#v: outlaws and in-laws

[liberaljane]

Women's Not So Distant History

This #WomensHistoryMonth, let's not forget how many of our rights were only won in recent decades, and weren’t acquired by asking nicely and waiting. We need to fight for our rights. Here's are a few examples:

📍 Before 1974's Fair Credit Opportunity Act made it illegal for financial institutions to discriminate against applicants' gender, banks could refuse women a credit card. Women won the right to open a bank account in the 1960s, but many banks still refused without a husband’s signature. This allowed men to continue to have control over women’s bank accounts. Unmarried women were often refused service by financial institutions entirely.

📍 Before 1977, sexual harassment was not considered a legal offense. That changed when a woman brought her boss to court after she refused his sexual advances and was fired. The court stated that her termination violated the 1974 Civil Rights Act, which made employment discrimination illegal.⚖️

📍 In 1969, California became the first state to pass legislation to allow no-fault divorce. Before then, divorce could only be obtained if a woman could prove that her husband had committed serious faults such as adultery. 💍By 1977, nine states had adopted no-fault divorce laws, and by late 1983, every state had but two. The last, New York, adopted a law in 2010.

📍In 1967, Kathrine Switzer, entered the Boston Marathon under the name "K.V. Switzer." At the time, the Amateur Athletics Union didn't allow women. Once discovered, staff tried to remove Switzer from the race, but she finished. AAU did not formally accept women until fall 1971.

📍 In 1972, Lillian Garland, a receptionist at a California bank, went on unpaid leave to have a baby and when she returned, her position was filled. Her lawsuit led to 1978's Pregnancy Discrimination Act, which found that discriminating against pregnant people is unlawful

📍 It wasn’t until 2016 that gay marriage was legal in all 50 states. Previously, laws varied by state, and while many states allowed for civil unions for same-sex couples, it created a separate but equal standard. In 2008, California was the first state to achieve marriage equality, only to reverse that right following a ballot initiative later that year. 

📍In 2018, Utah and Idaho were the last two states that lacked clear legislation protecting chest or breast feeding parents from obscenity laws. At the time, an Idaho congressman complained women would, "whip it out and do it anywhere,"

📍 In 1973, the Supreme Court affirmed the right to safe legal abortion in Roe v. Wade. At the time of the decision, nearly all states outlawed abortion with few exceptions. In 1965, illegal abortions made up one-sixth of all pregnancy- and childbirth-related deaths. Unfortunately after years of abortion restrictions and bans, the Supreme Court overturned Roe in 2022. Since then, 14 states have fully banned care, and another 7 severely restrict it – leaving most of the south and midwest without access. 

📍 Before 1973, women were not able to serve on a jury in all 50 states. However, this varied by state: Utah was the first state to allow women to serve jury duty in 1898. Though, by 1927, only 19 states allowed women to serve jury duty. The Civil Rights Act of 1957 gave women the right to serve on federal juries, though it wasn't until 1973 that all 50 states passed similar legislation

📍 Before 1988, women were unable to get a business loan on their own. The Women's Business Ownership Act of 1988 allowed women to get loans without a male co-signer and removed other barriers to women in business. The number of women-owned businesses increased by 31 times in the last four decades. 

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📍 Before 1965, married women had no right to birth control. In Griswold v. Connecticut (1965), the Supreme Court ruled that banning the use of contraceptives violated the right to marital privacy.

📍 Before 1967, interracial couples didn’t have the right to marry. In Loving v. Virginia, the Supreme Court found that anti-miscegenation laws were unconstitutional. In 2000, Alabama was the last State to remove its anti-miscegenation laws from the books.

📍 Before 1972, unmarried women didn’t have the right to birth control. While married couples gained the right in 1967, it wasn’t until Eisenstadt v. Baird seven years later, that the Supreme Court affirmed the right to contraception for unmarried people.

📍 In 1974, the last “Ugly Laws” were repealed in Chicago. “Ugly Laws” allowed the police to arrest and jail people with visible disabilities for being seen in public. People charged with ugly laws were either charged a fine or held in jail. ‘Ugly Laws’ were a part of the late 19th century Victorian Era poor laws. 

📍 In 1976, Hawaii was the last state to lift requirements that a woman take her husband’s last name.  If a woman didn’t take her husband’s last name, employers could refuse to issue her payroll and she could be barred from voting. 

📍 It wasn’t until 1993 that marital assault became a crime in all 50 states. Historically, intercourse within marriage was regarded as a “right” of spouses. Before 1974, in all fifty U.S. states, men had legal immunity for assaults their wives. Oklahoma and North Carolina were the last to change the law in 1993.

📍  In 1990, the Americans with Disability Act (ADA) – most comprehensive disability rights legislation in U.S. history – was passed. The ADA protected disabled people from employment discrimination. Previously, an employer could refuse to hire someone just because of their disability.

📍 Before 1993, women weren’t allowed to wear pants on the Senate floor. That changed when Sen. Moseley Braun (D-IL), & Sen. Barbara Mikulski (D-MD) wore trousers - shocking the male-dominated Senate. Their fashion statement ultimately led to the dress code being clarified to allow women to wear pants. 

📍 Emergency contraception (Plan B) wasn't approved by the FDA until 1998. While many can get emergency contraception at their local drugstore, back then it required a prescription. In 2013, the FDA removed age limits & allowed retailers to stock it directly on the shelf (although many don’t).

📍  In Lawrence v. Texas (2003), the Supreme Court ruled that anti-cohabitation laws were unconstitutional. Sometimes referred to as the ‘'Living in Sin' statute, anti-cohabitation laws criminalize living with a partner if the couple is unmarried. Today, Mississippi still has laws on its books against cohabitation. 

[simpingforheros]

I need more of the Jason Todd wife’s story cause you ATEEEE

Jason Broke What??

Pairing: Jason Todd X Female! Reader

Summary: Dick played stupid games and won stupid prizes, but at least he got to see his sister in law’s ass.

Warning: 18+, NSFW CONTENT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, Not Proofread . Female Pronouns and Anatomy, Dirty talk, Degeragtion/Praise, Violence Against Richard Grayson, Smut, Fluff, Comedy, P in V, Illusions to Anal (fem receiving), Voyeurism, Oral (p and a) (fem receiving), Fingering (fem receiving), Implied Heavy Petting, Nonconsensual Peeping Tom, Masturbation, and plot twist.

A/N: Part 3 to Jason’s Girl?? And Jason’s Wife?! . And again, I'm sorry to keep harassing you Pookie, @jjenthusee, but I feel its only right that you be tagged in the conclusion of this trilogy because you started all of this.

A/N: IM BACK, BABES! You miss me? I miss you all. Thanks for the thoughts and prayers during my break to take care of my family. Also if this fic seems rough, I was writing this in my car during break. Also, I know one of my big no-nos is accepting requests for full fanfics but I had an idea and if the masses want to see more of Dick's misery then I wanna feed yall.

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The holidays were everyone’s favorite time of the year. Especially Bruce and Alfred’s. Surprisingly, Bruce developed a love for them later in his adult life due to his years of constantly having to play Santa to his growing hoard of sidekicks. Now with a manor full of teens and children from multiple different backgrounds and cultures, Alfred proposes a family trip to their private ski resort.

Everything was going smoothly. Tim, Bernard, and Stephane were enjoying ice skating along the frozen lake while Duke, Cass, and Damian were skiing down large hills and mountains trying to out do the other. Bruce and Selina were of course mostly confined to their bedroom, only venturing out for a dinner date or to spend time with the family, while Alfred enjoyed taking a break from everyone doing whatever he delighted himself in doing.

Everyone was happy..

Except for Dick. This year was one of the worst for him. Kori started officially dating Roy Harper after some mission she was involved in with the Outlaws and Barbra didn’t want to see him anymore. And to make matters worse, Jason and his wife of a year were all over each other.

Dick couldn’t even do anything without his brother being there, unintentionally rubbing his healthy love life in his face.

Wanted to go skiing? Jason was already there. His large hands were sturdy on (Y/N)'s back as he was showing her as she was balancing on a snowboard. Her curves were highlighted in the snow by her red snowsuit that just so happened to match Jason's black and red suit. Her eyes light up through her snow goggles as she successfully maneuvers around the terrain with Jason's loud praises.

Wanted to go ice skating? The Todds were already there stumbling over each other as Jason's normally composed stance wavers in his ice skates as his blushing wife giggles and helps him slowly adjust to the new feeling of unease. For a viglieante, he certainly didn't skate like one. Dick wasn't exactly fond of witnessing his younger brother purposefully comp a feel of (Y/N)'s perky ass as he 'stumbles' into her.

Even relaxing in the main room of the huge million dollar cabin was impossible as the moment the moon shines bright in the sky or the sun barely kisses their existence, Jason and (Y/N) were so domestically in tune with the room. It was almost like witnessing a Hallmark movie.

The couple would be in the kitchen with Jason preparing a simple soup with her propped up on the counter, ready to taste the soup when he offered her the wooden spoon. A mischievous glint in her eyes as she looked up into his own as she hums at the taste. Dick nearly cringes when he witnesses Jason's sideways smirk as he flexes his hand on her hip.

Sometimes the couple would be sitting on the sofa near the fire. A thick wool blanket wrapped around them as they relaxed into each other. Dick tries not to acknowledge them. Not to recognize the softness of Jason's features as he lazily enjoys his wife's nails lightly scratching his scalp. Not to recognize her plump lips curving deeper as the blanket shifts slightly and Jason's hand caresses her thigh higher than he should. It was especially bad when they would whisper into each other's ears before the pair would hurrily go to their room in a whisper of an excuse of faux exhaustion before giggling as they lock themselves away.

Thankfully, they did those sinful acts of love away from Dick at least. .. Or so he thought.... ++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It was a skiing accident that started the whole ordeal.

The Bat family had been skiing down the steepest hill they could find out of Stephanie and Damian's petty competition that everyone decided to get involved in. The only members that weren't there were Alfred, who demanded that none of the family ever mention putting him in skiis anywhere near his presence, and the Todds.

Much to Dick's relief, (Y/N) was feeling a bit nauseous and decided to stay behind along with the concerned Red Hood.

Unfortunately, the friendly competition took a turn when Dick accidentally sleds over a rock which caused him to fly off his skis and tumble down the hill. The fiery ache in his arm gave the acrobat a headache as he desperately hoped he didn't break his arm in a lame skiing accident.

"Son of a bitch!" He curses as Bruce skies down to check on him.

"Are you alright?" His adoptive father asks as he carefully helps him up. Dick's eye watering as he jerks his injured arm away from Bruce as he accidentally brushes against it.

Bruce notices the jerk and immediately takes the arm in a gentle grasp as he clinically flexes and prodes at the appendage. Dick nearly cursing as Selina and Damian come down to check on him.

"I don't think its anything too serious," Bruce says as he pulls away. "At worst, you probably have a hairline fracture in it. Alfred would have to check it out just to make sure."

Selina, acting as the pseudo- stepmother figure she was, gently places a hand on Dick's shoulder as she ask, "Do you need me to drop you off at the cabin?"

The eldest son shakes his head before grumbling, "I can make it back on my own. I could use some alone time anyway."

+++++++++++++++++++++++

Unfortunately, Dick doesn't find Alfred when he comes back to the cabin after walking back in the cold snow. Only a note reading,

'I've gone to an event at the main resort tonight. Please contact me through the main resort hotline and I promise to get back to you- Alfred'

"Fucking great..." Dick groans as he decides to just head to bed. His body aches from the trauma of the fall as he drags his feet up the large staircase and up to the main hallway towards the suites bedrooms. It wasn't until a faint but familiar sound that caused the fatigue in him to melt.

The familiar sound of breathlessness that he had only heard one angel sing before. (Y/N)...

As he discreetly walked down the hallway, the melody of whines and moans filled his ears along with the familiar sounds of slurping and squelching.

The cracked door to Pandora's Box calling to him as he hears the whimpers of, "Fuck, baby...."

"Ah not there! Its so embarrassing...."

"Jason, more..."

Dick peers into the door to see something that he wished he could snap a picture of and keep forever just like he did those videos.

Sprawled out on the bed was her in all of her glory. Her skin glowing in perspiration and pleasure as she lays with her cheek pressed against the mattress with her round globes of flesh in the air. Her eyes clouded with tears and desperation as she looks over her shoulder to her lover as her glossy lips whimper.

Jason was only in his tight black boxers as his hand squished the soft flesh of her cheek to the side. His eyes staring back into hers with the same pathetic lust and dominance that he always had as he eats her out from behind. His nose appearing and disappearing in the crack as his tongue plays a cruel game of tag.

His slow, lugritive strokes down to her puffy clit interchange with the rough darting over her pulsing hole before sofly licking up to her puckered hole. His fingers never leaving her neglected as he would hold her pussy open before lazily playing with her clit in between licks.

"Jason, quit being a tease..." She whines before yelping as he roughly pinches her clit. His mouth pulling away from her as she whines.

He begins to slowly tease her folds as he scolds her softly, "I didn't ask for you to be ungrateful."

Her hips jittering to regain some friction before he smacks her ass as he continues. Her whimpers of pain causing Dick's own cock to jump in his pants as he tries to ignore his brother as he kept his eyes on (Y/N). His hand slowly releasing his cock from his ski pants as he continues to watch the scene before him.

"Here I am trying to take care of you after you've been sick all day and all I get in return is some sass." Jason scolds cruelly before he inserts two fingers roughly into her cunt. Her cheeks burning hot under her tear stained skin as her body welcomes him with a sicking squelch as she mumbles.

"I-i'm sorry baby..."

Jason's gaze softens before a mocking look of sympathy appears on his face as he begins to thrust his fingers into her. The slight curve of his hand memorizing her body as he instantly found her G-Spot as she cries in pleasure.

"It's okay, Ma." He coos as he presses open kisses to her shoulders and back as he begins to brutally pound her cunt with his fingers. Her eyes jumping back into her skull as he continues to assault her senses as he says.

"You can't help it that you are sick as a dog in the mornings and then a raging whore at night...Afterall," Jay whispers as his mouth slowly decends back down her body. "Little bit isn't making this easy for you, is she?"

She desperately nods as she tries to roll her hips back to meet his hand as he chuckles at her. "It's alright. I'll take care of you, Baby, but I want you to take care of me too. We are family..."

His mouth instantly attacks her puckered asshole just as she seizes up and orgasms as her eyes roll back into her skull. Her desperate sobs turn into overstimulated whimpers as Jason doesn't let up on her abused holes.

It wasn't until she was still that he raised up and pulled his boxers down. His smirk grew to a shit-eating grin as despite her tired face, she wiggled her hips, ready for him to take her.

"Ass or Cunt?"Jason asks as he jerks his bright angry cock.

Her lips curl in a lazy grin as she says, "Both."

"That's my girl." He says as he lines his tip up with her pussy as he slowly pushes in.

Her whimper along with his groan of relief as his hips slowly meet hers. His upper body bends down to meet her lips in a deep kiss as his hips meet her ass. His hand slides around the plushness of her hip to rest on her lower stomach as he whispers to her mouth.

"Maybe it's not too late to give Little Bit a sibling."

She giggles before she presses another peck to his lips before he rises back up to place his foot adjacent to her knee. Not giving her any more time to adjust, his hips begin to slowly thrust into her quivering body as his hand keeps a tight grip on her asscheek, spreading her open. His cerulean eyes trained on the creamy ring that was slowly developing on the base of his thick cock as he disappears deep inside her.

"Jason..." (Y/N) whimpers as his pace begins to increase.

"God, how is she still so tight?" He groans as his hips begin to snap into hers, his eyes wide as he watches her ass ripple at the growing intensity of his thrusts.

Dick's own hand tries to match the pace as he tries to imagine he was the one fucking her instead of Jason. That he wasn't the one pathetically fucking his fist outside of his brother's room with his other arm possibly fractured.

Her face contorting in pure ecstasy as her manicured nails tear into the comforter. Her wedding rings shining in the low light of the room as Jason's own wedding band disappears in her hair. His grip looks unforgiving as he forces her head deeper into the mattress. His free hand stretching as his thumb circles her ass with light pressure as she cries into the plush bedding.

"Fuck you look so pretty." Jason moans as he slowly fucks his thumb centimeter by centimeter into her ass as gently as he could as his hips abuse her cunt. "I wonder how much prettier you would look with my cum dripping out of his cute little ass and pussy. You think everyone will notice you limping?"

He chuckles as he manages to fill her to the first knuckle as he stops his pace to grind into her, letting the feeling of him invading both of her hole and filling her sink in.

Her hips trembling as she tries to create more friction as her sobful begging wasn't even intelligible as he kept her head down. From the impossibly growing slick on his thighs, it was obvious that her orgasm was coming again and soon as Jason's free hand releases her hair and instead pulls her up flushed against his chest.

Her wanton cries filling the room as she was now exposed for the first time to the room. Her bare breast were littered in dark hickies as Jason's hand comes to paw at her tits. Her arms reaching back as one tangles at the nape of his neck and the other cupping his ass, encouraging him to continue.

"Please..." She begs as trembles in his hold. "Please fuck me...fuck all my holes please. I'm yours to do as you please..."

Jason smiles softly before kissing her cheek. "Good girl...that's my good, sweet little wife..."

His praises never end as his hips begin to snap into her at a brutal pace. Both of their voices became higher in pitch as they began to get lost in each other.

"That's it. Take it. Take it all. It's all for you and you only."

"You're doing so good. No one has such a soft, loving heart and cunt like yours..."

"I love you so much."

"I love you too" She manages to reply back before it hits her.

It was then that she screamed out Jason's name as her coil snapped inside her. Her eyes roll back again as her walls squeeze his cock as he follows her with a rough cry.

Dick quickly covers his mouth as his own orgasm hits him after he managed to not make a mess and not be discovered so far.

The base of Jason's cock is a mess as their releases flow down and drip before the pair calms down with a soft kiss on each other's lips. His cock pulls out of her as he massages her lower stomach gently as he pulls away. His eyes shone in pure admiration and concern.

"You okay?" Jason asks softly as he cups her face.

Her tired eyes staring at his lovingly as she whispers. "Yea...Can I have some water before we go again?"

They both smirk at eachother before Jason pecks her lips as he mumbles. "You're insatiable."

He stands up from the bed as she collapses into the pillow. He pulls on his boxers and heads to the door before Dick even recognizes out of his lust full daze. He didn't have time to react as Jason swings open the door to the pathetic sight before him.

Dick 'Motherfucking' Grayson was peeping into his brother's room. Watching his brother making love to his wife. And jerking off to it.

Before Dick could explain, Jason's face twists in anger as his cold glare indicating that this maybe Nightwing's last day on Earth.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

And like that Dick tries to run away back down the large stair case as Jason chases him to beat his ass. Karma is an ugly bitch because just as the front door was opening, Dick violently twists away from Jason's grasps so hard that he tumbles down the stairs with a large crack and several gasps indicating the end of the vacation.

And that was the story of how Jason broke Dick's arm and little Richard after he caught him being a weirdo.

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A/N: I swear I'm not a Dick Grayson hater, but I think its kind of tradition now to always rip on him in this miniseries. I hope y'all enjoyed it and please comment what you liked and didn't like about this. I swear I'll actually start cleaning out my drafts soon.

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@simpingforheros fanfic. I DO NOT CONDONE OR CONSENT TO MY POSTS OR WORKS BEING PUBLISHED, PLAGERIZED, STOLEN, REBLOGGED, OR COPIED ONTO ANY OTHER WEBSITE OR BLOG.

[darlingdekarios]

hibernate.

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 6,152 content: Arthur Morgan x f!reader, animal hunting mentions, cannon-accurate outlaw behavior, cowboy meet cute, Arthur Morgan is a simp, snowed in, fluff, smut [v fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, cockwarming], kink(s) [spit as lube]

it was like fate insisted on the two of you colliding.

The first time you’d met Arthur Morgan was a lovely March night in New Hanover, opportunities abound as the hustle and bustle of life was at its highest point of the year, the weather the most tolerable for moving about. Returning from an evening of fishing now that the water wasn’t frozen in some areas and sketching birds by the river when he stumbled across a lone figure boarding train – well after midnight. He followed on horseback under the cover of trees in anticipation, joined by your own horse shortly after. He followed alongside with a hold of the strange horse’s reins until the train came to a stop. 

He'd strained to hear you, considered boarding after you to clean up any straggling guards – it wasn’t his business, so he didn’t – but curiosity held him close. When the sound of police approaching quickly began you emerged to the top of the train, looking around desperately for your horse. Temporarily frozen when the moonlight caught your face and confirmed to the man that you were a woman, he recovered just in time to spring into action.

It had been Arthur who had led your horse to you and instructed you to follow. It was Arthur’s path that led you away from the law and eventually far enough away to be free of their hunting.

“Are you some kinda lunatic, lady?” he questioned when the two of you slowed side-by-side under the cover of thick trees, his face hard-set and stern. “You coulda gotten yourself tossed away for a long time back there.”

“I didn’t, though,” you laughed, and despite the feeling that burned in him that he couldn’t quite place as anger or worry Arthur’s stomach flipped at the sound and the way your laugh reached your eyes. You adjusted your hat with a playful smile on your lips, keeping the reins to your horse in one hand. 

“Thanks to me,” he asserted, the stress causing him to light up a cigarette and adjust his hat. His eyes caught your gaze and you held it, appreciating his handsome features for a moment as your smile twisted wider.

“I would’ve figured it out, cowboy – you can be sure of that.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’ve seen your face on ‘wanted’ posters, Mr. Morgan,” you proclaimed, tone proud as you called him on his identity. He took another drag from his cigarette before leaning forward comfortably in his saddle, outstretching a hand toward you. 

“Arthur,” he offered, amusement flashing across his features when you shook his hand firmly. “And I’ve seen yours, too. What is it they call you…?”

“The Panther,” you replied, that proud tone ever-present in your voice. “A nice tribute to my best hunt.”

His poker face was too well-trained to reveal that he was impressed – that he was intrigued.

“Well next time you go thinkin’ of doing something so goddamn stupid like rob a train at midnight alone,” he began, gruff voice filled with frustration as he attempted to present his unamused façade. “You could invoke that particular nickname and be a little more subtle.”

The second time was just as circumstantial. It was July – the heat sweltering, the air sticky, the fireflies sparkling in fields at night. You’d been riding for days, hunting gators in the swamps for weeks and now headed back to a more familiar area where you felt more at home. Just past Emerald Ranch you’d spotted him on the road ahead – his hat unmistakable and burned into your mind, his horse giving away his identity to anyone who knew it. 

There was no questioning if he’d want your company – you didn’t even give it a thought. Instead, you’d hastened your own horse to catch up with him.

“Where ya headed, cowboy?” you questioned as you approached from behind, adjusting your hat back on your head to offer more of your face to him. Your voice immediately sent a shiver down his spine, the barely-there smile crossing his features unmissed by you.

Four months trying to remember your face and voice hadn’t done it any justice.

“Valentine,” he replied, slowing his horse’s stride to match yours. The two of you set a lazy pace, in no real hurry to get anywhere. “You following me now, cat?”

“Like I ain’t got better things to do, Mr. Morgan?” you joked, nose scrunching as you smiled. The Summer sun had done beautiful things for your color, he noted. “Give you $50 and shine your guns if you can beat me there.”

“Are you tryin’ to race me?” he questioned with a subtle laugh, raising an eyebrow in your direction.

“Won’t be much of a race, cowboy.”

He let out a real, genuine, albeit short laugh at that. The sound filled the air around you, made birds vacate trees. Your heart soared away alongside them.

“And what is it you want if you win?”

“A nice bottle of whisky,” you replied after a brief moment of thought, reaching your hand to rub your horse’s neck gently. Arthur had forgotten how gentle your hands were with everything they touched – the rediscovery lighting up his mind. “And a hot meal at your camp.”

“Can’t promise the gang’ll let you eat at camp without drinking, too.”

“Which is why I asked for a bottle of whisky,” you remarked, that shit-eating grin he was starting to love spreading on your face again. “Do we have a deal?”

“Hope your horse is fast enough to back up that mouth of yours,” he quipped back, intentionally antagonizing you as he started to pick up the speed slightly. “Or that you’ve got plenty of gun oil.”

You shot forward then, the dust of the road kicking up behind you as you left Arthur behind on a road you both knew well. In reality he could’ve caught you – could’ve even won if he’d pushed his horse hard enough – but the sound of your laughter in the cool evening air was reason enough to lose. 

It wasn’t a surprise when you crossed over into the town first.

“You cheated,” he argued as he approached, allowing his horse to slow to a reasonable speed for being around other people. “Got a head start. Doesn’t count.”

“You’re just a sore loser.”

“Maybe I am,” he replied, reaching up to remove his hat to resituate his wind-blown hair. You were momentarily transfixed on his fingers running through the strands that looked soft – maybe in need of a wash but soft nonetheless – but quickly wished he’d left it messy. “Weren’t mean you didn’t get a head start, cat.”

“Oh, like a couple steps mattered,” you entered an easy banter with him, just like the two of you had done in the Spring. He’d missed it – hadn’t realized how much he had until then. “Coulda given you a five-minute head start and still would’ve beat you and that slowpoke horse you ride.”

“Anybody ever tell you you’re difficult?” 

“Heard it a couple times,” there was that smile again – the nose crinkling one. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep his thoughts to himself with you smiling that way – at him. You jumped down from your stallion and hitched him with ease, feeding the massive animal a small snack in appreciation of his efforts. “I can compromise. I buy the whisky, but I still get a hot meal at your camp.”

He pondered your proposal only briefly before nodding, letting out an affirmative huff in agreeance. “I’ll meet you at the butcher when you’re done.”

You gave your horse a gentle pat and nodded, turning back to meet his gaze. “Sell that fox pelt I have up on Scratch, will ya?”

Easy. Simple. Honest. Sensible. Arthur loved having you around camp that night – and the night after when you’d been convinced to stay again by the women – though it was hardly just them that enjoyed your company. You’d made easy companions in the camp with your sharp tongue and ability to hold your alcohol. You had plenty of stories to share with Arthur’s chosen family – each one of them genuinely interesting to the gang.

Everyone knew the fact Arthur had brought you around meant you were a good person. The beauty was a bonus, he’d been informed in privacy. He’d only told Sean to shut his mouth in response. Arthur slept by the fire that night so you could sleep in his cot, and if anyone else in the gang saw the way he’d sat up for at least an hour with his eyes transfixed on your sleeping figure in his bed. 

It was Fall, October to be exact, the next time he heard from you – this time you had taken fate into your own hands to seek out his company. He was certain he’d never be able to dispose the letter you’d penned and sent to his camp.

Dear Arthur, Kinda strange to call you “dear”, huh?  Anyway, I have a job comin’ up in Saint Denis that involves me boarding a train quite late at night and remembering our conversation earlier this year I thought I may ask you to join.  Job is planned for the night of October 18, the Saturday after next. I’ll meet you the Friday before at the saloon in Van Horn if you plan on joining me.  I do hope you join me.  Hope that gang of yours isn’t being too rough on you. 

He arrived in Van Horn a day early and rented himself a room – and a bath – so he was prepared for the meeting. He was in the saloon before you, his chest clenching as you walked in through the swinging doors. 

You’d taken a page from his book and clearly bathed recently as well, and you were dressed for the first time in front of him in feminine attire. The sight of you in a skirt shouldn’t have affected him the way it did – it was embarrassing for a man his age. It didn’t prevent the pressure building at his waist, nor did it stop him from speaking his mind.

“You had to wear that damn skirt, didn’t ya?” he questioned when you joined him, a smile spreading across your face. It was hardly a gentlemanly way to greet you, but then again, he was hardly a gentleman. “Knew what you were doin’ puttin’ that on with me coming in today…”

“You complained so much about the pants last time I figured I’d save myself the headache,” you replied, sliding into a chair next to him and crossing your legs for emphasis. “You don’t like it?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, kitten,” he’d practically purred – a new tone between the two of you. There was no denying that you wanted to hear it more, and you nearly chose to forget the real reason you were now sitting beside him. 

“I need to look the part tomorrow for the job,” you replied quickly, eager to squash the tension now building between the two of you, unwilling to allow the job to go forgotten. There was too much money at stake. “Have to board a real nice train when it leaves out of Saint Denis tomorrow night. There’s a safe onboard I’d like to get my hands into.”

“Can’t just rob it the old-fashioned way?”

“Someone didn’t like the last time I did that,” you teased, feeling pleased with the smile it earned. “Figured I’d board and crack the safe.”

“Why you need me then?”

“Need someone to play my husband and keep watch while I’m workin’ on the safe.”

“Your husband,” he huffed out with another laugh, a brief shake to his head. The term had always been silly to him, just as silly as the idea of marriage was to you as a whole, really – and yet, there was no denying the clench in both of your chests at the mere thought. The imaginary suggestion manifested in brief images of domesticity, the vision of you sleeping in his cot in July flashing in his mind. 

You didn’t miss the slight redness to his cheeks, he didn’t miss how your smile fluttered into something laced with affection. For all your joking demeanor, it was still clear that there was some secretive sincerity beneath the surface – that you cared for Arthur. And on Arthur’s part, well…he wouldn’t ride across the country to work for just anyone.

“Yes,” you replied when you’d pulled yourself from the depths of his eyes. “A woman travelling with her husband is far less likely to draw attention than if I were alone.”

You thought there would be some protest, though if you’d seen even a fraction of the thoughts Arthur had conjured up in the preceding months you’d never have to question it. To you what seemed to be him conceding was actually the outlaw taking a step he’d long considered taking with you the next chance he got. 

Arthur just wanted to spend time with you – there were probably very few things he’d say no to right now in regard to you. He wouldn’t go admitting that out loud anytime soon either. 

“Fine, I’ll go along with your little plan. Only so you don’t go gettin’ yourself arrested.”

“Great!” you exclaimed, the brightness that covered your face blinding but serving as confirmation that he was making the right choice. The money he was sure to get would be a bonus, too. “I got you a wedding ring. Looks like it’ll fit. You can sell it when the job’s done, as a thank you.”

“You get it off a dead body?”

“He didn’t need it anymore.”

There was that goddamn feeling in his chest again. 

This was the fourth time destiny had crossed your path with Arthur Morgan’s. 

Now, the ring still lay in the outside pouch of his satchel, the cool metal brushing against the tips of his calloused fingers often daily in a physical reminder of you. Today, feeling the pull of being apart from you for four months now and into the new year, he’d been clutching the metal in his gloved hands as he led his horse through the far North. Seeking the solitary bliss of being alone in the mountains for the winter, he had opted to simply ride and camp, sketching in his journal and enjoying the snow dusted scenery. Arthur’s plan was soon thwarted as a snowstorm began to roll in.

He'd been riding along the same worn path to make his way down the mountain when he noticed horse tracks leading into the thick forest – a horse, by the look of it, with no reemergence to be seen. Opting to do the honorable thing, Arthur pursued the trail, weaving through trees atop his own horse until he came to a small clearing where you were setting predator bait.

He didn’t know the kind of words to describe the way he felt seeing you right in front of him.

“Are you some kinda lunatic, cat?” 

If he had a way with words, he’d tell you that your smile was brighter than the sun itself – fleeting shooting stars, the North Star when he’s lost. 

“That’s not the first time you’ve asked me that question, Mister Morgan,” you replied, standing up and patting your horse as your gaze remained transfixed on him now. Even at this distance you could see the blue in his coat had electrified his eyes, the tone a perfect match for the world around you. You found it hard to form any further rebuttal. 

“Won’t be the last either, given you’re doing something fucking crazy every time I see you,” he teased, finally giving into the natural ease he felt with you. The light air between the two of you had finally lulled him into a sense of comfort around you – he was willing to admit he was concerned, in his own way. “There’s a storm rollin’ in. You trying to freeze to death?”

“Trying to hunt a white wolf,” you replied, glancing back at the bait you’d just set and adjusting the bow you held in your hands, an arrow already grasped between two fingers. 

Fuckin’ hell, Arthur thought. ‘Course that’s what you’re out here doing.

“You ain’t gonna be hunting much of anything when you turn into an icicle,” he replied, hopeful that you would understand his taunting was coming from a place of concern – not control. “You got Scratch nearby?”

“I suppose you’re right,” you smiled, slipping the arrow back into the quiver on your back and whistling to call your horse back to you. You mounted up on the animal easily, Arthur taking the moment to appreciate how languid your movements were – how graceful. His eyes lingered at your waist for a moment longer than was decent.

“If I remember right there’s a cabin just up the road. Been empty the last few times I rode by,” he explained, his words offering more than just a place to shield from the freeze. 

Arthur wanted to spend time with you. You’d truly have to be a lunatic to think otherwise.

“Lead the way, cowboy.”

The snow picked up as the two of you rode side-by-side, both of your horses slowing as the powder piled up, creating heavier footsteps. While Arthur spoke to his horse beside you to soothe her through the storm, you could feel his eyes consistently on you despite the painful whip of flakes against his unshielded cheeks.

What could have been a short ride in the summer extended in the weather, and by the time the cabin approached view you had begun to shiver – something Arthur took note of. When he climbed from his horse he unrolled the blanket on the back of his saddle, passing it up to you before grabbing his shotgun. 

“I’ll check inside, you try not to shiver s’much you fall off your horse.”

He disappeared into the cabin, your mind focusing on the sounds of him moving about rather the piling snow that was sure to trap you for days. Keeping yourself wrapped in his blanket provided the additional comfort of his lingering scent, and you found yourself clutching the fabric tighter and tighter as the moments passed.

“This’ll be fine ‘til the storm’s passed,” he announced as he exited through the doors, voice raised so you could hear him over the wind. “You go on in while I get some firewood and hitch the horses.”

“I can help, you know,” you offered, eyebrows pulling together to communicate your frustration. 

“Would you stop your arguing for once and go inside out of this shit?”

By the time Arthur made his way in from the storm you’d used what wood remained in the cabin to start a fire, the flames warming the air around it quickly. The mattress was considerably dirty and out of the question, so you were validated in the decision to carry in your bedrolls and blankets, having set them up comfortably in front of the fire. 

His heavy boots sounded on the floor as he approached where you sat on the floor from behind, and while you couldn’t see him, you could feel his eyes on you. 

“Already got a fire going?”

“Uh huh,” you replied, noting the subtle shake to his voice. Arthur was strong, but he was human, and he was cold. The fact that he not only was willing to but insisted on suffering for you caused a knot to form in your stomach. “Got some whisky if you need help warming up.”

He simply grunted affirmatively in reply, setting the stack of wood carefully to the side and picking out the driest pieces to tend the fire with now. You tempted to hand the bottle out to him, the liquid going ignored as he began to peel off layer by layer, tossing the soaked clothing to the side lazily with little regard for how they ended up. Normally you’d have stood to hang the clothes, but you found yourself spellbound by the way Arthur’s muscles flexed with each movement under the simple wet damp button up shirt – the last remaining layer.

When he was somewhat comfortable, he turned to face you, eyes flashing with amusement as he took the bottle from your fingers. You were certain your mouth was hanging open and he’d caught you. At the moment, you could hardly bring yourself to care.

Hours passed as the two of you got warm and caught up over the last few weeks. You sat opposite one another, both wrapped in your own blankets and full of enough whisky to ignore the storm outside – to ignore everything but one another. Arthur hadn’t missed that most of your clothes lie neatly folded atop the countertop. The thought was repeating in his mind – the heavy question of what exactly remained under the blanket haunting him. 

He couldn’t be blamed for not being a good listener. 

“Arthur, are you even listenin’ to me?”

“Not a fuckin’ word,” he replied with one more small swig of whisky from the bottle, setting it well out of the way to the side. “Stop fuckin’ doin’ that if you want me to listen.”

“Doing what?”

You knew damn well what.

“Lookin’ at me like you want me to come crawl on top of you.”

Why on Earth would you ever stop doing that? 

“No.”

Your mouth was going to drive him to insanity one day. He wasn’t going to do a single thing about it.

“Did you just tell me ‘No’?” 

“Yeah, Arthur, I surely did,” you replied, quick and agile as you were on your feet. He was beginning to think you may only talk to hm this way, and that thought alone was enough to make him want to reach out to you. “Hoping you take the hint.”

The blanket he’d been using for himself was discarded to the side, your words finally snapping the thin thread of control that remained in him. He extended one arm outward toward the floor to support himself, outstretching his legs to be situated in a more comfortable position before his eyes found yours again. 

“Come on over here,” his invitation came thick as molasses and dripping just as sweet, his free hand patting his right thigh to give his words deeper meaning. “Bring the blanket.”

Arthur had finally figured out how to get you to stop arguing and basked in the glory of the moment as you crawled to him carefully, finding a comfortable seat in his lap as you straddled his thighs. He savored the view as you wrapped your arms around his neck, encompassing you both with the blanket, your face illuminated by the golden glow of the well-tended fire – beautiful, warm, inviting. 

He was more than happy to finally accept. 

“Are you gonna kiss me, Arthur?”

He knew you were trying to sound resolute as you always did – firm and demanding and impossible to deny. While those things lingered – he doubted they could ever truly be gone from you – what really laced your words was the quietest of whines. He sat up fully, bringing his torso closer to yours and grasping your hips in both hands, all the while your heart beating faster and faster in anticipation.

When you opened your mouth to let your protest be known again, he took his opportunity to claim your lips in a long-awaited kiss, the feeling of his lips caressing yours sucking the air from your chest immediately. He opted to slide his hands to your lower back to bring you in closer, pressing your chests together as he kissed you hungrily. Touch starved and overwhelmed by the feeling of you returning his kiss with soft lips he sought more of your skin, sliding his hands up the back of the loose blouse you remained in. 

“Clothes are still wet,” he grumbled against your lips, displeased by the cool touch to your skin that remained. You scrambled to reinitiate the kiss, your lips catching his bottom lip as a whine slipped through your lips. A quiet chuckle rumbled through his chest as he nuzzled your cheek with his nose. 

“Take them off, then,” you breathed out, bowing your head to press a delicate kiss to his neck. His own breath caught, arms wrapping tighter around you – almost too tight, almost too crushing. You made no move to stop him as you began to test the best places to leave your kisses, spurring him to release his hold on you to start peeling the last layers from both of you. 

Your lips brushed against the shell of his ear when all that remained were intimate coverings, a shaky groan rolling through his chest. His hands engulfed you, sliding up your torso until he cupped your breasts, dipping his head to claim your lips again. 

That kiss was hungry – starved – clumsy in ways that screamed of desperation. His thumbs rubbed over your nipples lightly, a smile evident on his lips despite the fact he continued to kiss you as a moan slipped from your throat. It spiraled from there, both of your hands exploring, your fingers the best thing he’d felt against his skin in a long time. As the pressure built heavier at your waist his hands trailed lower, one stopping to grasp your waist, the other slipping into the waistband of your underwear. 

He'd never heard music that sounded as good as the sound of the moan that left you as his thick fingers swiped through your wet folds, an appreciative hum shaking in his throat as you burrowed your face in his neck. 

“You’re already soaked for me, darlin’,” he rasped, his voice getting lower and lower with each word. He began to sink his index finger into you, grasping your hip tighter in his other hand. “Fuckin’ tight, too. Hell.”

“Arthur…”

“Aw, hush,” he cooed, turning his head to press a kiss to your temple as he curled his finger inside you, pulling a quiet whimper from you. “No point tryin’ to talk right now, darlin’ – just lemme take care of ya.”

He could take his sweet time, Arthur Morgan. He was a patient man, especially when it came to you, and never more-so than now as he began to work his finger in and out of your clenching heat. He added a second finger soon, pressing the heel of his hand to your clit to give you more pressure, which you gladly accepted by rocking your hips into it. 

As he pumped his fingers into you he began to trail kisses lower, the kisses growing heavier and wetter the further down he went. By the time he nipped at your hip with his teeth lightly you were breathless, eyes squeezed shut as you lost yourself to pleasure. He kissed across your waistline as he pulled your underwear down, smiling against your skin lightly when you kicked them free with frustrated fervor. 

Nothing up to this point compared to the feeling of Arthur sliding his tongue from his fingers to your clit, giving the sensitive bundle of nerves a soft suck. He repeated the motion as you struggled to even moan, your hands grasping at the blankets now on the floor beneath you as you tried to rock your hips into his face desperately.

“Easy, now,” Arthur reprimanded with quiet reverence behind his words, turning his head to press a kiss to your inner thigh softly. “I’m takin’ my time with you, don’t rush me.”

You finally opened your eyes, ready to give him an earful about being a tease, only to be frozen once again faced with the sight of Arthur, golden illuminated by the fire and somehow still wearing his hat tipped back on his head. You maintained eye contact with him as you reached forward with your hands, removing the hat with one hand and placing it on your own head as your fingers ran through his hair, giving a soft tug at the end. 

The growl vibrated through him and you as he connected his lips to your clit, pumping his fingers into you and connecting the tips, curling them skillfully to rub against the sensitive patch deep within you as he sucked your clit. All the while he maintained eye contact, even when he removed his mouth from you with one final flick of his tongue, just as he removed his fingers from you. 

“Arthur…” you whimpered in protest, tugging his hair again to try to bring him back to your needy core.

“Hush,” he instructed tenderly, slipping his hands under your ass and grasping firmly to lift your waist from the floor. He soaked in the view of your glistening folds at this angle and tested how it looked to watch one of his fingers slip into you before removing it, licking his lips again. “You are a pretty little thing, ain’t ya?”

Your reply was sucked from your chest and altered into a cry of pleasure as he spit on your folds, smearing the liquid around before connecting his thumb to your clit, rubbing a figure eight. Supporting your raised hips still with one hand he continued to rub your clit, now using his tongue to fuck into you rather than his fingers, tasting you how he’d wanted to for nearly a year now.

The pressure continued to build and boil, eventually reaching a point of eruption – all the usual signs there with your shaking thighs, shorter and desperate breaths, your nails scratching against his temple as you gripped whatever you could. Arthur figured it was a previously unknown bonus to him keeping his hair a little on the longer side. He groaned to encourage you, switching his movements to pump his fingers into you again, circling your clit with his tongue until you became incendiary, your first orgasm washing through you with white hot heat.

He continued to lap at your folds as you came, removing his tongue from you occasionally only to kiss your thighs and mutter tender praises as you came back down to your body. When you had some sense about yourself, he was crawling back up you, pressing kisses to your stomach and breasts before he reached your lips, offering you a taste of your own honey sweet pleasure on his tongue.

When the adoration filled amorous kiss ended so Arthur could breathe you began to trail kisses down his neck again, following a trail to his chest before his index finger caught under your chin, lifting you back up to him, cerulean eyes questioning.

“Your turn,” you offered, slipping one of your hands into the waistband of his underwear and wrapping your fingers around his throbbing cock slowly. Running your finger over the velvet head you smeared the pre-spend leaking already, biting at your swollen bottom lip when he moaned. 

“Not tonight, sweet thing,” he declined, his hesitation clear in his voice. You began to rub him gently – slowly – too damn slow – causing his eyes to roll back briefly. “You wrap these lips around me, and I won’t last long enough t’ fuck you.”

“Please.”

You didn’t truly know what you were begging for – for him to test himself and allow you to take his already throbbing cock into your mouth or for him to follow through on that promise to fuck you. Luckily, Arthur seemed to know exactly what your words were asking for – what you needed. 

He reached to remove your hand from his cock gently, freeing himself of his underwear before he gently moved you to your side, lying beside you with his back to the fire to shield you from getting too much heat, to ensure you didn’t get hurt. One arm wrapped around your waist while the other slid to cup your cheek in his hand, bringing you in closer to him as he kissed you again. 

As much fun as he’d been having teasing, he was done with the games now, and could no longer find the patience. He reached to lift your leg around his waist before grasping his cock, rubbing against your still-soaked entrance for a moment to gather some lubrication before he sank into you. Inch by inch disappeared into your velvet channel, the kiss practically halting as you gasped. He leaned his forehead against yours instead, grasping your waist gently as he continued to slip into you.

“Atta fuckin’ girl,” he breathed out. The large hand that still cupped your cheek slipped downward to rest against your neck instead, his fingertips digging into your skin in attempt to steady himself, to savor your pulse beneath his touch. “Takin’ me so good. You doin’ okay?”

You nodded as you stared into his eyes, pupils blown wide and mouth hanging open already at the feeling of him stretching you, almost too full but not something you’d be willing to give up anytime soon. When he’d fully seated himself within you, his cock buried to the hilt he released a shaky groan of his own, his eyes briefly closing as he savored the feeling of being wrapped up in you.

“Goddamn you’re tight,” he groaned out, pressing several light kisses to your lips before grinding his hips into yours slightly. “Shoulda crawled ‘tween your legs months ago.”

“Would…ah…woulda let you,” you managed to reply, pressing your lips to his in an unabashedly salacious kiss, already perfecting how to slot your lips against his in a way that left him craving more. He couldn’t hold back his movements any longer and began to pump into you repeatedly, setting a wanton and quick pace that somehow managed to remain tender and reverent.

He could only be tender for so long, desperation and months of waiting and yearning building in him. His movements began to get sloppy sooner than he’d have liked, though he felt better when your walls began to flutter and clench around him, your thigh shaking around his hip slightly. He picked up his pace to a much more relentless one, driving his cock into you and into your spongy cervix repeatedly as his grunts became more frequent, pressing kisses to your neck now.

“Want you to finish while I’m inside you,” he instructed, though there was something so subtly desperate behind his words – a quiet beg that only someone who knew him would recognize. “Think you can do that for me, darlin’?”

You nodded before leaning your head back again, quiet cries leaving your lips as he connected his thumb to your clit again, immediately choosing a relentless pace to rub in circles. You were almost certain you’d do anything he asked and soon enough you were pushed over the edge again, your walls clenching him so tight he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to remove himself. He did his best to continue pumping into you roughly now as he sought his own release, certain you wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow. Like you’d need to, anyway. 

“F-fill me up, Arthur,” you begged unexpectedly through your euphoria, and he didn’t need anything else to convince him. With only a few more bruising thrusts he stilled inside you as he emptied his seed in hot ropes into you, groaning loudly as he lazily leaned his forehead to yours again, his own eyes screwed shut.

He didn’t remove himself from you when you’d both ridden your orgasms, instead holding you close and reaching to cover the two of you in one of the blankets that was on the floor. He wrapped his arms around you tightly to hold you closer to him, slipping one of his legs between yours for additional comfort and warmth. Still semi-hard with plenty of stamina to offer you couldn’t ignore the feeling of him seated in you still, buried as deep as possible as he brushed his nose against yours. 

“Be a whole lot warmer this way,” he offered, giving a subtle move of his hips to emphasize the meaning behind his words. He pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose before reaching upward to kiss your forehead, leaving his lips resting there. He was right – you did finally feel warm.

“Mm,” was all you could reply, laying your head against his shoulders and closing your eyes, burrowing your face into his neck. He smiled as you managed to press lazy kisses into his neck before wrapping your arms around him as well. 

“Think I’ll keep you here all winter,” he offered after several blissful moments, his head leaning to rest on the top of yours as his own eyes closed. He pressed one final kiss to your temple before succumbing to the comfort of you fully.

“Always knew you were a big teddy bear, Arthur,” you teased. How you managed to run your mouth still after he’d fucked you right was beyond him – but it was also probably a reason he’d want to keep fucking you.

“We’ll call it hibernation, then.”

masterlist. red dead redemption masterlist.

[time-being]

Another reason I'm done with liberalism (on top of the genocides in Gaza and Lebanon, e.g. Biden.has started World War 3) is because liberalism has also revealed itself to be worthless on its own terms.

Consider abortion. It's been obvious for at least 30 years that right wingers in the US were dead set on outlawing abortion/overturning Roe v Wade (technically Casey is the relevant case) and then Griswold.

And for that whole time, the liberal wisdom was always that Republicans wouldn't act on it, because then they'd lose abortion as a campaign issue. "Roe is settled law!" "Susan Collins says she wouldn't let that happen."

It was always bullshit. It was always obviously bullshit. And they led the US to where it is today.

Obama, while negotiating the Affordable Care Act with Republicans (he negotiated and gave them concessions for no votes) agreed to Hyde Amendment restrictions on abortion under the ACA.

Supreme Court Justice Ginsburg decided to die on the bench instead of retiring after her first several cancers.

For 30 years (at least), Democrats sat idle as abortion became less and less available in vast swaths of the country. Even back in 2009, there were huge areas where the nearest abortion clinic was over 300 miles away and abortion doctors had been firebombed and terrorized almost completely out of state.

Abortion, in the US, is not much less available today than it was in 2009. Democrats did little/nothing about it then and will continue in that vein.

I'm not in the liberal political coalition. I'm not surprised they don't do fuck-all about my policy needs. They shouldn't be surprised that I don't have any support for them.

[spacelazarwolf]

I know that anon is probably just bait but if not... did they not see that abortion was outlawed in the USA again? I'm not even in the USA and I somehow noticed that awful law change?

there are some states where it’s still legal, but many states like mine had preexisting bans in place so when roe v wade was axed, those bans went into effect again. i remember the day i heard the news, i called the local “women’s health clinics” and was on hold for SEVERAL HOURS because so many people were making appointments (primarily low income people bc this clinic caters primarily to people on medicaid or who can’t afford a referral to the fancy vagina doctors in town). i’d been begging my doctors for a hysterectomy for years and was told i needed to wait because i might change my mind. when i finally got an appointment, it was with an intern and i’m pretty sure i traumatized her when i was like “i want to be sterilized bc if i get pregnant i will kill myself” but thankfully it got me my tubal removal. medicaid wouldn’t cover a hysterectomy but they would cover a tubal removal bc of course if i change my mind then i could still do ivf. bc of course that’s the priority!

[artficlly]

king of pentacles [one-shot]

Wild West Marvel AU

outlaw!bucky x fortune teller!reader when your travelling circus rolls into town, you are warned that bucky barnes is the outlaw who rules these lands. you plan to keep your distance, but he and his men can not resist a little entertainment.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, smut, fem reader, blowjobs, begging, p in v, cowgirl position, bit of teasing, soft sub bucky??, if you squint theres some plot, fortune telling, tarot cards, violence, choking, blood, mention of death, mention of torture, mention of beatings, implied previous non-con to reader (not from bucky), protective bucky barnes, smoking, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 5.9k

A/N: i literally cannot even tell you where this idea came from. i had a vague thought about a travelling circus, tarot reading character. i wrote this out and edited it in like two days?? insane. i don't normally write smut so let me know your thots lol. if you enjoy western marvel aus, please check out some of my other works. i have a one-shot called 'me & the devil' and a mini-series called 'a dish served cold'! sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist

It was a windy autumn night when James Buchanan Barnes and his pack of vermin invaded Elkhorn’s Travelling Circus and Freakshow. 

There were scarcely few in the area who had not heard of Barnes and his gang of outlaws. From the moment your caravans had pulled across state lines, you had been warned not to cross Bucky Barnes or his dogs. The law did not concern itself with this place, a place so far west that civilization had been left behind. The memories of cities, people, and culture were a mere whisper on the winds, a fleck of sand in an endless desert. This place was ruled by barbarians, and Bucky Barnes was their king. 

You had heard stories of the fabled man. Some said he was the devil himself, that he sported horns and hooved feet. Others said his eyes were black as the night but reflected the light as if he were part beast. Those terrified people would recall his wrath and how his enemies were never afforded a simple, painless death. No, those who crossed the King suffered for their crimes. 

So when that twisted, cruel man of legend stood before you... You were surprised to find he was none of what he was rumoured to be. 

It had only been an hour since the nightly show had wrapped up, darkness falling quickly due to the colder months looming. The gang of outlaws had stormed your small campsite, locating your leader and employer, Duke Elkhorn, and demanding they be entertained! The candles had been lit, and the music was playing. The animals had been brought from their cages once more, and dancers and performers were laced back into costumes. Barnes had asked for entertainment, so you would provide it, lest you find yourself dead in a ditch. 

Thankfully, you had not yet taken off your own outfit and makeup. A kohl to line your eyes; your lips painted red; hair loose with intermitten beading and braids. You wore large jewled earrings and layers of necklaces that partially covered the deep v of your neckline. Your dress was tightly fitted, your breasts were pushed upwards by the corset beneath, and your skirt was a deep green that swirled around your legs with each movement. Your small tent was filled with a haze of incense, lavish velvet, and silk used as draperies. Your tent was divided into two sections—your working space and your personal quarters. You had been checking your appearance in your cracked mirror when the ruffle of fabric alerted you to his presence. 

He stood with an unquestionable air of confidence, a cigarette in hand. His eyes narrowed as he looked you over, a cruel smirk playing across his lips. He was large and burly, with muscular forearms that bulged against the fabric of his sleeves, which had been pushed up to gather at his elbows. Blood stained his collar and sleeves, and a gold pocket watch was tucked into his vest. His dark hair was windblown, bits peeking out from under his black, cattleman hat. 

As he flicked his cigarette, you realised his knuckles were bruised and split. A subtle splatter of blood across his cheek, smeared, as if somone had reached up and grasped his face in their dying moments. 

“Our mutual friend, Mr. Elkhorn, told me that if I was lookin’ for a pretty thing to come find ya.” His voice was deep when he spoke, gravelly and rough. It sent a shudder down your spine. Damn Elkhorn. You always knew he was a coward, even though he thought himself a big man. You and the other performers were not strangers to his temper and desperation. You all tended not to challenge it, as he could be a cruel man as equally as he could be fearful. 

“He weren’t lyin’ was he?” He lets out a low whistle, exhaling smoke. “How’s he kept you a secret for so long, huh? Guess mah boys don’t come pokin’ in the tents that often. Too busy pokin’ their bits into them dancer girls.”

You remain silent as he chuckles to himself. He eyes you greedily; his icy blue eyes are anything but discreet. You could feel how his gaze rested on the curves of your hips and breasts, watching how your skin moved with each breath. Desire was a strange thing—how easily you might shift from feeling confident and powerful to nothing at all. 

You certainly felt like a squirming idiot under his gaze. 

“I’m not a whore.” You speak up, though your voice is hushed, hesitant, or even uneasy. You knew men like Barnes would not take being denied well. If you thought Elkhorn’s brutality was something to fear, your knees would positively buckle before Barnes. 

Barnes barks out a laugh, his brows raising in something between delight and surprise. He strides towards you, grinning as you flinch back. “Yer employer seems to think differently.”

Your eyes slide closed as he reaches forward, a finger sweeping a strand of hair from your face to better look at you. You swallow hard as he chuckles, smoke blowing across your face. Teeth grit, you slowly open your eyes, a shuddering exhale leaving your nose as he runs a finger across your cheek.

“He’s a spineless excuse of a man.” You dare to bite back, your voice wavering, but you stand tall. His amused expression has morphed into one of intrigue. His actions falter; hesitation is clear in his demeanour. 

“He make ya do things ya don’t wanna do, darlin’?” The outlaw asks, his voice surprisingly genuine. He is still close to you, close enough that you can smell the tobacco on his breath and feel the vibration of each word in his chest. 

“Sometimes.” You admit, your eyes flickering up to meet his gaze. He curses under his breath, rubbing his jaw in annoyance. Barnes backs off a few paces, putting out his cigarette on one of your sidetables. From your side view of his chiselled face, you see a muscle in his jaw tense. 

“Well, sweetheart. I ain’t in the business of bein’ with women who don’t want it.” He says with a roll of his shoulders. He has stalked over to your reading table, bruised knuckles white as he grips the back of your chair. 

You are at a momentary loss for words. You had anticipated being repulsed by this man, the one who repeatedly terrorised these lands and enabled his dogs to do what they wanted and take what they pleased. There was something strangely endearing about his care for your consent. 

“Well, I am glad to hear it.” You finally uttered. “Can’t say the same for some of your boys, though.”

A tense silence washes over the tent, and you almost immediately regret your words. Against your better judgement, you creep towards him. He doesn’t flinch away from your touch as your hands smooth over the top of his hands and wrists. Beneath you, he feels like stone, each tendon and muscle expertly chiselled like the statues you saw in the big cities back east. 

“Yer right. Pack o’ wild mongrels they are. Good for puttin’ folk in their place. I think I’ll get ‘em to pay yer employer a little visit. Remind him whose land he’s on.” 

Barnes goes to leave, pulling away from your touch. A wave of horror washes over you at his implication. You find yourself reaching for him again in an unexpected panic. Your hands latch around his bare forearm, tugging him back an inch. 

“Wait.” You shake your head, gripping his forearm. The outlaw looks back at you in curiosity. 

“I ain’t gonna hurt anyone else, sweetheart. Just him. ” He drawls, eyes darting to where you hold his arm. You drop it immediately, backing off. Your cheeks burn in embarrassment. 

“He will think your lesson is because I turned you down or because I wasn’t good enough for you.” You explain desperately. His eyes narrow, as if offended on your behalf. “Whatever you do to him, he will do to me twofold. As punishment. He is a cruel man, you understand?”

“Yer definitely not pleading his case well, darlin’.” There is impatience in his tone and ire that you could not even begin to comprehend. Your eyes flicker to his bruised knuckles, the splatters of blood. If Elkhorn found out, well, you would have to wear a veil for the rest of your life. Your face would be so mishapened and destroyed that you would bring fear into the hearts of anyone who laid eyes upon you. You would no longer be a fortune teller but a featured freak of Elkhorn’s sideshow. Men and women alike would pull faces, with children throwing food and rocks. The deformed woman— another beast in a cage. 

You have seen this fate play out too many times. Too many were lost to Elkhorn’s wickedness. 

“Please.” You beg. His brow arches and his adams apple bobs. 

You swallow nervously, then hesitantly step forward. With gentle hands, you take his forearm once more, guiding him to your reading table. “Just… I will entertain you for a suitable time. I can read your cards. Then, you can tell Mr. Elkhorn that you laid with me; embellish it if you wish.”

Barnes seems too intrigued to protest. 

He unbuttons his vest with a soft grunt, taking a seat at the table. His legs are spread wide in a domineering pose as he leans back into the seat with cool confidence. As you take a seat at the opposite end of the table, he reaches into his vest pocket. 

“So, how does this work?” He asks. You can tell he is irritated from the way his brow twitches and jaw muscles are still tense. He is playing along for your benefit, you realise. He is looking to you for amusement to stop himself from marching out of the tent and dealing with Elkhorn as promised. 

“I will shuffle the cards, then draw three. Each card has meaning, and all together, it will tell you the message you need to hear.” You explain. Barnes had pulled out a pack of cigarettes, offering you one. You decline with a wave of your hands, instead taking the cards into your palm. He shrugs, lighting it with a half-interested sigh. 

As he inhaled and you shuffled, you noticed his interest lay closer to your exposed skin. Even if he had backed off per your request, it did not seem to stop him from undressing you with his eyes from the opposite side of the table. He seemed emnamoured by the layers of necklaces and how they clinked and rolled across your skin. 

As you shuffled, the first card fell out. His tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip as he watched you work. You slid the escapee card onto the table, facedown on the red tablecloth. 

“Anything in particular that you want to hear, hm?” You ask. As you lift your gaze, you find Barnes enraptured by your movements, so much so that he has forgotten to take another drag. “Most people want to know about their careers… their families. Love.”

“I don’t believe in love.” He says, sucking in a breath. You tilt your head. He didn’t believe in love, no. He believed in lust. Desire. From the way his pupils were blown and his lips parted in awe, he was positively eating out of your hand. A second card falls. You slide it next to the first. 

“Business it is, then.” You breathe. The final card falls from the deck just as the words leave your lips. You put it in place, then place the stack of the remaining deck to the side. Barnes is transfixed as you lean your arms parallel to the table and tilt forward. “Flip one.”

“Does it matter which order?”

“No.”

With unwavering confidence, he reaches forward, flipping over the first in the row. Your gaze falls downward to view the card, a frown pulling at your lips. You examine the familiar figures on the card. Two figures stood on either side, naked and chained. Behind them, in the darkness, loomed a beast with claws, horns, and wings. The Devil. 

How fitting. 

Barnes seems to find it ironic as well, as he scoffs in disbelief. “Ya playin’ a trick on me?”

You look up at him. The tension in the small tent is as thick as the smoke that hangs in the air. “No. The cards tell the truth, if you want to hear it or not.”

You reach out, stroking a finger over the card.

“The figures, they are chained. They don’t want to be there, but if you look closely… their chains are loose. They could escape at any moment.” If Barnes had a snarky comment, he does not say. He hung on to your every word. “And the longer they remain, the longer they become more like the devil. He represents the darkness within them, their shadow selves. It is the evil within you—the short-term pleasures—to ignore the long-term pains. Instant gratification. Greed, violence. You think you have free will, but you have sold your soul to the devil.”

“Tell me somethin’ I don’t already know darlin,” The outlaw says with a chuckle. You notice that his shoulders have relaxed, a cool amusement embodying him. 

You hold his gaze. “Next card.”

His fingers brush yours as he flips over the centre card. The King of Pentacles. 

“The Devil and now the King? You’re spoilin’ me, sweetheart.” He chuckles. 

You eyed the card. The king sat upon his lavish throne, surrounded by wealth. You tap your nail across the yellow pentacle symbol, humming in thought. “King of Pentacles. It represents wealth and abundance. He has influence and is a skilled leader.”

Your head tilts. “It’s a warning.”

“A warnin’? Sounds like a good card to me.” 

“The king has all that he wants. An abundance of wealth. Everything he touches turns to gold, like King Midas.”

“King Midas?”

“It’s an old tale. One of caution. About a king who was blessed with the power to turn anything he touched into gold. His kingdom flourished with wealth, but he soon found himself to be unhappy. He could not eat, as any food that touched his lips turned to gold. He could not know the comforts of the flesh, for the women would also turn to gold. Everything he once cherished…gone. Then, one day he lost the one thing he loved most, his daughter. She kissed her father upon his forehead and instantly became a statue of gold.”

“I would be a far richer man if I were this…King Midas.”

“But don’t you see? You are him. You are a king who is flush with wealth; your influence is strong. Your people flourish. Everything you do and everything you touch becomes profit. But at what cost? How much more will you lose? How much more will you give up for greed?” You finger turns to point at the Devil card. His lips are set in a straight line as he scowls at you. 

“You best be careful now.” He warns. You shudder, leaning back in your seat, motioning for him to flip the final card. 

You stare down at the table, your breath held in horror. The figure in the card sits up in bed, hands to their face in anguish. Decorating the wall behind them are a row of swords, two of which could be seen to be piercing through the figure. Stabbed through the back. The frame of the bed is carved, illustrating two figures fighting. Nine of Swords. 

Your mouth feels dry as Barnes peers at you expectantly. “Well?”

You can’t find the words; your brows are scrunching as you try to find the best way to articulate the meaning without triggering the brooding outlaw’s wrath. Your finger taps on the table, and you clear your throat, squirming in your seat. 

“Nine of Swords.” You utter quietly. “The figure… they are troubled by their own thoughts. Their worries, speculations… so much so that they manifest it into reality.”

Your fingers trace over the fighting figures. “You worry of a rising conflict.”

You ghost over the swords next. A backstabbing. 

It was all very clear to you how it all intertwined. Barnes was a man possessed by evil and greed. He had sacrificed much to accumulate his wealth; like King Midas, he had all the gold he could need, but at what cost? His followers, his people—they were afraid. Weary of their cruel leader. A coup was in the works. Jealousy brewed within his men; all they knew was evil, so all they could give was violence in return. 

“A betrayal.” You breathe. Your eyes snap up to meet his. His pupils were no longer blown, instead replaced with an icy rage. 

“How do ya know this?” His voice had dropped, low and threatening. His cigarette was discarded, flecks of burning ash glowing across the floor. His shoulders were tensed, straining against the fabric as he began to loom over you, slowly standing from his seat. 

You shrunk back. “I don’t, I just read the cards—” 

You let out a shriek as Barnes gripped the table, flipping it in one solid motion. The cards fluttered to the ground around you, the glossy paper flickering in the low candle light. You recoiled in your seat, limbs trembling as Barnes stood over you. 

“Did Rumlow put you up to this, huh? I know what him and his little pack of vermin have been whisperin’.” He spat on the ground beside you, and you flinched back. Barnes reached down, gripping your throat as he forced you to look up at him. 

“I don’t know anythin’. I swear—” You begged, tears prickling at your eyes. 

Barnes scanned your face, then released you with a huff. You scrambled away, retreating to the furthest corner of the tent. Barnes waved his hand at you with a sigh, re-buttoning his vest and straightening his shirt. 

“I’ll give ya the benefit of the doubt, darlin’. But if I find out you’ve been lyin’...I’ll kill ya myself. Ya understand?” 

You nodded wordlessly, whimpering as the outlaw marched out of your tent without a glance back. 

—

“Where is she?” The enraged roar of Bucky Barnes sent a nauseating wave of panic through your body. 

A couple weeks had past, and Elkhorn’s Travelling Circus and Freakshow were wrapping up their stay. Duke Elkhorn wanted to push further west, bring entertainment to the drivers and rustlers of the far reaches of the country. Within two days, you were set to leave this awful place and flee the clutches of Barnes and his boys. 

Well, it seemed that had been hopeful thinking. 

You were in your tent, in your personal quarters. You had pulled shut the draperies to allow yourself privacy. The strong men, slick with oil and always sporting toothy grins, were always eager to deliver you water to bathe in. It had become a sort of ritualistic routine of yours to undress and wash the makeup from your face. After hours of sitting in a stuffy tent stinking of incense, it was a relief to wash the smell from your body. 

You wore a silk robe, loosely tied at the waist. It had been a gift from a patron back east—some rich city boy who had a fascination with you. When Barnes crashed through your draperies into the back of your tent, chest heaving with a livid look in his eye… you froze. You were perched on a stool before your cracked mirror, pulling a brush through your long locks of hair. 

You stumbled to your feet, stool knocked to the ground. 

Barnes was covered in blood, his shirt so drenched that it clung to his skin. His jaw was clenched tightly, and his teeth were bared in a growl. The blood was still fresh on his arms and neck, the liquid glinting in the candlelight. He had not bothered to wear his hat; instead, his hair was messy, with a splattering of blood across his cheek.

“I told ya I would kill ya myself.” The outlaw snarled. 

You backed away, back meeting the tent wall. “I didn’t do anythin—”

You were cut off as Barnes marched forward, large hands wrapping around your throat. He squeezed tightly, a breathless whimper escaping your mouth.

“How did ya know?” He demanded, his face twisted into a look of rage. 

You claw at the front of his shirt, sticky blood coating your palms as you struggle. 

“Ya knew about Rumlow. Ya warned me of a betrayal.” 

He releases the pressure on your throat, and you meekly gasp in air, nails digging into his shoulder as you try to keep your knees steady. 

“I didn’t know, I just said what the cards showed—” You rasp. Barnes doesn’t seem pleased by your answer, jaw muscle ticing. 

“I don’t believe in yer magical horseshit. I know it’s all tricks and acts. How did ya know?”

“The cards aren’t magical. Each card has a meaning that can be understood in different ways, it’s my job to apply them to whoever walks into my tent. The cards just reveal thoughts you have not quite spoken aloud—ideas at the back of your mind. They ask you to confront your inner self. You knew Rumlow was a traitor before the cards, you had a suspicion, but you did not act on it until prompted by the cards.” You wheezed out. The outlaw slowly releases your throat, his face controrting into something closer to frustration than rage. Your palms brace flat on his chest as you steady yourself against him. 

“Deep down, you already knew he was a traitor.” You reiterate. 

“You’re a fuckin’ witch.” He breathes, then runs a hand through his messy hair. Blood streaks across his forehead, clumping his strands of hair. His head tilts as he looks down at you. His face has relaxed, as if a silent clarity had overcome him. “Even if ya deny it… ya did warn me.”

You clear your throat, hand raising to your neck as you brush your fingers over the tender flesh where he had gripped you. “You warned yourself.”

He stares down at you, then frowns guiltily. “Apologies, darlin’. I shouldn’t have done that to ya.”

You believe him.

You hold your breath as his fingers briefly skim over your neck. His gaze falls deeper, his eyes following the curve of your breast that was half-exposed by your robe. The fabric was bunched into a deep v, leaving the swell of your breasts, sternum, and skin down to your belly button exposed. The outlaw sucks in a deep, shuddering breath, then stalks away with a frustrated growl. 

“Barnes—” you call to him softly.

“Bucky.” He corrects.

You catch a glance at yourself in the mirror. The silk robe hangs perfectly from your curves, blood smeared across your chest and neck. You suck in your own deep breath, sweeping your hair over your shoulders as you hesitantly approach the outlaw. He paced like the beasts Elkhorn kept caged up, endlessly forced to perform for cruel crowds. You knew what he needed. A delicate touch, a sweetness to lean on. 

“Speak to me.” You whisper to him, gentle hands guiding him to the edge of your bed. The canopy was draped with deep purple fabrics, furs, and blankets over the straw mattress. He silently obliges. 

“One of my boys, one I thought I could trust. He betrayed me. Thought he could make a little gang of his own and overthrow me from the inside.” The outlaw explains. His voice is stiff, and his posture is tense. You smooth a palm over his forearm, and your thigh presses against his as you sit closely together. 

There is a distant look in his eye as he stares past you at the wall of the tent. It shifts with the cool breeze outside, rising and falling like the night itself breathes. “I dealt with it.”

You cock your head to the side, hand running up his arm as you examine his face with a frown. “Dealt with it?” 

His eyes snap to yours, and your hand wavers in hesitation. There is a darkness in his eyes. His expression made goosebumps rise across your skin. You could only explain it as something primal, something caught between violence and arousal. 

“I made them pay.” He explains, his body twisting as he faces you fully. A bloodied hand raises, his thumb rubbing across your cheek as he cradles your face. “After two days, they begged me to end it. To end their lives.”

“And did you?” You dare to whisper back. His thumb traces inward, across your lower lip. 

“No.” He says simply. “I cut out their tongues so they could no longer beg. I made them pay.”

Your eyes must have been wide in shock because he chuckled, his hand sweeping through your hair. Then, with an uncharacteristic softness to his tone, he utters a question. “Can I kiss you?”

Your heart thunders in your ears, a short gasp leaving you as your lips part. In all your travels, you have heard stories of women who could make men fall in love with them with just their eyes. Women who used their bodies and seduced their way to the top. Even violent men like Bucky had one weakness—a woman who showed them kindness. A woman who could momentarily take control. The men would let their minds drift away; the burdens were lifted, if only for a night. 

Heat pools between your legs. You nod, a hand reaching to stroke across his jaw. The two of you meet in mutual desperation and touch once gentle, now needy. His tongue brushes against your lips, effortlessly parting them as he licks into your mouth. A moan escapes your throat at the taste of his tongue.

Your hands find the front of his shirt, blindly unbuttoning as he grips your hair in one hand. The outlaw groans as his hand slides across your shoulders, pushing away the robe. Your top half is exposed, nipples have hardened, and silk has pooled at your waist. 

As your tongues tangle, Bucky tilts his head to gain better access to your mouth. Your gasps meet his as he moans heavily into your mouth. His hands trace along your body, one squeezing your waist and hips, the other coming to grasp your breast. 

With a tug, you pull his shirt free. The two of you part, your head lulling back as he paints sloopy, feverish kisses down your neck. A groan rises in your throat as you lean into him, one hand gripping his dark hair and the other beginning to palm him through his pants. 

His kisses move further down, head dipping as he licks a stripe across your breast. He takes a nipple into his mouth, kissing and sucking as you gasp and lean into him. The space between your legs is throbbing; a wet neediness rising. 

You clutch his thigh, squirming with desire. The stubble along his jaw prickles your flesh, and a shudder runs down your spine. Your hands find his, easing his grip on your hips as you slide off the bed. Lowering yourself to the floor on your knees, you sit between his legs. Bucky lets out a groan as he looks down at you. His pupils are blown, and his lips are swollen and glossy. Your hands trace up his thighs, and your quick fingers relieve him of his belt. 

“Let me.” You hum to him. You tilt your head, your cheek brushing against his knee. His adams apple bobs as he swallows hard. “I can make you feel good.”

You can see his bulge under the fabric. He eagerly helps you pull his pants down, his cock springing free already fully hard. You press a kiss to the tip. His cock twitches in response and a low moan vibrates in his chest. You look up at him through your lashes, biting your lip. He leans back, looking at the tent roof, as his chest rises and falls with a loud, satisfied sigh. 

There was a power that resonated in your chest, seeing the outlaw so vulnerable under your touch. He did not protest your lead, instead eagerly following your command. You take him into your mouth slowly, one hand running up his thigh as the other wraps around his length. 

You bob your head, feeling him tense with pleasure beneath you. As you come up, you whisper to him quietly. “Relax.”

As your tongue swirls over his tip, then down his broad length, you feel his hips rock beneath you. His hand comes to fist your hair, subtly guiding you as you take him fully into your mouth once more. You follow his needs, taking notice of each pleasured twitch or motion in response to your touch. His fingers tangle in your long locks of hair, tugging as you pull unimaginable, explicit sounds from the outlaw. 

“Fuck—” He groans above you, his breath coming in short pants. You hum in response, relishing the sensation of him falling to pieces beneath you. The spot between your legs was slick, and wetness was beginning to drip down your inner thigh. There was a selfish urge within you that desired to reach down between your legs to gift yourself some friction. 

You swallowed him down deeper, flattening your tongue against his ridgid length. His hips started to jerk, stronger than the previous gentle rocking. You could feel him growing undone, his breath coming shorter, and his nails desperately digging into your scalp as he desperately tried to guide your head deeper and deeper. 

You obliged, but only as you felt his cock twitch once more did you pull away fully. Not yet. You weren’t finished with him yet. The outlaw let out a pained grumble. His hands caressed your shoulders as you rose to your feet. 

“Darlin’—” Bucky protests, but you shush him. 

“How much do you want me, hm?” You ask him. He has propped himself up onto his elbows to look up at you. His cock was still erect, glistening in the candlelight from your saliva. 

“I want you.” He affirms.

“How desperately? Would you get on your knees for me? Beg for me?” You say it breathlessly. You take one of his hands in yours, pressing a kiss to the palm. 

His breath stutters. “Yes.” 

“Go on then.” As the words leave your mouth, your eyes flicker upwards. You look at him through your lashes.

“Please, sweetheart—” He whines. You cock your head to the side, peppering more kisses along each fingertip. 

“Louder.” 

“Please.” He begs. You smirk down at him wickedly, shifting closer. Your palm meets his chest, pushing him back down onto the bed as his elbows buckle beneath him. 

“Lie back.” You instruct, helping guide his legs so he lies flat along the bed. In one fluid motion, you straddle his waist, his silk robe still pooling around your hips. You lean over him, taking one of the waist straps of your robe. With slow breaths, you move the soft fabric across his bloodied chest, tracing each vein and muscle before finally grazing it across his nipples. He shudders beneath you, his grip bruising where he grasps your hips. 

“Say it again.” You breathe. You are embarrassingly wet as you sit perched upon him. 

“Please. I need you.” He obeys, and another wave of arousal washes over you. Only now did you give in to your selfish desires, dead rolling back as you ground your hips slowly. Your lips parted, a small mewling moan leaving you as you clenched around nothing. You flatten a hand over his chest, allowing him to help guide you as you raise onto your knees. 

With one gentle movement, you lower yourself onto him. Your wet heat engulfs him, and the two of you groan in unison. You feel yourself stretch around him, and you moan as you allow your body to take him in completely. His hands tighten their hold on your waist. 

Bucky looks at you with a slightly slack-jawed expression. “Fuck, sweetheart. I think I’m gonna make ya my wife.”

You manage a smile through your own arousal, your hand gliding up and down his chest as you move your hips in a grinding motion. You gasp out a low, “Oh yeah?”

His head tips back with a moan as you clench around him. You experiment momentarily, brows drawn and biting your lip, until you find a grinding rhythm that ignites a fire within you. Bucky meets you halfway, helping guide you with his hands still gripping your hips. Your head lulls forward, small panting gasps leaving you as your eyes squeeze shut. 

“I’ll make you beg for that too…Fuck—” You whine, and Bucky chuckles beneath you. He continues to help direct your hips, and your thighs begin to shake as you lower and raise yourself. 

A strangled cry leaves you as Bucky’s hand lowers, his thumb circling your clit. Pleasure spikes up your spine, your knees wobbling as you nearly double over at the sensation. His fingers swirl with purpose, pulling all manner of illicit words and sounds from your throat. 

“You like that, sweetheart?” Bucky hummed.

Just as you feel like sobbing from the pleasure, you cock your head to the side. With a deep breath, you tug Bucky’s shoulders, pulling him upright to meet you. The two of you clash, breath hot. His arms wrap around you, pinning you to his chest as he kisses you with a primal hunger. You moan into his mouth, your tongue sloppily moving against his as he begins to thrust vigorously. 

You could feel your climax building steadily within you, the peak of a tumbling wave that had not yet crested. Bucky was a panting, sweaty mess beneath you. He greedily kissed and sucked along your neck, head dipping as he ran his tongue along your collarbone. 

Your own head fell, teeth grazing across his neck. He tastes like salt and copper. You nuzzled your nose against his jaw, taking his earlobe between your teeth. Deep within you, you felt his cock twitch. 

You wrap your arms over his shoulders, your fingers tugging at his hair. That pulled a groan from him, the noise vibrating across your skin. With a devious smile pressed against his cheek, you lean in close to his ear. Breath hot, you whisper into his ear. 

“Come for me.”

As if he had been waiting for those exact words, he explodes within you. The sensation tips you over the edge, a thundering in your ears defeans you as your eyes roll back into your head. You clench around Bucky tightly, your body milking every last drop of him as he lazily ruts the last of his energy into you. 

The two of you pant, catching a breath as you both come to a halt. The outlaw nuzzles your neck with a content sigh, then laughs against your sweaty skin. 

“I wasn’t jokin’ earlier.” He finally speaks up, his voice somewhat more dignified now that he wasn’t a moaning mess beneath you. 

“Hm?” You respond sleepily, too fucked-out to be bothered opening your eyes. 

“I’m gonna steal ya away from here. Make ya my goddamn wife.”

Against your better judgement, you believed him.

[sentinelleblr]

It feels more and more that we live in a lawless country.  Guns and mass killings proliferate because the Supreme Court that decided the president is above the law also decided that the Second Amendment confers a “right” to own firearms that did not exist for more than 200 years in our country.  When Donald Trump’s Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade, they made it legal for states to outlaw abortions with legal language that has led to the deaths of dozens of women who sought help for pregnancies that were in extremis and were denied proper care. We are executing pregnant women just as we execute innocent prisoners.  Laws do not mean anything when they are written for the purpose of making murder legal.  It is essential that we vote for better people to make our laws, a better and less cruel way of living, and a better country.  We don’t have to live this way.  

Vote Democrat. Bring back truth and decency in politics.

[transmutationisms]

when you say “positive / negative right”, what do those mean?

thanks for the good posts :)

a negative right is a claim to protection from some sort of interference; a positive right is a claim that the other party has an obligation to act in some way beyond just refraining from causing harm. for example, the right to free speech is generally spoken about as a negative right: it guarantees me the freedom from state intervention into what i can say. a right to health, on the other hand, would be a positive claim that i should be guaranteed access to things like clean air and water, health care, sick leave, &c.

in practice this distinction is actually much messier than i'm making it sound, and most 'negative rights' are basically meaningless without positive interventions, except in the fantasyland of libertarian political discourse. for example, the united states prohibits one human being from enslaving another (a negative right to legal and bodily freedom) but simultaneously engages in, and permits, incarceration with & without forced and un(der)-compensated labour requirements. the state is not actually granting freedom, and slavery has only been outlawed on a very limited and technical basis. another example is the right to abortion, which, prior to the dobbs decision, was legal in the us on the basis of a 'right to privacy' as established in roe v wade—a freedom from specific interventions in one's medical decisions. however, for decades the actual right to abortion was eroded by the us's lack of universal health care and paid time off, and by laws that became progressively more restrictive in terms of when in a pregnancy abortions were allowed, what clinics had to do in order to be allowed to operate, and what requirements patients had to satisfy first (waiting periods, ultrasounds, &c). in practice this meant that fewer and fewer people could actually access abortion, despite having, technically, legal protection from government interference in its provision. even freedom of speech falls apart as a purely negative right, because, as i've said before, most enforcement of speech limitations actually happens via economic mechanisms like the threat of losing your job—meaning, the operative issue here is not usually whether the state can directly censor me but whether i risk starving to death if a corporation disliked what i said. in other words, what makes my speech vulnerable is the fact that i live in a society that does not guarantee me food, shelter, and basic necessities as positive rights.

negative rights appeal to liberals and other reactionaries because they're framed as maximising everybody's freedom: your actions are only constrained if they risk impinging on me. however, in actuality what this means is that a right defended on 'negative' grounds is basically incapable of redressing existing social and political inequities, and instead upholds or even exacerbates the power dynamics already in effect. i am actually not a huge fan of 'rights' as a legal framework period, and i think a well-defended 'positive right' is really moving beyond the construal of 'rights' and into a more materialist and socially contextualist framework, but that's a different post.

[fishsticksloser]

If it's alright - And if it's not then i understand if you're going to delete this - to request about Rise! Future! Leonardo x Rabbit yokai!fem!Reader? (NSFW S3x), where Leonardo and reader get into roleplaying as cowboy Shierff and an outlaw female criminal. Leonardo is the dominating one while reader is the submit side.

And yes it would involve things like; ropes tying, rough S3x, Leonardo getting to cowboy accent (?)

/ 🐔 Anon reader /

If You Can't Be Good, Be Bad With Me

f!Leo x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut with a tiny plot, p in v, rough sex, light bondage (handcuffs), ear and tail pulling, spanking, slight Sir kink, Leo has a country accent, Leo calls you a good/bad girl (sue me...), rabbit yo'kai!reader, FAKE guns, swearing, enemies to lovers if you squint really really hard

A/N: I've spent like 2 months writing this because I was just sitting there looking at it and going "wtf do I do?" But here you are, so sorry for the wait. I actually threw out the first draft because I hated it so much... This is a little different than the prompt and I apologize, my brain couldn't do it. :/

"My, my, my... What have we here?" Leonardo's voice was deep, soothing, and with a faint drawl that spoke of Texas. His words were slow and measured, just before he'd bring the hammer down with that thunderous attention. Leo squinted at you, narrowing his gaze before slowly walking towards you. "You look like you're on the wrong side of the law there, doll." Leo stops in front of you, hands on his hips just above his holsters. "What're you doin' on this here land, Miss?"

"Doin' what I can to survive, sheriff." You answer, continuing to stuff your pockets and bag with whatever was in reach. You seemed completely unbothered that the sheriff was standing over and watching you. "Is that a crime?"

"Well yes, it is." Leo responds cooly, his stance loose and relaxed despite you obviously committing a crime. His hands hover over his holsters, his tone becomes more intimidating. "The punishment for those crimes tends to be less uh... agreeable. And yet... I could be lenient with you." Leo's face softens as he looks down at the small, humanoid rabbit. He kneels down to get a better look. "And what exactly is in your pockets, little one? Come now, let's have a look."

You open your bag and empty your pockets. Its not like you were stealing much of anything really. Some bread and not so valuable things like knick knacks and trinkets. Nothing that's really worth anything.

"No guns?" He mutters, eyeing you up and down with a sly, teasing smirk. "That makes things so much sweeter." Leo's eyes twinkle in the sunlight as he stand up. His gaze seems to study every little crevice in your face, taking note of your expressions, trying to figure out everything about you. "You're not from these parts, are ya, darlin'? What's your pretty face doin' so far down south?"

"Got kicked outta town for not marryin' my suitor. Left with nothin'." You repond, repacking your bag and pockets. "Train only took me this far..."

"Not bein' married? Why, now that's a crime against the holy union of man and woman, darlin', 'specially out here." Leo shakes his head placing a hand on his face, feigning disgust. His other hand still rests on his holster. "Can't just leave you out here in this hot dust storm." Leo's eyes flicker up to your face and he grins widely.

"I've got nowhere to go." You say, pleading. "Please just let me go, I'll... I'll go find a place to settle down and be law abiding."

"Well, I'm afraid I can't let that happen, darlin'," Leo responds, his tone slowly becoming slightly more forceful. "The folks 'round these parts say you've done some unsavory and illegal things. I can't just let a law-breaker roam free like that." Leo seems to enjoy your pleas, leaning in more. He leans his body close to yours, whispering close to your ear. "Unless you want to do something for me..."

"And what would that be, sir?" You ask quietly, a shiver running down your spine as his breath fans over your ear. Leo grins as he leans in, his lips inches from your ear.

"You could do all sorts of things for me. It's such a shame for a pretty little thing like you to be caught for crimes you definitely didn't do. But, I'm feeling generous today, and, as the local lawman, I can definitely overlook your sins, darlin'." The corner of his lips curl into a smug grin. "All for a few private favors from you."

"You catch my drift?" He asks, his voice talking on a more predatory tone as his fingers graze down your waist and back. His hot breath caresses down the back of your neck, his eyes burning into your form before glancing back at your own. "Such a delicate, pretty thing..."

"Yes, sir. I understand." You mutter, your ears standing tall and twitching slightly.

"Good girl." He whispers as he leans in close. "And you know if you do well, maybe I could be generous and let you off of that punishment." Leo's voice comes out low and smooth, almost sultry as he leans back just enough to let his fingers stroke along the side of your face. "All you have to do is play nice, understand?"

"Yes, sir." You nod firmly, his eyes seem to study you once more. His fingers slide down and grasp your chin, gently tilting your face upwards as his other hand reaches for your waist.

"Good girl." He says, his eyes burn like hot coals as he bring your face inches from his. "And you know, when I get back to town, I have to write a report. And if I see my girl following through with our little arrangement, I'll make sure they know what a good girl you've been. If you're a good girl. Got it, darlin'?"

Who knew you'd end up here?

"Yes, sir."

"Mm... That's a good girl." Leo whisper as he closes the last few inches between you and him, pushing his lips against yours in a quick but firm kiss. He pulls back slowly before speaking. "You don't mind if I let these hands wander now, do you, darlin'?"

"No, sir." You mumble as he kisses you again, eyes fluttering closed and your hands move to cup the back of his head. Leo grins as he continues to kiss you, his body slightly tilting to get a better grip on you. HIs right hand wraps around your waist and pulls you closer as his left searches through his pocket for something. He fumbles around for a bit more before pulling out a pair of handcuffs.

"Oh, and I almost forgot. Can't be letting my pretty, lawbreaker darlin' roam free... 'specially after getting caught." He chuckles and beings to fasten your arms behind your back with the cuffs. You don't protest, letting him fit the cuffs on your wrist comfortably. "Good girl. Now, I have just the punishment in mind." He says with a smirk, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer. His other hand grips your chin as he kisses your neck softly. "Maybe I could show you what being a good girl for me would get you, darlin'. If you play your cards just right, I might be feeling generous with another reward."

You let out a small whine, basically having no other option and really not in the mood to say no. You give him a small nod and tilt your head to the side to give him better access. His lips meet your neck again, travelling upwards to finally find those sweet, soft lips of yours.

"That's an obedient girl... You know, you're lucky I like good girls. I mean, you could be in big trouble if you had been a bad girl." He whispers, his hands massaging your hips, slowly sliding them upwards. Leo decides that his lips are not the only way of satisfying the desires, sliding his hand under your dress, his fingers running over that soft, silky skin. His eyes are burning with hunger, the heat of the desert finally getting to him. The heat of his breath blowing across your body, breath mingling, your lips coming together in a hungry kiss.

꒦꒷⚔️꒷꒦

Everything's a blur, but you find yourself in the sheriff's station. Leonardo laughs a little at all that nonsense before pulling your head up enough for another kiss. He holds you by the ears, he smacks his hand harder on your ass with your tail twitching with every hit. Your dress bunched up around your waist as you bend over his desk, your legs spread wide apart, offering yourself to him completely.

The desk creaks under both of you, his lips on your neck as he rocks into you, your bodies meeting with a wet slapping sound. You're open for him. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure through you, your mouth left hanging open, moans echoing throughout the room.

"Oh yeah, take that, darlin'!" He whispers, his voice thick with a low purr as he grabs on to your hips. "You're my good girl." He moves down to your ear, his lips nuzzling against it.

You moan, standing in your toes so he hits a better angle. You moan loudly as he hits that soft spot inside you. Your legs shake and you ball my fists in the part of your dress you could reach, you arms still cuffed. You feel his hand connect with your ass with a loud smack and you squeak, jolting at the sting. "Good girl," he breathes, his voice low and husky as he rocks into you harder, going a little faster. He bites on the side of your neck before whispering to you ear. "Such a good girl, darlin'.. you'll get it good.." He lets off a low hum to match the pace of his thrusts.

He brings his free hand down to your tail before giving it a light tug, laughing as you squirm and whine. "Aww, such a good, sweet thing," he sighs, his tone low and husky before biting on your neck again. "I love the way you take it so well, darlin'.. you're so good for me, such a sweet darlin'," he whispers to you, pulling you closer so he can kiss the side of your face.

He spanks you hard one final time before moving his hands over to tug on your ears, holding them tightly in his fists as he goes even harder and faster, his hips bucking aggressively to meet your thighs. "Such a good girl!" He whispers, his voice turning low and throaty as his eyes bore into yours. "Take it all, darlin'.. such a good girl!"

"C-Close, sir!" You whimper, tears falling down your cheeks. He tilts your head up to look at him, but makes sure to keep your body against the desk for him. It puts you into an uncomfortable arch.

Leonardo moans loudly, his expression turning more feral with every thrust as he rocks into you. His hips moving as forcefully as he could, he pushes harder and harder like he was trying to drive you through the desk, his free hand still holding onto your ears. Finally, his climax is about to peak and he lets out an, "Ahhhh… such a good girl, darlin'.."

At your releases, Leo lets out a groan and lets his thrusts die down a bit, pressing against your back with his chest as he slowly rocks into you. His face is buried deep into your neck, "Shhh... be a good girl.. be my good girl for me," he whispers to you, his voice low and husky. His free hand is playing with your tail, rubbing it up and down before giving it another tug for good measure and he slowly pulls out. "Such a good girl..." He murmurs, letting go of your ears and giving you a light tap on your ass.

[winterscaptain]

A Joyful Future Masterlist - Part II

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader  Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

summary: canon-divergent, big family!au

currently working on genuinely whatever i can come up with

beta’d by @ssaic-jareau​, without whom none of this would be possible

Part IV: Optics

Ao3 Linking in Progress

2012

Figure It Out ✦ | 7x11 "True Genius" Spoiled Many More ✸ Seven ✸ Misdirected ☰ Talent Tell ✦ | 7x23 - 7x24 "Hit/Run" Cracks Implication ✦ Optics Long Shot ✦ Jurisdiction | Crossover: NCIS 10x09 "Devil's Trifecta"

2013

A Big Step A Favor ✸ The Whole Picture | 8x18 "Restoration" Mom ☰

Part V: Qualified

Ao3 Linking in Progress

2013

Trifles Light as Air ☰ | 8x23 "Brothers Hotchner" A Given Qualified Meaningful Support ✸ In a Minute ✸ Leave It ✸ Marksmanship Caught Out | 9x05 "Route 66" - 9x10 "In the Blood" Professionalism | 9x11 "Bully"

2014

Attention ✸ Reservations Presumption Strategy | 9x16 "Gabby" Scarecrow of the Law | 9x23 - 9x24 "Angels/Demons" Birds of Prey | 9x23 - 9x24 "Angels/Demons" Keen Pretty/Drunk ✸ Fifteen ✸ Balm Two of Us | 8x14 "All That Remains" Reality Check ☰ | 10x09 "Fate"

Part VI: Close Calls

Ao3 Linking in Progress From this point forward, all fics are fem!reader unless otherwise noted.

2015

Unimaginable Faith Priorities ✸ News | 10x17 "Breath Play" Metanoia ✂ Meraki First-Born Credentials A Technicality ✸ | gender neutral reader Naming Rights Full Disclosure Acting Out | 11x01 "The Job" A Boy Double Digits Bunker | 11x02 "The Witness" Close Calls March Complicated | 11x03 "Til Death Do Us Part" Off Homefront | 11x15 "A Badge and a Gun" Locked | 11x16 "Derek" Loaded | 11x16 "Derek" Ready for Bear | 11x16 "Derek" Roadblock | 11x04 "Outlaw"Mouthwash Questions

Masterlist Part I

Masterlist Part III

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Hit ‘Em Up! (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Cowboy!Gojo Satoru x Cowboy!Geto Suguru x Black!Cowgirl!Reader (Slow Burn/Enemies to Lovers)

Synopsis: You get to meet Geto & Gojo the Gunslingers, the notorious outlaws that have every town and law enforcement in a twist, when your bum-ass BF offers you as payment to avoid going to prison. Little do they know that this is only a part of your plan to get what you desire. But when you realize that the infamous gun-slinging, smooth-talking cowboys could be everything you want and more when they offer you a deal to team up with them, will you successfully be able to go through with it? 

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINOS GTFO); poly!SatouSugu; Reader is Black & Fem; Mention of other JJK characters; Porn with Plot; Tragic Backstories; T/W for Childhood Trauma, Parental Death, Violence, Panic Attacks & Torture; Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Hand Kink; Masturbation; Voyeurism; Gay Sex; Polyamorous; Double Deepthroat; Mutual Oral; Fingering; CMNF; Spitroast; Riding; Unprotected PiV Sex; Creampies; Outside/Public Sex; Shotgunning; Multiple Positions; Spit Kink; Facials; MDom/fsub Undertones; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: This chapter contains pussy drunk!Geto & Gojo and glove kink. Have fun, y'all! Love yooou! -Jazz

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen PT I & II. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four. Epilogue + Soundtrack.

********

THIRTEEN: EASING THE PAIN.

The first time you wake up, you find yourself lying under a canopy of trees in a sleeping bag. 

“Hey, you’re awake,” a soft, deep, familiar voice says. “We were sure you were gone for.”

You gently lift your head, feeling stiff and physically drained. A roaring campfire and a handsome, topless man sitting on a log sit in front of you, the flames dancing in his brown eyes. 

Your eyes can’t help but roam over his big, toned body. Geto is a big man––much bigger than Gojo in terms of muscle mass––making him look like a giant despite his sitting. His big arms, one of them adorned in a sleeve tattoo, chiseled abs, pierced nipples, and appetizing pectorals coated in fine, black chest hair are all fit for a modeling career instead of being a gunslinger, you think to yourself.

“Suguru,” you croak. “Where am I?” 

You hear crickets and a lone owl hooting somewhere. The trees above you whistle and sway in the breeze. “Some forest off the coast of West side,” he explains. “We turned around to go back and came here to look for shelter. It would’ve been unwise to take you back to Sage County if Benji and his men are still there.” 

You wiggle your fingers and toes in your sleeping bag, flinching slightly at the slight burn in your ankle. However, it isn’t as bad as it was before. “I’m not dead?” you ask. Geto smiles at you. “No, darlin’. We managed to treat your ankle so the venom don’t spread and cleaned up the blood. You’ll feel a bit out of it though.” 

You want to ask more questions, but your tongue suddenly feels too thick and fatigue washes over you. Geto appears beside you and presses a hand to your forehead. “Go back to bed, little miss,” he whispers. “We’ll be here when you wake up.” His smile and his eyes are warmer than any fire. So you listen and let the fatigue take over, knocking you out again. 

The second time you wake up, Gojo is sitting in front of you with some food. He is wearing a black V-neck and jeans with his boots, smelling of pinewood. “Good mornin’,” he chuckles even though it’s still nighttime (what time is it, anyway?). “Welcome to the land of the livin’, dollface.” 

You slowly turn your head from side to ide, groggy and stiff. Your injured ankle is propped up on a log, still slightly numb. “Where’s Suguru?” you ask, looking around the clearing. Gojo places the tray down between you. “Tendin’ to the horses. I fixed ya somethin’ and I promise it ain’t poison.” 

He smirks at you as he begins to stir the bowl of stew sitting in front of you. It smells spicy yet hearty and loaded with herbs. “Rabbit’s stew,” he explains. “Geto and I went huntin’.” He continues to stir the stew with a wooden spoon before taking a bit of it and holding it in the spoon.

“I-I don’t think I can sit up,” you stammer. Your body still feels stiff and heavy like you’re made of rock. But Gojo is insistent and patient. “Just lift ya head so I can feed ya. We elevated your leg, so you’ll be more comfortable.” He gives you a white-toothed smile that makes you feel like everything will be okay. 

So you raise your head and pucker your lips, allowing the outlaw to bring the spoon to your mouth and feed it to you. Your tastebuds explode with the taste of rosemary carrots, onions, and the hearty rabbit that you silently thank for giving its life and you hope is hopping around in another great forest in the afterlife. 

Gojo pulls a cocky smirk, leaning in towards your ear, much to your confusion. “Now you can see I’m better at cookin’ than Geto is,” he whispers before feeding you again. You both fall silent, no words needed, but when your eyes meet his, he winks at you. It somehow makes you feel more comfortable. After you finish, you fall back to sleep. 

The third time you wake up, it’s from the immense pain you feel in your foot. Your ankle is throbbing and stinging intensely, the pain crawling through the veins in your foot and up your leg. It’s a terrible, terrible sensation that has your eyes stinging with tears and you gripping the blanket on top of you. “Satoru,” you gasp. “Suguru, help!” 

The two of them come running to you, worry written all over their faces. Geto kneels before you, his brows drawn together in concern. “What’s goin’ on?” he asks. “Is it your foot?”

You nod, biting your lip due to the pain. You’ve never felt anything like this before. “On a scale of 1 to 10, how bad it is?” He asks. 

“Like a six,” you moan. “It’s just throbbin’ and stingin’ and God! It feels like my foot is on fire!” You hiss as the burn travels up your leg like its own snake, biting and lashing its tongue.

Geto slowly lowers your foot down from the log, careful and slow. He gives Gojo a serious look as he examines the binds. “We can’t elevate it any higher,” he sighs. “And if we make the binds any tighter, it’ll cut off the blood flow.” 

Gojo stares at you, worry and agony in his blue eyes at the way you writhe, your body tense with pain. Tears begin to drip from your eyes, the burning increasing. “Please do somethin’!” you sob. “Anythin’, please! It hurts so, so bad!” 

You look up at them, praying that they will hear you and understand. You see a helplessness in their eyes, not an ounce of pity for you. “You want us to help you, Y/N?” Gojo asks.

“Please!” you beg. “Please do somethin’!” You begin to cry, the pain absolutely excruciating. Geto wordlessly concerts with Gojo, frowning. “‘Tarou,” he murmurs. Gojo looks from him to you and takes your hand into his gloved ones. 

“Okay, okay, honey,” he coos. “We’ll help you. We’re gonna take your mind off of it, okay? Just relax, alright?” He presses a kiss to your knuckles, his bit of stubble rough against your fingers. 

Geto gently props your ankle back up on the log before he takes your other hand, clutching it. He presses it to his soft cheek, his mahogany eyes filled with a softness that almost eases the burning. “Do we have your permission to touch you, Y/N?” he questions. “We won’t do this if you don’t say yes.” 

They don’t need to elaborate on what they mean. You can see it in their eyes in the flickering light of the campfire; feel it in the way they hold your hands. You would take anything besides what you’re feeling right now. “Yes,” you sob, delirious from the pain. “Yes, I don’t care! Just touch me! Take this pain away!” 

You don’t have to tell them twice. Geto moves behind you and gently sits you up while Gojo sits in front of you. You feel their gloves hands move the blanket off of you, revealing you in your undershirt and trousers. The leather of their riding clothes feel like silk across your skin as they touch you. 

Geto rubs your shoulders, trying to work out the kinks and tension in them. “Tell us how you like to be touched, little miss,” he murmurs against your ear. “How you like to be kissed.” 

His deep, velvety voice sends delicious shivers down your spine. Gojo’s hands play with your thighs, his fingers trailing up, up, up to settle on your waist. “Don’t be shy now,” he chuckles. “I think we’ve passed the point of that shy shit, don’tcha think?” 

Even so, you keep your mouth shut. Something is holding you back from this. You’ve never told any man how to please you sexually. You can barely remember what you like after running for so long, yet to be pleased or to be loved. You thought that overtime, sex was something you had no interest in anymore. 

But the tenderness in the outlaws’ gazes makes you think differently and you want to stop running….for tonight, at least. “Don’t be scared, lovely,” Gojo coos, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “We won’t judge. We just wanna make you feel good.” Geto hums in agreement, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. 

Suddenly, without any uncertainty or doubt, you know that this is all they want: to make you feel good. This isn’t a booty call or a fling. They just want to help you.

So you tell them. You tell them how you enjoy being kissed and touched. You tell them you just love it when a man brushes your hair behind your ear and kisses down your neck and shoulders. You tell them you love your partner being just as naked as you, even if you don’t touch them. You don’t like a lot of clothes. 

You also tell them you don’t mind the gloves staying on. 

You tell them everything you enjoy, earning looks of surprise and hidden must in their gazes. By the time you finish, you feel hot with anticipation and embarrassment. “Just no kissin’ on the lips,” you order. “That’s my boundary.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” they say in unison and quickly as if they can’t get the words out fast enough. It almost makes you want to laugh at their eagerness. They stay at their posts—Gojo in front of you, Geto behind you—and begin to kiss and touch your body. Their lips are soft and the leather of their gloves feel like the richest velvet on your skin as they stroke your sides and hips, feeling you up. 

A moan wants to escape from you, but you don’t let it. Instead, you are silent, your mouth forming a quiet O as Gojo’s pillowy-soft lips caress your throat. Geto’s move up your neck to your ear, your hair brushed out of the way to allow him access. Gently, he begins to nibble at the skin there and you tense, a stubborn whimper leaving your lips. “Let yourself go,” he murmurs against your earlobe. “We won’t hurt you, Y/N.” 

Gojo pulls away to look up at you from the hills of your chest, his blue eyes flickering with firelight and mischief. “Or are you just too impatient?” he smirkingly asks. You don’t know why but that makes you push him away. At first, he seems hurt and confused, but then his eyes widen when you begin to slowly strip off your undershirt to reveal your bra. 

Geto quickly unhooks it from the back, letting the piece of clothing fall, forgotten. All that matters now are your breasts that hang glowing in the firelight, your nipples two brown, hardened peaks. Both men stare at them like they’re the most magnificent things they’ve ever seen in their entire lives.

“Goddamn!” Gojo swears. He covers his mouth, astounded. It makes you flush, your stomach flip-flopping. 

“Fuck, darlin’,” Geto murmurs. “Look at these. You’ve been hidin’ these the entire time?”

He has shifted his position closer to you and your chest, moving from behind you to get a better look at your titties. He can’t get close enough. He begins to touch them, gently running his gloved hands down the sides of your breasts. 

You softly moan at his touch, wondering what it would be like to feel his naked fingertips brushing against your skin. But you don’t suggest it. It’s bad enough you’re letting them touch you in such a way. Gojo joins his partner and latches his lips onto your left nipple. Another moan, this one louder and more desperate, escapes you as he begins to gently suck and lap at your nipple with his pink tongue. 

Geto does the same to your right nipple, the contrast being the warmth of his tongue and the cold metal of his tongue piercing nearly sending you into a frenzy. Your head falls back, staring up at the night sky, as the outlaws gently assault your titties, squeezing, sucking, and playing with them. At this point, you’re burning up and it isn’t from the fire or the bite. It’s all from them. 

You can feel your body begin to relax into their mouths and their hands, your self-control finally dissipating to allow you to fully give yourselves to them. Probably sensing this change, Gojo looks up at you and smirks. “Two heads for two of these precious things,” he chuckles, jiggling one of your titties. “How lucky are you?” 

Very. You know you are. Your hands find their scalps, your fingers running through their hair as they slurp and lap at your nipples, coating them them in their spit. 

“Boys,” you whimper. “Please more.” Your body is tingling with need, your pussy quivering and throbbing in your trousers. 

The outlaws laugh, taken by your adorable mess. “Such a needy thing,” Gojo chortles. “Who would’ve thought such a tough woman could be such a desperate, sweet little girl under all them scars?”

If he means physical or emotional scars, he doesn’t say, but it doesn’t matter. Even now, you don’t feel like cringing or shying away because of these “scars”. You feel free. 

Geto lightly laughs, taking his hair out of his ponytail. His long, black longs cascade down his back and shoulders, reminding you of a river. “Guess it takes the right one to make it happen…or in this case, the right two.” 

The two men begin to strip, much to your enjoyment. You watch them with greedy eyes as they take off their shirts but leave on their gloves, boots, and pants, only undoing their flies. You asked them to do so beforehand while telling them what you like. You don’t want to them to be completely naked, mostly because you don’t trust yourself to not ask for more. 

And Lord knows you’d regret taking tonight any further the next morning. But you still enjoy staring at their toned bodies, big arms, and happy trails that lead down their toned stomachs to their V-lines. The men look pleased with your adoring, lustful gaze, light chuckles leaving their lips. 

Gojo crawls over to you and situates himself between your legs. “Let’s get these legs open,” he hums. Gently, he takes hold of the leg with the uninjured ankle and moves it apart, bending it so your knee is propped up. You unbuckle the belt to your trousers and lift your hips so the outlaws can pull them down your legs. They carefully pull them off your ankles, mining your injury, until you’re just in your undies. 

Geto locks eyes with you, never moving his hands once towards your panties. ‘Okay?’ They ask you. You wordlessly nod and bite your lip as he slowly pulls your panties down to expose your glistening, wet, puffy pussy in the firelight. “God,” Geto moans, salivating at the sight. 

Gojo is just as astounded, shamelessly staring at the gorgeous rosebud between your thighs. “Fuck, babydoll,” he groans. “You have the prettiest pussy.” You flush at their reactions and Gojo’s dirty yet sweet words, not having ever been complimented in such a way. “Thank you,” you find yourself whispering. The two share a smirk, concerting with their eyes. 

“So polite,” the white-haired outlaw praises. “You deserve a reward for that.” He is the one who gives you your “reward” first, peppering your pussy in kisses while he massages your inner thighs with his magical, long fingers. While he does this, Geto plays with your tits, tweaking and lapping at your nipples. You breathe in the sweet scent of his hair every time he leans down to suck on your breasts, making you wetter for some reason. 

But once Gojo puts his mouth on your pussy, finally, you just about leave your body. All that constant talking for Gojo must’ve been practice because he’s an eater. He laps at your pussy, sucks on your clit, and just about drowns in your cunt. He eats it like an eager man desperate for water, slurping you down like he’s trying hard to get your honey pouring out. 

Your eyes widen and moans escape you as he works his mouth onto you. “O-Oh, my God!” you gasp, eyes widening at the sky. Geto watches you, entranced by the way you move and sound. “Mmm-hmm,” Gojo hums into your pussy, encouraging you to keep making those sweet noises for him. 

Geto begins to grow impatient and nearly knocks Gojo out of the way. “C’mon, Satoru, scoot over,” he huffs. “We have to share.”

The white-haired man pulls himself away from your pussy, his lips and chin coated in your juices. “Who says?” he scoffs. “Did she say she wanted two tongues at once?” 

Your eyes widen at the idea. You’ve never heard of such a thing: two men sharing the same pussy…but it excites you. It turns you on. Geto seems just as stunned by the suggestion. “Well…that’s not what I meant, but–” 

“Go ahead,” you cut in, earning their surprised gazes. You sit up as much as you can and lock eyes with both of them, forcing yourself to be open and firm. “I-I want both of you,” you stammer. You don’t care if it makes you slutty or desperate. You need this. You need to feel something other than pain. 

But because of your pride, you can’t let them know all of that. So you sit back and give them a glare. “Just go ahead instead of arguin’ and makin’ me wait.” The two break out into smiles, loving your bite. “Impatient,” Gojo tuts, stroking your outer thigh. “But we can’t deny you. So we’ll share.” 

He begins to dive in again, but Geto stops him with a hand blocking his face. “Yes, share,” he agrees. “After I get my own taste. Now move. The fuck. Over.”

Despite Gojo’s reluctance, he moves anyway and lets his partner have a taste. You watch as Geto pulls his hair over one shoulder before he dives down between your thighs. 

While Gojo has a very eager and teasing way of eating pussy, Geto takes his sweet time with you. He gets to know the ins and the outs of you by swishing his tongue this way and that while he laps at your cunt. He pays close attention to your sounds and body language, switching things up to test the waters. But everything he does feels good to you. 

You are a moaning, writhing, whimpering mess on the forest floor, eyes fluttering open and closed onto the night sky. Geto is loving every minute of this, his hands cupping your asscheeks and bringing you closer to him.

“How’s that feel, babydoll?” he asks from between your legs. “Am I pleasin’ you okay?” You just about shout to the stars above, overcome with pleasure. “Yes!” you whine. “Yes, Sugu, fuck, that feels so good!” 

Gojo watches from beside his partner, hard as a rock but totally jealous. “No fair,” he whines. “She didn’t get that loud with me!” Geto gives him the finger, not even coming up to look at him. “C’mon, Sugu, lemme taste her too!” The long-haired outlaw rolls his eyes but moves over anyway to share you. “Somebody’s pussy whipped.” As if he isn’t. 

And then you have two sets of sinful, magical tongues on your pussy. You just about see God the instant you feel their soft lips and tongues on you, their moans and pants causing you pussy to throb, gush, and jump even more. “Ohhh, sh-shit!” you stammer loudly, you hands gripping their hair. “Yes, right there! Do it right there!” 

Gojo’s sapphire eyes tick up to look at you and he pulls his mouth away from your clit to give Geto a chance to suck on it. “Oooh, she is a loud one,” he laughs. “I love my women vocal and bratty.”

He leans up to press a kiss to your stomach, making your body twitch. “How do two tongues feel on that pussy, darlin’?” he purrs. “Is my tongue better than Sugu’s?” 

You couldn’t answer even if you had an answer. Geto suddenly grabs the back of Gojo’s neck, glaring up at him. “Just shut up and keep lickin’ before I take her all to myself,” he growls.

The blue-eyed outlaw gives him a mischievous look. “Oh?” he chortles. “You think you got it like that? She ain’t even seen how I use my fingers yet.” 

He goes back to kissing along your stomach while he uses one of his gloved fingers to rub your clit while Geto’s tongue lightly delves inside of you. Your mouth opens, a broken moan leaving your lips as your eyes roll back into your head. Gojo’s fingers glide along your sides and thighs, making you even more aware of that ache deep in your core.

“‘Tarou,” you whimper. “Please…I need more.”

Both outlaws look up at you, neither one pausing what they're doing. “Does our good little cowgirl want a finger?” Gojo murmurs against your stomach. “We can even switch, though I’ll admit, sugar: you’ve got a man sprung off you.” He smirks down at you before glancing back at Geto. 

“Same here,” the long-haired outlaw growls, desire evident in his voice. “But I don’t mind sharin’ with you, Satoru. Only you.” The fact that both of them desire you enough to want you all to themselves but still decide to share somehow makes you even hotter. 

While Geto continues to go down South on you, Gojo retracts his lips from you and stands up on his knees. He keeps his eyes locked with yours as he begins to slowly, seductively, take off his leather riding glove. He does it bit by bit, inch by inch, sliding the glove off his fingertips. You watch, shivering with anticipation and need. How does he make even taking off a glove so sexy? 

 Once he strips his glove off, he sucks on his bare index finger, coating it in spit. And then his finger is sliding inside of you. You gasp as he slowly slides in, gently pushing back and forth, stroking your insides to let you get used to his digit. Both outlaws watch your body respond to the new sensations you’re feeling, still moving slow. But you don’t need slow. 

So you look into their eyes, your face flushed and chest rapidly rising and falling, your nipples hard and pussy dripping. “Fuck me,” you whine. “Please.” And so they do. Gojo crooks his finger up to curl against that spot while Geto greedily sucks on your clit, coating the needy bud in his saliva. 

You moan, whimper, and whine, gripping the blanket underneath you for dear life. “Mmm, yes, fuck!” you sob. “Yes, yes, don’t stop! Please don’t stop!” 

“That’s what I love to hear,” Gojo moans, smiling up at you. “Such a naughty girl givin’ up your pussy like this to us outlaws.”

Geto takes his mouth away from your clit, allowing Gojo time to replace him. “You’ve always wanted this, haven’t you?” he asks. “Be honest, girl.” He reaches up to tweak one of your nipples, pinching it. 

Sparks of pleasure surge through you and explode in your head, sending you on a rocket trip. “Y-Yes!” you moan. “Yes, I’ve always wanted this! Always needed this!” It’s embarrassing. It’s humiliating. Because it’s true. 

Gojo releases your clit, leading Geto to swoop in and replace him once more. “Knew it,” he cackles. “All those times you argued us down into the ground just for us to play with this pretty cunt. All ya had to do was ask, sugar.” He begins to finger-fuck you faster, purposely angling up to glide against your G-spot again and again. 

You’re so pent up that you begin to play with your other tit while Geto keeps his hand on one, both of you working together to tweak your nipples. It doesn’t take long for that feeling of a rising orgasm to surface and judging by how tight that in your core is getting, it’s an intense one.

“Fuck, I’m close, boys,” you pant. “I-I’m gonna cum! You’re gonna m-make me…” 

Your voice dies, replaced with a weak moan. Geto nods encouragingly, still working your pussy with his tongue. “It’s okay, little lady,” he murmurs. “You can cum all ya want. Just let go. We’ve got you.” 

Meanwhile, Gojo is less encouraging with his words but does so with his actions, moving his finger up against the underside of your clit from the inside. “Do it,” he demands. “Fuckin’ cum for us, you little slut. Do it now!” Their ministrations become faster, more urgent, encouraging you to fall off that cliff… 

And, finally, you do. Your pain is replaced with immense pleasure, making you shiver and shake as you cum all over Gojo’s finger and Geto’s mouth. Your moans and whines fill the Western night as you gush for the men settled between your thighs, your mouth open wide and eyes closed where colors flash behind your eyes. Your orgasm ripples through you like a tidal wave, making your back arch and your toes curl. 

Suddenly, you don’t feel the pain anymore. You just feel immense bliss zipping through you. Even as the high your orgasm brings fades, you still feel it. A delirious, blissful smile grows on your face as you run your fingers through the outlaws’ soft hair. “Thank you,” you sigh. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

You repeat these words like a mantra as the two clean you up, keeping their licks light and gentle to not overstimulate you. Once they finish, Gojo looks down at you and sucks your cum off of his finger that was once inside of you.

Geto stands up on his knees, looking down at you. That must’ve tuckered her out, poor baby,” he chuckles. 

Gojo agrees with a hum while you moan in protest about not being tired, but your sudden exhaustion doesn’t allow you. Suddenly, you feel Gojo lying next to you, one elbow propped up to hold his head up.

He keeps his eyes on you, not touching you at all, but the way he looks at you feels as if he is. “Shh,” he hushes you. “Just sleep. We’ll be here when you wake.” You feel Geto lie behind you, a warm presence that makes you feel safe just as Gojo does.

They keep their promise and stay with you through the night even as you drift off to sleep, that blissful smile still on your face. 

[oldgayjew]

Roe v Wade guaranteed a person's right to privacy ... It didn't guarantee a woman's right to abortion ... It didn't establish a constitutional right to abortion ... It reaffirmed the Right to Privacy ... The overturning of Roe v Wade did not outlaw anything ... it took the Law from the Federal Government and put it into the hands of the individual States ...

This is the last time I'll post this ...

[justinspoliticalcorner]

John Pavlovitz at The Beautiful Mess:

Ever since Republicans killed Roe v Wade, I’ve been hearing that Gen Z is so pissed off that Republicans have taken away women’s body autonomy, that they are going to show up en masse in November to reject them and Donald Trump and elect Kamala Harris.

And the numbers are indeed showing unprecedented engagement by young voters and that they’re skewing decidedly Democrat. And while this reality gives me hope for this nation and its future, the idea that teenagers and twenty-somethings are expected to come in and save themselves from a political battle we adults lost, is an indictment of us all. They shouldn’t be in this place to begin with and we need to look in the mirror and face our shared failures: Over one hundred million of us couldn’t be bothered to vote. Others selfishly squandered their votes with third party support. Still others foolishly bought into the lie that Republicans would never overturn a law that was fixed and settled. Others of us may have simply relaxed, believing America would never see the unthinkable happen—until it did. No matter where we have individually fallen short, we all need to examine our consciences, repent from our specific mistakes, and most of all, be a part of repairing the damage we’ve made possible. Collectively, we have allowed Donald Trump, his predatory party, and three purchased, hand-picked Supreme Court justices to legislatively violate our daughters. It’s as simple as that.

We have failed to protect them from and that should fully grieve us all. So, yes, I’m glad Gen Z is disgusted, but we as their parents should be, too. Not only should we be disgusted, we should be vocal and visible. I hope we see more moms and dads come to the defense of all our kids; showing up at school board meetings and town civil gatherings and rallies and courthouse steps and church meetings and on social media and at family gatherings, and most of all in the voting booth. We should be forming a sprawling, outraged army that will flip America Blue without Gen Z’s help. We cannot fail our kids again, as we won’t get another chance to fix anything. As Donald Trump has promised, our votes and voices will not matter after November if we do not prevail. Right now, based on polls, the GOP is a few percentage points or a handful of states or possibly tens of thousands of votes away from instituting a national federal abortion ban, from subjugating every woman to Conservative Evangelical will, from continuing to take children’s healthcare out of the hands of parents and their physicians and into the hands of Conservative politicians.

And they won’t stop there. They will target same-sex marriage. They will continue to remove worker protections from minors, make it easier for adults to marry children, outlaw birth control, eliminate gender-affirming care. Part of Project 2025’s agenda includes erasing LGBTQ young people by removing all mentions of them in government institutions and organizations. Republicans have promised to criminalize LGBTQ advocates and allies and we need to believe them. The sickest of ironies in this moment, is that with all their histrionics and carrying on about the Left endangering the children of this nation, the Republican Party and the Evangelical Church have been projecting. They are the ones targeting our kids: their bodies, their marriages, their medical decisions, their very identities.

Parents and parents alone should make the decisions about what happens to their daughters and sons. These are choices to be made in the sacred space that is a family in their home, free from outside interference. Government does not belong there and the Church, only if invited by personal faith. Republicans and Evangelicals have no right to enter into that space and legislate their moral prejudices or mandate their antiquated theology for the rest of us. Another human being’s body and bedroom is not their jurisdiction: not a politician’s or a pastor’s.

Another home run post by John Pavlovitz.

[apricotbuncakes]

I've made it my mission to read the entirety of Project 2025 (a right wing manifesto on how to take over the USA government written by The Heritage Foundation amongst other people) and HOLY SHIT ITS SO BAD.

I have only completed reading the Foreword, and Jesus fuck it's so bad. There's so much. They pat themselves on the back for aiding Ronald Regan, they say that the 1970s is a historic low point in America's history (note that the 1970s was when OSHA was signed into law, 18 year olds earned the ability to vote, the Environmental Protection Agency was formed, and Roe v. Wade was overturning state bans on abortion).

They want to take out several words/phrases from EVERY law, bill, or legal document (including sexual orientation, gender identity, abortion, and other important phrases that provide clarification and protection).

THEY WANT TRANS PEOPLE TO BE ILLEGAL.

The text in this image reads "...("DEI"), gender, gender equality, gender equity, gender awareness, gender-sensitive, abortion, reproductive health, reproductive rights, and any other term used to deprive Americans of their First Amendment rights out of every federal rule, agency regulation, contract, grant, regulation, and piece of legislation that exists.

Pornography, manifested today in the omnipresent propagation of transgender ideology and sexualization of children, for instance, is not a political Gordian knot inextricably binding up disparate claims about free speech, property rights, sexual liberation, and child welfare. It has no claim to First Amendment protection. Its purveyors are child predators and misogynistic exploiters of women. Their product is as addictive as any illicit drug and as psychologically destructive as any crime. Pornography should be outlawed. The people who produce and distribute it should be imprisoned. Educators and public librarians who purvey it should be classed as registered sex offenders. And telecommunications and technology firms that facilitate its spread should be shuttered."

They see protections for other people as impeding their right to free speech.

They want to classify trans people as pornography, and in the same breath say that anyone who makes porn should be imprisoned. They literally want to imprison every trans person for fucking existing.

Keep in mind, that this is all information in the FUCKING FOREWORD. I'M NOT EVEN ON THE FIRST OFFICIAL SECTION YET. This is terrifying. They want to remove more protections from everyone. They want to label the people they don't like as sexually explicit and make them criminals for just living their best life.

I cannot explain how terrifying this is. And Project 2025 is already in motion. Book bans, and anti-queer (but especially anti-trans laws) have been introduced at an all time high recently. And this is just my area of focus as a trans activist. I'm sure that other horrific things have been introduced as well.

I cannot explain how terrifying all of this is. I'm seething with rage and I want to break down crying even though I know my tears won't fix anything. I'm distraught and in despair.

[horizon-verizon]

There is an enduring sense in the fandom that if you cannot structurally change the entire or major parts of an oppressive status quo, it's somehow better that one does absolutely nothing. Bc you're "messing up the stability of an already stable social order, which proved itself to be the best or most reliable bc it's endured for so long".

And I despise it. Because it essentially means that any effort except a huge, topsy-turvy one where the whole system gets upended or severely so doesn't matter. (At the very least those that don't seem like it.)

It's a perfect partner to racism, sexism, homophobia, etc. & people use it not just against Rhaenyra but Dany, Rhaenys, & Alysanne!!! Any Targ woman, really. Aegon V, if one mentions his laws. Ironic, bc Jaehaerys had progressive laws for peasants ONLY bc of Alysanne, but it's obvious why they prefer the female-heir denying Jaehaerys over Aegon V!!!

Coupled with this sense, some say that these women are totally complicit in those systems bc use they happen to be born into royalty or aristocracy, actively use their privileges at times for their own ends instead of ALWAYS to create or influence others for groundbreaking policies & laws, or manage to just escape certain abuses other women face bc they were reserved for the specific task of having children for their male spouses.

Daenerys was a bridal slave, for example. She doesn't face SA from random men every other night, but that doesn't stop the risk of her facing that fate if she were to ever fall out of her husband-owner, Drogo, favor. That doesn't stop her haters from arguing that she should have done more for Mirri & those Lhazareen women, that she even profits from slave labor when she clearly is allocating and directing funds from taxes to the city of Meereen! From ignoring how all those she freed are not still slaves, that the slave masters time and time again have said, point blank, that she is a danger to their enterprise CONTINENT-WIDE!!! She makes mistakes and the biggest one compromising too much with the slave owners of Meereen, yeah, bc she is in the beginning of her leadership journey, and still she manages to inspire loyalty, faith, and hope in many of her followers and she also still manages to keep most people alive w/o actually giving all the way in and that terrifies the slaveowners! For good reason. Read the last few pages of the last book and tell me that she won't come for their necks, either literally or figuratively idc. She's obviously not fucking up so bad or has totally failed in her role as a protector, and she will make mistakes as other leaders before her and after her will! Why this level of negative & bad faith scrutiny?!

And let's go to Rhaenys the Conqueror. She created the rule of thumb & the rule of six, where no man could legally beat their wives to death when she decreed that the rod could not be thicker than the husband's thumb and he could not whack her more than 7 times. Some argue why didn't she outlaw wife-beating entirely if she and her siblings conquered Westeros. First of all, these are the very same people who bleat abt how the Targaryens destroyed and colonized Andal culture without bothering to offer material evidence of such. If Rhaenys & her siblings actually have "colonized" the Andal-FM lords, & it was Andal custom for men to beat their wives indiscriminately…then the Targs couldn't have actually destroyed any part of Andal "culture" and replaced it entirely with Valyrian ones where seemingly men could not beat their wives at all! If you can even consider this "destroying culture", as I'm sure a few would argue. If anything, this was a cultural compromise, and it obviously functioned and was intended as a form of protection for women when before there was absolutely none! Aside from male relatives, but that's not system-wide, makes such cases seem not serious enough or that people across communities shouldn't care too much about others when you personalize it, AND that just reinforces the idea that only men have a property claim over women, be they biologically family or by marriage. Secondly, if you argue that Viserys should have obeyed the "laws" of male primogeniture bc he is a feudal king--the "Protector" of their customs and interests--that is only supported by the swords & loyalty of lords, that the GC of 101 proves that (as if Jaehaerys also didn't use that to enact his own will passively for a male heir), then why is it that Rhaenys seems to do something along those lines and WORK with the current Andal customs, her efforts--which actually are protective to those who needed protecting!!! Rhaenys & her siblings were new monarchs of a newly unified-ish realm, & as unifying conquerors tend to do, they opted for the strategy that would keep them seated bc it made "the lords" comfortable that they would not force them to change the bulk of their religious and cultural practices. Not only did Visenya & Rhaenys arrange strategic marriages that both benefited them and those married (their families), but Aegon made it a point to go on progresses and hear various lords and peasants' issues to arbitrate. Which made it so that these lords felt they would not be led by a leader who'd enforce his laws willy-nilly without considering his subject's conditions or desires. It is in this context that Rhaenys, we could see and assume, was taking a bit of a risk with not one but 2 new laws against men's "rights" over their wives' bodies!

There's Alysanne, who took it a step further in her women's courts, and the right of first nigh abolishment, her attempts at the Citadel, & the Widow's Law. Again, if not for her, Westeros and KL would be 3 steps behind in infrastructure and women's protection. Alysanne was a Queen Consort who had even less power on her own than Rhaenys & Visenya and we see that she had to convince Jaehaerys to implement his laws; it took Septon Barth's interference/support for Jaehaerys to even go along with the abolishment of the right of first night! Later with Viserra, I believe that she arranged the much older Theomore to Viserra bc it coincided with Jaehaerys' plans for that marriage alliance between the Manderlys and the royal house. And to please or to go along with some of her husband's plans was to also add onto her own power…bc a royal Consort only has power by their monarch spouse gives them license to influence and status! Was it clumsy writing? Of course, it was pretty bizarre and partly due to how F&B is written as a historical document despite how this portion of history is better documented than others. Did Alysanne indirectly cause Viserra's death in her refusal to relent from her suspicion that Viserra was trying to become queen, as she interpreted it? Arguably. and I think that GRRM was telling us that over time and over the disappointments w/Jaehaerys, she slowly got more determined to retain any sense control…and where does her control end up coming from? Yeah, GRRM is showing that tightrope, I think.

Rhaenyra was not actively progressive in policy nor direct action as all the prior 3, but to argue that she should be feminist so that the usurpation and the femicide done against her becomes unjustified is absurd! Oh, she wasn't a feminist at all or progressive, she didn't implement any sort of law at all for women or smallfolk [did Aegon?! or Alicent?! or Aemond? Daeron, Otto?! so why are they better?!!!], so that's why she shouldn't be queen even though by the very "law of the land", she is by right the heir to this throne that never actually was about who would make a good, consummate ruler in the first place. 🙄.

So there is a vague & un-discernable, forever shifting, & impossible goal-post-level of feminist activity or "being" that these nihilistic or conservative naysayers use against women being leaders or even passively having positions of power that may still benefit the women of Westeros through setting a precedent &/or actions of necessary intervals that build on the past ones under conditions that are already limiting how much they can do or say in order to be able to put forth those feminist (really proto feminist), anti-slavery, etc., progressive steps--on a damn psychological and psychosocial level that:

diminishes how much brain power and time a woman can put to policy or things outside of the "house" because their power depends on the husband's regard towards them

makes it much harder for women to really commit themselves or fully expect to implement their goals & dreams for any sort of change (or even dream of any) when there's such subtle and unsubtle obstacles in their way: Rhaenyra, her stepmother an siblings plotting against her and then the usurpation, that we see in the microcosm of how the treasury stolen from her and the crown led to the smallfolk turning against her at KL AND the ongoing war, thus preventing her from really establishing herself as Queen/ruling at all; Alysanne, I described with Jaehaerys; Rhaenys, Andal patriarchy; much less, in Rhaena the Black Bride's case, find just actual happiness and plain old security against male aggression!

provides a setting where women become more compelled to compromise with some patriarchal ideas/practices to maintain a certain level of power or defense (there's a thing line to measure and transgress the "right way" and without other's judgement and impatience or lack of faith adds an additional pressure of, outside of fiction but applicable)

leads up to Daenerys having to have the strength to pursue her goals on with her own instincts and compassion and wit, work harder than most men would face in her position...not that any could since men cannot and have not largely had the bridal slave’s experience!

Anyway, all of it ignores or tries to hide the fact that it is exactly that undisrupted male authority over female (of any class or wealth) & under-classed people that is the true destabilizer and destroyer of lives. That there is still so much meaning and real impact in what people like Alysanne and Rhaenys did/do and huge upheavals or entire sweeps of structural change like Dany does takes measured steps!

That through multiple Targ women dying form childbirth, raped, murdered, or sidelined and critically limited in political authority or agency, this becomes so obvious! you cannot oppress half of your population, reduce them to sex-giving broodmares who you can kill if you think they have a male heir on the way or have cheated on you and call yourself progressive! You're actually 10 steps behind where you're supposed to be because half of you is not involved enough in the development of your society!

We wanna be all "feudalism is bad", "blood purity is bad", "the Targs didn't end feudalism so they are the most evil and responsible for all evil in Westeros" but when they see someone either passively or actively seem to make any progress to mitigate the pressures and power of patriarchal boundaries or concepts or whatever....they go screaming "not feminist enough" or "they're actually just like everyone else"! And some of us will also try to say that Daenerys is either entirely too much like her colonist ancestors or she will end up that way as D&D published because she is Targaryen (a bio-essentialist argument) to argue about why SLAVEOWNERS should stay in power!

And it all is very anti-intellectualism, anti-critical thought or introspection and examination...because on closer look and investigation, you will see how F&B is a text that was always anti-misogyny on GRRM's part (attemptively) even as it is misogynist as an-in world text! And it's on purpose--both the writing and how people wax "it's a dragon show, nothing at all to do with misogyny or wokeness!"

Because then you are not challenging the status quo...because you can't reason through it or against it and when it happens in seemingly harmless manifestations people will think it innocuous.

[contemplatingoutlander]

"Far from being exceptional in American history, gun-control regulations are the default. If 'Bruen' was designed to nullify the constitutional basis for many gun laws, it ought to fail."

--Robert J. Spitzer, political science professor emeritus at SUNY Cortland

Robert J. Spitzer, professor emeritus at SUNY Cortland outlines the early--and plentiful--history of gun regulation laws in early American history. Consequently, Clarence Thomas's 2022 Bruen decision might not be the disaster for gun control that some people have thought. Below are some excerpts from the article.

In the summer of 1619, the leaders of the fledgling Jamestown colony came together as the first general assembly to enact “just Laws for the happy guiding and governing of the people there inhabiting.” Consisting of the governor, Sir George Yeardley; his four councillors; and 22 elected “burgesses,” or representatives, the group approved more than 30 measures. Among them was the nation’s first gun law:

"That no man do sell or give any Indians any piece, shot, or powder, or any other arms offensive or defensive, upon pain of being held a traitor to the colony and of being hanged as soon as the fact is proved, without all redemption."

After that early example of gun control came many more laws placing restrictions on the ownership and use of firearms. If guns have always been part of American society, so have gun laws. This fact might come as a surprise to some gun-rights advocates, who seem to believe that America’s past was one of unregulated gun ownership. That view received a big assist in 2022, when the Supreme Court declared in "New York State Rifle & Pistol Association Inc. v. Bruen" that the constitutionality of modern gun laws depends on whether they are “consistent with this Nation’s historical tradition of firearm regulation.” In other words, the constitutional standard for any modern gun law boils down to whether you can find a good precedent for it back in the 1700s or 1800s. The advocates’ assumption is that such precedents are few and far between, but thanks to the work of researchers and the digitization of archival material, thousands of old gun laws, of every imaginable variety, are now available for reference. Far from being exceptional in American history, gun-control regulations are the default. If "Bruen" was designed to nullify the constitutional basis for many gun laws, it ought to fail. [...] Throughout this long period in the history of the republic, up until the beginning of the 20th century, gun laws placed conditions or restrictions on weapons access for a wide variety of citizens—in particular, indentured servants, vagrants, non-Protestants, those who refused to swear an oath of loyalty to the government, felons, foreigners, minors, and those under the influence of alcohol. Numerous laws regulated hunting practices, as well as firearms’ carry, use, storage, and transportation; regulated the manufacture, inspection, storage, and sale of firearms; imposed gun licensing; and restricted dangerous or unusual weapons. Despite the Thomas opinion’s claim that “the historical record yields relatively few 18th- and 19th-century ‘sensitive places’ where weapons were altogether prohibited,” some local authorities outlawed the discharge of firearms in or near towns, buildings, or roads, as well as after dark, on Sundays, at public gatherings, and in cemeteries. In some jurisdictions, any use of a firearm that wasted gunpowder was also an offense. [...] In the post-revolutionary 1800s, as rising violent crime led more people to arm themselves, a total of 42 states (plus the District of Columbia) enacted laws against concealed carry. Three more did so in the early 1900s, so that the total included almost every state in the Union. As many states from the 1700s to 1900s also enacted some form of weapons-licensing law. That’s not all. Over that same period, at least 22 states restricted any gun carrying, including of long guns. Moreover, across the entire period, three-quarters of the states had laws either against “brandishing”—waving a gun around in a menacing or threatening manner—or merely having a weapon on display in public. [...] In addition, even though for much of its history America was an agrarian country...its lawmakers and enforcers were inventive and determined about ensuring public safety. When they perceived a threat to that order from firearms, they passed laws to restrict or prevent them. And back then, by and large, no court struck those laws down. That is what is truly consistent with this nation’s historical tradition of firearm regulation. So if we accept the originalist premise of "Bruen," the actual result should be to render a broad array of gun regulations constitutional. [color emphasis added]