#echo my loveeeeeee

[tending-the-hearth]

the genuine disbelief I’m still feeling when i realized he actually survived… he’s ok, and he’s safe…

the last domino my beloved

[hunnidmilly]

that back. |R.R|

heyyyyyyyy. this is dedicated to @harmshake for inspiring me. love ya twin. ty always <3 ty for getting me out my funk and inspiring me.

and @shes2real. loveeeeeee ur fics. gotta go check em out if you haven’t.

warnings: pure smut. no plot. nun. just freakayyyyy. no one under 18.

parings: roman reigns x black!reader

“ah!” your fresh manicured white toes popped as your leg laid over your man’s shoulder

“i know, babygirl, i know…” he sighed into your neck as his hips continued to snap towards your pussy, “been a good girl all day for me…gotta give my baby her reward.”

roman loved being vocal during sex. he loved making your head spin and your heart swell with his words making you speechless. well…you were already speechless but yk what i mean.

he grabbed you other leg hiking it up further around his waist allowing you to feel him deeper, “why are y—you fucking me like this?” you strain latching your hand onto his back, digging ur nails into it attempting to relive the pressure in your center

“why not? tight ass pussy always ready for me. you hear her crying for me? let me show her daddy’s home.”

squelching noises echoed from around the room. you could feel yourself dripping down roman’s dick right onto the bed sheets creating a wet spot. your pussy swollen and worn out yet still squeezing down on him pulling him back inside for more. he loved you like this for him—a babbling, dizzy, dick drunk mess. you loved it even more.

he pampered you in and out of the bed room; this all starting from coming home to a hot bath waiting with candles and pink rose petals scattered around. you let him wash your body down, an intimate act all too familiar, before his washcloth covered hand got closer towards ur aching pussy—washing rubbing you there letting the heat from the cloth bring you towards your first orgasm of the night. you both quickly took it to somewhere it wouldn’t turn into a slip n’ slide…well?

that familiar feeling for the 4th time tonight pulsed inside your belly again ready to gush out onto your man’s dick.

“shit! You gotta stop scratchin’ me baby…” he hissed before throwing ur legs over his arms, pushing them towards either side of your head

his movements sped him, continuing to dig at your pussy making a mess in the middle of your thighs. bad choice.

you lived for your man’s back. the way his body loomed over yours like a shield felt nearly romantic. and it was beautiful to say the least. you knew if you kept leaving marks, he’d kill you for it in the morning. he’d have to cover up again, which would make him loose out on money. roman knew his fan base, the ladies wanted what they wanted. but fuck those hoes…you’d give them something to stare at for-sure now. you’d carve ur name with your nails if you could.

your nails caved inwards again in his skin dragging all around to relieve both the pain and pleasure your man was creating with the swivel of his hips. the vein in his dick pulsing against ur spot with the new stroke. your hips attempting to buck into the mattress to escape the new rhythm.

“you feel me baby? right in that pussy? right where i need to be, baby. you wetting it up so good baby. i’m not stopping till you cum on it.”

“f-fu-uckkk! i can’t roman, ah!” you sobbed out sinking ur teeth into his shoulder. your pussy clenching and unclenching, his dick desparate to find its hiding place in your pussy.

“why not baby? fuckin’ good ass pussy. gimme what i want, babygirl. get that nut.” he roared into your ear

not for the first time, you felt the white flash behind ur eyes as heat radiated from ur toes right towards your pussy. with a loud whine of incoherent words, your cum gushed out around roman’s still thrusting cock now with a new layer of your cum coating it, fucking your through it. you let out a mixture of screams and sobs as he chased his nut, fucking into you faster, the stimulation becoming too much to bare. your nails scratching roman anywhere it could, clawing at him.

“where can i cum baby? where you want it at?”

“in my pussy..” you whimper out hoarsely

“nah, speak up. Where you want it at, baby? i can come in this pussy? My pussy?”

“in my pussy! fuck! cum in meeee, roman. cum in me, pleaseeee.” you beg with a pout, he leaned down connecting your lips together. his strokes becoming erratic before you felt the long hot spurts of his cum spraying your walls.

“shit! fuck! i can’t stop, baby. ahh!” he moaned in your ear as his thrust slowed down. your breaths both racing to pull it back into your lungs

roman continued to feed you small soft thrust before pulling out. he eased your legs of your shoulders to watch the mixture of your cum oozing out of your pussy and dribble onto the bed sheets. he lowered a thumb to your clit to rub small circles, causing your pussy to convulse and push his cum out in bubbled pools. after, he used his thumb to finger fuck it back into you with a small whimper, he got up to grab a towel to clean you off.

“damn, baby!” you hear him call out from the dark bathroom

“what?” you strain out, still trying to catch your heart rate back to normal

“we gotta invest in some gloves or something for you, when we fuckin’ baby girl.” he reemerged from the bathroom with a towel in hand. you took the time to notice all the bright red scratches that coated his tanned arms, and the teeth marks in his neck. he did a small spin, to show you his back.

he damn near looked fresh out of a TLC match.

“shouldn’t have been fuckin’ me like that than.”

[msmorningstaarr]

prompt 19, pairing of your choosing 🫶🏻

Hey you 💟 HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVEEEEEEE!

You asked, so here it comes:

to tame a dragon. | brat!Rhaenyra Targaryen x brat tamer!Reader

ao3 | masterlist

word count: 2.8k

pairing: brattamer!Reader x brat!Rhaenyra

warnings: established relationship, queen rhaenyra targaryen, sub/dom dynamics(reader dom rhaenyra sub), oral sex (f receiving), overstimulation, mentions of voyeur, some gender dysphoria on reader’s part(?), reader is really engaged in pleasing rhaenyra, no age gap, reader has no physical description, bottom rhaenyra x top reader, rough sex, team black won AU, please tell me if there’s any tag left!

Send me smut prompts! (all pairings in asoiaf universe)

“If you’re going to act like a little brat then I’m going to treat you like a little brat.”

————————————————

The flickering candlelights form shadows behind your sweaty bodies as you and Rhaenyra smile gently at each other after you take her to utter pleasure on her bed. The queen breathes heavily and her eyes flutter with passion looking at your face. In the warm afterglow of your intimate moment, a sense of serenity envelops the room. The air is thick with the sweet scent of candles, their flames dancing in rhythmic harmony with the fading echoes of your shared ecstasy. Rhaenyra's fingers trace delicate patterns on your skin, and the room is filled with a soft, contented silence.

As you both catch your breath, the queen's eyes continue to study your face, still aglow with desire and admiration. Her gaze holds a mixture of vulnerability and satisfaction, a silent acknowledgment of the connection forged between you. In that moment, the world outside the chamber seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you entwined in the aftermath of passion.

A gentle smile plays on Rhaenyra's lips, a tender expression that mirrors the intimacy you just shared. The queen reaches out to caress your chin with her fingers, her touch a soothing balm to both your bodies and souls. The flickering candlelight casts a warm, golden hue over the room, casting a spell of intimacy that wraps around you like a soft embrace.

“Was it of your liking, Your Grace?” You ask her, stroking her face softly as Rhaenyra regulates her breathing.

The queen beams at your question. “I enjoyed a great deal of it, my lady.” She replies, smiling at you. “But now that I have fulfilled my desires, is it still possible for me to fulfil yours?”

“My only commitment is to your pleasure, my Queen,” You speak, embracing your body in a tender manner as both of you sit on the mattress. “If you are fully pleased, then so am I.”

“Well, it is very kind of you to worry about me and only want to please me.” Rhaenyra would then chuckle softly and Rhaenyra would caress your face, her eyes still glued to hers. “But as your Queen, I command you to have your desires too, because I am rather selfless and I want you to feel pleasure like I just felt it.”

“You have no idea of how much pleasure I feel any time you come on my fingers, lips and now riding my thigh, Your Grace,” You chuckled back, stroking her silvery white hair as you gazed intensely at Rhaenyra. “I also feel very pleased to watch you taking pleasure with your husband.”

For a long time, Rhaenyra and Daemon loved to have you as their spectator for the performance they eagerly presented for you. It started innocently, you felt aroused by the way Daemon would manhandle Rhaenyra in front of you, even daring to rip her undergarments apart in urgency for her cunt, dripping wetness for him and exhilarated to have you watching them. With time, the desire for Rhaenyra only grew inside of her until it came the day you could finally have a taste of her. And how sweet she tasted… far better than just having to watch her with him. As time went by, you contemplated wishing you were a man to bury yourself inside Rhaenyra, taking her in all fours, spreading her legs widely so your seed would reach her fertile womb with no troubles.

“You like watching when I am pleasured by my husband?” The queen asked, smirking now, looking at the lady with an innocent look but with the sparkle of the fox of what she was about to speak.

“Yes…” You replied, pulling Rhaenyra to straddle you again. Her scent remained the same and mixed with yours as she cups your face and enticingly sighs as her hips bounce over you, desperate for more of what you have to offer her. “I love seeing you spreading your legs for him. I love when you climax around his cock, when you cry desperately for more of him in front of me, Your Grace…” You murmur, squeezing her rear and nibbling the queen’s ear, who moaned softly to your sultry words.

“Oh…” Rhaenyra would bite her lower lip now, fully delivered to arousal. As she gently rode you, she decided to ask you something, with those same innocent eyes and with obvious hints of a mischievous tone. “So, you like the sound of my voice when I moan or cry for my husband to enter my body?”

You smiled and nodded at Rhaenyra. “Although I still wish I was a man to feel myself inside of you.”

Rhaenyra would shiver and her body squirmed a bit when you teased her like that. The royal also moaned quietly, preparing herself to speak the words that you wished to hear at that moment. “Well… you are not, but I still let you feel my insides and touch me there anyway.” The queen hummed, feeling your delicate hands reach her arse to squeeze, making her head to arch back and nipples harden quickly. She bit her lower lip in the process, waiting for you to touch her like she lusted.

“It’s not the same, Your Grace.” You said, lowering your hand to her folds and getting a bit of her fluids with your middle finger to caress it over Rhaenyra’s swollen clit to keep teasing her. “I wanted to make you feel fully pleased, to look in your eyes when you ride my cock, to steal you away and wed yourself to me… to put my babes on your belly…” You spoke, still teasing. “Would you like to be my wife if I was a man?”

Rhaenyra had her skin shuddering in delight when you caressed her sensitive area so precisely, eagerly moving her lower body to give you more access and having you pleasuring her like this. “If you were a man… I would be your wife, your lover, whatever you wanted me to, I would be it.” Rhaenyras replies, moaning and biting her own lower lip, showing how much she was enjoying this moment of teasing that she was receiving.

“I would have made you the happiest queen in the world.” You replied, smirking. “But unlike your lord husband, I would not share you with anyone.” you continued, adding some pressure over her clit as you kept torturing her with slow moves. You knew almost too well that she desperately needed to release. The queen was already impatient and needy, the more you controlled her body with your grip, the faster she would try to ride on your fingers, her walls clenching around nothing. And when she grew impatient, the brattiness took care of her mind almost instantly.

“I do like being spoiled with attention and being the center of attention. Daemon knows it well,” she began, faintly speaking as moans left her lips. “Therefore, he holds no grudge nor jealousy by sharing me with you, my lady. It keeps me aroused for more, because he makes me feel so wanted and so much loved… I think you should learn from him how to please a woman better.” Rhaenyra teased you, leaning in to kiss her forehead and to hug her. You narrow your eyes because you know what she wants. The queen is greedy and wants it all on her time. Pushing you to the edge sounds like the better option for her.

“Could you repeat yourself for me, Your Grace?” You ask her, pulling off your hands from her sweet spot and leaving Rhaenyra slightly annoyed.

“I would love it if you learnt to please me better, as so far the only way you really manage to please me is by making me ride you until I come on your thigh.” Rhaenyra teased you with a bratty smirk and leaned her body to hug you again, kissing your neck. “I think you should be a little bit more aggressive than you are right now. Because I am getting a little bored from how submissive you are.” She muttered… finally activating all your triggers.

Teased by her words, you instantly grabbed her by her hips and swiftly shifted her body, throwing Rhaenyra on the mattress roughly. “You wish for me to be rougher, my queen?”

Rhaenyra would smirk as you threw her on the bed with an odd strength. That was an unexpected behaviour to happen between you. Your sex with her was gentle and involving, never rough. Rhaenyra would stretch her legs a little bit, feeling completely surprised by this action done on her. “That is certainly much better than me having to be in charge of everything.” The queen replied, rolling her eyes as she provoked you.

“If you’re going to act like a little brat then I’m going to treat you like a little brat.” You warned her, whispering in her ear.

Rhaenyra pulled your hair slightly to increase the teasing. She smirked at this as she felt her body being pinned down. The queen of Seven Kingdoms being put in her place by a merely lady would be an easy way to meet Seven Hells through an execution, however, Rhaenyra enjoyed being dominated by you and only you, that her body collapsed as your menacing words reached her ears. As rebel as Rhaenyra was, she would look straight up into your eyes as she was being held down, and said with that mischievous grin on her face. “And how are you going to punish me for my brattiness, my lady?”

You beamed mischievously and introduced three of your fingers inside of Rhaenyra. “You will only stop coming when I decide from now on. Is that understood?” You ask, already moving your fingers back and forth. Rhaenyra would feel her breath getting shallow as her eyes widened and she had a sharp inhale through her nose as she felt the three fingers of you exploring her inside walls. “Then you better hope you don’t regret it, Princess.” Rhaenyra replied, her voice quite shaky but still filled with the attitude she has had this entire time, very feisty and playful.

“I will only stop when your brattiness leaves this beautiful body of yours.” You spoke, fingering Rhaenyra. With those words and with the actions done by you, Rhaenyra's breath became even shallower as her eyes started to close and opened a few times while her body started to tremble again, this time from other stimuli rather than having to focus on controlling herself. With one hand, you used her fingers inside of Rhaenyra and the other hand was used to stimulate her over her sensitive bundle of nerves.

The queen gasped and moaned when you started to do circling moves around her clit fastly, nearly driving Rhaenyra to complete madness. The noises coming from Rhaenyra’s lips indicate that it was already making her body collapses as if she was convulsing and it made it really difficult for the queen to keep herself quiet.

Her breathing would seem to fail and her eyes would close again, opening only from time to time to look at you, as Rhaenyra seemed to be nearing her climax again. You smirked to see the whimpering mess you were creating on Rhaenyra. Your fingers worked eagerly to see the Queen orgasming once more. But as promised, you did not stop and went down with your mouth to suckle Rhaenyra, not giving her time to rest.

Rhaenyra would be taken by surprise with the new action you took, but she knew how much of an addicted you were when it came to please her. Since the queen's voice would tremble very much as you used your mouth to perform another action to her body, Rhaenyra grabbed onto her lover's head and pulled the lady to her body to increase the pressure between her cunt and your lips. Rhaenyra could feel the waves of pleasure hitting her body as she was very near to climaxing again and the sounds she was making now would make it quite obvious.

You eagerly suckled, kissed and used her tongue all over Rhaenyra’s sweet spot and went even more hungry as you felt the queen trembling, crying and sensitive to her touch as her peak would reach her once more. Rhaenyra's body kept trembling as her cunt announced her inevitable peak, like a storm arriving by sudden, drowning everything. Her body would twitch and her breaths would get shallower again. Rhaenyra moaned loudly and paid no mind to the others who could hear her. She closed her eyes and opened it again from time to time. Tears of pleasure left her eyes as her vision got blurred by the overwhelming feeling you just gave her.

You, on the other hand, did not stop and kept working your tongue on Rhaenyra until she called out your name in full bliss and overstimulation. Rhaenyra's body was fully quivering and she would squirm a little bit as she would climax so easily once more, crying in desperation. However, before Rhaenyra could take her body away from your lips, you had already locked Rhaenyra to have her intimacy attached to your lips after the imminent climax of Rhaenyra. “No, no, Your Grace… I told you I will not stop…” You provoked her, stimulating Rhaenyra with your fingers in slow strokes around her sore clit.

What the queen was expecting after all of her climaxes, was to be released and to take her time to breathe again and get her rhythm back, as you would always do to her. Rhaenyra had underestimated you, thinking you would not be capable of taking her to the edge. To have some more stimulation applied on her and letting Rhaenyra not be free to move away from it you immobilised her hips with your arms and your lips hungrily met her aching core once more, working your tongue on her sweet spot, suckling and licking the sensible skin.

That was utterly the most wholesome sensation the queen had already experienced. “Please… This is too much… I beg you…”

You smugly tried to smile as your lips kept working on her centre. She was already begging. “I see the brattiness is getting out of you, my love… come for me, once more. I know you can, Your Grace…” You faintly spoke, feeling Rhaenyra squirm in desperation as orgasm hit her like wildfire exploded her body. Rhaenyra had her last climax after all. The queen knew she would not stop, but had no idea of how committed you were to take her breath away. Being made to have it again after everything she just went through in almost no breaks is what was causing her to be more tired at this point. That combined with her brattiness, or her desire to be a rebel against this treatment, made her moan again but with these words coming out of her: “Please, stop doing this to me…” You watched Rhaenyra completely numb in the bed after climaxing four times in a row, trembling and whimpering after that whirlwind of sensations, breathing heavily.

“You wanted me rougher, so I did it, my queen.” You replied, finally leaving your lips from her and wiping your mouth, covered in her juices. Rhaenyra seemed to be so tired and numb after what she just went through. Everything the lady just put her through was something unexplainable to the queen and she was deeply in need to breathe and calm down right now. “What you just did to me… Was too much… But it still felt good…” She replied, with a hoarse voice and with a low and trembling tone, although still faintly giggling.

Slightly guilty for overtiring your queen, you go back to your gentle mood and worry about her feelings and well being, wanting to check on her immediately. “I feel I was too rough on you and for thus I apologise to you… do you wish to rest?” You asked, cuddling Rhaenyra and kissing her neck gently. The queen would moan while she was being cuddled and kissed gently on her neck. She would then shake her head in a negative way, to signify that she did not want to be let go.

“No… You were too rough… But it was… Good…” She replied softly, and as she was still speaking she would grab you by the back and pull you to her, looking for your lips and kissing you eagerly. You smiled and buried your head on the crook of the neck of Rhaenyra. The royal kissed you dearly and pulled her closer as well, wishing for it to never end. When their lips parted, you smiled sweetly at Rhaenyra and spoke.

“I do not plan on going this rough on you. Just do not be a brat to me.” You said, giggling.

“Impossible for me, my love… for those would be empty promises.” Rhaenyra snarkily replied before falling asleep in the arms of her lover, being bratty for a last moment.

————————————

a/n: This is my birthday gift for you, @martellspear 💕 I hope you have a wonderful birthday and a bright year ahead of you! It took me so long to write it, but here it is! Please, comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated 💝 have a good reading :)

[peachysunrize]

- 🧸

I appreciate you believing in me x and the advice! also i've decided i'll let you read through it instead of scrolling... scrolling... scrolling through the Aemond x reader tag to find it 🤗

also 🪴 emoji anon's tho(ugh)t? i'm salivating 🤭 your response to it too? "–sweaty and red with a tight grip around his cock – keeping himself up by a hand on his desk while he fucks his fist 😩" i'm adding onto this... below >

imagine... betrothed!reader catches him another instance and it's just before he's unlaced his breaches, and tugged his small clothes/shift down (or shoved his hand down the fine linen...) and then *boom!* he remembers to shut his chambers doors so as he turns around he sees you...

his doublet already unbuttoned and his chest on display, long silvery locks disheveled and normally his demeanour one of stoicism now flushed. don't get me STARTED on the tent in his breaches which is uncomfortably strained against the seam, his palm having started inching towards it, squeezing to feel any sense of stimulation whilst he awkwardly stands there a–bit too rigidly

then fem!reader treads forward ever so slowly to not fret him like a predator would it's prey and replaces his hand by dipping hers into the already loose breaches (including his small clothes/shift) to take ahold of him, grasping the base before untieing the loosened trousers to pull him out – him slapping against his revealed abdomen. during the entirety of this Aemond has leant backwards to steady himself against his desk (which is digging into his back but he doesn't care...), his eye locked onto where reader's hand is as small pants and chocked gasps spill out by accident, pupil dilated to the point his violet iris is just a tiny ring.

squeeze, pull, flick of the wrist, tug, thumb at the slit, slide, repeat. and Aemond is just trying to figure how she learnt this and where from, but he'll worry about that later focusing instead on a decent rhythm to rock his hips into her soft grip in comparison to past 'ventures' with his calloused, scarred hand. and he's leaking onto the floor, all over her palm and fingers wrapped around him, the pace becoming quicker with each stroke as the distinct sound of wet flesh echoes around his quarters' four–walls.

knees trembling, practically begging to give out as he realises he's so close and too soon. latching onto reader's o shaped fist as he tries to pry it away. twitching and pulsing, the veins prominent as the purple–y fuschia bulb is engorged to the point it's hurting for release. "N–no!..", he grunts out before streaks of white defile his betrothed's hand and his own, the milky substance oozes out, dripping downwards.

head thrown backwards, now flaccid length jutted out, mouth slightly agape as the silent scream fades into the atmosphere and buckled legs. having propped himself to sit a–top his desk to prevent from falling to his knees... a sight to behold and store in reader's memory bank for 'sake keeping'.

(i couldn't help it! so this is actually my 2nd writing attempt... and 🤞 fully edited, this was 'tamer' than what i have in mind for the other one i'm writing but this was just a *practice* run! x if there's any advice to give i'm welcoming it with OPEN ARMS!)

OMG I LOVE THIS!!!!! Off imagine how shy he’d be after that, trying to apologize and say sorry but reader brings her fingers to her lips and sucks them clean and he almost comes again SJOZSJISJZIAJAKAJIA

Babe you’re doing absolutely amazing I loveeeeeee how detailed and descriptive you are!!! Love your style bby🥹✨

[cyberllfe]

For the writer ask:

💫 what is your favorite kind of comment/feedback?

🤲 what do YOU get out of writing?

💌 share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

my loveeeeeee✨✨✨

💫 what is your favorite kind of comment/feedback?

any is lovely, quite frankly, though I adore the ones that tell me how it made you feel. it’s such a rush to hear someone reflect my work back at me in words that aren’t mine; I get the keenest joy from knowing that when I tried to communicate to you a feeling or a scene or an idea that it reached you, as I intended. that you felt that way too. that you got attached.

general screaming is also 1000000/10. I think someone left a comment once that just read “affection!” and I still think about that one, too. It really does mean a lot.

🤲 what do YOU get out of writing?

listen if I’m not physically writing, I’m doing it in my head. if I see the light hit the trees at a certain angle, if the city has a certain vibe one day, if I hear someone say something and think that reminds me of a character. music, so often, sets me off on long trails of thought. I live for this. I want to create and describe and breathe life into this. I want to explore and feel emotion, good and bad, through the perspective of these characters. it’s cathartic, it’s challenging as fuck, and it’s fun. I don’t think there’s ever been a time in my life when I wasn’t story writing in one form or another. it’s my primary mode of creative self expression.

💌 share something with us about an up and coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

oh there’s so many and half of them are YOUR FAULT so I’m going to give you a very vague 😏 highlight reel as both treat and punishment and if you want more details you’re going to have to ask very nicely.

the second half of made for me features a nines who’s learned a little of sixty’s coy manipulation. the person he wants is being so professional and restrained but she looks so cute when she’s trying not to be flustered. he won’t let her just walk away. sixty caught him while he was doing something about it… did you?

I’m not even discussing the bolt-on to tailor nines because of COURSE you’d drag me into a follow-up sixty fic. take your flowers and go think about what you’ve done. actually, no, one tiny detail: there’s going to be a greenhouse cat. I decided.

I have a stupid amount of planning done for echoes and reflections, the darkest timeline au of the middle ground; it’s a very very different side to sixty but if I can get the parallels right it’ll bolster both in such an interesting way. he’s definitely the same person, but losing Connor instead of losing Hank sets his life on a very different trajectory and it’s really, really not for the best.

beyond this I have ideas for two corruption arc fics, a couple 😏 for MUCH neglected Markus, some unhealthy but hot canon-divergent fun with Connor and/or sixty and/or nines, and another human au for nines with a reader who really presses his buttons.

none of that includes how excited I am for the finales of a question of time and unbruised, or for some. possible follow ups to existing works 😏

send me an emoji from this fic writers ask meme✨

[tinymixtapes]

Feature: The Actavis-Charmed White Rabbit

“Ride on, King Jesus. No man can a-hinder me.” &c. “I was but young when I begun. No man can a-hinder me.” &c. – “Ride on, King Jesus,” trad. spiritual “[The] elements which participate in the naming of the genre say nothing about the musical features, but maybe say everything about the pragmatics of the music.” – Gabriele Marino “Shit gettin’ too specific / 10 black whips, I’m too consistent.” – Nayvadius DeMun Wilburn, “POA” EVOL didn’t have to hurt, but it did anyway. As I wrote in 2016’s year-end round-up, the project came from a place of supreme negative affect, a homo-glossic hymn for the heartless. But it was brilliant: both kissing and dissing Baudrillard’s perpetually pimped system — one foot in, one foot out, in the words of one Carlton Ridenhour — it glorified and elevated the democratizing electronic reproduction technologies (i.e., DAWs) that made the trap an object of ironic reverse-salvation: more than just a locus in situ, but rather a space that has come to extend beyond temporal-spatial peripheries. EVOL eschewed mimesis, aesthetic integration, and other methods of commentary or dissent, refusing new textual structures while embracing capital and media. And yet it was pervaded and charmed by a unique, cthonic dissonance, an unflappable verbal acuity, and a flair for dramatic dialogue that, among other things, lent the project a necessary anti-message, non alternative facts. EVOL currently maintains a 6/10 user score on Metacritic. So if the medium makes the event, what claims the residual? The (pre-)produced, not the deconstructed. This crucial question-comment, an antiphonal lingerer, introduces both FUTURE and HNDRXX, twins separated at birth and equal parts of Nayvadius Wilburn’s latest project and eponymous annual feature. Both releases are less conservative, more consonant and conceptual than their year-old cousin, yet they are similarly anachronistic — without immediate precedent and avoiding emerging modalities — and, likewise, willfully ignorant of ethnic memory, along with any sincere corporal politics. The albums are rich with recuperative ideas and textures, but — unlike the heart of darkness that EVOL exposed or the heights scaled by the similarly expansive DS2 — both neglect to introduce new forms of subjectivity, instead sticking to the recognizable and shunning the reconfigured or re-encoded. As such, FUTURE and HNDRXX represent two fraternal, distinct channels of multiple identity and contradictory spirit. And while Wilburn has never been known for his consistency so much as his prolificacy, both releases, in their own ways, bathe in a lack of precision and concision, making them two of his most irregular releases yet. --- A Glorious Mess Photo: Instagram Presenting a nonlinear narrative expressed within the bounds of Wilburn’s typical, peculiar brand of promethazine-laced, earnestly-apolitical guerrilla semiotics, FUTURE, this 17-track oral odyssey, is simultaneously expansive and atomized. It is a glorious mess, inchoate and incohesive in form and objective, though always regal in pretension. Exhaustive in premise, the sheer length of the thing is demanding and results in one of his most verbose standard releases yet. It is advertised with no frills and no features, though it is, ironically, maximalist in intention. It is host to only a relatively small number of core en-bando regulars — the predictable lot of collaborators, Metro Boomin, Zaytoven, et al. — and tracks jump from interaction to action in a jarring, forced manner, shifting participatory onus onto the willing participant, demanding, again and again, critical analyses and interpretations of sequencing, companion art, etc. Despite these troublesome functions, these typical auto-histories are almost entirely logocentric, their reproductive illustration hardly pushing the sound barrier nor bolstering the appeal or nature of Wilburn’s codeine-choked, vocoded vocabulary. And for partly justifiable pretense: as What a Time to be Alive made abundantly clear, Wilburn — Astronaut, a fully-fleshed alter ego conceived and introduced in the narrows of EVOL: a reticent subject to the object Pluto and outer-spacial anti-griot active in the seeking and seizure of any negative space — is at his sharpest and most readily receptive when not stymied by the whims and wiles of those of an outer orbit. As a result, FUTURE seems to inhabit a more comfortable, self-affirming, bon vivant milieu, one that echoes the free-form, bleeding structural nature of DS2, though one counter to the asphyxiatic restraint of EVOL. The latter and FUTURE are equal-opposites, as are FUTURE and HNDRXX together, in their own, more nuanced ways. In contrast to his viscous delivery and presentational subject matter, the identities are fluid, Wilburn often self-fabricating and inhabiting Future Hendrix on the same track. The art herein gestures provocatively toward crowd-pleasing, dominant forms — embracing Wilburn’s prolific artisan-rockstar status as on lead single and self-styled whip-Shiva “Draco” or on HNDRXX’s Mustardian post-hyphy serenade “Incredible” — while at the same time innocently coveting and pretending an alternate, homogenic base, one that, in terms of lexicon, savors only distaste, hedonism, and capital (“Zoom,” “Super Trapper”). Variegated in inspiration and construction, the applied thematics and colors are, to be sure, indebted to precepts and improvisational schemata as diverse as boilerplate G-funk instrumentation (“Mask Off”), biblical-ahistorical Apocrypha (“High Demand”), athletics and English monarchical genealogy (“Lookin Exotic”), Afro-American animation history (“Super Trapper”), and rockism-affirming modalities and discourses (“Outta Time,” “I’m so Groovy,” “Use Me”). In this way, FUTURE presents a near-constant mercuriality in all respects, one unintentionally discursive upon first and even repeated listens. Ostensibly a neo-noir, it is the first Future project, to my knowledge, to feature skits. The half-sketched, condescending, and ultimately evanescent Andreësque-Snoopean-styled interludes are telling, though, pigs on the wing introducing and highlighting near-constant shifts in mood, mode, and expectation: FUTURE is also wildly uneven and inconsistent, each track transubstantiating a different, liminal amalgam of Wilburn’s stock personae. In contrast to his viscous delivery and presentational subject matter, the identities are entirely fluid, Wilburn often self-fabricating and inhabiting Future Hendrix on the same track. “I do my best to put my ego first/ I need to stop it,” Wilburn croons later on “Lookin Exotic.” And though never lacking in reminiscence, this masked other is, textually, at his least reflexive, wholly re-animating the cold-hearted caricatures EVOL brought to the fore. “I don’t care if you was my daddy/ Bitch I’ma cut off your neck” or “Sold crack to a pregnant lady/ Forgive me for the crack baby.” It’s not only to be expected but rather — in an admittedly inappropriate, spectacular fashion — welcomed: Wilburn has never truly succeeded as the tempted troubadour he aspired to be (e.g. Rihanna’s 2012 co-feature “Loveeeeeee Song”) and Romantic gestures like those making FUTURE’s penultimate track “When I Was Broke” only heighten the delightful awkwardness of transition, compounding the project’s persistent problem areas. Griots like Wilburn have traditionally held an ambiguous status, both revered and feared for their unique, lyrical ability to praise or critique. Yet Wilburn can’t seem to reconcile his will to authority with his human desire for affection and popularity, resulting in a fractured figuration of love and regret. “It can get scary when you legendary.” --- Diffusion of Ego and Selfhood Photo: Instagram Decidedly anti-Afrofuture, FUTURE and HNDRXX (the latter perhaps to a greater degree) both ignore ideology, precluding specific self-determinative typologies of diasporic history. They instead recognize and affirm a rather difference-blind urban subjecthood, a vague city-centric memory, one with yet finite reaches and concrete denotations. These stories are totems to the individual rather than the collective body, though they are firmly established in pseudo-geographic imaginations, viz the rival topography of Downtown Atlanta. The “kitchen” itself is revisited in “Scrape” and reminiscence is fond and tender, longing for a visually recognizable, though personally uninhabited, pre-Clintonian era of unfettered self-medication and exchange. It is one of FUTURE’s few political moments. Meanwhile, “I Thank U” characterizes a grotesque recognition of socioeconomic aspiration and a personal will, one insincerely personified in the nameless, disregarded, and ultimately discarded female form: “Girl, I thank you, I thank you/ I thank you/ ‘Cause you made me hustle.” Astonishingly, though, pro forma fables of interpellation, hailing by way of repressive state apparatuses (i.e., the 12, the five-o), are limited in narrative and scope, practically absent on FUTURE. The glorious absence of the political, de rigeuer for Wilburn, is notable only for its allowance of other, multicolored elements to shine to the fore. The body is also a topic of discussion, but it is a similarly fractured and elusive discourse. Here, the body reveals itself as a typical tool for extraction and gain, a figurative and literal “money machine,” a position of popped tags, a seat of sexual subjugation — “Ya baby mama fuck me better when the rent’s due” or, more pointedly and comically, “I’m ‘bout to push me some weight/ You won’t catch me in the gym.” Pucci may be different from Gucci, but, here, the song remains the same, immediately present in form and function: “I do good dope/ I got a good hoe.” This mortal corpus is furthermore a domain of abuse and disintegration: self-elision in pursuit of dissociation, mind-body dislocation (“Percocet,” Wilburn hymns delightedly on “Mask Off’s” infectious hook, “Molly, Percocet”). And to sometimes devastating effect, namely vis-à-vis “My Collection,” in which he briefly reflects, “No this codeine ain’t got nothin’ to do with my lil’ child/ I used to sell dope at my grandma’s house, as a rude child.” Or on “Might as Well,” to which age is of some concern: “I was selling crack when Snoop dropped ‘Juice and Gin’” (Wilburn was 10 years old in 1994). These are just a handful of shimmering moments that seem sincerely and meaningfully autobiographical, transcending self-imposed myth and averting any obstacle of mischaracterization. These functions of absence are yet more examples of Wilburn’s discursive methods. The body is also a topic of discussion, but it is a similarly fractured and elusive discourse. He, too, briefly pays to cum (“I’m so Groovy”), later summoning and entertaining the cursed ghost of Breezy in earnest burlesque (“High Demand”). As reflected earlier, the female body is subject to an entirely predictable, lingering gaze, one characterized and personalized by the behavior of agents of fortune populating Wilburn’s star-studded universe: “She told me she was an angel/ She fucked two rappers and three singers/ She got a few athletes on speed dial.” HNDRXX is a total rock record. Sequitur, Wilburn prefers caricatures to characters and the result is, unsurprisingly, literally objectifying. As is the case on, again, “My Collection”: “Anytime I got you, girl you my possession/ Even if I hit you once, you part of my collection.” Revisiting his tenuous relationship with ex-fiancée Ciara, this particular track makes something of a sequel to 2014’s misguided love-song “Trophy,” Wilburn only harboring an adolescent resentment for his former keepsake. “I’m so Groovy” presents a coarser analog: “Oh, that’s your bitch?/ I just bought her.” Even the aptly-titled Rihanna-feature “Selfish” is rife with interpersonal confusion and coercive tactics, interactive in its bold duplicity: the cardinal refrain “Let’s be selfish, selfish, baby/ Tonight” is an inherent evasion in its circumstance, ultimately clouding both identity and intention by way of first-person action and vernacular. (Where is the us in I?) Given the good health hip-hop is in, none of these tableaux should necessarily come as a surprise — especially coming from a man who operates prohibitively “on ratchet time,” like some Actavis-charmed white rabbit, a towering figure who once proclaimed the codeine-stained essence of his urine. Both releases neither offer, stake, nor explore any new worlds in themselves, returning only the diminished residual and the habitual. But, taken in conjunction with FUTURE’s renewed dedication to rapid-fire textual and illustrative inconsistency along with HNDRXX’s poetical, ad hoc treatment of the body and truncation of history, the project makes a token no less: reflecting a diffusion of ego and selfhood that alternately frustrates and stimulates. HNDRXX’s final track, the seven-and-a-half minute elegiac “Sorry,” is a simulation of abject contrition regarding past and future alter-egos’ behavior. Though a seemingly insufficient conclusion, the text scans like a letter penned to family, friends, and fans. Wilburn has never totally shied away from sympathetic histrionics, despite the machismo posturing, and “Sorry” embarks on yet another circuitous confession, recounting all of Wilburn’s sins, laid bare in earnest compunction. “Ain’t really tryin’ / I ain’t really tryin’,” he repeats, stammering over his auto-tuned utterances. It is an incomplete identification, neglecting the shifting autonomies that populate his character. http://j.mp/2mQabuC