#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. 

[zae-heeyyy]

Evanesce

Summary: You try to runway. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female!reader Word count: 3,673 Tags: angst, smut, mid-low honor Arthur, handjob, unprotected p in v, oral, breeding kink, tb? Don’t know her. Warnings: 18+ MDNI, toxic relationship

An: I feel like I ran a never ending marathon with this one. Drafted it a month ago, but I never really vibed with it. Challenged myself to just get it done and make sure I was proud of it. Once again, I'm trying to step out of my comfort zone. Shout out to @googoolies for the note idea! As always, I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!

Tagging @hihomeghere because you asked ❤️

Evanesce: to dissipate like vapor

Worn floorboards of Shady Bell wailed under Arthur’s weight as songbirds began their morning melodies. The gunslinger scoped the eerily empty, quiet camp for traces of you, but all he found was a folded letter on his pillow.

Echoes of your last conversation flashed in his mind as he tramped across the narrow room to retrieve the note. Two nights ago, The Old Guard overlooked their kingdom from the second-floor balcony as they discussed their plans to wage war against Angelo Bronte. Bile stung the back of your throat as two-thirds of the trio outruled the other. Hosea’s final words to Dutch and Arthur, “You’ll damn us all,” filled you with dread and the overwhelming feeling of impending doom.

Arthur avoided your shadowed eyes as he reloaded his weapons and ignored your outcry against Dutch’s plan. Your desperation had turned swiftly to indignation, and an argument commenced, your voices clashing like swords. You begged him not to go, pleading with the enforcer to listen to reason for once, to listen to you. But he pushed back with the shield of obstinance he had long forged for survival. 

“I don’t take orders from you, woman, and keep your goddamn voice down.”

Thousands of tiny needles pricked at the backs of your eyes at the harsh directive, but you held firm. 

“Arthur, if you go I’ll–” 

“Don’t,” he warned dismissively, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and ambling to the door. He didn’t even bother saying goodbye as he twisted the knob. Your last words fell on ears deafened from years of gunfire. 

“If you leave, I won’t be here when you come back.”

Two days later, Arthur masked his guilt with anger as he skimmed over the last piece of you left in the room. Four words in the polite loops of your handwriting taunted him: Saint Denis. Train. Running. 

After a quick check of the cinch, he found himself begrudgingly engulfed in the city of smog and greed he’d come to hate so much. Riding through the maze of cobblestone, brick, and vermin was like laying under a guillotine, staring up at the blade and waiting for it to drop. Law on every corner, people jammed together, and now, Bronte’s men out for revenge–none of it felt right. 

Taking in a breath that didn’t reach deep enough, he started his search for you in this hornets’ nest of a city. Most of the hotels and saloons served him with nothing but a heavy dose of adrenaline and dead ends. As he approached Doyle’s Tavern, his last stop, he dug his nails into his trembling palm, savoring the sting of apathy that came with the pain.

Arthur made a beeline to Gabe Doyle, reciting his rehearsed description of you. A woman standing beside him, whose garments had seen cleaner days, tapped him on the shoulder. The outlaw didn’t even look at her, didn’t give her time to speak before he rejected her with razor-edge disdain. When Arthur finished, Gabe only shrugged his shoulders, but the woman, still standing close by, let out a derisive giggle.

“He won’t be of no help, mista’. Coulda’ told ya’ for free, but it’ll cost ya’ now.”

Ire made his ears ring, drowning out all the other sounds in the slum’s saloon. He drummed his fingers hard on the worn wooden bar, the taste of pride sour on his tongue. 

“How much?” 

Cleavage spilled over her top as she leaned towards him and twiddled brazenly with the collar of his shirt. 

“Well, for clients that play nice, seven dollars, but for you, rotten dirty bastard––times it by ten.” 

A minute later, he exited Doyle’s Tavern not a cent lighter, heavy with an indefinite ban, but finally, a real lead on you. Four new mocking words overshadowed ones from the letter: Whore house; Courtenay Street. 

A brothel—a goddamn brothel. 

Instinct lured him to the debauched inn, and your name frothed from his muzzle in more of a growl than speech. Like a rabid dog, he snapped and barked orders at the women unlucky enough to be trapped with the beast on the arena floor.

They tried futilely to stop his march down the hall, tried to keep him from getting to you, but the chaos drew you into the colosseum and into the lion’s direct line of sight. You yanked the man-turned-animal by the sleeve and sealed yourselves away before he could do any more damage. 

More tame now, sea storm orbs surveyed you in a quick but covert once over, then he spun on his heel, searching for anything else to focus on.

“Christ, been looking for you all day, woman,” he bit out through clenched teeth. 

The lone wolf prowled the new territory for a threat but was only met with a vacant cave and the empty feeling of shame. Deflecting, he found your luggage, lifting the bags with the practiced ease of carrying buckets of water to and fro. His biceps flexed with the weight of your whole life in one bag, but he nodded at you, matter of fact. 

“C’mon. M’taking you home.”

Home. You could’ve laughed if it didn’t hurt so much. None of these places had ever been home.

“I ain’t going nowhere with you,” you fired back, grabbing for the suitcase in his hand. A brief game of tug-of-war ensued, your grip relentless, Arthur’s unwavering, until he finally let you pull one of the bags free. He dropped the other and exhaled with the sharpness of a saber but stayed silent at the conclusion of your weaponless duel. He’d fallen in love with that gnawing defiance, but now it was tearing him to pieces, bit by bit until it exposed the marrow of pure anger.

“Runnin’ off is one thing.” His nostrils flared, and the timbre of his voice deepened as he carried on, “But running off t’here–– selling yourself?” He shook his head and blew air through his teeth, “Yer crazier than I thought.”

You whirled away from him, swatting your hand like he was as insignificant as a fly.

“And you’re a bigger idiot than I thought. Ain’t selling myself, you damn fool! And I’ll do whatever the hell I please. Right now, I want to get far away from this shit city and you.”

“No, you don’t,” he said, dragging out the words. “I know you just as well as you think you know me. If you wanted away–really wanted away–you wouldn’t’ve left this pretty little letter, and sure as hell wouldn’t’ve told me where to find ya’.” He retrieved the letter from his satchel, held it up just long enough for you to see, and crushed it in his fist before discarding it on the floor.

“That’s what I think of your pretty little letter.” 

You had started a slow involuntary backtrack during his monologue, the flight response pushing back against the fight. He followed, sandwiching you between himself and the door.

“Screw you.” Scorn was hot on your breath.   

Just as you thought to turn the knob, to free yourself from the prison of flesh and wood, the iron teeth of a bear trap, his fingers, clamped around your wrist, bringing your hand to eye level. 

“And you still got something of mine.”

Both pairs of eyes landed on a small round sparkling opal set in a gold band on your left ring finger.

You’d never forget finding it on your pillow along with a letter from Arthur that just said, “One day…”

He had made promises he didn’t keep. First, you just had to wait for the Ferry Job. Next, you needed to survive Colter. Then you had to get far away from the Pinkertons, and most recently, all you needed to do was help case the Lemoyne National Bank. One last job, he’d told you. It was the same thing he said before leaving for that boat in Blackwater.

Contempt flowed through your veins as you tried to wrench free. God, you hated him right now, but you hated yourself more for letting him fool you.

“Let go.” You hissed, seething. 

Your hand throbbed as he gave your wrist another squeeze.

“You first.” Then he nodded towards the stone on your finger. “My ring,” he demanded.

Your knuckles collided with the wood of the door with a hard knock as you freed your hand. You flattened your palm against the wood behind your back, guarding the ring from the career thief’s piercing gaze.

“No,” you shot back, sinking into yourself. “It’s mine.” 

Your finger throbbed around the ring you’d seldom taken off. It had become part of you, melded to your skin like a vine coiled around a tree in a beautiful and deadly embrace. 

“Yours?” he huffed incredulously, shaking his head, trying to form your words into something he could understand. For a short beat, the heavy huff and puff of his breath was the only thing you could register. 

You had mined forever to find something other than cold coals of anger within him. You thought you’d found it—thought you’d finally struck gold when he confessed his feelings for you somewhere out west all that time ago. Now, you were left wondering if it was only fool’s gold you had stumbled upon. The cowardly knight was far too proud and far too afraid of getting stabbed to lay down his armor. But you were having a silent conversation with those sad eyes, reading words he’d never speak or ask aloud. What does that make me, then? 

“Yours.” He answered his inner thoughts without hesitation.

Mine. You thought back but only stared at him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of cracking under his scrutiny. 

“Yours.” He repeated assuredly, final. 

It was your turn to shake your head now; you could hear his vocal cords vibrating, generating sounds you were supposed to understand, but he may as well have been speaking another language because what the hell did he know about being anybody else’s? You repeated your thoughts bluntly.

For a moment, he looked stunned, but then his hand shot out, cupping your jaw and tilting your face toward his. He was so close, you could smell him now. The scents of liquor on his breath and leather in his hat permeated your whole being.

“You don’t think–” His voice was low and trembling with fury. “I been yours since the goddamn day I laid eyes on you, and you know it.”

Fight, flight, freeze, and now fawn all warred for dominance. Twin mirrors of blue cosmos peered into your soul, but you didn’t look back, knowing that black holes of destruction ruled in the center and could swallow you in the blink of an eye.

“You have to go, Arthur.”

You tried to reach for the knob again, but Arthur imposed on you further, his chest brushing against yours. 

“No,” he said. “I ain’t going nowhere without you, and you ain’t going nowhere without me. M’done talking about it.”

It’s like he couldn’t listen, couldn’t hear you, couldn’t respect what you wanted. He only ever responded to shouting and violence. So you dipped down to his level, anything to get him to understand. Your open hand pushed full force against his chest, knocking the wind from him and making him stumble backward.

“You don’t own me, Arthur Morgan!”  

But the shouting was no use. He closed in on you again, and you reached out, clenching your fists in his shirt to stop his advance. If he noticed, he didn’t let on, talking with a tight jaw.

“No, dammit, cause you own me.” 

You balled your fists around cotton fabric and pulled him down into you, inhaling like you were bracing for the worst. This game, Predator and Prey, had become second nature to you. You would always be his fawn, thrashing and wailing, yet never escaping the salivating jaws of the coyote. And it always ended the same: a clash of heavy breathing and snarls before you surrendered.

Tobacco and whiskey never tasted so good, and they were just as addictive as him. Your teeth clashed together, and his left hand fell to your hip while his right twisted the lock on the knob. 

He was never gentle, but now, he was almost crazed. Rough hands that were trembling only an hour ago were all over you, gripping your jaw, sliding under your blouse, pushing and pulling you to his whim.

“Falling in love with you was the dumbest thing I ever did,” you confessed as he removed his hat and set it aside; he had better access to you without it. Heat surged through you as his hands bit into your hips, pinning you in place against the locked door. 

You mumble under your breath, “Bastard.”  

So far, he was ignoring your attempts to rouse him; you were his pretty little doe, caught in his chops, and a few barbs wouldn’t keep him from utterly devouring you. Dipping his head into your neck, he fixated on that pulsing artery, taking no time to roll the flesh between his teeth.

“Goddamn asshole,” you huffed but cradled his head as he claimed you.

He brushed over the ruptured blood vessels with his knuckles, and the bastard was smiling, eyes glazed over with lust and self-indulgence. Electricity sparked down your legs as he looped his fingers in the waistband of your skirt. 

You swore to yourself two nights ago that it was all over, that you wouldn’t let him slither back, yet here you were, Eve, being tempted by the serpent. Teeth sank into the forbidden fruit with the lift of your hips off the door, giving him permission to snatch both your skirt and bloomers down in a swift pull. Arthur didn’t need much persuasion to eat from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil; a man like him could have never lived for eternity in The Garden of Eden. 

The pair of you wore pride like heraldry, but neither of you was as honorable as you’d led the other to believe. You, provoking him with the threat of leaving, knowing you’d let this happen as you always did, and him never changing and never stopping the cycle of broken promises. 

Your scent was intoxicating, but he held off from relishing it, studying your face like he’d done many times before. Something was different this time, though. Only for a heartbeat, you saw something in his eye, a minuscule hint of vulnerability. You blinked, and it was gone like it was never there, replaced by an unabashed smirk. You kept the insults flying. 

“Jerk.”

Hearing the laugh rumble in his chest made your skin prick up the same way it did when a thunderstorm was brewing on the horizon. The cowboy braced his hands against your thighs and peeked up at you, his lips still curved in the corners.

He lifted his eyebrow in question, “You done?”

“Shut up,” you responded, tangling your fingers in his hair and guiding him, not so gracefully, to the heat between your legs. 

Obeying, he flicked his tongue out to lap at you, drawing you closer in a hug, his palms resting on the curve of your ass cheeks. Steadying yourself against the door, you tugged on his hair like reins, but fuck, you didn’t want him to stop. You grunted and cursed under your breath as that gluttonous, greedy grifter feasted on you. 

Blasphemous sounds rose up from your chest as you rocked your hips feverishly with every swipe of his warm wet tongue against your clit. Every tug of his locs and bump of your mound into his nose sent blood pulsing full speed to the bulge in his pants. He knew you were dancing dangerously close to the cliff’s overhang by the way you were keeping him in place, right where you wanted him. But the brute stopped and locked eyes with you, lips curved downward. That slight glimpse of vulnerability you thought you’d seen earlier was now on full display.

“Say you won’t go,” he choked out. 

Down on his knees, looking up at you with genuine sincerity was the closest he’d ever get to prayer or penance. You swallowed the lump forming in your throat but didn’t answer him.

Instead, you ushered him back to his feet and crashed your lips into his again, tangling your tongue with his.

In a swift motion, you popped his suspenders loose while you walked him backward. The backs of his knees hit the bed, and he shimmied off his multiple layers just as quick as you unfastened the buttons on your blouse. You stood before him, a goddess, determining his eternal fate. And he waited, fixated on you, languidly stroking his engorged cock while you decided.

You replaced his fisted grip with yours, bending to meet his eye. The almost frown on his face made you wonder what he was seeing staring back at him. You imagined your pupils blown out, your lips swollen, and your hair disheveled. Arthur was the only man in the world who could turn you into a vixen. 

“You’re a fool, Arthur Morgan.” Your noses were almost touching as you tightened your grip and stroked him painfully slowly. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he nodded, his face downright solemn. 

“Mhm,” you went on, rubbing circles atop his hot, leaking pink tip. Your pace quickened as your cheek grazed his. A shiver ran through him as the vibrations of your voice tickled his ear.

“No good, thieving, murderous bastard.” 

“I know.” He drew out, tightly clutching the sheets. With a firm nudge, you urged him onto his back. 

“You don’t deserve me. Never did,” you continued. His hips jutted in time with your wrist, his climax sitting low in his balls.  

“I–dammit–I–kn–know.”

The muscles of his stomach constricted as he fought for breath, damn near suffocating under your touch. 

“I’ll change.” He gasped, eyes closed, and brow furrowed. “I’ll change. But–ahh–I ain’t ever gonna be good enough for you, woman–nghh–no matter how much changin’ I do.”

Air finally flowed back through with the halt of your pumping. The mattress sunk with your added weight as you slung your legs on either side of him. Neither party stalled. You gave him a quick nod before he could even ask, and he sank his length into your warm, wet pussy. There were no hushing kisses, no waiting for you to adjust, no cajoling, just the smacking of skin and the aroma of sex in the room as he molded you to his girth. Bashfulness had never even crossed your mind. You rode him tirelessly, whimpering, gasping, and filling the air with his name. 

The roles reversed; you were the animal now, a lioness pursuing a buck. Chasing the high, you galloped hard and fast and grinding your hips against his to relieve the throbbing ache in your clit. You massaged the sensitive nub between your thighs, indulging in the pleasure you were giving yourself and receiving from him. The tip of his cock bumped that sweet spot inside of you, the one that made you tense and cry out over and over again. 

You didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want him to know what he was doing to you or how he was making you feel–how he always made you feel when he was burrowed deep inside of you. You couldn’t hide from him, though. He knew you–knew the faces and sounds you made, knew the way you tightened around him, knew how you stiffened, knew how your breathing shallowed when you were on the edge. He knew the control he’d have over you forever.

“You ain’t going nowhere.” He grunted as he pounded up into you, the knot in his stomach tightening with his own upcoming release. 

“Fucker,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, and you love it.” 

You couldn’t deny it.

He took your hand in his and felt for the ring on your finger, stroking it, all while keeping eye contact and hammering relentlessly into your velvety walls. Four more thrusts and your eyes rolled back as the lightbulb of tension burst.

“That’s right, let it go, there it is.” Muttering, his upward ruts got sloppier as you rode out your body-spasming orgasm. Then he started babbling, lost in your sweet heat,

“Shit, I’m–bout t–m’close.”

The cowboy tried to lift you up, tried not to spill inside of you, but you buried your head in the crook of his neck and lowered yourself back down, taking him balls deep.

“Goddamnit,” he growled, hugging you to his chest, “the hell you doing, t’me, woman?” He panted and stared up at the ceiling like a man condemned. 

“Ain’t going nowhere,” you echoed breathlessly, still bouncing, before adding, “Yours.” 

In a few more strokes, he filled you up, grunting through his teeth and cursing up a storm that’d make even the most seasoned sailors look on timidly.

Outside noises of the establishment and the streets of Saint Denis droned back in as both of you came back to your senses. An ocean of things was left unsaid as you redressed and let Arthur lead you out of the room and to a proper hotel for the night. The next morning, you took Arthur up on his offer to get away for a few days. As the train you had boarded for your trip chugged on, something in the distance piqued your interest, a small homestead. You could vaguely make out a woman sitting on the porch and a man, presumably her husband, tending to a horse nearby. Of course, you didn’t know their life or their struggles, but if you could write your own happily ever after, it would be that. Arthur nudged you with his elbow, interrupting your daydream.  

“M’sorry...about everything,” he said, low, barely audible. The perpetual ache in your chest had almost gone numb after so long. Almost. 

“I know.” You replied and turned back to the window. The house was out of sight now, and you had a feeling your fairy tale ending had vanished with it.

[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.

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

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.

+++++++++++

@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.

[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.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Abby Monteil at Them:

A new Supreme Court case threatens to escalate LGBTQ+ book bans and, according to a new report in Vox, could potentially implement policies similar to Florida’s draconian “Don’t Say Gay” law in public schools across the United States. On April 22, the Court is scheduled to hear oral arguments for Mahmoud v. Taylor. The plaintiffs in the case — a group of six Christian and Muslim parents from Montgomery County, Maryland — seek to be notified if their elementary school-aged children are going to be taught LGBTQ-inclusive books, and to have the option to remove their children from classrooms where these books might be part of the curriculum, even as non-mandatory supplementary learning materials. The plaintiffs are represented by Becket, previously known as the Becket Fund for Religious Liberty. The Catholic legal group previously ran a full-page New York Times ad in support of California’s Proposition 8 — which outlawed same-sex marriage in the state — and represented a school that fired a 15-year veteran guidance counselor for being gay. The group is also listed on the Southern Poverty Law Center’s website as one of several “hardline groups promoting ‘religious freedom restoration acts’ to justify anti-gay discrimination.”

In 2022, Montgomery County Public Schools (MCPS) added six LGBTQ-inclusive books to its supplemental curriculum for pre-K through fifth grade, assigning one book for each grade level. At the time, MCPS communications director Jessica Baxter told Bethesda Magazine that these titles feature “joyful stories of folks who happen to be part of the LGBTQ+ community” and “celebrate and positively portray LGBTQ+ identities through an asset-based lens.” Parents behind Mahmoud v. Taylor initially filed a lawsuit against the school district in 2023, arguing that it had infringed upon their religious rights by not allowing them to remove their children from potentially being exposed to books featuring LGBTQ+ characters and stories. According to GLAAD, the Associate Superintendent of Curriculum and Instructional Programs for MCPS responded to the plaintiffs in a court filing, noting that the books were not mandatory. Teachers were instructed to “incorporate the [books] into the curriculum the same way that other books are used, namely, to put them on a shelf for students to find on their own; to recommend a book to a student who would enjoy it; to offer the books as an option for literature circles, book clubs, or paired reading groups; or to use them as a read aloud,” per a district official.

MCPS also filed an appeal, which lists five books at issue: Uncle Bobby’s Wedding by Sarah S. Brannen; IntersectionAllies: We Make Room for All by Carolyn Choi and Chelsea Johnson; Prince & Knight by Daniel Haack; Love, Violet by Charlotte Sullivan Wild; and Born Ready: The True Story of a Boy Named Penelope by Jodie Patterson. Two other books — Pride Puppy! by Robin Stevenson and My Rainbow by DeShanna Neal and Trinity Neal — were initially approved by MCPS, but later “reevaluated pursuant to standard MCPS procedures and removed from instructional use.” A district court previously denied the plaintiffs a preliminary injunction in their case, which they sought based on claims that not being able to opt their children out of classes where the books were used violated their free-exercise and substantive-due-process rights under the U.S. Constitution and Maryland law. The Fourth Circuit Court of Appeals affirmed the district court’s decision. The Supreme Court subsequently agreed to hear their case.

The Mahmoud v. Taylor school curriculum case set to be heard at SCOTUS could very well bring Don’t Say Gay or Trans policies to schools nationwide.

[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. 

[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

[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 ...

[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.

[cruger2984]

Mahoutsukai no Yakusoku and its Saints

Mahoutsukai no Yakusoku (Promise of Wizard) has just added into my watchlist for a time right now, so in celebration, here to share with you all with their birthdays corresponding with feast days that is honored and recognized by the Roman Catholic Church!

[---Central Country---]

March 9 - Arthur Granvelle

St. Frances of Rome: Italian wife, mother, mystic and organizer who is known as the foundress of the Benedictine Oblates. Her last words before her death were 'The angel has finished his task – he beckons me to follow him.' Canonized by Pope Paul V in 1608, she is the patron of widows, automobile drivers and the Benedictine Oblates.

April 27 - Oz

St. Zita: Italian virgin who was born in Tuscany, and is became a servant in the Fatinelli household. Although she is the patron saint of domestic servants and homemakers, she is often appealed to in order to help find lost keys.

August 6 - Cain Knightley

Feast of the Transfiguration: A event of the Holy Bible commemorates Jesus is transfigured and becomes radiant in glory. According to the New Testament, Jesus and three of his apostles, Peter, James, and John, go to a mountain (the Mount of Transfiguration) to pray. On the mountain, Jesus begins to shine with bright rays of light. Then the prophets Moses and Elijah appear next to him and he speaks with them. Jesus is then called 'Son' by a voice in the sky, assumed to be God the Father, as in the Baptism of Jesus. The feast was present in various forms by the 9th century, and in the Western Church was made a universal feast by Pope Callixtus III to commemorate the lifting of the Siege of Belgrade in 1456.

October 2 - Riquet Ortiz

Guardian Angels: The devotion to the angels is an ancient tradition which the Christian Church inherited from Judaism, and began to develop with the birth of the monastic tradition. The feast was first kept by the Franciscan order in 1500, and like many others, was local before it was placed in the General Roman Calendar in 1607 by Pope Paul V. On October 2, 1795, Pope Pius VI granted a partial indulgence every time, with a contrite heart and devotion, any of the faithful say the Guardian Angel prayer. The Pope also granted a plenary indulgence on the feast to those who have said the prayer morning and evening throughout the year, provided they meet the other usual requirements of receiving a plenary indulgence. The feast was of seminal importance to Josemaría Escrivá, who considered himself to have been inspired by God to found Opus Dei on October 2, 1928. The significance of the day of his inspiration was evident to Escrivá, who believed that it was a sign that the work of the order would be carried out under the protection of angels.

[---Northern Country---]

May 29 - Snow and White

St. Joseph Gérard: 19th century French Catholic priest and a professed member from the Missionary Oblates of Mary Immaculate; he worked in the missions among the Basotho people in Lesotho and the Free State province of South Africa. His works in the mission are now attributed to a partial degree to a boom in Catholicism in Lesotho, where he was well-known and regarded for his extensive work; he was even working up until a month prior to his own death just before the First World War.

February 8 - Mithra

St. Josephine Bakhita: 20th century Sudanese-Italian religious sister of the Canossian order who, after having been a slave in Sudan, she lived in Italy for 45 years. In 1889, an Italian court ruled that because the British had outlawed slavery in Sudan before Bakhita's birth and because Italian law had never recognized slavery as legal, Bakhita had never legally been a slave. For the first time in her life, Bakhita found herself in control of her own destiny, and chose to remain with the Canossians. Years after her death, she is canonized by Pope St. John Paul II on October 1, 2000, and she is the patron saint of Sudan and survivors of human trafficking.

November 1 - Owen

Solemnity of All Saints: Known as 'All Saints' Day', it is an event that is celebrated in honor of all the saints, known and unknown. The day is dedicated to the saints of the Church, that is, all those who have attained heaven. It should not be confused with All Souls' Day, which is observed on November 2, and is dedicated to those who have died and not yet reached heaven. Although millions, or even billions of people may already be saints, All Saints' Day observances tend to focus on known saints – that is those recognized in the canon of the saints by the Catholic Church. Generally, the feast is a Catholic Holy Day of Obligation, meaning all Catholics are required to attend Mass on that day, unless they have an excellent excuse, such as serious illness.

December 13 - Bradley Bain

St. Lucy of Syracuse: 3rd century Christian virgin and martyr. Lucy is one of eight women (including the Blessed Virgin Mary) explicitly commemorated by Catholics in the Canon of the Mass. Her traditional feast day, known in Europe as Saint Lucy's Day, is observed by Western Christians on this day. Jacobus de Voragine's Legenda Aurea was the most widely read version of the Lucy legend in the Middle Ages. In medieval accounts, Saint Lucy's eyes were gouged out prior to her execution, this is the reason that Lucy is the patron saint of the blind and eye-related diseases.

[---Eastern Country---]

January 13 - Faust Lavinia

St. Hilary of Poitiers: French bishop who was sometimes referred to his two nicknames - the 'Hammer of the Arians (Malleus Arianorum)' and 'Athanasius of the West.' He is the pre-eminent Latin writer of the 4th century before Ambrose, and Augustine called him 'the illustrious doctor of the churches', and in later centuries his works continued to be highly influential. In 1851, Pope Pius IX declared him a Doctor of the Church.

April 14 - Shino Sherwood

Bl. Peter Gonzalez: 13th century Castilian priest and friar from the Order of Preachers (Dominicans). After his death, he was beatified in 1254 by Pope Innocent IV. Although he was never formally canonized, his cultus was confirmed in 1741 by Pope Benedict XIV. He is the patron saint of sailors.

June 29 - Heathcliff Blanchett

Sts. Peter and Paul: Popularly known as 'Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul', it is a liturgical feast in honor of the martyrdom in Rome of the apostles, which is observed on this date. The celebration is of ancient Christian origin, the date selected being the anniversary of either their death or the translation of their relics. The celebration is a solemnity in the General Roman Calendar, and it is a holy day of obligation in the Latin Church, although individual conferences of bishops can suppress the obligation. The Enchiridion Indulgentiarum of 2004 grants the partial indulgence for the faithful who has devoutly recited the prayer in honor of the apostles. Peter is known as the first pope after Christ's ascension and in the Pentecost. Paul, formerly known as Saul of Tarsus, is an apostle after his conversion to Damascus. For his contributions towards the New Testament, he is generally regarded as one of the most important figures of the Apostolic Age, and he also founded several Christian communities in Asia Minor and Europe from the mid-40s to the mid-50s AD.

September 8 - Nero Turner

Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary: One of the most important feast days in the RCC (Roman Catholic Church) calendar, commemorating her birth. The modern canon of scripture does not record Mary’s birth. The earliest known account of Mary’s birth is found in the Protoevangelium of James, an apocryphal text from the late second century, with her parents known as Saint Anne and Saint Joachim.

[---Western Country---]

October 14 - Shylock Bennett

Pope St. Callixtus I: 16th bishop of Rome and is a Roman citizen of Greek descent. He lived during the reigns of the Roman emperors Elagabalus and Alexander Severus. Eusebius and the Liberian catalogue list his episcopate as having lasted five years (217–222). In 217, when Callixtus followed Zephyrinus as Bishop of Rome, he started to admit into the Church converts from sects or schisms. He was killed for being Christian and is venerated as a saint and martyr by the Catholic Church, and is the patron of cemetery workers.

February 11 - Murr Hart

Our Lady of Lourdes: A Marian title and is venerated by the Roman Catholic Church due to her apparitions that occurred in Lourdes, France. The first apparition of this day in 1858, of which 14-year old Bernadette Soubirous told her mother that a 'Lady' spoke to her in the cave of Massabielle while she was gathering firewood with her sister and a friend. Similar apparitions of the 'Lady' were reported on 18 occasions that year, until the climax revelation in which she introduced herself as: 'the Immaculate Conception'. The local Bishop of Tarbes Bertrand-Sévère Laurence endorsed the veneration of the Blessed Virgin Mary in Lourdes on February 18, 1862. Pope Pius IX officially granted a decree of canonical coronation to the image as Notre-Dame du Saint Rosaire, and the coronation was performed by Cardinal Pier Francesco Meglia at the courtyard of what is now part of the Rosary Basilica on July 3, 1876. Bernadette is canonized by Pope Pius XI in 1933, and the image of Our Lady of Lourdes has been widely copied and reproduced in shrines and homes, often in garden landscapes.

November 12 - Chloe Collins

St. Josaphat Kuntsevych: Archeparch of Polotsk who martyred by an angry mob in Vitebsk Voivodeship in the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth (now in Belarus). Beatified by Pope Urban VIII and canonized as a saint by Pope Pius IX. He is known as the patron saint of Ukraine.

March 19 - Rustica Ferch

Solemnity of St. Joseph: Also called the Feast of Saint Joseph or the Solemnity of Saint Joseph, is in Western Christianity the principal feast day of Saint Joseph, husband of the Virgin Mary and legal father of Jesus Christ, celebrated on this date. March 19 was dedicated to Saint Joseph in several Western calendars by the 10th century, and this custom was established in Rome by 1479. Pope Pius V extended its use to the entire Roman Rite by his Apostolic Constitution Quo primum. Popular customs among Christians of various liturgical traditions observing Saint Joseph's Day are attending Mass or the Divine Service, wearing red-coloured clothing, carrying dried fava beans that have been blessed, and assembling home altars dedicated to Saint Joseph.

[---Southern Country---]

June 5 - Figaro Garcia

St. Boniface: 8th century Benedictine bishop and martyr who is known as the 'Apostle to the Germans'. He is the leading figure in the Anglo-Saxon mission to the Germanic parts of Francia during the eighth century and organized significant foundations of the church in Germany and was made bishop of Mainz by Pope Gregory III. He was martyred by bandits in Frisia in 754, along with 52 others, and his remains were returned to Fulda, where they rest in a sarcophagus which remains a site of Christian pilgrimage. His attribute is a book pierced by a sword.

July 1 - Rutile Flores

St. Junípero Serra: Spanish Franciscan missionary, friar and priest who is known for the monicker 'Apostle of California', because he founded a mission in Baja California and the first nine of 21 Spanish missions in California from San Diego to San Francisco, in what was then Alta California in the Province of Las Californias, New Spain. Canonized as a saint by Pope Francis during his visit to America in 2015 at the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, D.C., his major shrine can be found at Mission San Carlos Borromeo de Carmelo in Carmel-by-the-Sea, California.

May 16 - Lennox Ram

St. Simon Stock: English visionary and mystic who is an early Prior of the Carmelites. The Blessed Virgin Mary is traditionally said to have appeared to him and given him the Carmelite habit, the Brown Scapular. Thus, the popular devotion to the saint is usually associated with devotion to Our Lady of Mount Carmel.

December 15 - Mitile Flores

St. Mesmin (Maximinus): French saint who is associated with the Bishopric of Orléans (now today Roman Catholic Diocese of Orléans). Euspicius, who is a Gallo-Roman saint, was his uncle, and provided some directions to Leonard of Noblac.

[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]