#hip hop world star

[worldstarhiphopnews]

TOP 10 MOST EXPENSIVE - 🏰 ( MEGA MANSIONS ) 🏰 - RAPPERS OWN

This top 10 countdown features the most expensive mansions that rappers own - World Star HIP HOP NEWS. All these big mansions are extravagant and cost a fortune. Join us on our quest to find out the most expensive house in the world owned by a rapper.

*VIDEO LINK BELOW*

TOP 10 MOST EXPENSIVE - 🏰 ( MEGA MANSIONS ) 🏰 - RAPPERS OWN

YOUTUBE CHANNEL: World Star Hip Hop News

[freshthoughts2020]

[kdiddy1]

Lamont interviews the superstars of indie music to discuss upcoming projects, play their music and talk the "business" of entertainment...TODAY'S GUEST IS PAPADAD,.‎''HEAR WHAT REALLY HAPPENED BETWEEN PAPADAD AND THE GAMES BROTHER BIG FAZE FROM THE MAN HIMSELF WEDNESDAY ON I AM INDIE ''

[7grandmel]

Todays rip: 26/02/2024

Shopping on Star Road

Season 2 No Album Release (Read More) Game Over (OST Version) - Super Mario World

Ripped by sadkey

Requested by bobthetacocat! @bobthetacocat

There's a part of me that really doesn't quite know how to approach this rip in particular, for a few reasons. Sure, I've covered hip-hop themed rips on the blog before, including other lo-fi ones like Yoshi's Cookie World and Stickerbrush State of Mind - but with those and others, I've felt like I've had a story attached to them to tell, to sort of make up for my lack of knowledge on the rap scene in general. I still heard the name "Lil Peep" around from time to time, but knew nothing about the guy or his work - and further wasn't even aware that he's now been away from us for close to seven years, after his passing in 2017. Like I said with Through the F​-​F​-​Fire and the F​-​F​-​Flames, there's an added difficulty in talking about someone's legacy after the fact when you never really felt like you knew them to begin with. Those were, at least, the thoughts I had when receiving the request to cover Shopping on Star Road. And then I listened to it - and then, I dug deeper.

On SoundCloud's official Wikipedia page, Lil Peep is one of ten artists listed as examples under the "SoundCloud Rap" sub category, a label many of you are likely more familiar with than I've ever been. I recognized the names of several of the other listed examples, of course - XXXTentacion, Playboi Carti, Juice Wrld - yet never put it together that they were all born under the same umbrella, the umbrella of SoundCloud as a platform. This community formed of creators expressing themselves with as much honesty and raw emotion as possible, a sort of re-emergence of emo expressions as told by individual rising stars...The more I read, the more fascinated I became - and, of course, given my brainrot, I couldn't help but draw parallels to the SiIvaGunner channel itself.

Much of the joy of SoundCloud as a platform is how...unrestricted it is, as a platform. There's little in the way of licenses, little moderation, no reason for quality control - from what I've gathered without using it, its able to act much like your average social media in that you can post practically anything (that isn't hate speech) and have a chance of getting noticed. There's little pressure to perform, little direct monetization: it is, in its purest form, an audio playground. The idea of "SoundCloud Rap" came about from that culture as a result, to just perform and release something without the pressure of a perfect mix, of perfect vocals and mastering, effectively "venting" in the form of music. There's an aura of sincerity to rap music like Lil Peep's Star Shopping, with a simple beat that sets an immaculate vibe alone, with vocals that speak from the heart, with flow carried by emotion despite the music's simplicity.

And, like, I know it sounds a bit insincere to draw a connection between this thing that I'm not very invested in, and the thing this blog is about that I am VERY invested in, but...that sort of sincerity has always been a huge part of SiIvaGunner's appeal to me. Be it in stupid bits where the mask of the parody occasionally slips with a laugh, such as Can't Say Goodbye to Yesterday - as performed by Bob Dylan, or mashups where you can feel that each source was picked out with affection like vs SAYU (Based Version), there's an aura to many SiIvaGunner rips that make you feel...connected to the people behind them. A connection not all too dissimilar to the one formed between the artist and listener with music as unfiltered as SoundCloud's often is.

There's that, and of course that several of the team's oldest rippers, such as toonlink of Dr. Soulja fame, initially got their start doing the very same thing they do now on SiIvaGunner, but on SoundCloud. It was this messing around with other "rippers" as part of what was then called the "SoundClown" community that SiIvaGunner creator Chaze the Chat cites as the primary inspiration for starting the channel all the way back in Season 1. With this shared history in mind, Shopping on Star Road gains a new sort of meaning - a sendoff from one side of SoundCloud's old guard from another, in tribute to a rapper who passed just as SiIva's own first season ended. It obviously helps that ripper sadkey has a fantastic ear for what he does, and would later go on to make one of the channel's most underrated rips of all time in Unstable Connection. sadkey, Lil Peep, the sentimentality born from the shared history on SoundCloud, and the Super Mario World Game Over theme itself, come together to make Shopping on Star Road one of the most soul-healing listens on the channel.

I never knew much of Lil Peep, nor know much of just how much he impacted people. But I can feel a connection to both him and the people who miss him through Shopping on Star Road and its comment section alone.

[ohmuqueen]

x

the video is SHINee’s “Alive”

[stoneyocean]

Think They Mad

The Stone Collector cd Join the wave 🌊🌊 FB_YT_IG_IT_SPOT_TIKTOK

[vivwritesfics]

Quiet

His hand clamped over her mouth. “Gotta be quiet, baby,” he whispered.

Warnings: smut, 18+, blow job, hair pulling, p in v, lowkey public sex

Lando stared at her across the garage, eyes hungry.

Why did she have to wear… that? That skirt he loved so much, the custom made, corset type top. Orange, his logo embroidered in the corner. Showing everybody that she was his, so why were the engineers crowding around her?

She laughed and giggled at whatever she was saying as she sat on top of the work station, her legs crossed at the ankles. Whatever jokes the engineers made had her holding her book against her chest as she giggled and made jokes right back at them.

He wasn’t jealous. Why did he have to be jealous? She was showing the world she was his by the clothes she was wearing alone. But she did look damn good in that outfit, and anyone could see that.

His eyes moved to the clock.

They had a little time to kill, a little time where he might’ve been needed in the garage. But, then again, they might not need him.

Pushing himself away from the wall, Lando strode over to you. He pushed past the engineers surrounding her and wordlessly offered her his hand.

“Hi, Lan,” she whispered and took his hand. Hopping down from the counter, she squeezed his hand and tucked herself into his side.

“C’mon, angel,” he mumbled and pulled her along.

She went willingly, always would when it came to Lando. “Where’re we going?” She asked sweetly.

The way she was looking at him, he was obsessed with it. She stared up at him like he was her everything. Maybe because he was her everything. She stared up at him like he hung the moon and the stars, brightening up the night sky, just for her.

“Driver’s room,” he said through a grunt.

Another laugh spilled from her lips. “Driver’s room, huh?” She asked, feeling the way his hand slipped down her back. His fingertips touched the bottom of her skirt, felt the backs of her thighs. Her hand touched the material of his skin tight fireproofs over his chest. “Lan, baby, you have no reason to be jealous,” she said, her giggles near continuous. “I only have eyes for you.”

He pushed open the door to his driver's room. His hand grabbed her ass as she stepped through the door and disappeared inside.

Lando slammed the door shut behind him. “You’re mine, angel,” he whispered as he stalked towards her. The smile was still on her face as she backed away from him, playing the part of prey in front of predator.

“I’m yours,” she repeated. The back of her legs hit the sofa and she sat down, body bouncing against the cushions.

In front of her, standing between her legs, Lando brought his hand up to her throat. Just holding, not squeezing, not preventing her from breathing. His hold was possessive, and she was loving every second of it. “Who do you belong to?”

“You,” she said again.

“Who?”

“You.” She wrapped her hand around his wrist

“Louder.”

Her eyes sparkled. “You! I belong to you, Lando!” She cried.

Letting go of her neck, Lando brushed her cheek with his thumb. “Good girl,” he whispered, thumb resting on her lips. Eyes locked on his, she opened her mouth and let his thumb slip inside.

“Fuck,” Lando whispered, his thumb resting on her tongue. Warm and wet, his fireproofs grew tighter.

Closing her eyes, she sucked his thumb as if it was his dick. Sweet little moans left her throat, hands reaching forward to grab his hips.

But then Lando stopped her and grabbed her. “Stop it, baby,” he whispered. When you pouted, his expression softened. “I wanna at least be inside of you before I blow my load.”

At that, she grinned. She slipped off of the sofa and tugged at his fireproofs. “How much time have we got?” She asked as his hand settled on her head.

Lando turned to look at the clock above his door. “Long enough,” he said, trying to make his voice sound convincing.

Freeing his cock, she wasted no time in taking him into her mouth. “Fuuuuuck,” Lando released, tossing his head back. With his throat exposed, his eyes shut, he looked damn angelic. But she couldn’t see it as she sucked his dick.

Her nails dug into his hips as she sucked him off, taking him as deep into her throat as she could. She moaned, throat seeming to vibrate around him. Jesus, he’d come in no time at this rate.

His girl knew what she was doing, but Lando didn’t doubt that for a minute. He knew she was good, knew she could easily finish him off in a matter of minutes. The way her nails dug into his skin was an overload of senses. Too much going on, and Lando was loving every second of it.

His hips moved on their own, pushing his cock between her lips. It was a mess of spit and drool, making a mess of the both of them. “Baby, baby, baby,” he whispered, gripping her hair.

Lando pulled her off of him. Drool connected them, until it broke and dripped to the floor.

Hair a mess, makeup a mess, she looked up at him. Lando used his thumb to fix up the gloss on her lips and pulled her to her feet. “Want me to fuck you?” He asked sweetly and she nodded her head. Lando squeezed her hips in response. “Words, baby.”

Looping her arms around his neck, she stood on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “I want you to fuck me, Lando,” she whispered and kissed his cheek.

“On your knees on the sofa,” he said and she obeyed. She climbed onto the sofa, back facing him, and put her hands on the back of the sofa. Lando stalked towards her. He pushed her skirt up and pulled down her underwear, revealing just how wet she was for him.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he whispered, fingers moving through her folds. She whined, pushing herself back against him. She just needed something inside of her. His fingers, his dick, anything.

He touched her clit, sending shockwaves through her. “Please,” she whined, turning to look at him. “Lando, please!”

“I’ve got you.” He grabbed her hip with one hand, held his dick in the other. “Gonna take care of you, angel.”

He pushed his cock through her folds, sheathed himself inside of her. Her breath caught in her throat at the feel of him. You’d think after being together for this long, she would have gotten used to it, to the sheer feeling of him. But she would never get used to it, and she’d never stop loving it.

He began moving, slowly at first. He dug his fingers into her hips, hard enough to leave bruises. Bruises to match the little crescents on his own hips. “So fucking tight,” he grunted, drilling his cock into her sopping folds.

The noises she released started quiet. But she got louder and louder. Every moan echoed around the room. Louder and louder, loud enough for anybody outside of the driver’s room to hear. “Lando, Lando, Lando!” She cried, pushing herself back against him.

His hand clamped over her mouth. “Gotta be quiet, baby,” he whispered. Her teeth sank into the skin of his finger, grounding herself. “That’s it,” he whispered, pulling her back against him. “Doing so good f’ me.”

Jesus, he was so fucking close. With each snap of his hips, he was close to finishing.

When he pulled out, she released a desperate whine. It wasn’t fair; she was nowhere near finished and he was pulling out of her.

“Fu-uck.”

She didn’t know where Lando came, but it wasn’t on her.

The next thing she knew, he was on his knees beside her. He wrapped his arms around her thighs and pulled her closer. He buried his face in her cunt and ate her legs until her legs were shaking, letting her make as much noise as she wanted.

[rockingbytheseaside]

✦ How they hold you in bed when sleeping

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Tartaglia (separate) 

When the stars are perched in the night sky, and the world becomes wrapped in a still blanket of darkness - there is no better action than departing to your safe space, the coziness of your bedroom, and the safety of your beloved’s body next to you. The lights are dimmed and after a warm shower and a change into comfy pajamas, your beloved is met with a tender sight of your sleepy figure. It is time for rest, and with his arms open, beckoning you to hop into his embrace - you join him in bed at last. 

✧ A single glance from Pierro and his eyes would instantly soften upon seeing your sleepy expression. The Director of the Fatui doesn’t require any questions or even verbal communication to know that something is troubling you. Your solemn gaze and slumped shoulders tell him more than enough - and his heart aches in response. Silently but gently, he pulls you closer, his star-shaped pupils seeking answers from your own. 

“My divine one... A long day?” - he whispers, his hand lifting your chin to make you look at him. You don’t directly respond, but nod and press your lips into a thin line. Pierro sighs, yearning to vanquish all your worries and pain. But sometimes, words are superfluous.

“Do not fret your little heart. No harm shall come, for I am here, my divine. Shall I take you to bed, instead?” 

With a small nod and a timid glance from you, Pierro spoke no further. He knew what you required on such solemn nights as these, and instead, allowed his arms to pick you up, carrying your fatigued figure in his bigger embrace. He pulled you closer, his cheek gently grazing your face as he whispered soothing words and brought you to bed. 

He tucked you in, the king-sized bed bringing the familiar sensation of silky sheets and warm covers. He kisses your forehead with careful and slow deliberation before accompanying you to sleep.    

When Pierro sleeps beside you, he is often silent, but his gaze never leaves your figure. He’d lay on his side, gazing at your face as if it were the stars and the moon itself. Even within the dimness of the room, he has memorized the outline of your face, the soothing rhythm of your breathing, the contour of your figure. With one hand around you, you two slept peacefully, the troubles of the world left behind. Even the Fatui’s Director required solace, and this solace he would locate only in your tender arms; his sanctuary. 

✧ Il Capitano has memorized your routine. Take a shower, get ready for bed, and most importantly, sleep on top of him as if his body were a sturdy mattress. It’s not your fault your cherished is so much taller and bigger, right? Well luckily for you, he absolutely adores it when you climb on top of him, resting your head on top of his chest and legs around his hips. Your smaller figure clad tight around him like a loving weighted blanket while he slept on his back. His hands would gladly squeeze you, loving your softness against his toned physique. 

“You don’t mind my weight on top of you, Cappy?” - you’d often ask every night before bed, peeking at him with that tender worry that made the Harbinger melt in an instant. Capitano would continue to hold you, his sharp fingers tracing circles gently on your hips or your back.

“Dearest, I have carried heavier weights that quadruple you in size. If you were to bother me, would I be pulling you back to my arms whenever you toss and turn?” 

And thus, with the seal of approval from the honorable Captain, you’d smile triumphantly and sleep on him. That’s just how the two of you were: Capitano was a beast in size, slept still, and barely moved when on his back. Conversely, you were smaller in size, slept very lightly, and often turned or wrestled with the covers. Even when you had the spacious bed to your leisure, you always chose to sleep tightly clinging to him. And Capitano revered every second of it as if it was the biggest honor in his duty as your protector. Truly, an honorable knight protecting your dreams. 

✧ Sharing a bed with Il Dottore is a toil. If you managed to miraculously drag him out of his lab, he’d groan and argue that he has important research to do, that your concern for his sleep schedule is ‘childish’. Yet the moment he settles in bed, he becomes a menace to your sanity: 

“Are you coming to bed or not?” 

“Come here, closer.” 

“No, you are pushing around.”

And the cherry on top of it all? He’d stare at you during the entire night, maskless. You know he doesn’t easily fall asleep, even on days when he overexhausted himself in his experiments. So naturally, his method to relax is to press the side of his head tightly against your chest and just remain glued to you with the sound of your heartbeat being his salvation. You’d assume it is an adorable sight… until you’d open your eyes in the middle of the night, only to notice a piercing, red lens just gawking at you. Motionless and still, he just wore that neutral expression while being pressed to your chest.

“...Uh, are you going to just stare at me in the dark?” - you whispered in the dark, to which he won’t even move or change his expression.

“43 beats per minute.” 

You blinked sleepily - “... wha-” 

“Your heart beats approximately 43 to 50 beats per minute when you sleep. That’s anywhere between 20640 to 24000 beats for 8 hours of sleep.” 

It was your turn to gawk at him, albeit in confusion. His nonchalant yet stoic reply told you that he was, indeed, very focused on counting each and every beat of your heart while you slept. He remained pressing his ear to the middle of your chest, arms wrapped around your waist tightly. 

“Dottore, have you not slept this entire time…?” 

“Shush, stop speaking,” - he whispered more gently, pressing his face into you in a rather touchy manner as if you wouldn’t notice. “I am still counting. Your heart rate is increasing to 81 bpm.” 

“If you won’t go to sleep this instance I won’t make any Ajilenakh Cake tomorrow.”

As such, silence dominated the dark bedroom once more. The doctor said no more and settled on hiding his face against your body, not daring to admit that he loved your desserts. And even more, not daring to acknowledge that your heartbeat lulled him to sleep. To deny his infatuation with every beat of your pulse would be a lie, and to deny his longing to physically hold you close would be ignorance. So he settled to silently counting your heartbeat until succumbing to dreamless slumber. 

✧ Scaramouche didn’t require sleep. Everyone knew that. Regardless, your persuasion with the 6th knew no bounds as you begged and nagged at him relentlessly to remain beside your bedding. He would audibly scoff and cross his arms at your ridiculous request. 

“My body does not need rest for 8-something hours. Why should I even waste such precious time with you while you’re the one unconscious?” 

However, no matter how much Scaramouche put up the cold front and rolled his eyes, he wasn’t immune to your ingratiating puppy eyes or gentle tugging whenever you asked something of him. You’d always embrace him from the side, asking him softly to stay a little longer as you depart for the night. He, of course, would refuse and cut your answers short, but his actions told a different story. He was already tucking you in; making sure the futon was neatly laid and the covers warmly wrapped around you while he sat kneeling beside you. He just had to make a fuss first:

“To even insinuate such foolish proposition… You must be truly bored out of your mind.”

You’d only chuckle in response, smiling whenever he made sure your room was tidy and secure for your nightly rest. But even then, you’d reach for his hand, and whisper: 

“... Just stay for a while longer. At least until I fall asleep, okay?” 

Same scoff. Same attitude. But The Puppeteer never left. He always stayed beside you, despite his arrogant rebuttals that you quickly learned were nothing about. He’d either sit leaning beside you, keeping a silent company, or telling you obscure stories he heard from Inazuma or the Abyss. And at times, Scaramouche would remain kneeling by your futon even after you had fallen asleep. 

Your breathing was slow and steady, but he was almost afraid to lean any closer. All bickerings he displayed before were gone, and like a porcelain puppet, Scaramouche would find himself frozen in place, hypnotized by your soothing breathing. He just gazed at you, as if you were a distant star within the dark sky, the palliative breaths emitting from you told him that you were safe. You are here. 

And it was from you he learned how gentle breaths are emitted by those deemed “alive”. How your breathing fluctuates in different moments of your life: energetic when happy, hitched when disturbed, and peaceful when asleep. Strangely, this mundane motion of your chest falling and rising worked like a lullaby to Scaramouche. 

Alas, he now condemns himself for not caressing your face all these times he watched you sleep. A lonesome Wanderer sat alone, an empty futon beside him. Your familiar presence lacking, and he won’t hear your tranquil breaths. You are not here.  

✧ Your dear Pantalone had a fundamental habit before bed. He’d set his glasses aside, hair tied up, and go through his skincare routine right before bed. His hands diligently yet delicately wash all the apprehension and professionalism from his face. But the most important part? Trash talk with you about what happened at his work, while he focused on his reflection in the mirror.

“Could you believe that dear?” - the 9th called out to you from the bathroom, his brows frowning in displeasure. The man continued to cleanse his face. “Those insolent aristocrats offered another bribe under the table, thinking that would change my final statement.” 

You responded with a faint “Mhm,” back at him. 

“And then! The tasteless bastard dared to ask that some of their reports be delayed because he will pay twice, as long as no one checks for quality control. I mean, the audacity of some of those high-society morons!” 

“Right, right” - you murmured faintly from the bedroom. 

Pantalone massaged his cheekbones, making sure his face was as affluent as his taste and status. He adjusted his robe, still rambling with the same frustrated passion. “They think that just because they’re doing business with me, negotiating with a high sum of bribes would lead to a guaranteed deal with the Fatui. Ugh.” 

This time, there was no response from you. The bedroom was awfully silent, despite the night lamp still shining. 

“Honey?” - Pantalone called gently. 

Silence. The Regrator stepped out of the bathroom, a curious look on his face, until his eyes spotted you in bed, asleep. His expression immediately softens, all quarrels and gossip forgotten. It seems that his late-night rambles about work have thrilled you so much that you, obviously, dozed off. You didn’t even turn off the lights or get under the covers yet.  

Pantalone couldn’t help but smile softly. You two had a long day, anyway. He quietly finished his preparations for bed, changed into comfortable nightwear, and stepped closer to your side. With a delicate touch, he made sure you were tucked in properly, giving you the usual good night kiss on the forehead and tucking your hair away from your face. The man dimmed the lights before he two took his rightful place in bed beside you. 

Whatever quarrels troubled his mind now - didn’t matter. What mattered was that he had your comforting presence beside him in bed. As he slowly spooned your sleeping figure, Pantalone let out a sigh of relief, letting his head rest by the crook of your nape. Only then, did the Regrator feel his body go into ease, feeling the tranquil silence settle upon the room. Thus, the two of you slept warmly; Something that Pantalone would never trade for any riches or gold. 

✧ Ah yes, Tartaglia, his sweetheart, and their 50,000 Mora five-foot tall Morax plushie. Childe remained lying on his back, his expression far from pleased. Ever since he returned from his mission in Liyue, he gifted you this massive dragon plushie. A plushie that became his mortal enemy. His tormentor. His replacer. 

The 11th frequently brought souvenirs back home in Snezhnaya. Liyuan tea sets, Inazuman dresses, or Fontainian gadgets. All for your spoiling, and the joyous smiles from his siblings. One of such missions, he returned home with several cute toys and plushies, just for you and Teucer. He is not beating the “Greatest Toy Seller” allegation anytime soon, but he was certain that the gigantic Morax would be a lovely choice for you. 

How naive he was. 

The plushie was almost your entire height, yet you held onto it with utter delight when he gave it to you. You hugged and squeezed it with love, finding the fluffy geo archon the cutest thing ever. And thus, here you were. In bed, not hugging your boyfriend, but hugging the massive Morax plushie. 

It became a common occurrence. At first, Childe chuckled at your adorable antics whenever you brought his gift with you in bed. But then it became more apparent that you would rather turn your back to him, and just fall asleep while embracing the plushie. Childe swallowed his pride. It’s just a plushie, he bargained with himself. But then he would stare daggers that that innocent, fluffy-looking Morax. How dare it be the one receiving your love, while you adorably squeezed or fell asleep on it.

It should’ve been him! 

Therefore, one night, he took matters into his own hands. Tartaglia sat up silently in bed, and by mustering all his skills in stealth, he sneakily pulled the Morax plushie away from your grasp while you slept soundly. He was slow, and careful so as not to wake you up; and boy, tugging that five-foot plush was no easy task. Once it was away from your arms, Childe grinned in triumph… and threw the toy aside. The enemy has been neutralized.  

Next step - carefully pulling you closer to him. You were already in deep sleep, so of course, you didn’t feel when your beloved naturally embraced you in bed. Shh, no one will know he was jealous of a silly toy. He was just a concerned boyfriend, who needed to bury his face onto the crown of your head and relish your warmth. 

The next morning, you woke up feeling warm and pressed to your dear Ajax, who was particularly cuddly that morning. 

“Oh no, how did my Morax plushie fall to the floor?” 

“Hm? Oh, you must’ve accidentally tossed it away while you slept, dear.” 

[sh1-n0bu]

I just saw elf bf post and id like to suggest for your consideration: elf bf learning what kink is and learning that he has some very unorthodox (for an elf) interests. Maybe he is intrigued by crossdressing, cuckolding, or exhibitionism/voyuerism because the idea is so taboo to an elf. Maybe he wants to try bondage or total power exchange because he’s always been told that partnerships are always equal (or that elves are better than humans) and submitting to a mortal partner makes him feel rebellious (but at the same time he feels safe because the person dominating him is his partner who he trusts). Maybe he has a praise kink because he doesn’t often get told “you’re a good boy and I’m proud of you.”

So many options! I wonder what you’ll do with them? 👀

ouuhhhhh anon this is such a big brain thing, lemme crawl inside ur skull

elves, by the standard of the world so far since nearly the beginning of time, has always been deemed as the ‘best’ race to ever walk the lands. tall, regal, elegant, fairest and wisest eternal beings who don’t even get sick. wounds heal quick unless they’re mortal, or of the broken heart. they don’t tire easily nor are they quick to fall. the perfect race

so what happens when said perfect race falls in love with the imperfect one? when an elf falls in love with a human? and said relationship is taken seriously between said lovers, bound for eternity together, blessed by the stars and the moon? well, you get something like you and your elf husband, a human and an elf, happily married

and extremely happy in the bedroom too

as the most perfect race, elves always had a certain amount of ego to themselves. it’s not so high and mighty to the point they could die if they fall from said ego’s height, but it’s always there. it’s like an instinctive feeling, akin to how humans are instinctively stubborn and passionate. too emotional. and due to their ‘perfection’, elves barely get any words of hostility aimed towards them unless it’s by a few passing dwarves or their kin who had been angered. praise has always been a normal thing to fall upon their pointy ears, so much so they count it as the norm

so for an elf to being into degraded, it is rare and frowned upon. why would the most perfect creatures require any words other than the highest form of acknowledgment? but your husband was into it. and you too, to certain extent. whispering filth into those cute, pointy twitching ears of how disgusting and vile he is to enjoy having human hands on him gets his cock hard in his pants within milliseconds. calling him a slut for moaning out loud when you simply grasp his hair has him rubbing his thighs together, feeling the familiar aching heat in his groin. and stars, have mercy on him when you lean in, strong arms caging him from behind between your warm body and the table as you spit out, “pointy eared whore” into the skin of his neck, hot breath sending shivers down his body. by that point, your elf husband’s all but clawing at your clothes, hopping onto the table all too eagerly as he spreads his legs for you

crossdressing is a mixed feeling for the elven race entirely for one, they are just such an eternally graceful beings to the point it becomes hard to tell the difference between some of their genders and two, their clothes share a lot of similar things. long, flowing clothes made of the finest materials any hands could ever touch

but your hubby loves it! the soft and frilly skirts, the smoothness of the dresses or even the breezy laces and provocative bras and thin underwear with straps to keep them up on the flesh of his hips. and don’t even get him started on his love for the ‘dancer’ outfit. the long loincloth like skirt, the golden chains at the sides to keep them perched on his waist and the tiniest bras possible paired with the mouth covering cloth. your elf husband is your private entertainer for the whole night, swaying his hips, twisting his hands and running them over the curves of his body as he gives you the most shit eating grin underneath the mouth cloth, makeup covered eyes narrowing hypnotically at you

it wouldn’t last too long on his lips when he’s being fucked in the very same outfit, being forced to keep the skirt to the side by his hands so you wouldn’t get it dirty for his next dance. not like it ever happens, your elf hubby’s a little crybaby, whining about how mean and rough you’re handling your dancer, sobbing fat tears about how your rough human hands were leaving bruises on his soft, creamy skin

owh lawddd the amount of times he pulled you to the side, into an empty room or behind some particularly huge tree when out on a walk so you could fuck him behind it has lost count. exhibitionism seems to be one of his favorites since he loves it so much, giggling about a quickie or “i promise, i’ll be silent this time” when you both know it’s not true at all

keep his one leg up with a hand hooked under his knee, pushing his chest flush against the cold marble walls or the bark of the tree for him to cling for stability while the filthy wet smacks of your cock constantly squeezing into his tight hole fills the area. just as loud as the whimpers of your pointy eared husband, whose ears twitch and droop so cutely. who bites down onto his hands and knuckles to shut himself up to no avail, always stuttering out “r-rough..! sho rough♡︎! can’t—can’t haaagh h-hold it i-eek hiigc! c-can’t hold it in ’nymoowr♡︎” as if he wasn’t the one who asked you to pound his pathetic hole until he was seeing stars. it’s as if he doesn’t care that someone could hear or even stars forbid, see them right now! doing such a dirty and private deed out in public place, where any elf with their sharp senses could hear, see or even smell the musky scent of sex

your elf husband’s boobs always jiggle so cutely whenever you fuck him, bouncing as you thrust the strap into his soppy hole. who even has a bit of a thing for feminization, whining out how you were fucking his womb, “y-nyur human d-dick is kissingg ma-agh my cerviiixx♥︎!!”, who rubs a hand over his slightly bloated belly with a dazed look in his eyes, slurring of “… got knocked up… by a human heheeh..♡︎” as if he could get pregnant. who has the cutest shrill squeals whenever you suckle on his nipples, biting around his areola to leave a mark as he weakly slaps at your back, speaking of how fucking animalistic and bestial you are

“s-so cruel… such a vile mortal—!”

elf husband who loves loves lovessssss bondage and sensory deprivation! an absolute rope bunny, he is! choosing the most finest and softest silk in the color he likes for special days, picking up the harsh and rough material ropes for the days when he wants to feel the sting, the pain, the adventure. who is into being tortured and overstimulated, forced to cum beyond what he is used to by your rough hands or hot mouth while his words turn to incoherent babbles as he tugs uselessly against his bindings. he’s just a weak, helpless little bunny in your lair, hungry wolf! please be gentle with your sharp fangs on his tender skin and smooth planes of muscle. such a sweet, innocent bunny like him could never handle the rough mating of days and nights a hungry wolf like you have planned for him♡︎

a bit of a masochistic elf husband who loves to have his senses deprived off of him. hands tied behind him, legs tied in a spread out manner and blindfolded with a dark cloth over his eyes. leave his ears free and make him try and guess what you would do to him. snap a belt or a riding crop onto your hand and watch as he flinches, jolting in place at the sound, wondering when and where it would land on his perfect body. his thighs? arms? chest? stomach? or perhaps even his cock and you would be mean enough to make him count how many hits it takes until he is cumming untouched, soiling his stomach as his blush spread all the way to his shoulders due to the whole shame. make him ponder, make him squeal at the unexpectedness, make him cry out in surprise, make him shake in the excitement of it all. he can take whatever pain and pleasure your human hands could dish out

and when he gets too loud, just shove something into his mouth. maybe a peace of cloth or even your own undergarments, whichever fits, whichever you want. he’ll be chewing on them and wetting it with his tears and saliva by the end of it

aiya yall are corrupting me. animals animals

[worldstarhiphopnews]

TOP 10 RICHEST WHITE RAPPERS💰 ( 2024 ) 💰 Forbes List

Join us, as we countdown the top 10 most richest white rappers in the game right now! Let's see how much money they actually have.

*VIDEO LINK BELOW*

TOP 10 RICHEST WHITE RAPPERS💰 ( 2024 ) 💰 Forbes List

YOUTUBE CHANNEL: World Star Hip Hop News

[freshthoughts2020]

[kdiddy1]

Lamont interviews the superstars of indie music to discuss upcoming projects, play their music and talk the "business" of entertainment.Every week we play new music from artists with amazing talent, skills and dedication that don't fit into the "mainstream box." This is good music from every genre that you'll be happy to discover. Call in and comment. Tell your friends. Today Tavie from The Group Lake Side. Joining us choppin up the Biz

[i-loved-silly]

(PART 2) - WOLVERINE x READER x DEADPOOL — fuckup twinsies

dp&w spoilers!! + slight gore description --- part 1

Okay, recap.

Your perfect little day in dimension-travel-jail was interrupted. You almost got knocked out by two muscular men who came down from the sky like little drunk angels, who in turn happened to be famous characters. You don't know how you didn't realize earlier, guess timeline hopping also slowly melts your brain. You should really get an MRI exam sometime.

You almost passed out again when you realized you were chest-to-chest with Deadpool. Wade Wilson. Heart to heart. Body to body. Tip to tip, if that applies to you.

"You're real. I'm real. We're real." You deadpanned, stars almost twinkling in your eyes. No, maybe it wasn't the first time you've met a Deadpool. But this guy? He was the real deal. The original. How the hell did an original end up here?

"Pfft, you thought we were just drawings on paper? Two of the world's sexiest men in skintight costumes? Wrong. We're the real deal here, friendo. Can I call you that? Or will you try to kill me? You know I really didn't mean to crash into you I rea--"

"Alright, listen here. Wade, shut up. You," Logan pointed a finger at him then at you, still being embraced by Wade. "Do you understand any of the...nonsense he's talking about? Because I don't, and I don't. Have. Time for this. It's either you help me get out of here or get out of my way."

"Woah woah woah, since when did that 'we' turn into 'me'?" Wade reluctantly let go of you to walk up to Logan, his hands landing on his hips. "You're not the only one trapped here, you know, we're kind of all in the same boat here. We all fucked up our lives and it was definitely our fault bu--ACK"

You gasped, watching in horror as three silver claws stabbed straight through Wade's torso and out his back. Logan stalked closer, his scowl deepening. "Come again?" He taunted, his teeth grinding. Before Wade could get a word out, Logan turned his hand, twisting the blades inside of him.

"G-owww, FUCK. God, I swear this happened differently in another universe. Somehow hurts more this ti--" Logan stopped him again and began lifting him up in the air. By the torso. With his claws inside, being the only thing holding him up.

Your eyes widened, "Hey, guys stop that! Logan!"  You yelled, taking a step forward, your hands held up in the air defensively.

Logan briefly glanced in your direction and grunted, tossing Wade to the side. “Move aside, bub. We need to settle some things.” Then he…lunged at Wade. They just started fucking fighting each other.

You backed up, watching everything go down. This could not be real. “I thought…you guys wanted out?” You muttered, your voice barely heard over their grunting and blades clashing.

“You know it’s true, so--argh, no hard feelings, right? Plus, I forgive you Wolvie.”

“I don’t give a damn about what you think, Wade. It’s all your fucking fault I was dragged into this. I was doing just fine without yo—“

“Just fine? You call spending all your days at bars and drinking all their supply just fine? While your life crumbles around you like a house of cards. If we were really on the TVA's watchlist, maybe they should've just sent us all to anger management sessions, huh?"

“Stop fighting!” You shouted in a voice heavy with irritation, grabbing a clump of sand from the ground and hurling it in their direction.

Logan, reacting instinctively, closed his eyes and shoved Wade aside, now choking and coughing violently. “What the hell?”

Simultaneously, Wade spun to face away, retching into the sand. “Oh god it’s inside of my mask. It’s in my face hole—“

Logan regained himself quicker than Wade, to where he immediately brushed aside the sand on his face and stomped towards you. You took a step back, by the sight of his fists clenched and white knuckles you swore he was about to beat you. “Waitwaitwait! I don’t have healing factor!” You rambled and held your hands out.

He paused in his tracks, his jaw visibly clenching as he tried to control his anger. Yeah, maybe he was used to taking out his frustrations on himself and now..Deadpool. But he couldn’t do that to you. You’re not even involved in whatever shit they got themselves into. You didn't deserve to get roped in their..mess, whatever it was. He let out an annoyed breath and swiveled away, seething internally. "I wasn't going to hurt you."

You slowly put your hands down, then looked around to see Wade still rolling on the floor. Upon hearing Logan, he snapped his head towards you both, the eyes of his mask widening. Before he could even get a little, tiny, miniscule word out, you spoke.

"ANYWAY...ehm..you both want out, yes? This is all one big mistake? I could help you. I've survived out here this long without being brutally killed." You forced a grin, facing the two. They blinked.

"Killed? What..who is in charge of killing here?" Logan narrowed his eyes.

Wade stood up to his feet, popping his wrist back into place. "There's--" His face under his mask soured, god he could still feel the sand particles crunching around between his teeth.

"ugh, there's others around? What kind of crazies would wanna live here?" He raised his arms, gesturing the vastness of this dystopian desert. Camera pans out, there's an echo to his voice, a tumbleweed passes by, you know what i mean

You scoffed, still very much salty about your own situation even though it's been years. "It's not like it was a choice. The only person could who take us out is Cassandra Nova, and she does not use her powers for that. She's basically with the freaking TVA, from what I know."

A singular laugh escaped Logan, his lips turning up in a knowing smirk, "Really now? How bad could she be?"

"Uh..let's see..multiple counts of murder, enslavement, power abuse, she's sadistic, evil, has a whole paragraph worth of powers. Unstoppable, basically?" You shrugged.

"I think we could get along."

"No, Wade."

"How do we get to her?" Logan crossed his arms. Perhaps he was the only one taking this seriously. You had gotten used to it already, but you too remembered how badly you wanted to leave this place at first.

"You two seem in a rush. "

"Yeah, well we're in a rush because I've got a whole-ass timeline to save, not to mention I also made a pinky swear to this guy over here. I promised the gruff-beard that I'd help him clean up his messy timeline, like a stain of last nights left ove-"

"Got it!" You exclaimed, interrupting him. "But uh, is that even possible? To..fix your guys' timelines, I mean."

"It better be," Logan glared at Wade. "Because otherwise, I'm going to tear you apart." He sneered, really making his point by leaning closer to him. These guys need to kiss already.

You nervously smiled. If another fight starts, you swear you were going to start ripping your own face off. "Okay! I know someone, guys! We'll all help eachother out, he's real nice, which means you probably won't like him--but he'll help! Follow me."

Oh, you knew someone alright. He was the most suburban-canadian guy you knew.

Lot's of dialogue in this, oops. This fic is kinda going off the plot of the movie, so I'm sure you know who you'll meet next! Leave ideas in the comments if you have any, since this fic is very freestyle and let me now...should i include the car scene we all wanted or too soon? GOODBYE! taglist <3 : @pink-jello-fish @radiantdanvers @superlegend216 @salted-snailz @wolfsune09 @jxssimae @remuslupinsfavoritebook @flannelforthetoads @rowanlovesmoonknight @bengewatch @i-shall-be-the-possum1 @kyriekurokami @marymustdie @tzurue @euinein @sophiemajokie @itsrainingtodayyy

[holylulusworld]

Not my Logan (1)

Summary: Problems with the Multiverse suck. Even more when it brings someone back who has been long gone.

Pairing: Worst Wolverine x Immortal!Reader, Deadpool x Reader (platonic or not. You know him.)

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of loss of loved ones, grief, cocky reader, Deadpool being a pain in the ass, violence, mentions of killings, multiverse chaos, world building

A/N: For my story, all X-Men died, except for the reader. She lives in the same universe as Deadpool from DP & Wolverine. I don’t follow canon. Live with it.

Square filled for the Wolverine bingo @buck-star created for me: Square 1: Claws

“WADE! Wade Wilson! Stop right there!” You growl, ready to shoot the bastard breaking into your property. Well, technically it’s not your property. Or it is. Charles left it to you in his will. Not because you were his favorite X-Men, but because you are the last one standing.

You huff before jumping out of the window. Wade would’ve loved to stop and admire your superhero landing, but he’s busy chasing after a very pissed Wolverine.

“Wolvie, stop! She won’t understand! Fuck. Shit. I said, Stop!” Wade takes off his mask. He wheezes because all he did all day was chase after the worst Wolverine. Logan’s words, not his. “HEY! I didn’t tell you about her for you to run off. We still have a job to do!”

“WADE WILSON!” You start to run, seeing Wade kneel on the ground. He still tries to catch his breath as you storm toward him. “I’d kill you but watching you grow legs and arms is disgusting!”

Instead of decapitating his head or stabbing Wade, you slap the back of his head.

“Ouch, Y/N.” He complains loudly. Wade got stabbed and shot; he lost body parts but whines like a baby when you slap him.

“What are you doing here? No one is allowed to come here any longer. You know that.” You sniff when he slowly gets up. “Not since…”

“I get it, I get it!” Wade raises his hands in surrender before turning around to face you. His face is a mess as always, but you can’t help but smile, seeing a familiar face. If you’re honest, he’s the only friend (if you want to call the cocky motherfucker a friend) you’ve got left. “Extinction is hard.”

“What did you say?” You slap him across the face, earning another whine. “You are an insensitive asshole.”

“Sweetheart, we both know you would have outlived all of them, no matter what. It just happened a little earlier this way.” Wade shrugs before putting his mask back on.

You run one hand down your face and huff. “What do you want, Wade? Is the world on fire, or did you lose a ball again?”

“No jokes about a man’s balls,” he points a gloved finger at you. “But yes, the world is ending once again. Or not. I mean… It depends.” Wade babbles as you put your hands on your hips.

“What did you do? I bet you messed with the timeline again, huh?” you snap at Wade. “Because that worked out so well last time. I told you to not fuck with timelines and shit. The dead shouldn’t come back.”

“Oh, about that,” Wade nervously chuckles. “I swear I didn’t resurrect anyone, but…uh…you see. Maybe, and I’m not saying it happened. But maybe I was hopping through different universes to find an anchor to save our universe from destruction.”

“Wade.” You close your eyes and inhale sharply. “Whom did you bring here, and do I have to kill them?”

“No, no! You cannot kill him,” Wade hastily says. “I came here for a short break. You see, bad guys are after our cute asses, and this is the safest place I know.”

“Christ on a cracker, WADE!” You kick his shin. “I’ve been out of this business for years.” You dip your head, hearing someone sneak closer. “Why would you bring anyone here? This is a lost place. Dead and forgotten. Just like me and the rest of the X-Men. Just like—”

Twirling around, you ready yourself to attack the person sneaking toward you and Wade.

Your body goes stiff, and you whimper, facing the man you lost so many years ago.

“No…” You step back and shake your head. “No…no. Wade. Out of all the people you could bring here…you do this to me?!”

“I swear, if I had a choice, I’d never do this to you. But—” Wade sighs and points at the worst Logan, he brought to your universe. “He wouldn’t believe me. Logan said you must be dead here too.”

You wrinkle your nose. “I cannot die. I am…immortal. My Wolverine would know that.”

The man, looking so much like your one true love, dips his head. He has the same body, the same eyes, and the same claws. Hell, he even wears the same fucking suit. But he’s not your Logan. He’ll never be your Logan.

“Go away. Both of you. Whatever will happen to this universe is not my problem. Maybe I can finally rest then too.”

You turn around to walk away, leaving Wade and Logan’s clone behind.

“Wait, Y/N!” Wade jogs after you. “I know you’re angry, but I couldn’t stop him. If there’s only a tiny piece of the undefeatable Y/N still inside of you, help us. Help me save my friends and this world.”

“Your friends,” you say, your heart heavy with sadness and grief. You glance at the photo Wade shows you, swallowing thickly.

“If there was a way to save your friends, you’d do anything, right?” Wade presses on. Even though he knows it’s a low blow, he cannot shelter you or your feelings. You’re his only chance to convince Logan to help him and get his clones off his back. “Please help me…”

“What the fuck is that?” You dip your head to look at the ugliest dog you have ever seen. “Uh—is that thing even alive?” Crouching down, you poke the dog’s nose with your index finger. “Who did this to you, little pug?”

“I think he was born this way?” Wade chuckles while picking the dog up. “And he’s not ugly. Dogpool is the sweetest.”

“Y/N. How?” Logan finally found his voice. He steps closer to you and Wade, not looking you in the eyes. “Why did you do it?!” He yells before jumping at you.

Logan tackles you to the ground to ram his claws into your sides. He growls like an animal, stabbing you again and again.

“What’s his problem?” You laugh as Logan tries to kill you. His claws dig deep into your flesh, but it doesn’t do much damage.

“Uh—from what I heard, you killed his people because he didn’t love you or shit?” Wade shrugs before letting the dog lick his face.

“YOU!” Logan growls. He slides his claws back in to slam his fists into the ground. Again, and again, and again. You can hear bones crack and flesh tear. “Why don’t you die?”

Logan looks at you, shaking his head. “You’re not her…”

“I assume in your world, I was mortal,” you sit up and push Logan away. While you slowly get up, he watches you with tears in his eyes. “In this world, my Logan would’ve cut your head off for touching me.”

“After we introduced ourselves, we should talk about the guys wanting to end this world. Come on, sweetheart. You know you want to help your Deadpool.”

“You’re annoying as fuck,” you huff while rubbing dirt off your ass. “If you keep that thing in line.” You jerk your head toward Logan kneeling on the ground. “We can talk.”

“She’s not her…” Logan repeats. “Not her…”

“You sound like a broken record,” you say and slap the back of Logan’s head. “And for the record, you’re not my Logan either…”

Tags in reblog.

[stoneyocean]

Hands-on your knees

Hands-on your knees