoulders a sickening comfort. “Look at you- fuckin liking it. Tight little snatch squeezin’ my cock.” If perhaps that gentleness had come to you some other way you would’ve died for it, but now you were crooning for it, silently begging for it, for some respite, for a sick sort of comfort that gave you butterflies.

What you had thought to be the unbelievable, the merciful, law abiding, law enforcing protector of the innocent and the weak, was ripping you apart piece by piece, watching you crumble around his cock, your eyes roll back with that pleasure you couldn’t ignore, your hands reach for him because you pined for the gentleness he had given you a taste off.

Your sweater caught the wood of the shed, you were sure it was full of holes at that point, the knit pattern ruined forever, something to remind you of the way your pussy quivered around his cock. “Look at that… fuck… bein’ a good girl now arent ya? Learning how to behave.” The obscene sound of your wetness, the squelch of his cock pumping in and out your swollen, abused cunt had you cringing, had your heart pounding desperately against your chest. “Never too late to change your ways.. Feels so good you can't help yourself huh? Just wanna cum..” He closed the blade that he had previously had a close grip on and shoved it into his pocket.

Your mouth loosened around the damp fabric of your panties, pleasure shooting up your spine and making your toes curl. “That's it, learnin’ well now, aren't we?” You felt hot and cold simultaneously– a chill of terror so strong you began to sweat. He pulled your hips against his, chuckling at your desperate squirming in an attempt to put off your release.

Javier caught your face between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing your cheeks and relishing in the sight of you drooling around your panties. Showing some mercy, he pulled the fabric from between your lips, tossing it onto the dirty ground. “Wonder why a slut like you would even bother with these?” He chuckled in your ear, then pressed a sloppy kiss against your neck.

His tip brushed that sweet spot inside you, made you tighten your thighs around his waist. “Feel so fucking good.” You felt your chest burn, your pussy bare down on his cock. The tension inside you finally snapped, a ragged moan escaping from your throat and slipping past your lips. You felt yourself gush and quiver around his cock, whole body on fire with the intensity of your release.

“That's a good girl– fuck” His voice was strained and low, a gravely sound dripping like honey from his lips as he neared his release. The praise made your heart flutter. With a few final, sloppy thrusts Javier’s hips stilled, his cock twitching and throbbing inside you– painting your still fluttering walls with his spend.

You felt your pussy clench around nothing when he pulled out.

He pressed his head on the shed wall beside your cheek, catching his breath. The smell of cigarettes off his hair finally registering in your mind– something you were perhaps too preoccupied to notice prior. Another stray tear slid down your cheek, along with an ice cold raindrop that fell from the sky.

Javier’s hand reached for your face and you flinched. He stroked your face and took it in with his eyes once again. You dared to meet his cold, unwavering gaze– so detached you wondered if he even registered life in anyone else's. Their browns drew you in despite this, and called you to make a home in them.

He sighed, dropping your thighs from his hold and pressing you against the shed with his body.You felt his spend leak out of you and drip onto your thighs obscenely. Your hands flew to grip his shirt to maintain your balance, but Javier was quick to step back.

Your knees shook violently as he finally retreated from the side of the shed. The damp soil and crackly leaves clung to your wet thighs as gravity forced you to the dirty ground. Instinctively you pressed your back against the shed, bracing yourself for another one of Agent Peña’s cruel jabs. You caught a glimpse of your white panties– dirty, torn and unusable, discarded on the ground.

Worse however, you watched him fix his shirt and jeans as you trembled and caught your breath, paying you no mind whatsoever. With his body no longer shielding you from the rain you felt the gentle thud of the raindrops against your cold skin, drenching you even more than before.

When you sank your fingers into the mud to find your bearings you felt a tickle on the inside of your ring finger. You looked down momentarily to catch a stay earthworm wriggle out from beside your hand and attempt to scurry away.

You yelped, bringing your hand to your chest, and tucking your knees further into your front– too exhausted to pick yourself up off the ground.

Javier's soft snicker rang in your ears like a merciless, menacing bell. When you finally looked back at him it felt even more dirty than the first time. His face scrunched in displeasure at the sight of you huddled on the ground, your clothes and overall appearance dishevelled. “Got fuckin lucky today, dirty bitch.” His words made you shiver.

He stalked over to your hunched form once again, towering over you. His shadow covered your entire body in its shade as the evening sun peaked out from under the clouds, the final drops of the shower cascading down the sloped roof of the shed and onto your damp shoulders.

“I better not see ya around Sarah again.”

Well you may throw your rock and hide your hand

Workin' in the dark against your fellow man

But as sure as God made black and white

What's down in the dark will be brought to the light

You can run on for a long time

Run on for a long time

Sooner or later God'll cut you down

You can run on for a long time

Run on for a long time

Sooner or later God'll cut you down

This one was much on the darker side, but I hope you enjoyed! Thank you to everyone who reblogs and engages with my work- you keep me writing!! 💗🐝

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mephisto-art · 2 months ago

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It is finally complete, o' silm fandom. Pose inspired by @saintstars

You who, like the stab of a knife,

Entered my plaintive heart;

You who, strong as a herd

Of demons, came, ardent and adorned,

To make your bed and your domain

Of my humiliated mind

— Infamous bitch to whom I'm bound

Like the convict to his chain,

Like the stubborn gambler to the game,

Like the drunkard to his wine,

Like the maggots to the corpse,

— Accurst, accurst be you!

I begged the swift poniard

To gain for me my liberty,

I asked perfidious poison

To give aid to my cowardice.

Alas! both poison and the knife

Contemptuously said to me:

"You do not deserve to be freed

From your accursed slavery,

Fool! — if from her domination

Our efforts could deliver you,

Your kisses would resuscitate

The cadaver of your vampire!"

#silmarillion #sauron #mairon #melkor #morgoth #angbang #art #tolkien #the silm art

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thegeminisage · 1 year ago

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i miss posting fic excerpts. so here's a fic excerpt. sorry to be self-congratulatory but my favorite part of this is when jim calls telepathy kinky

#personal #rough drafts #liz loves writing #gambler's knife #sorry im gonna reblog this again tomorrow when people are awake.

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fangdokja · 27 days ago

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He’s the last bet you’ll ever make—and the one you’ll never walk away from.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Professional Gambler x Fem. Reader

♡ Headcanons. #1

♡ Word Count. 568

“You can’t leave the table.”

His voice is a low growl, sharp as the edge of a freshly whetted blade, slicing through the smoky room. The dice roll idly in his hand, each clatter against the mahogany table a countdown to your last moment of freedom. His coldblooded eyes lock on you—obsidian pits of obsession. No one dares move. Least of all you.

“Luck is a fleeting mistress. But me? I never let go.”

His laughter is dry, devoid of mirth, a sound that sets your nerves on fire. With deliberate slowness, he leans forward, the scent of leather and whiskey coiling around you like chains. When his hand brushes yours, the contact burns—a warning and a promise. “You gambled your freedom, doll. Now it’s time to pay up.”

Shackled in Splendor

The room he keeps you in is extravagant, opulence dripping from every surface—gold trim, silk sheets, and an endless mirror to remind you who owns every inch of you. But no luxury can drown out the suffocating reminder: you’re not a guest; you’re a prize. His scent saturates the air, heavy and inescapable, curling into your lungs.

The locks click shut behind him every night, the sound a sickly sweet reminder of your captivity. His voice echoes in the hollow space, dark and amused: “Don’t look so scared, doll. You’ll learn to love the cage.”

Games He Always Wins

His sadism thrives in the thrill of your resistance. Each card he flips, every roll of dice, is another link in the chain he’s wrapped around your soul. He doesn’t need to tell you the odds are stacked against you; it’s written in the smug curve of his grin. “Every wrong move costs you a little more. But don’t worry—I’m patient. I can play forever.”

His punishments are as calculated as his bets. Each bruise, each shallow wound, is a reminder that you don’t walk away from his game. “Cry all you want, darling,” he whispers, his thumb smearing your tears across your cheek. “You’re only prettier when you break.”

Fear as His Weapon

His strength is terrifying, a wall of muscle and dominance that makes every futile attempt at escape feel laughable. When you defy him, he grabs your wrist with a grip like iron, his low growl vibrating through your chest: “Do you really want to test me?”

His knife glints in the dim light, the motion deliberate as he carves the table in front of you, each stroke a silent warning. His gaze flicks to you, slow and heavy, a predator savoring the chase. “The only way out of this game, doll, is through me. And I don’t lose.”

No Escape

The doors are fortified, the windows reinforced, but his presence is the real prison. You feel him even when he isn’t there, the echo of his touch on your skin, his voice a phantom in your ears: “Run, and I’ll break you so beautifully you’ll never want to leave again.”

He pins you against the wall one night, the force of his body rendering you motionless. His grin is razor-sharp, his breath warm and suffocating against your neck. “You’re my jackpot, doll. The one thing I’ll never gamble with. And I don’t share my winnings.”

His kiss is brutal, a branding of ownership that leaves no part of you untouched. You taste the finality in it—the promise of a debt you’ll never escape.

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cuntphoric · 8 days ago

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i'm your host, damien, your dealer - here to make sure you walk away with exactly what you're craving. the stakes are high, the filth is flowing, and let me tell you, EVERYBODY leaves as a winner. whether you're here for a quick thrill or a full on jackpot, i'll be guiding you through it every step of the way. your coins, your choices.

place your bets, toss your coins in, and let the reels do the talking. this machine's ready to deal you the perfect combo!

🪙 the coin machine menu:

5¢ — character(s): pick your main slot!

place your bet and lock in your player! choose your jujustu kaisen favorite! remember, no minors are allowed at this table - we play by the house rules here.

each extra player costs another 5¢.

10¢ — trope/kink(s): deal your hand!

alriiighty, what's your move? you tryna go for something smooth and slow, or are you ready to raise the stakes and get a little rough? maybe you wanna keep it playful, or heat it up with some power play. whatever your hand is, toss in your coin, and i'll deal the rest.

each kink or trope costs 10¢. stack as many as you want - just stay within the $2 limit.

15¢ — setting/scenario(s): set the stage!

where is this going down? maybe a posh hotel room, soft lighting casting shadows as things heat up, or the back of a car where it's just you and them. maybe it's in a smoky bar with hidden corners, or a secluded rooftop under the stars?

each location or vibe costs 15¢. want to mix a rooftop escapade with a rainy street kiss? add them both in the stacks.

20¢ — semi jackpot: stack the deck!

not quite ready to bet it all, but still want a bigger payout? toss in your coins for a semi jackpot - around 750 words of a big payout. this tier is perfect if you're in the mood for something hot but don't want to go all in.

25¢ — bonus round: extra spins!

feeling lucky? take a chance on the bonus round and win yourself some headcanon gold. with 10-15+ scenarios starring your chosen jjk adult(s). it's a little less commitment, but trust me the payoff's still sweet.

50¢ — jackpot: go big or go home!

you ready to go big? toss in your coin and get 1,000+ words of smut. longer scenes, more play, just a bigger experience all around. if you're aiming for the jackpot, this is where you get it.

how it works:

browse the coin machine menu below to build your request.

tally up your total and send it in an ask.

example 1: "hii! 60¢ for sukuna and toji, degradation, a rooftop setting, and the semi jackpot please and thank you!"

example 2: "80¢ for nanami and gojo! praise kink and light knife play in a work office, bonus round, thanks >_<"

example 3: "hellooo, can i get geto, breeding kink, and hair pulling, an elegant love hotel room, and jackpot? all that up leads to 90¢"

pull the lever (aka sit tight while i write it out).

enjoy the smut drop.

rules to keep the machine spinning smoothly:

characters must be 18+. only jjk adult characters are allowed at this table.

mahito, mei mei, naoya, and kenjaku is barred from this machine! don't even try sneaking them past security.

if you know your hand and have any specifics in mind, lay it all out for the dealer. tell the dealer exactly what you're aiming for, and i'll spin the reels your way.

no extreme or illegal bets — let's keep this dirty, but not dangerous.

max wager is 1$ per request.

if you have any questions, take it up to the dealer.

bets are processed in the order they're placed. patience is key - the house always delivers.

don't wait — insert your coins before the house closes!

the smut-o-matic won't stay open forever! i'll be accepting coins until the end of the month. and when the clock runs out, the reels stop spinning. no new bets after closing time.

if you've already placed your wager, don't worry! the house will handle every request in the queue. but once the machine shuts down, no new spins will be taken. don't sit on those coins, gamblers, time's-a-ticking!

a sticky note under the machine?

hey there, gamblers! before you cash out, just wanna say a big thank you to all of you <3 i'm lucky to have each of you playing along, and i can't wait to keep this account going ^_^ y'all are the real jackpot here. appreciate you all so much, let’s keep winning together !!

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theoutcastrogue · 1 month ago

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Ballads of the Hanged: Swinging from the Gallows Tree

A mixtape of execution ballads and assorted tales of guilt, wrath, terror, and defiance on the gallows, where all men are brothers.

[on spotify]

21 tracks, 1h 15min in full (spotify lacks one song)

I teased this many moons ago, and I finally finished it. No booklet in PDF form (too much hassle), but I got extensive liner notes, which you can also read here, for more pictures and a wider format. Enjoy!

LINER NOTES

1. Hans Zimmer - Hoist The Colours

Heave ho thieves and beggars never shall we die

What a heartbreaking thing to say on the scaffold. But we have to start with theatrics and a drum roll, and our introduction needs no introduction.

2007, from Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End OST lyrics: Ted Elliott & Terry Rossio music: Hans Zimmer & Gore Verbinski

2. Shirley Collins - Tyburn Tree (Since Laws Were Made)

Next stop, Tyburn: England's most notorious gallows. In The Beggar's Opera, the highwayman Macheath (later also known as Mack the Knife) observes that if they hanged rich criminals like they hang the poor ones, "'twould thin the land". Shirley Jackson subtly changed this to the better.

Since laws were made for ev'ry degree to curb vice in others as well as me, I wonder there's no better company on Tyburn Tree.

But since gold from laws can take out the sting, and if rich men like us were to swing, it would rid the land their numbers to see upon Tyburn Tree.

recorded 1966, released 2002 in Within Sound lyrics: John Gay, from The Beggar's Opera, 1728 music: traditional ("Greensleeves"), 16th century

3. Joan Baez - Long Black Veil

A country ballad about a man falsely accused of murder, who lets himself get dragged to the gallows because he won't reveal his alibi: an affair with his best friend's wife. It's been covered by a million people, here's Baez live.

The scaffold is high, eternity near, She stands in the crowd, she sheds not a tear, But sometimes at night, when the cold winds moan, In a long black veil she cries o'er my bones.

1963, from In Concert Part 2 lyrics & music: Lefty Frizzell, 1959

4. Oscar Isaac with Punch Brothers & Secret Sisters - Hang Me, Oh Hang Me

A poor boy who got "so damn hungry he could hide behind a straw", made his last stand with a rifle and a dagger, and has been all around this world, and is positively done with it.

They put the rope around my neck, they hung me up so high Last words I heard 'em say, won't be long now 'fore you die Hand me, oh hang me, and I'll be dead and gone Wouldn't mind the hanging, but the laying in the grave so long

2015, from Another Day, Another Time: Celebrating the Music of "Inside Llewyn Davis", after Oscar Isaac's rendition in Inside Llewyn Davis, 2013, in turn after Dave Van Ronk's rendition in Folksinger, 1962 lyrics & music: traditional American/unclear origin, folk song with various titles (I've Been All Around This World, The Gambler, My Father Was a Gambler, The New Railroad), first recorded by Justis Begley, 1937

5. Chapel Hill - Seven Curses

Cover of a Bob Dylan song, telling us the dark tale of a judge who's about to send a man to the gallows for stealing a horse, promises his daughter he'll show clemency if she agrees to sleep with him, and then reneges on his promise.

The next morning she had awoken to know that the judge had never spoken she saw that hanging branch a-bending she saw her father's body broken These be seven curses for a judge so cruel

2013, from One For The Birds lyrics inspired by Judy Collins's "Anathea" (1963), in turn inspired by the traditional Hungarian ballad "Feher Anna", who curses the judge "thirteen years may be lie bleeding" lyrics & music: Bob Dylan, recorded 1963, released 1991 in The Bootleg Series

6. Ewan MacColl - Go Down Ye Murderers

A song about Timothy Evans, a man accused of murdering his wife and child, which he denied until his last breath. They convicted him and hanged him in 1950. He was 25 years old. Three years later the real murderer, his neighbour John Christie, confessed, and the case played a major role in abolishing capital punishment in the UK.

The rope was fixed around his neck, and the washer behind his ear And the prison bell was tolling but Tim Evans did not hear Sayin' go down, you murderer, go down

They sent Tim Evans to the drop for a crime he didn't do It was Christy was the murderer, and the judge and jury too Sayin' go down, you murderers, go down

1956, from Bad Lads and Hard Cases: British Ballads Of Crime And Criminals lyrics & music: Ewan MacColl

7. Jennifer Lawrence - The Hanging Tree

One of the stranger things that can happen at the hanging tree is camaraderie. "On the gallows tree, all men are brothers", to quote A Feast for Crows, and when the state murders, then in defiance, an execution ballad can become a protest song. Many have in real life, this one is fiction, from The Hunger Games. Wisely, the director asked the composer for a simple tune, nothing elaborate, something that could be "sung by one person or by a thousand people".

Are you, are you coming to the tree? Wear a necklace of rope side by side with me Strange things have happened here, no stranger would it be If we met at midnight in the hanging tree

2014, from The Hunger Games: Mockingjay – Part 1 OST lyrics: Suzanne Collins music: James Newton Howard

8. Let's Play Dead - Heaven and Hell

A fairly traditional execution ballad written recently for the series Harlots. Margaret Wells sings it to herself for consolation and courage, as she sits alone in a cell, waiting to get dragged to the gallows.

I'm no more a sinner than any man here I'm no less a saint than the priest at god's ear But now I am snared, they will punish me well With a ladder to heaven and a rope down to hell

2018, from the single Heaven and Hell, for Harlots Season 2 Episode 7 lyrics & music: Let's Play Dead

9. Odetta - Gallows Pole

Probably the most well-known execution ballad of the 20th century, thanks to several iconic renditions. This one remains my favourite.

Hangman, hangman, slack your rope, slack it for a while I think I see my father coming, riding many a mile Papa did you bring me silver, did you bring me gold? Or did you come to see me hanging by the gallows pole?

1960, from At Carnegie Hall lyrics & music: traditional (Child 95 / Roud 144), known under many other titles ("Hangman", "The Maid freed From the Gallows", "The Prickle-Holly Bush"); this version is directly influenced by Lead Belly's "Gallis Pole" (1930s), and they both informed Led Zeppelin's 1970 version

10. Johnny Cash - 25 Minutes to Go

Peak gallows humour, uproariously funny and defiant, and somehow still conveying the terror of a man who's about to die and emphatically doesn't want to. Performed live at Folsom Prison.

Then the sheriff said boy I'm gonna watch you die, 19 minutes to go So I laughed in his face and I spit in his eye, 18 minutes to go Now here comes the preacher for to save my soul, 13 minutes to go And he's talking about burning but I'm so cold, 12 minutes to go

1968, from At Folsom Prison lyrics & music: Shel Silverstein, from his 1962 album Inside Folk Songs

11. Johnny Cash - Sam Hall

A classic execution ballad with many versions (see here for its complicated history), some of which are stoic and dignified, and others humorous. But this one brims with rage. Sam Hall will not be repenting on the gallows, and he'll see you all in hell.

My name it is Sam Hall and I hate you one and all And I hate you one and all, damn your eyes

2002, from American IV: The Man Comes Around lyrics & music: : traditional, 18th century broadside ballad, Roud 369

12. Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - Up Jumped the Devil

A song about a man doomed from the start to play the villain’s part, and the origin of this blog’s #swinging from the gallows tree tag.

Who's that hanging from the gallow tree? His eyes are hollow but he looks like me Who's that swinging from the gallow tree? Up jumped the Devil and he took my soul from me

1999, from Tender Prey lyrics: Nick Cave music: Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds

13. NOT ON SPOTIFY: Dead Rat Orchestra - The Black Procession

This ballad imagines a sinister procession of 20 criminals (black tradesmen brought up in hell!), each with their own specialty (it's mostly thieves of some sort), on the way to the gallows. The last and worst of them is the thief-catcher, and if one of them is innocent, they'll all go free. But of course none of them are. It's written in thieves' cant (lyrics and more context here), and the chorus means: "Look well, listen well, see where they are dragged, up to the gallows where they are hanged."

Toure you well; hark you well, see where they are rubb’d, Up to the nubbing cheat where they are nubb’d.

2015, from Tyburnia: A Radical History Of 600 Years Of Public Execution lyrics: from The Triumph of Wit by J. Shirley, 1688 music: Robin Alderton, Daniel Merrill & Nathaniel Robin Mann

14. John Harle & Marc Almond - The Tyburn Tree

And where does the Black Procession lead? To Tyburn, of course. The dark gothic side of Marc Almond.

The Tyburn Tree, I weep for thee, blood in the roots 'Tis not a tree with bark and leaves of spring awakening 'Tis not a tree with blossom and fruit, 'tis not a tree No boughs to bend beneath the unruly breath of winter No memories of woods warmed by spring's sweet touch 'Tis not a tree — take a ride to Tyburn and dance the last jig

2014, from The Tyburn Tree (Dark London) lyrics: Marc Almond music: John Harle

15. CocoRosie - Gallows

Speaking of dark and gothic.

They took him to the gallows, he fought them all the way though And when they asked us how we knew his name We died just before him, our eyes are in the flowers Our hands are in the branches, our voices in the breezes And our screaming is in his screaming

2010, from Grey Oceans lyrics & music: Sierra Rose Casady & Bianca Leilani Casady

16. The Tiger Lillies - Hang Tomorrow

In their Two Penny Opera, the pioneers of dark cabaret reimagine Brecht’s Threepenny Opera, and take all the suaveness out of Mack the Knife. Here they also take all the fight out of him. What's even left? A pathetic empty husk, a bastard (let's not forget that Brecht's MacHeath is no rogue with a heart of gold, he's a horrible man) who can't even be intriguing. How disturbingly pedestrian.

So here I am in jail again, oh god it stinks of piss I've been in here since I was young, so I can reminisce It's looking rather grim this time, it's looking rather bad But if I swing tomorrow in some ways I'll be glad

2001, from Two Penny Opera lyrics & music: Martyn Jacques

17. Tom Hollander - Ballad In Which MacHeath Begs All Mens' Forgiveness

In The Threepenny Opera, Mack the Knife stands on the scaffold and asks for pity. No point being judgmental now, that he's about to die. He morbidly describes how his dead body will end up, and then he lashes out at everyone, cops and criminals (same difference), while still begging them all for forgiveness. Very VERY sarcastically. The ballad's concept is borrowed from François Villon (see below), and this translation is unusually bold (honorific, see here and here for other translations and context).

You crooked cops with your Mercedes, your mobile phones, your trendy jackets, your cuts from drugs and dice and ladies, your Scotland Yard protection rackets.

Let heaven smash your fucking faces, slash you and let the blood run free and break you in a thousand places. I've pardoned you. You pardon me.

1994, from The Threepenny Opera - Donmar Warehouse Original Cast lyrics: Bertolt Brecht 1928, loosely inspired by François Villon's "Ballad of the Hanged" c. 1489, translated by Jeremy Sams 1994 music: Kurt Weill 1928

18. Saga de Ragnar Lodbrock - Ballade des pendus

And here's the OG Ballad of the Hanged, written in the 15th century by the OG poète maudit, François Villon (translation here). It paints an indelible picture of strung up corpses swaying in the wind, decaying, pecked by birds, ravaged by the elements and time. And crucially, it's in the first person. The hanged speak, begging their fellow-humans for pity, and god for forgiveness.

Frères humains, qui après nous vivez, N'ayez les cœurs contre nous endurcis, Car, si pitié de nous pauvres avez, Dieu en aura plus tôt de vous mercis. Vous nous voyez ci attachés, cinq, six: Quant à la chair, que trop avons nourrie, Elle est piéça dévorée et pourrie, Et nous, les os, devenons cendre et poudre. De notre mal personne ne s'en rie; Mais priez Dieu que tous nous veuille absoudre!

recorded 1979, released 1999 in the Saga de Ragnar Lodbrock reissue lyrics: François Villon, c. 1489 music: Saga de Ragnar Lodbrock

19. Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - The Mercy Seat

Honorary inclusion, a song not about hanging: the mercy seat is the electric chair. But the lyrics are a punch and this is a torrent of a song, a whirlwind, a masterpiece, a 7-minute cynic snarl. So it couldn't possibly get left out of this compilation.

And the mercy seat is awaiting, and I think my head is burning And in a way I'm yearning to be done with all this measuring of proof An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth (a life for a life and a truth for a truth) And anyway I told the truth, and I'm not afraid to die (and I'm afraid I told a lie)

1999, from Tender Prey lyrics & music: Nick Cave

20. Graveyard Train - Ballad For Beelzebub

And after? Welcome to Hell, ladies and gents, and bards. (Bards are rogues, too.) The Graveyard Train play a kind of Southern Gothic (but very southern, they're Australian), and here they entertain the thought of a band that ends up in hell and has to keep playing, without end, for an audience that can't hear. What a bleak prospect.

Well the air on the stage is burning our lungs And we're all going deaf from the beating drums And you can't see a thing for all the blood and the sweat in our eyes

Well we played till we died, and now we're all dead But the Man says we got to get up there again And you can't come down till the brimstone turns to ice

2008, from The Serpent And The Crow lyrics & music: Graveyard Train

21. Samuel Kim feat. Colm R. McGuinness - Hoist the Colours

Yo ho, all together Hoist the colours high Heave ho, thieves and beggars

But we won't end in hell. The only acceptable ending to this compilation is the triumphant version (wait for it) of its beginning: a pirate's end. Traditionally the gibbet, yes, but also the ghost ship that still sails, the ripple that still travels, and the story that still gets told.

Did I stutter the first time?

NEVER SHALL WE DIE

#long post #swinging from the gallows tree #mixtape #trs #prison ballads #pirate #bard #The Threepenny Opera

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mickmundy · 10 months ago

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scout's ma headcanon thread! she was requested by a couple of people and i'm having a burst of inspiration for her so without further ado, let's get to it! i hope you like!

absolutely not your average "housewife"! there's lots of professions i entertain her having (hair/nail salon worker, waitress/bartender, something Generally Unassuming for a woman in the 70s to have as a job)… all intentionally mundane, but serving useful purpose in her life! good for keeping tabs on things around the city, sussing people out and potentially letting spy know any hot goss! these are just day jobs; she gets her thrills elsewhere!

knows everything happening everywhere, anytime. spy learned lots of his intuition-based skills from her! any time spy thinks he knows everything, she always has something in her back pocket that he doesn't! >:)

has a VERY contagious laugh that you can hear miles away. she loves being loud! will clap you really hard on your back or slam her hand on the table when she laughs.

can hold her liquor better than anyone around! doesn't like to get sloppy, but that doesn't mean she doesn't from time to time! loves drinking beer, but will always enjoy a nice glass of wine with her beloved spy! :-) wouldn't/doesn't care if scout is lgbt+ lol. it's absolutely not a big deal to him to come out to her, either. he knows his ma means it when she says she loves him no matter what! she will occasionally hit him with "well ya better bring somebody home to meet me sometime!" (loud laughter)

i think she'd be more financially well-off than her home leads one to believe; she's good at stashing and moving around spy's cash! her apartment is humble but she always looks immaculate. doesn't let scout know how much money she really has. very financially savvy and an incredible negotiator… even if it means getting a little ugly! used car salesman tremble in her presence!

fights like a scorned gambler who's owed a debt. won't let you know she can fight, though! likes it when people think she's just some dainty dame.

is a material girl, but knows what really matters. fell in love with spy before he was The Spy he is today and values loyalty and trust/honesty above all else. some might think that's ironic considering her partner of choice, but she'll be quick to quip back with a snide/cheeky "of course that's what you think! you only know the mask!"

breaking balls is her love language. she'll tease you, but never maliciously. this is also scout's, and one of spy's, languages of love too.

always trying to feed you. "put some more meat on your bones! it's good for ya!" (pops gum and winks at you) while i think she no doubt is well-versed in the lifestyle that spy leads, she's not Directly "in-it" like spy is. not an agent of any kind herself, but gives spy a hand when she can. knows how to shoot a gun and wield a kitchen knife!

grew up dirt poor and has "a champagne taste on a beer budget". high standards, takes no guff, won't hesitate to put you in your place. this (and many other reasons) is why spy loves her :-)

very charismatic, knows how to lie, but also how to be sincere. is genuinely a good mother to her boys, who love her in return. they're all protective of her even though they know they don't have to be; she has no problem sticking up for herself!

spy was not her first husband, but he's her favorite! she loves him very much, and he loves her. they aren't exes, they're happily together, and have an open relationship.

she knows all of the mercs (some better than others ofc!) and won't hesitate to talk their ears off when she visits the base, armed with embarrassing photos and stories about spy and scout that make them both groan and the mercs holler with laughter!

she picks out spy's suits for/with him. she's the only one spy would ever trust to dress him other than himself! they always look great together and accessorize around each other.

she does not tell scout about who his father is. not because she doesn't want to, but she knows the nature of spy's job and knows "the business" from being around him for all this time; it's the best thing to keep scout and herself (also spy!) safe. i think scout would be angry at first, but once it's explained to him, he'd understand. ma knows best!

spy taught her how to walk in heels and does things like painting her nails for her all the time. he always makes sure she has enough money for a well-deserved spa day, but if she knows he's coming to town, she'll let her nails get a little busted up so spy can paint them for her!

she loves to look at spy and sigh a fond "ugh, i could just kill you!" while smirking/bating her eyes at him after/as he showers her with gifts and other wonderful things… to which spy chuckles and hums lovingly and replies with "mhmhmm, ma petite chou fleur, if anyone could, it would be you. <3" and they give each other the most Loving Look.. :')

she's younger than spy but not by much. they met while she was a waitress in a diner in boston while spy was on a mission to assassinate a target in the city early in his career (when his suits were still cheap.. <3). he hides in the diner after a particularly fiery shootout and his pursuers come into the place. she recognizes him as the Quiet Gentleman who has been coming in for coffee in the mornings to enjoy with a cigarette. covers for him and spy never forgets her kindness and quick wit. he comes back after the mission ends and, with his payout from the job, treats her to a romantic night and promises to see her again. no matter how far away spy goes, he always returns to her! she has more faith in him than he deserves (so he says), to which she smirks and straightens his (now expensive <3) suit tie and places a kiss on his balaclava's cheek and says "we both know i only deserve the best." and winks at him and he smiles at her and hums in agreement.. kisses her hand… siigh.. this is a massively condensed "origin story" for them lol but! AH I LOVE THEM

AHH I HAVE SO MANY MORE THOUGHTS BUT FOR NOW.... i will leave with all of this... HEHE TYSM for reading! ^__^ i hope you enjoy ehe!!

#mercthreads #<- not a merc but this is where my long tf2 hc posts go slkjdf #dutchfoolery #dutchiehcs #tf2 #scout's mom

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