#wolf hall discourse

[throughinktosecondpage]

WAKE UP BABE‼️‼️

THE MIRROR AND THE LIGHT SOUNDTRACK JUST DROPPED‼️‼️

[throughinktosecondpage]

maximum rizz even on the scaffold 🙏🙏

You know Thomas is suffering some serious depression in episode 6 because he doesn't even care about getting blood on his Armani doublet

[edwardseymour]

it's so obvious this latest discourse is just anne stans being mad as hell jane is getting better costumes than anne did in season one of wolf hall

as they should. anne looked busted.

[cosmic-walkers]

Twitter can be hell but today I had a TL refresher thanks to @stilltrails

[fideidefenswhore]

i don't really feel like i have any insights lately, like none of this actually matters. it doesn't, really.

and what's more, existing here as myself has just become uncomfortable. between the near-constant refrain that h/ilary m/antel was the greatest woman who ever lived, and reblogs of l/ochiels on my dash....i've come to feel that transgender ppl are regarded an afterthought in this community at best, a nuisance at worst. there's no happiness or warmth or inspiration here, anymore. i'll be locking this all up again, for the forseeable future.

[throughinktosecondpage]

'Cromwell avenges Wolsey by perpetuating the same ruthless system that destroyed him. Henry is both his patron and his executioner, the man who raises him to power and the man who will ultimately end him.'

Finally getting around to watching The Mirror and the Light (and yes I’m going to yap about it endlessly), and OMG I have to talk about the scene at the end of episode one where Cromwell speaks to Wolsey’s ghost.

Wolsey tells him that people used to sneer at him as “a butcher’s dog,” but they forget something important about dogs: dogs are loyal. And Cromwell quietly responds, “I have been loyal.”

And it’s true that he’s destroyed everyone Wolsey might have blamed for his downfall: Anne Boleyn, George Boleyn, Thomas More, even Henry Norris. But then Wolsey’s ghost says (and this isn’t entirely verbatim): Will you ever strike at the true architect of my downfall? Your sovereign?

It’s a moment that forces Cromwell to confront a truth he’s avoided. None of the people Cromwell sent to the scaffold could have destroyed Wolsey without Henry. Henry gave the order. Henry wanted it done. And now Cromwell serves the very man who cast Wolsey aside.

This is the contradiction at Cromwell’s core. He built his career on loyalty to Wolsey, but Wolsey’s fall created the vacuum that allowed Cromwell to rise (especially as a lowborn man replacing another lowborn man in a world dominated by the gentry and nobility). Every move Cromwell makes isn’t just vengeance for Wolsey; it secures Cromwell’s position.

But Anne Boleyn’s execution also sets a chilling precedent. If Henry can judicially murder his wife (the woman he spent seven years courting, the mother of his child), then no one is safe. Anne’s death shows that titles, connections, mean nothing when Henry’s will is in play.

The same is true of Thomas More. More’s execution wasn’t just about enforcing religious orthodoxy—it was further proof that Henry would get rid of anyone, even someone he had known for years, who had been his tutor and intellectual mentor during his youth and early kingship. Cromwell created the machinery of power that made anyone disposable. And eventually, this same system turned back on Cromwell himself.

This is why Wolf Hall is such a fantastic treatise on power and how absolute power corrupts and devours all in its path. There’s an almost karmic theme throughout the novels, where the acts people commit in the pursuit of power eventually come back to destroy them. Cromwell avenges Wolsey by perpetuating the same ruthless system that destroyed him. Henry is both his patron and his executioner, the man who raises him to power and the man who will ultimately end him.

[russellius]

GR : confidence, contrasts, hope and other big words 

sources below the cut:

Square Mile: George Russell: "I'm ready to fight." // Russell admits he's not wasy to work with // // Ready for Takeoff with George Russell // The Telegraph: Why George Russell believes he is ready to win the world title // F1: George Russell is destined for the top - just ask Alonso //The Telegraph // Oh Ana by Mother Mother // Alex Albon appraises George Russell's Mercedes move after replacing him at Williams // The next Hamilton? Autocar meets F1 prodigy George Russell // Hadestown, Come Home with Me // The Race // Criminal by Britney Spears // Roland Barthes: A Lover's Discourse: Fragments // Audre Lorde, “From the House of Yemanjá”, The Collected Poems of Audre Lorde // --- // High Performance Podcast //--- // Hilary Mantel: Wolf Hall // Primadonna by Marina and the Diamonds // Icarus Interlude by Zayn // --- // Try by P!nk // C.S. Lewis // --- // --- // Rainer Maria Rilke tr. by Anita Barrows from The Book of Hours // man I don't fking know anymore, it's from an article after Jeddah 23

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Cathy Young at The UnPopulist:

When Donald Trump sensationally accused Springfield, Ohio’s Haitian immigrants ofstealing and barbecuing their neighbors’ household pets during his presidential debate with Kamala Harris, the story was already national news. The day before the debate, Trump’s running mate, JD Vance, who had already been murmuring about the community in the months prior, catapulted the new allegations into the national spotlight. While these claims have been thoroughly debunked, the story refuses to go away—largely because Trump supporters keep trying to spin the fiasco in his favor. In the most recent chapter, Trump surrogate Vivek Ramaswamy showed up in Springfield for a town hall meeting where he brushed aside questions about the racist hoax spread by Trump and Vance and pushed a subtler xenophobic narrative blaming immigration-friendly policies for local problems.

From the Bowels of Far-Right Discourse to GOP Talking Points

It started with an X hatefest I happened to catch at the outset. On Sept. 7, a full three days before the debate, I saw left-wing-crank-turned-right-wing-loon Naomi Wolf share a post from misinformation superspreader End Wokeness (an account that may be run by far-right troll and Pizzagater Jack Posobiec), containing what seemed like an obviously made-up story: “ducks and pets” in Springfield, Ohio being gobbled up by Haitian migrants. The evidence: an anonymized Facebook post about a “neighbor’s friend’s daughter” who had seen her lost cat being carved up by the Haitians next door. I decided to post a sarcastic comment, unaware that I was wading into a dumpster fire.

Some users tried to “own” me by sharing a video of an Ohio woman apparently killing and partially eating a cat in August. Relatively big names like anti-woke obsessive Wesley Yang and right-wing anti-immigration crusader Nate Hochman (the guy who got fired by the Ron DeSantis presidential campaign for sharing a video prominently and favorably featuring a Nazi “sonnenrad”) rebuked me for not acknowledging the video as corroboration. Never mind that the cat-eating incident happened in Canton (some 175 miles from Springfield) and involved a lone, clearly mentally ill woman, not a family calmly carving up a kitty carcass in its front yard. (X user Alice From Queens lampooned this discourse by pointing to a white, native-born American killing and trying to eat a dog in New York, implicitly daring anti-Haitian posters to extrapolate from that case onto white people in general.) Oh, and also: there was no evidence that the woman was Haitian or an immigrant. In fact, she was later confirmed to be a Canton native.

What I didn’t know is that “They’re eating pets!” was just the latest in far-right attempts to whip up an anti-Haitian panic. As Robert Tracinski points out for The UnPopulist, “It is no coincidence that there was an online rumor mill ready to amplify any social media posts about Springfield because [the neo-Nazi group] Blood Tribe has been targeting the town in an effort to stoke racial resentment against ‘subhuman’ Haitians for a year now.” Enter JD Vance, boosting the rumors that “people have had their pets abducted and eaten by people who shouldn’t be in this country” (consistently rebutted by Springfield police and the Republican city government) in an obvious ploy to harness anti-immigrant animus for electoral gain. “Vote for Trump to save the cats” memes proliferated, shared by prominent Republicans including Sen. Ted Cruz of Texas. And then Trump himself picked up the cause before a national TV audience with the now-infamous, “In Springfield, they’re eating the dogs, the people that came in, they’re eating the cats, they’re eating the pets of the people that live there.”

[...] Both Williamson and investigative journalist (and The UnPopulist contributor) Radley Balko have done deep dives into the story of Springfield’s Haitians. They haven’t been “shipped to” or “dropped on” the city by Joe Biden and Kamala Harris—language that drips with contempt for the agency and humanity of migrants. Mostly, they came, often from other locations in the U.S. such as Florida, after learning that jobs were available and rents were low; Springfield had been actively trying to attract employers and workers, including immigrants, since 2014. 

[...]

Lessons from a Hoax

By now, the cat-eating story has collapsed as completely as a story can collapse. The woman who made the original Facebook post about someone’s cat being eaten by Haitian neighbors has deleted and retracted, saying it was based on garbled fourth-hand rumors. The photo of the man with the goose which appeared in the same viral X post as the Facebook screenshot was taken in Columbus, not Springfield; the man is not a migrant, and it turns out he was removing two geese that had been hit by a car.

What about the Springfield woman who called the cops about a missing cat which she thought might have been eaten by her Haitian neighbors—and whose report was cited by Vance as evidence? She found the kitty in her basement, alive, well, and uneaten. Also, it turns out that when Vance amplified the pet-eating rumor, the Springfield city manager had already told him the claim was baseless. Yet the GOP presidential candidate, his running mate, and many other high-level Republicans have used it to unleash a hate-storm more blatantly and disgustingly racist than anything seen in national American politics in decades. Not only were Haitians explicitly targeted as a group: the label of Haitian migrant was readily slapped on any black person who fit the narrative, such as the Columbus man with the goose and the mentally-ill cat eater in Canton.

Some Trump supporters are still trying to keep up the spin. Maverick-liberal-to-MAGA convert and The Free Press commentator Ayaan Hirsi Ali, for example, has blamed the bomb threats that have shut down schools, government offices, and other institutions in Springfield in recent days on a shadowy “they” who are trying to make “the Springfield/Haiti story … go away,” because it exposes “Kamala Harris’s border ideology.” But in the end, it’s Trumpian populism that stands exposed by this story as a hateful and essentially fraudulent brand of identity politics. After Springfield and the cat memes, the GOP ticket looks ridiculous, bigoted, mean-spirited. Vance’s insistence that he will continue calling the legal immigrants in Springfield illegal—is just plain weird and vicious. But that ticket could still have the last laugh if Trump wins in November, carries out his pledge to deport those immigrants, and continues to make the Glenda Baileys of this world feel that their repugnant views represent America.

Cathy Young wrote in The UnPopulist how MAGA influencers pushed the racist Haitian cat-eating hoax in Springfield, Ohio into the mainstream.

[taylorjohnson]

i am nothing. but still in that, i wanted to be loved. becoming light, erica jong / before sunset, dir. richard linklater / love poem, anne sexton / bag of bones, stephen king / my mother dwindles, margaret atwood / the archer, taylor swift / fleabag, dir. harry bradbeer / sugar apple, yves olade / the dialogue of desire and guilt, j.d. mcclatchy; birthright, george abraham / waiting room, phoebe bridgers / letters to benvenuta, rainer maria rilke / butch is a noun, s. bear bergman / work song, hozier / black bear, dir. lawrence michael levine / mothers, daughter / two, sleeping at last / georgia, phoebe bridgers / please, please, please, let me get what i want, the smiths / i want to look out a window, jenny slate / untitled, teenbeachmovie3 / did you know that there's a tunnel under ocean blvd, lana del rey / all about love: new visions, bell hooks / a lover's discourse: fragments, roland barthes / the long and short of it, richard siken / body of water, florence welch / untitled, rbhvleo / untitled, giovanni gasparro; sunlight, hozier / litany in which certain things are crossed out, richard siken / untitled, silas denver melvin; wolf hall, hilary mantel / phantom pain, caitlin conlon.

[ripeteeth]

HI! This is my first ask I've ever done on this app so please, do let me know if I've made any mistakes or if I've violated any of the etiquette rules.

That aside, I discovered your writing account/s in the comment section of a post asking for beautifully written fanfiction on Reddit and was instantly enchanted by the lushness of your writing and the imagery found in so many of your works, not to mention the unique concepts and plotlines they contained. And you wrote for a lot of my favourite ships too.

The number of screenshots I have of various passages I found particularly moving or breathtaking in its detailed description of love, or the world surrounding these characters is ... it's a lot yea. It seems I've gone on a bit of an unrelated ramble to what I would like to ask, so apologies. Ehem

I was wondering, what are some of your favourite authors? Or favourite writers that you tend to go to for a re-read or just a damn good fanfic? It's just that you write so beautifully and breathe such life into these characters that I'm curious as to the fics/books you've taken inspiration from or enjoy!

Hi! Omg, thank you for such a lovely ask. I've been really feeling rough about my writing lately and this was such a bright spot in my day <3. I'm so happy that you've been enjoying my stuff!

And I will ALWAYS talk about books and writers I love, and I'm gonna list far too many here because I have so many favorites and also do not know how to shut up. These are all books I've absolutely loved and have had some influence or impact on the way I write, or I hope that they do.

Fiction Frankenstein (1818 edition) - Mary Shelley Written On The Body - Jeanette Winterson On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous - Ocean Vuong Cassandra - Christa Wolf Wolf Hall - Hilary Mantel Autobiography of Red - Anne Carson Grendel - John Gardner Drive Your Plow Over The Bones of the Dead - Olga Tokarczuk Wise Blood - Flannery O'Connor Simple Passion - Annie Ernaux An American Childhood - Annie Dillard Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy Lote - Shola von Reinhold Crash - JG Ballard Hunger - Knut Hamsun Perfume: The Story of a Murderer - Patrick Süskind Bastard Out of Carolina - Dorothy Allison The Name of the Rose - Umberto Eco If on a winter's night a traveler - Italo Calvino To Say Nothing of the Dog - Connie Willis Outside the Gates - Molly Gloss Shadow & Claw - Gene Wolfe The Pearl Diver - Jeff Talarigo The Makioka Sisters - Junichiro Tanizaki A Map to the Door of No Return - Dionne Brand Piranesi - Susanna Clarke Near to the Wild Heart - Clarice Lispector Tigana - Guy Gavriel Kay Housekeeping - Marilynne Robinson Snow Country - Yasunari Kawabata Wide Sargasso Sea - Jean Rhys The Master & Margarita - Mikhail Bulgakov We Have Always Lived In The Castle - Shirley Jackson How To Be Both - Ali Smith Non-Fiction Erotism - Georges Bataille A Lover's Discourse - Roland Barthes Blood, Bones, and Butter - Gabrielle Hamilton Just Kids - Patti Smith Consent - Vanessa Springora Stigmata - Hélène Cixous Secondhand Time: The Last of the Soviets - Svetlana Alexievich

Poetry All The Flowers Kneeling - Paul Tran Night Sky With Exit Wound - Ocean Vuong The Descent of Alette - Alice Notley Our Andromeda - Brenda Shaughnessy Desire - Frank Bidart

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'He kneels. He makes his prayer. Drumbeats. La zombero boro borombeta...Blink of red. He thinks, this is all I have to do: follow my master, this and no more. Reach out your hand to find the train of his robe. Look for the spill of scarlet, follow.' — Hilary Mantel, The Mirror and the Light

So. I decided to get out my old GCSE Art supplies and make this. I'm really not the best artist, but to be honest I'm still recovering from Sunday and I needed to put my feelings into something. Never in my life did I expect to be this affected by the death of a fictionalised version of a statesman from 500 years ago, but here we are. That's the true beauty of this series: you forget you're even reading/watching history. Cromwell feels so real, so close that you could almost reach out and tap him on the shoulder. Which just makes his end all the more difficult to bear.

Inspired by the beautiful works of @duztdevl and @dxcstrange-stuff

[period-dramallama]

See, these are all really great points. I wish the show leaned into all this more, exploring how royal service has changed and corrupted Cromwell. I don't think the showrunners really thought through the implications of this line, it felt like a throwaway line to stress his devotion Wolsey- when this side of his character is way more interesting than Wolsey.

"I heard the boy Smeaton whimpering, crying for mercy behind the locked door and I made to go down and free him. Then I thought "no boy now it's your turn to suffer.""

The way Cromwell talks about Smeaton, you'd think he straight up MURDERED Wolsey.

But he didn't! Nobody did! Wolsey died of natural causes. If anybody killed him, indirectly, it was Henry.

Boy. Suffer. Whimpering. Crying for mercy. Cromwell knows exactly how much pain he was causing.

Imma say it: Cromwell and More are equally capable of sadism. Cromwell just hides it better. They both imagine themselves as avenging angels of justice. They're both delulu.

[edwardseymour]

oh my god i remember the tsp anne boleyn drama you're right....i also haven't seen any real discourse around the show so far only complains about the costumes so maybe these people aren't watching the show or have no real way to insert anne in the disscusions and since wolf hall has been discoursed to death for the past decade let's complain about the costumes

yeah i think you cracked this one

also yes to my understanding very little was rented for season one everything was custom made for the most part including all of anne's costumes

i'll leave you alone now thank you for being nice and for the thoughtful commentary!

[a-mosaic-of-stars]

Introduction.post

Greetings, dearest mortals. Tis us, the mosaic, here to exist on tumblr for a while. As a whole, we refer to the group as the mosaic, just as a kind of shorthand.

Basic info:

~{🪦🧿}~

Ulysses. They/them, she/her, hy/hymn. Socialiser/social protector. Kind of the host??? Please don’t refer to me as any kind of host. Genderfluid/rosymothic/gummysharkic lesbian, werewolfkin, arctic wolfkin, OCkin. Will be using the ‘Ulysses screams into the void’ tag, and ‘the void screams back at Ulysses’ for reblogs.

~{⚔️🌬️}~

Arcturus [internal sobriquet, not in any way indicative of real-life name]. They/them, she/her, hy/hymn. Swordsperson/syllogist. Genderfluid lesbian, werewolfkin, arctic wolfkin, OCkin. Will be using the ‘inevitable amalgamations of verbose contradictions’ tag, and ‘reblogging for further inspection by a scientist’ for reblogs.

~{🌕⛓️‍💥}~

[refer to them as The Werewolf] . Bit of a misanthrope. They/them, she/her. Heraic Kinform. Genderfluid lesbian, werewolf. Will be using the ‘werewolf howls’ tag, and the ‘lycanthropic pondering’ for reblogs.

~[🐺🌲}~

[refer to them as The Wolf]. They/them, she/her, he/him. Kinform. Genderfluid lesbian, arctic wolf. Will be using the ‘barking back’ tag for reblogs, probably won’t be blogging much.

~{🔪🎠}~

Lunacy. She/her, it/it’s, they/them, neos with permission. Janusian Emotional Guardian. Artemian vulturehoarder (Spiralbodiment, laughgender, insanecoric, demonmonstergirlic, insanelexic), ceterosexual, as far as they’re aware. Will be using the ‘madness unfurls lying truths’ tag and the ‘staring into an internet hellscape <3’ tag for reblogs.

~{🦌🥩}~

Alastor. He/him. Introjected fictive from Hazbin Hotel. Male, aromantic asexual. Will be using the ‘another radio broadcast from yours truly’ tag and the ‘Alastor reblogs’ tag for reblogs.

~{💽🩻}~

Ethan. He/him, rxt/rxts, !!/!!s. Demiboy/demigender. Some sort of computer program otherkin? Idrk. Catch me using the ‘byte the hand that feeds’ as a tag for my posts, as well as ‘Ethan’s cool shit reblogs’ when I reblog shit (obviously).

So, what are we?

The easiest way to think of us is as a die with a few different sides. Each side is its own face, a whole personality, a whole worldview, but is still connected to the whole. We function pretty well as a single person, despite what any arguing might lead outsiders to believe. Since there’s only one real train of consciousness, it’s less of a black-out-and-wake-up-months-later-having-been-a-different-person-for-a-while thing, and more of a hmm-where-did-that-thought-come-from-oh-dear-I’m-not-who-I-thought-I-was kind of gig.

We don’t want to formally label ourselves with any topical words like ‘DID’ or ‘—genic’ so please just use plural. We are multiple different beings stuck in one body, and if that’s discourse to you, please leave.

Now: the fun bits.

Favourite artists include: STOMACH BOOK, Ghost and Pals, Vane Lily, Will Wood, The Scary Jokes, Tally Hall, Lovejoy, Penelope Scott, The Crane Wives, Riproducer, Marina and The Diamonds, and I, Monster.

Will read: fantasy, xenofiction, psychological thrillers, supernatural/psychological horror, urban fantasy, some sci-fi.

Will watch: anything with religious horror (specifically Catholic), fantasy, thrillers, mind-benders, supernatural/psychological horror.

Aesthetics: Whimsigoth, Starrflesh, Werewolfcore.

Identities: most of us are genderfluid lesbians.

Specific things most of us like: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, The X-Files, The Magnus Archives, Marble Hornets

Specific things most of us don’t like: the Catholic Church. Also Twilight (the vampire book series. Fuck team Edward /hj.)

Turn back to that place from which ye came if:

You think hating others to the point of violence with little justification is ever okay. Bigotry can stay the FUCK off this blog.

You don’t like anything about me. The time you spend on earth is precious, and you should be spending it doing something you love.

You just want to hate on me/troll me/think negative stuff about me. Get a life. Better yet, get a volunteer position and find fulfilment in giving back to the community rather than letting vitriol live in places where love could take up roost instead.

You know who I am in real life. No, you don’t.

And now for some obligatory stamps. You read this far, this one’s on you >:3

Thanks for reading this far! Multiplicity is not an aspect of myself/ourselves that we’ve ever really talked about in any capacity before, so if we end up using any outdated/not so great terminology, just shoot us a polite message/ask, and we’ll try to make things right.

Yours, the Mosaic.

[dollwritesarchive]

Bend over I'm not kidding with Yelena pls 🤤🤤🤤

includes: smut (minors DNI), rimming, spanking, some very light (and playful) degradation

part of my 4k celebration / please reblog if you enjoy !!

i’m aware that plenty of fans have interpreted one panel from one comic as proof that yelena is aroace, and i am not familiar with the comics enough, nor do i care enough about discourse, to dispute that. my writing is not meant to be canon with the comics or the mcu.

for your entertainment ;

“Yel!” you call from the hall; shuffling in the all-too revealing maid lingerie. you scoff, you can hardly call it anything besides a scrap of black and white fabric resembling a skirt that sits too high on yourself waist to be so, and a half-cup bra that has to be two sizes too small by the way your breasts overflow from it. then the thong. a tasteless, black thong, straps pulled up to your hips. the flimsy ‘skirt’ did a poor job at concealing your bare ass. gloves. garter belt. thigh-high fishnets. there had been a pair of black boots, too, but she was out of her mind if she thought you’d traipse the apartment in those killers. “There’s no way I’m wearing this. It’s way too small.”

you hear a faint scoff, and you rock on your heels. “A bet’s a bet a bet’s a bet.” Yelena sneers from the living room. “Come on, I wanna see.”

clenching one fist, you point it at the wall separating the two of you and swing through the air, as if manifesting your frustration. you hesitate.

Yelena calls to you in an arrogant, sing-song tone from the living room. “I’m waiting!”

with an indignant huff, you trample the remaining feet of the hallway and careen into the living room. Yelena is on the sofa, sprawled lazily with her legs stretched out to prop upon the coffee table in front of her. she wolf whistles when you enter. “Look at you,” crooning, a victorious smirk dances upon her tiers, which have been thoroughly saturated with liquor, “room service never looked so damn sexy.”

“Ha ha.” you offer, flat, as you watch her. your skin is hot with your shyness, and the longer you feel her eyes devouring every exposed inch of your vulnerability, the harder you find it to look in her eyes. “Can I take this off, now?”

“But you just got here! Besides, I think it’s kind of messy in here, don’t you?” Yelena purrs, deviancy twinkling behind her sultry gaze. your eyes are drawn to her stark, white teeth appearing to sink into her lower lip, dragging it into her cavern and contorting the smile she wears, before the tip of her toe pushes a half-empty bottle of vodka off of the table and on to the carpet. she bats her dark lashes, offering a poorly feigned apologetic “Oops.” before her eyes darken, watching you intently. “You’d better pick that up, baby.”

“You’re kidding.” you mutter, exasperated, as you gaze upon the leaking bottle in front of her. you could see the patch of carpet darkening as the alcohol seeps in. “What are you, twelve?”

the blonde brow arches, and she grabs a rag from beside her (lucky for her, it wasn’t the first spot of booze that had been spilled this night), tossing it at you. it hits you in the face with a muffled splat, still damp and reeking of the previous alcohol that had found its way to your poor carpet. your head turns, eyes fluttering shut and you screwed up your countenance into one of slight annoyance. “Bend over and clean it up,” she counters, sitting upright now with her palms on her spread knees, “I’m not kidding.”

you glare at her, although it’s not entirely serious. you’re not truly angry, more so miffed that she enjoyed humiliating and taunting you every chance she got. although, it wasn’t her fault that you made it so damn amusing.

“You’re such…” you start, sucking in a gust of oxygen, but you trail off when you see the smirk on her lips widening. it’s so pronounced, so distinct, because the second you lost your cool is the second she knows that she’s won. pursing your lips instead, you prance over to the mess, thankful to have your back to her, and kneel down between her feet to reach the bottle. setting it on the table upright, perhaps a little too hard, the remaining liquid sloshes against its glass prison.

“Good girl,” Yelena purrs, pressing the heel of her bare foot into the small of your back, “now arch your back like a pretty, little pussycat and show me a better view of that perfect ass.”

you bite down on your lower lip, feeling a rush of hot, wet arousal soak your pathetic excuse for a thong. doing as commanded, you arch your back and stick your ass as high in the air and on display for Yelena as you can, fumbling with the rag in your hand to scrub at the vodka soaked fibers.

she then makes a noise that doesn’t sound human; a bestial and hungry moan as both palms embrace your globes in a tender caress. “That’s more like it…” she moans, half to herself, before digits curl around the thin straps on your hips, and jerk the thong downward. “Very fucking nice, pussycat.”

your breath is caught in the lump in your throat, heart pounding against your rib cage when you feel her lips on the bare flesh of your ass. they’re genteel and loving at first, a trail of sugary kisses and swirls of her cool tongue, spelling her own name on your skin in saliva. marking you as hers. but she soon becomes hungry and impatient, and sinks her teeth into one portion of your cheek. you nearly come out of your skin, and her palm comes down with an equally cruel whack to the other.

“You look so delicious, pussycat,” she coos, massaging the tender area where she just spanked. her other hand replaces her mouth and does the same, manipulating the heavy globes in every direction as if you were made of playdoh. “All wrapped up in this little outfit, on all fours on the floor beneath me, you look damn good in this position. Nice and vulnerable.”

“Yelena—“ you shudder, hips pressing back in contrary to your inquiry, “do you want me to clean the vodka off the floor or do you want to eat my pussy? I’m afraid you’re going to have to pick one.”

Yelena chortles, “Oh, no I’m not.” the ball of her foot presses into the back of your head, forcing it down on to the carpet beside the wet patch; you can feel the muscles in her calf and thigh as it rests against the length of your spine. “Keep scrubbing, pussycat, and shut up so I can enjoy the taste of your ass.”

you do as you’re told.

her drunken mouth presses sloppy, open mouth kisses to your weeping folds before her tongue lazes out to glide between your nether lips, gathering your essence on her tastebuds. she gurgles in pleasure. you whimper, muffled, with your face hopelessly smushed into the carpet. “You’re so fucking wet, I think you’re having more fun than I am. I’m going to have to put my foot down more often.” her tongue then pirouettes on its journey to your puckered entrance, smearing an intoxicating cocktail of your juices and her spittle over it as the very tip of the muscle tests your willingness to allow it inside. with handfuls of your supple skin, she opens you up as much as your body will allow, and pushes past the taut barrier until your legs turn to jelly.

“Watch you shake, pussycat! You love getting your cute ass eaten, is that it?” she laughs, giving one cheek a hard slap before burying her face between them to taunt your inner canal with the length and unmatched skill of her velvety tongue.

[throughinktosecondpage]

NAH FR 🔥🔥

This doesn’t need to go so hard