#dirty deeds part 19

[memphisflash]

Hi!!! I saw your post and wanted to request :)

Could you write a early 70s Elvis X innocent reader, where we're one of the many girls that he brings up to his suite at the international hotel and as he expects for both of us to do the deed, he notices we're really reluctant and shy and he tells us we can do anything else instead of the dirty if we want to.

I think that would be real cute🥹

𝐒𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐤𝐢𝐧

Word count: 5,1K

Warnings: virgin!reader, innocent-ish!reader, age gap (reader is 19/elvis 35), small mention of guns, reader struggling with extreme blushing, elvis poking a little fun at reader, both elvis and reader taking a sleeping pill, fluffy, smut; non-penetrative sex, dry humping/grinding, gg rubbing, elvis cummin' in readers' panties.

A/N: honestly, i'm not as good at writing innocent!reader as other writers in the fandom, buuut i had fun writing this and i kinda wanna explore this trope more - a part two is already cooking in my mind, tbh. like i told @jhoneybees this turned into more than the request but oh wellll.. let me know what y'all think, lovies! 🩷

➼ Masterlist. | Read on Wattpad

When it came to boys, you had always been shy. When it came to men, you considered yourself pretty much a disaster.

Now it wasn’t like you couldn’t have a normal conversation with someone of the opposite sex. Shy you were, but definitely not unsociable. You liked going out to places with your friends, even friends of the male kind.

But it were men like Elvis Presley that had your hands trembling and your heart beating so loud it was deafening in your ears.

Never in your 19 years of life had you expected to be approached by a member of Elvis’ entourage in the showroom of the International to ask if you were willing to meet the man himself up in his penthouse. Your first reaction was to politely decline, but your friend who had dragged you along to the concert in the first place pretty much pushed you into the arms of Sonny West – another handsome man that had got your cheeks flushing crimson, but it couldn’t compare to the effect the raven haired singer on stage had on you.

The last thing you saw as you were whisked out of the showroom was your friend putting both her thumbs up, waving as a shit-eating grin spread across her face.

Talk about peer pressure. You didn’t stand a chance.

The Imperial Suite was lush. The kind of luxury you’d never experienced before in your life. It barely felt as if you were still in a hotel, this seemed like a whole apartment with several rooms, a living area bigger than your childhood home and a seperate kitchen. The interior in the living space alone was worth more than your car, you were sure of it.

But even if you wanted to gawk at the beautiful things in the room, you didn’t had the chance to. Sonny West had left, leaving you alone with the man who you had just watched perform downstairs. The man millions of men wanted to be and millions of women wanted to be with.

You felt like a deer caught in headlights as he walked toward you, like a predator about to circle his prey. Though once he spoke, introducing himself as if you didn’t know who he was, you didn’t miss how soft spoken he was.

He wasn’t like any other superstar hauling girls up to his room to have his way with them and then kick them to the curb once he was done with them. At least, that’s what you wanted to believe.

And perhaps it was because of that naivety that you managed to calm down, so much so that you had agreed to wear one of his silky pyjama button ups, neatly folding the outfit you had so carefully picked out for tonight on a chair near Elvis’ bed.

Elvis was sitting on his bed, back against the headboard, wearing his own pair of midnight blue silk pyjamas. The first few buttons of his shirt were left open, causing his chest hair and tan skin to peek out and it instantly made you nervous all over again.

“C’mere, honey,” his voice was soft and low, his hand patting the empty spot next to him.

You stared at him for a second too long, quickly snapping yourself out of it before he’d think you were an idiot who didn’t understand the English language. You hated being like this in this moment – after all, this was a one time chance and you didn’t want to ruin it by having him think you were not interested in him at all.

You were, you really were, but this was the kind of man that could send you into a frenzy.

You sat next to him, nearly forgetting to breathe as his warm hand found home on your thigh. In a reflex, you pulled your knees up to your chest and his attention shifted to your feet.

You had recently gotten a pedicure, chosen the baby pink to go with the outfit and open toed heels you’d worn tonight, and it didn’t go unnoticed by Elvis.

“You got real pretty feet, honey,” he grinned as he slipped his hand underneath the sole of your foot, caressing his thumb across the top and over your toes, admiring the color on your nails. “So tiny and dainty, like a little doll,”

“T-Thank you,” you blurted out in a stuttered whisper, mentally slapping yourself for such a stupid reaction. But it was better than letting out the moan that was bubbling in the back of your throat, which you quickly swallowed.

His hand moved from your feet back up your leg and you froze as it slipped in between your thighs, fingertips pressing into the supple flesh of your right thigh softly as he leaned in closer to you. You looked into his blue eyes that were slightly drooped and you had no idea if it was due to fatigue or lust, but you figured it was the latter. And although you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same – your stupid body seemed to have a mind of its own – your nerves prevented you from fully giving in.

As you felt his hot breath against your skin and he was going in for a kiss, your eyes automatically fluttered shut. His lips were soft and warm, and as his tongue slipped into your mouth, so wet.

You let him take the lead, not because you had never been kissed before, but because you had never been kissed by someone like Elvis Presley before. He was the kind of man that had probably kissed a thousand girls in his life and it showed in his experience – he explored your mouth in a slow but heated manner, his hand moving from your thigh to your hip and the more he leaned into you, the more you sunk into the soft pillows and sheets of his kingsized bed.

You were doing alright until his lips moved to your neck, dragging down to your collarbone and his hand creeped underneath your pyjama top, cupping your breast. It was then that your breath hitched in your throat and your muscles tensed up uncomfortably tight.

Elvis noticed it immediately and pulled his head back, looking down at your face. As he saw how flushed your cheeks and neck were and you were looking at him as if he was about to murder you, he moved his hand down your ribcage and out from underneath your top. He placed a gentle hand on your hip instead and frowned a little, his eyes gentle.

“You alright, little one?”

The sound of his voice sounding so soft and sweet made you want to burst out into tears, because you felt stupid. Stupid for freezing when the most wanted man in the world wanted you, but you couldn’t help it.

You simply weren’t ready for sex. You valued your virginity and didn’t want to lose it to a man you were probably never going to see again.

“I’ve never.. n-never..”

“Never been touched by a man,” he simply finishes your sentence for you, a soft smile raising the corner of his mouth. You nodded and looked down, noticing how quick your chest was heaving up and down as if you’d just ran a marathon.

He shushed you gently, placing his fingertips underneath your chin to make you look at him again. You didn’t know what his reaction would be, but the sweet smile and soft kiss to your forehead wasn’t what you’d expected.

“We don’t have to do it tonight, honey. I ain’t gonna force ya to do anythin’ you don’t want.”

“You’re not gonna throw me out?” you whisper with wide eyes, trying to ignore the way your bodies were still pressed together and you could feel his very prominent bulge poking against your thigh.

He let out a laugh, the sound of it deep and rich. “Ya think I was raised by wolves? No, I ain’t throwin’ you out. You’re stayin’ that cute little butt right here, and we can do somethin’ else.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, biting your lip as another flush of crimson spread up your neck and to your cheeks. He squeezed your hip softly before he sat up, bringing you up with him, and as he sat against the headboard again, he quickly draped some of the covers over his middle, hiding the fact that he was still very much turned on.

“And you stop that blushin’ before your face stays like that, little tomato,”

A wide grin settled on his face, and you could hear the playful tone in his voice which made you laugh softly. You pressed the palm of your hands against your cheeks and try to gather control over your breathing, making your cheeks slowly return to their normal state.

Instead of sleeping with the man that millions of females all over the world would call you crazy for rejecting for, you let him show you around the suite. He showed you his collection of guns that were safely stacked away in black cases which scared and intrigued you at the same time – you politely declined when he offered you to hold a gold handle hand gun, but you did admit it was very pretty.

Then he showed you around his wardrobe, from the outfits he wore on stage to the ones he wore off stage. As he noticed you particularly liked a black, somewhat see-through, blouse with white flowers on it, he handed it to you like it meant nothing to him.

Again, you declined.

But Elvis didn’t give up so easily and as you two sat on the bed again, his jewelry case opened and exposed in between the both of you, he noticed you admiring his black star sapphire ring. Not thinking twice about it, he took it out of the case and slipped it around your ring finger. As expected, it was way too big for you.

This had Elvis go through his jewelry, looking for a necklace he didn’t wear himself anymore. Had to be in there somewhere, he knew it.

“Elvis, I can’t take that,” you gasped as he took the ring off your finger again and hung it on a simple golden chain. Before you even had the chance to stop him, he was already putting it around your neck, the ring resting heavy against your chest. “Elvis, I’m serious. This is too much, you don’t have to-“

“Looks great on ya, little tomato,” he grinned as you looked at him with wide eyes, grabbing your wrist when you went to take the necklace off. You wished he’d use another nickname for you, but you ignored it for now – you had more important matters to worry about. Like the 14 karat gold ring that was hanging on your neck.

As you went to protest again, Elvis grabbed both of your hands and lowered them. Once more, you blushed as he leaned forward and placed a soft, tender kiss on your lips. “I want ya to have it and to wear it every day. Somethin’ to remember me by,”

“As if I’d ever forget you,” you whispered, looking down at the ring as you swallowed down the lump in your throat. If Elvis had heard your words or noticed that you were about to cry, he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he closed his jewelry case, put it aside and settled in the sheets, half sitting up against the headboard. He opened his arms for you and you didn’t think twice to settle against his side, putting your head on his chest.

“Thank you, Elvis,” you whispered as you snuggled up against him, earning a kiss on the top of your head from him.

“My pleasure, honey.”

Luckily, in this position he couldn’t see that your cheeks were flushed and hot the way they’d been before. And as his fingers gently combed their way through your hair, you truly felt special. Something that you perhaps were not in Elvis Presley’s world, but for tonight you decided to indulge yourself in the fantasy.

Elvis picked up a book from his bedside table and with his arms wrapped around you, he opened it and started reading to you in a hushed tone. While at times the subject of the book was confusing to you, you listened with interest nonetheless. Maybe you were a little more interested in the sound of his voice and the smell of his cologne, but you fought off sleep that was slowly threatening to overtake you.

You didn’t want to fall asleep, didn’t want to miss a waking second of being with Elvis.

“You gettin’ sleepy, aren’t ya?” He smirked as he peeked down at you, noticing your eyes threatening to close a few times. You immediately shook your head as you raised it and looked at him, smiling sheepishly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you apologized, stifling a yawn. Elvis chuckled and closed the book, putting it to the side before he turned back to you.

“Go an’ lay down,” he ordered gently as he nodded to the empty spot in the bed. You did what you were told, slowly creating some distance between you two as you laid back in the bed, giggling softly as he pulled the covers up to your shoulders, tucking you in. “Now don’t go and get all nervous again, ‘lright? I’m just gonna lay down next to ya so we can cuddle, sound good?”

You smiled at him, truly appreciating that he wasn’t trying anything you didn’t want and that he was so sweet about it all. You considered him to be a true gentleman.

As you nodded, he smiled back at you and slips underneath the covers next to you. His body warmth is intoxicating as he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer against his chest. With him laying on his side, he has the perfect view of your face and he takes advantage of it by studying every little detail, his other arm slipping underneath your head so he could hold you even firmer against him. He squeezes your shoulder softly and then his hand moves to your face, fingertip poking your cheek softly.

“No blushin’…” He whispered with a small grin on his face as he noticed your cheeks were slowly turning red again. You looked at him and laugh softly, hiding your face in your hands. He immediately clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, grabbing your wrist to softly pull one of your hands away. “And ‘specially none of that..”

His whisper was low as he leaned in closer to you when he managed to pull your other hand down too, his lips finding yours once more.

You lost yourself in your second shared kiss tonight, and you felt a little more loose. Probably because he couldn’t comment on your blushing when he was kissing you.

Elvis had to force himself to keep himself under control – he wasn’t going to do anything you didn’t want, because he respected your need of not wanting to take things further, and he did truly enjoy your company without the intimacy part.

But he was still a red blooded man, and his hard cock that twitched against the fabric of his pyjama bottoms was proof of that.

And as you slowly broke the kiss and turned your back to him to hide your flushed cheeks, he took the opportunity to spoon you, your ass pressed against his cock in a way that had him humming lowly.

You didn’t move away, and he took it as content. With one arm still underneath you and one arm around your waist, he kept you close to him as he pressed his hips forward, letting you feel how hard he was.

You tensed up but as you felt him placing sweet, comforting kisses on your shoulder, neck and eventually cheek, your body relaxed again as if he was a God who could put you at ease right away.

It was a strange sensation, really… and although the way he was slowly grinding against you was definitely of sexual nature rather than just cuddling, you didn’t stop him.

Because it was turning you on more than you’d ever admit to anyone… or even to yourself.

“If you.. want me to stop.. I will.”

His breathing had quickened a little, words coming oit in a low stutter.

Telling him to stop would be a wise thing to do because you had no idea how strong your willpower was… you had no idea how far this was gonna go, or if he’d be able to stop.

But by the sounds of his low groans and soft moans, you knew it felt good to him. Really good. And even as your brain worked itself into a frenzy, you wanted to please him.

Show him that you were not completely clueless, or a little lamb that had no idea she at least had some kind of effect on men.

“N-No.. Don’t stop,” you whispered back, hiding your face in the pillow a little despite him not able to see the state your face was in.

Elvis cursed softly under his breath and took it a step further – thinking you wouldn’t notice when he tugged his bottoms down to his thighs, rubbing his bare cock against your ass. But you were only wearing his pyjama shirt and your panties, ofcourse you noticed it.

And yet, you still didn’t stop him.

The feeling of his cock against your ass had you letting out a soft moan of your own and this caused Elvis to grip onto your waist a little firmer, twirling his hips around firmly and slowly as he grunts deeply in your ear.

“Oh God, baby..” his breath was hot against your neck, his fingertips digging into your skin softly. “Such a soft ass,”

His words had your heart beating so loud you were scared that he could actually hear it, but if he did, he didn’t mention it. He was too busy focusing on the friction he was creating, working himself up more and more.

You took your face out of the pillow to inhale a sharp breath of air as his hand slipped underneath your top, fingertips grazing the curve of your breasts. You surprised yourself as your back arched and your ass pressed firmer against him, indicating you wanted him to use it to his liking.

And he did. Even had you gasping and moaning a couple of times as his cock managed to slip in between your thighs from behind, his tip and part of his length ghosting along your folds, missing your clit by inches. He apologized in a stuttered whisper every time it happened, but you could tell by the moan that rolled off his tongue that he enjoyed the feeling of his mistake.

And so did you, but you were praying he didn’t notice that your own arousal was staining your panties.

He did. He definitely did and it had him fighting the urge to tear your panties off and sink himself into you inch by inch.

His self control was stronger than he realised because he kept his hands where they were, grinding his cock against your ass, though he didn’t stop himself from making his “mistake” over and over again.

Seems like he wasn’t the only one getting worked up because as soon as you raised your leg a little, he immediately grabbed onto your thigh to keep it up. He moved closer to you, his cock resting against your clothed pussy.

“I can feel you’re wet,” he whispered in your ear, his voice raspy as he let you put your leg down again, though he didn’t move away, enjoying this close proximity.

“P-Please, d-don’t put it i-in,” you immediately said, a hint of panic evident in your face. He laughed softly and placed a hand on your tummy, keeping it there as he felt it was the safest place.

“I won’t, honey, I promise,” he said as he raised his head a little, looking down at you. You carefully made eye contact with him, cheeks flushed, teeth sunken into your lower lip. It took everything in him not to fuck you senseless right here and now. “Can I put it in your panties?”

The question sounded both innocent and like absolute filth at the same time. You blinked a few times, repeating the words in your head over and over again until you suddenly nodded, afraid you were taking too long to think about it. He smiled at you, pecking your lips sweetly as he whispered a soft “Really?” against your lips.

You nodded again.

You were curious… curious to how the skin on skin contact felt. He promised not to put it inside of you and break your virginity, and in your innocent naivety, you trusted him.

He pulled your panties aside, letting it snap back into place softly as soon as his cock was resting against your wet folds. You shuddered and gasped at the feeling of his warm length pressed against your exposed pussy, his tip putting the slightest amount of pressure against your clit.

He didn’t put his head back down again, this time leaning on his elbow so he could look at the way your face was truly resembling a tomato right now, soft breathless moans escaping you. He thought it was adorable.

His hand found him on your hip, fingertips caressing your skin softly as he started to move his hips back and forth at a snail’s pace. You swore you could hear the sound of both your essence mixing together, your arousal deliciously coating his length.

“Feels good, don’t it, baby?” He whispered as he keeps looking down at your face, not wanting to miss the way you could barely keep your eyes open, lips parted as soft moans filled his ears. He smirked a little as he could see you nod your head slowly, eyes fluttering shut.

He keeps his pace slow, afraid that if he’d go any faster he would slip in by accident and hurt you, and that was the last thing he wanted. Just because he kinda got his way with you tonight doesn’t mean he was going to overstep your boundaries.

But it was you who wanted more of that delicious feeling he was giving you. It was your self control that was threatening to slip.

“P-please.. Elvis.. faster..”

He grunts lowly at your words, lowering himself a little more on the bed again to hide his face in your neck and sprawled out hair, his hips snapping forward just a little faster. The feeling had you moaning a little louder, gripping onto his hand that was still on your stomach.

He laced your fingers together, concetrating on not fucking you by accident, no matter how much he wanted to.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he moaned in your ear, his tongue flicking against your earlobe which had your eyes roll in the back of your head. “Bet I could slip right in..”

“N-No!”

“I won’t.” he immediately said, laughing softly as he slips his other hand into yours as well. He keeps the pace steady – not too fast, and not as slow as before.

With the way you were holding each others’ hands and your most intimate parts were rubbing against each other, bare and raw, you felt like you were floating on a cloud. You hadn’t expected the night to end like this, but deep down inside you were glad it did.

Your only problem now was that you didn’t want any other man other than Elvis Presley anymore and he hadn’t even been inside of you.

You were completely ruined for anyone else.

Elvis lost himself in the pleasure and the feeling of you grinding against each other, and so did you. Part of you wondered what it would be like to have him push into you, how deep you’d be able to feel him.

Would it even feel good at all, or would it only hurt?

A million questions plagued your mind, but Elvis made you forget every single one of them with the way his cock was stroking through your folds and how lovely his moans sounded in your ear.

You weren’t planning to ask them, anyways.

Neither were you planning on taking it to that sacred part of the whole ordeal. You weren’t ready, and that’s what you’d keep repeating in your head like a mantra until you truly felt otherwise.

Besides, Elvis seemed to enjoy this just as much as the actual deed and you were right – he did. It was evident by the way he was freely moaning, the feeling of the fabric of your panties rubbing against the sensitive tip of his cock feeling like a lick of a flame against his skin.

He was close to coming undone and he didn’t try to stop himself, nor did he warn you what was coming – you’d feel it when it happened.

Squeezing your hands firmly in his own, his hips stuttering forward for a second before he pushed his hips forward firmly, you moaned shakily as strings of cum sputtered from his cock, shamelessly staining the inside of your panties. The baby blue piece of underwear that was one of your favorites was completely ruined and in your state of arousal, you couldn’t get yourself to care.

Elvis breathed heavily as he slowly let go of your hands and gripped onto your hip, groaning softly as he pulled his now soft cock out of your panties.

The loss of skin contact already had him yearning for more.

He rolled onto his back, ready to have you cuddle up to him and hold you, so imagine his surprise when you shot up out of the bed and rushed into the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

“Honey, you okay in there? Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for things to go this far,”

He sounded truly apologetic from the other side of the door. And you wished you could find the strength in your voice to tell him you weren’t mad, but rather embarrassed like hell.

You’d gone into the bathroom to take off your panties and clean yourself and after you did so, you’d caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

Your face was hot and as red as a cherry.

Splashing water on your face didn’t help, neither did the breathing exercises you taught yourself whenever you were blushing this much.

You felt like an absolute fool and it wasn’t until Elvis threatened to break down the door because he wasn’t getting an answer from you that you unlocked the door and faced him.

He saw the state of your face and chuckled softly, but before you could hide again, he stepped inside the bathroom and gently cupped your face.

“Jus’ breathe, little tomato. In through your nose, out your mouth,” he showed you how, as if you didn’t know what he meant, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

The nickname… not so much, but you didn’t protest.

You followed his example a few times and closed your eyes as you focused on breathing with him and the pads of his thumbs caressing your cheekbones.

You didn’t know what kind of witchcraft Elvis Presley was practicing, but he managed to help you calm down in the matter of a few minutes.

“There, all good,” he smiled as you opened your eyes to look at him, the heat disappearing from your face. He gently pulled your face closer to his own and pecked your lips, wrapping an arm around you as he took you back to bed – making sure you were wearing one of his boxershorts, before he’d get turned on all over again due to you being half naked in his bed.

Elvis settled in the sheets with you in his arms after he took a sleeping pill and when you asked him about it, he wanted to tell you no when you asked for one. But he couldn’t resist the way you fluttered your eyelashes at him and looked up at him as if he’d hung the stars and moon for you every single day the sun went down.

Your mother took sleeping pills due to her own insomnia and sometimes even when she was stressed, so it wasn’t a foreign thing to you. Elvis relented, figuring it would help you calm down a little, but he only gave you half a pill.

The two of you slipped into a relaxing state of drowsiness and with your head on his chest, you listened to the calming sound of his heartbeat. His fingers ran through your hair, twirling the ends around his fingertips, and you could hear his breathing get heavier.

Before he could fully fall asleep, you spoke up, making sure your voice was soft and sweet. “Elvis?”

“Hmm?” he squeezed your shoulder softly, pushing your body firmer against his.

“Can you.. can you give me a new nickname?”

It was silent for longer than you expected and you thought he’d fallen asleep, but before you could raise your head to check, he let out a deep amused chuckle.

“Why, honey? I like callin’ you my little tomato,” He smirked, his eyes closed, but he could picture the pout you were probably giving him as you did raise your head to look at him this time.

“It sounds weird… and I hate tomatoes..” You giggled softly, putting your chin on his chest, trailing your nail softly across his jaw.

“Fine,” he sighed softly, feigning annoyance but he let you know by the grin on his face that he was playing. As he felt your fingertip grazing along his lips, he kissed the pad of your finger. “How’s Cherry?”

“Cherry..” you whispered, testing how it sounded on your tongue.

You liked cherries a whole lot better than tomatoes.

“Alright, my sweet Cherry. Close your little eyes an’ get some sleep,” he mumbled sleepily, his hand resting at the back of your head, fingertips massaging your scalp softly.

You smiled and a flush creeped along your neck once more as you leaned in closer and kissed his lips softly. Elvis smiled and held you close as he drifted off into a deep slumber.

You did as well, sneakily reaching your hand to his bedside table to take the other half of the sleeping pill he’d given you.

There was no way you’d be able to get a proper rest on your own without the help of medication and as you fell asleep in Elvis Presley’s arms, you dreamt about what the two of you had done tonight.

Only in your dreams, you were confident to take things a step further, allowing Elvis to own you completely – body and soul.

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

kdnfb’s 10 Years of Fanfiction Mania, Featuring: 9000 r.p.m.

Summary: Stuck in a dead end town and a dead end job, Katniss takes a gamble with the one thing she got out of her divorce -- a beat up sports car turned racer. She was always the better driver anyways. With a little help from a mechanic with blue eyes and golden hands, she turns that gamble into a chance for a better life for her and her daughter. But racing is still a boys' club and the road is never easy for a single mom.

Rating: E for explicit sexual content, explicit language, underage consensual sex (all involved parties are between the ages of 16 and 19 with no more than a 2 year age gap when the dirty deeds are done), unprotected sex, unplanned pregnancy, teen pregnancy, brief Everthorne content that ends in infidelity & divorce. <<All of that applies ONLY to the first chapter.

For the rest of the story: Also Rated E for explicit sexual content, explicit language, referenced/implied non-Everlark sex (you've been warned now, so don't come whining at me), misogynistic assholes, track tempers. Everlark is Endgame here if you're willing to take a slightly bumpy ride with me.

A/N: *Johanna Mason voice* WAKE UP BITCHES! IT'S RACE DAY!

I won't even lie to y'all. This is one of about five fics I've written that's in serious competition for my favorite thing I've ever created for the Everlark fandom. Part of that's because when I started it, I had a specific vision, in terms of the characters, the voice, the vibe of it all. And when I finally completed the fic, I felt like I freaking nailed it. And another part of my pride on this one is the fact that this is one of the few fics of mine, and it's certainly the most obvious one, where Mr. kdnfb played a huge part in making it happen.

Originally written for the 2018 mores2sl (more stories to save lives) charity collection, completed and publicly shared in early 2019, this baby is 8 chapters long and just under 71 k words. I had planned on featuring this fic around the time of the Daytona 500 in February, but I dropped the ball on that one. So here we are.

And because I can, I'll even include one of the most played songs from my playlist for this fic.

Read 9000 r.p.m. here on AO3.

❤️ kdnfb

[eretzyisrael]

We Forgot

You shall remember what Amalek did to you on the way, when you went out of Egypt,

how he happened upon you on the way and cut off all the stragglers at your rear, when you were faint and weary, and he did not fear God.

It will be, when the Lord your God grants you respite from all your enemies around in the land which the Lord, your God, gives to you as an inheritance to possess, that you shall obliterate the remembrance of Amalek from beneath the heavens. You shall not forget! — Dvarim 25:17-19

I have heard this read in the synagogue numerous times, and taken part in discussions of the meaning of this mitzvah (commandment). But I did not truly understand it until Simchat Torah of this year.

A mitzvah can always be understood in relation to actions. The well-known injunction to “love thy neighbor” in Lev. 18:19 appears in context as “Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge against anyone among your people, but love your neighbor as yourself. I am the Lord.” It does not require me to have a warm feeling toward the residents of the apartment next to mine. Rather, it orders me to avoid feuding with other Jews (not always an easy thing).

The commandment to remember Amalek does not mean to produce in myself a certain state of mind, similar to what I aspire to when my wife tells me to remember to bring home a carton of milk. That would be impossible anyway, because I wasn’t there in the desert when Amalek first did its dirty deeds. How can I remember what I didn’t experience? So what does “remember” mean here?

What I realized on Simchat Torah was that it means that we must not only keep in mind the evil that Amalek intends, but we must act on that awareness. It means that we must not let our guard down, we must take positive actions to prepare for Amalek’s viciousness. Only after we have achieved our independence in the land of Israel and fully defeated all of our enemies, can we stand down from our condition of high alert. Only when Amalek is finally obliterated will it be safe to obliterate our memory of it.

This has actually been the human condition for ages, and remains the condition of most of the world’s population today. If a tribe forgets that it has enemies, it will soon be swallowed up. But recently, several generations have grown up in North America and Western Europe whose enemies have been kept far enough away from them that they’ve come to believe that it’s normal to live in peace. It is actually exceptional. I think that shortly they may find out that this isn’t true.

For Jews, the wolf of Amalek is always at the door. This is certainly true in Eretz Yisrael, where Amalek has been battering at us for at least the last 100 years. But since 1967, many Israeli Jews have lost the existential anxiety that gripped the generation of 1948. The Yom Kippur War was a reminder of it, but the fact that we recovered from the initial defeat and won a clear-cut military victory (though it was taken from us diplomatically) and that our enemies didn’t penetrate our home front, soon erased the fear of the first days of the war. There were other warnings, but the desire to live as though we were one of the large Western democracies made us suppress the precarious reality of the Middle East in which we live.

So we reduced the size of our ground army, and relaxed many of the procedures that were, it turns out, essential to protecting our people. We have become dependent: on America, on technology, on our Air Force. Officers assumed that we were so strong that nobody would challenge us, so it was safe for them to fudge a little on their reports to higher-ups. What could happen? Our General Staff decided that technology could replace boots on the ground; they advocated for a “digital battlefield” on which every soldier would be tied into to sophisticated information systems that would provide real-time intelligence and command, blah blah blah. Their reports all said that goals were achieved. A whole paper structure was built that did not reflect reality. The map was not the territory. “We’ve never been stronger,” said the top generals, until Hamas revealed their nakedness on October 7.

Our leaders should have known the intentions of our enemies. All they had to do was listen to what the spokespeople of Hamas, Hezbollah, the PLO, and Iran said in public. But perhaps because they themselves were so easily bought, they held our enemies in contempt. They assumed that quiet could be purchased with American dollars to the PLO and Qatari cash for Hamas. But it turns out, as anyone who has studied the Middle East even a little knows, that money was only a means to an end. They were happy to take it and build fancy villas for themselves, but they also dug tunnels and manufactured rockets. And they never lost their aspiration to once and for all kill and drive out the Jews from what they claim as their land.

The generals and the politicians forgot that we are not a large western democracy, but rather a small country in the Middle East. They forgot that our enemies are not stupid. They forgot that honor and deterrence go together. They forgot that the more complicated a system, the more weak points it has, and that technology can fail. They forgot that Maginot Lines never work. They forgot that only ground forces can hold territory.

Most importantly, they forgot how much our enemies hate us and how this motivates them. They forgot Amalek.

Abu Yehuda

[heavenlydragon]

“Escaflowne Bible” scans [page 10]

You may (or may not) remember the scans/translations of the tiny Escaflowne Bible artbook. This is the second to final part to be posted, called Character Profiles (or Character Biographies). Many thanks again to @legendofthesevenstars for the proofread!

This will be posted page by page, with translation, updating every week or so. Translation of the whole page below the cut!

DRYDEN FASSA

Height: 189cm Weight: 75kg A/N: For some reason, he is the only one who has these in this book. They match the data stated in other books, though (where other characters are included). 

Profile

Wealthy merchant Meiden’s eldest son, Dryden Fassa, 21 years old in Earth age, is a peddler traveling around the world. Seven episodes before his first appearance in episode 14, he was already mentioned in the conversation around King Aston’s dinner table. Aside from commerce, he pursues research of Atlantis. Looking impulsive at first sight, he shows a surprising amount of resolve and generosity. Is his ignorance to everything else once he has focused on something just a chip in an otherwise perfect diamond?

Question of Interest

Millerna or research? Which is more important?.

Until episode 19, knowing that Millerna liked Allen, he did not make any forceful move, even if he had a reason to. But he was so engrossed in reading the travel journal, he did not even notice Van fighting outside. For him, both Millerna and Atlantis are serious concerns, and maybe he is just acting according to his own desires.

Pic Descriptions

Dryden, son of a wealthy merchant. 

Look cloooosely at his feet – for some reason, he is wearing modern shoes. Where and how did he get his hands on those? 

Dryden looks hip in his round glasses… but unkempt..

Keeping a lazy stubble, he looks a bit dirty, but he does quite humorous and magnanimous deeds.

The jacket down and hair down look. Looks somehow even more unkempt.

FOLKEN FANEL

Profile

To become a strategist of the imperial army, he sold his fatherland to Emperor Dornkirk. Equivalent to 25 years of Earth age, he is the creator of the Intensified Luck Soldiers Naria and Eriya and planner of the Golden Rule of Love strategy that was meant to break the relationship between Van and Hitomi. Why did he betray his country and became a subordinate to Emperor Dornkirk? He is a man of many mysteries...

Question of Interest

Did Dornkirk make the artificial arm?

The arm was made by scientists according to Dornkirk’s instructions. The particulars of it will be revealed after the 20th episode.

Pic Descriptions

Since he’s a military strategist, I wish he would think more on the operation name.

Young Folken. Will Van look like him in ten years?

DILANDAU ALBATOU

Profile

Dilandau is equivalent to 15 years old on Earth. Because of the wound he got from Van on his right cheek, he is determined to hunt him down. He was the captain of the Dragonslayers under General Adelphos, until the squad was annihilated by Escaflowne in episode 14. The horror of that scene caused him to have a mental breakdown and he is shown in episode 15 in the state of a screaming, crying child. Somehow it seems that his past hides a huge secret.

Question of Interest

Are all Dragonslayers prettyboys by Dilandau’s choice?

After Dilandau took the head of the enemy general in his first campaign at the age of 14, he was awarded his own unit, the Dragonslayers. He was even entrusted with the personnel selection. He hates the belief that only those with a successful track record should pilot guymelefs and focused rather on the talent of the individual. It seems as a result, handsome youths were gathered by the selection coincidentally.

Pic Descriptions

What will become of Dilandau from now on? 

Miguel, protecting his captain even from beyond death.

<<ESCAFLOWNE TIDBITS>> (on top of the page)  

In episode 14, the Dragonslayers met their heroic end. On one hand, the squad of handsome youths won ardent fans for themselves, but the truth is, they are quite an enigma. Not much else is known about Dragonslayers besides having 15 members, and being around 15 years of age. For most of them, we don’t even know their name, let alone background. The names we know, besides Miguel introduced below, are Guimel, Dalet, Chesta, Gatti, and Viole, 5 in total. Protecting their captain against Escaflowne’s attack even from beyond death, their loyalty is admirable. Prayers for their happiness in the other world.

[arliaeien]

Fate – The Race

“The best miracles are imperceptible to the world.” – Unknown author

Arc 1: The Lands of Promises // Sugar Mountain #46

Milwaukee, at sunset. People might think Johnny’s crying because he feared losing Gyro. Like frozen tension releasing after one more stressful and mortal encounter against President Valentine’s minions. That’s so wrong. This would make Johnny a good person. Except Johnny wasn’t.

Milwaukee at night. Gyro and Johnny go inside their hotel room. The comforting warmth mixes with an emotional, more needed one.

Arc 2: Use Your Illusion // Gettysburg’s Dream #59

Gettysburg events’ have unforeseen consequences. While they acknowledge their loss, and even their friendship seems to fall apart, Gyro makes Johnny an offer he never thought possible.

Gyro’s offer for Johnny to get rehab comes true. Important secrets considering Gyro’s past uncover.

Arc 3: Bad Obsession

Gyro has a bad obsession. Johnny notices. ...and takes the lead.

Arc 4: Love at First Feel

The day before arriving in Philadelphia, Johnny and Gyro get into a corpse-related argument. Meanwhile, Diego prepares to win the 7th stage of the race... and finalizes his plot to steal the corpse to Valentine.

Arc 5: Beautiful World // Ticket to Ride #72

End of the 7th stage. Gyro and Johnny finally reach Philadelphia. But President Valentine, Hot Pants and Diego Brando are already there.

Gyro operates on Lucy to uncover the skull. Johnny leaves looking for President Valentine’s corpse parts.

Arc 6: True Power

Starting line of the 8th stage. Johnny and Gyro share a new objective. Hot Pants and Diego, wearing the whole head, chase after President Valentine.

Johnny triggers Gyro to open his heart. If the future is uncertain, the present moment is real ...and free to enjoy.

They are two. Two bug bites, near the ear, upper left side of the neck. When it’s related to this fetish of his, Johnny feels like a bird of prey. It’s been a long time since he has a lover wearing some. Well, no, on second thought, it’s been too long.

Johnny and Gyro share a new moment of intimacy together.

Arc 7: Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap // #76

Hot Pants & Diego Brando vs Funny Valentine.

Johnny and Gyro reach Union Beach, New Jersey.

Arc 8: High Voltage // #90

January 19, 1891 New York: last stage’s starting line. Someone unexpected arrives.

[miniscrew-anon]

HSH Febuwhump Day 3 - Muzzled (Dark)

Now this feels like whump to me! I think I started with an idea but the muzzling kind of took a backseat. But technically it was in there so I’m satisfied

-------

Teeth bit down on flesh, ripping and tearing at the hand trying to wrap around his throat. The boy jerks his head after getting a solid bite, ripping muscle apart and getting a mouthful of blood.

And not just his own, for a change. A welcome change of pace.

"Shit! He bit me!"

It takes several punches to the face to stun the boy, who snarls all the way until a bit is shoved between his teeth. Rough hands tie his arms painfully behind the back of a metal chair and his ankles are secured to the legs. The boy roars through his gag, fighting viciously against his restraints. He writhes in his seat, searching for a weakness in his restraints. He won't find one. These are professionals and they do their job well, as they have for the last several weeks.

A taser is shoved up under his ribs and the voltage is dialed up until it's enough to stun him with a single flip of a switch. He's shocked until his fight drains away and he's a twitching, drooling sack of flesh.

A hand grips his hair and forces him to look up at the approaching footsteps. The sea of underlings part to make room for a woman, dressed sharply and armed to the teeth. Her eyes stare down at his pitiful form shrewdly. She's been at the forefront of every session, assessing him as her soldiers carried out the dirty deeds, instructing them when to push and when to pull back as to always keep him right on the brink.

When he closes his eyes, it's her cruel eyes that stare down at him.

"This is your last chance," She tells him, not an ounce of sympathy in her voice, "If you feel like sparing yourself a life full of suffering, speak now."

The gag is removed, his head released carelessly to loll onto his chest.

The boy closes his eyes, gathering himself. He stretches his jaw and licks his lips, swallowing dryly. He doesn't remember the last time he had something to drink. Two days? Three? It's hard to tell with no windows or schedule. Just a revolving door of interrogators and ‘punishments’.

Damn, he really got himself into deep shit. He doesn't think there's a way out this time. He pants, staring at the stains and wrinkles in his pants as the moments tick by.

Finally, a foot nudges him. "Well?"

He swallows thickly. "I don't know. They never told me, okay? Like I said, I was just a pawn."

He looks up to meet her eyes, wanting to show her he was sincere. "I already told you I don't have the answers you want. If I did I would tell you. I don't have any loyalty to those assholes, got it?"

He's not naive enough to believe she'll believe him. But he'll take the one in a million shot if it's the only thing he's got left.

Too bad it misses.

"Secure him for transport." The woman turns away from him, directing her legion of tormentors. "I want a convoy ready in thirty minutes, him in rear center. Eyes on him at all times. I want the threat minimized - get him ready for sedation."

The room bustles as everyone hurries for their stations. In the corner the doctor readies a needle full of ketamine.

The woman turns to the boy one last time, eyes steely.

"Enjoy your stay at Arbiter's Ground," She says as the doctor comes and lines up the needle. "I sincerely hope you suffer. May you rot there with the rest of the fanatic trash, 'Dark Link.'"

A cool touch of a needle to his neck and Dark's eyes flutter close, his vision fading into a pitch blackness.

-----

I believe Stormy said Dark was 19 when he was sentenced to jail. So yeah, he had a bad time in interrogation right after capture. Not that it got better afterwards either 💀

[jungle-angel]

Even More Love and Smut Prompts: Part 1

Oh man I know I’m in trouble because Kinktober is burning through Tumblr like a monster wildfire (lol). In that case I might as well jump in, so here it is guys, a monster list of Love and Smut prompts. Fandoms this applies to: Top Gun Maverick, Outer Range, Bad Times at the El Royale, Salem’s Lot and pretty much any of Lewis Pullman’s characters (lol) 18+ WARNINGS APPLY

1. Aftercare and Attention

2. Breeding Kink

3. “I’ve never wanted you this bad

4. Shower sex

5. Sex in the bathtub

6. Kamasutra (favorite position)

7. Doing the deed in an airplane hangar

8. Brat Tamer

9. Blindfolding

10. Getting handsy

11. Riding

12. “I think we’re making too much noise” 

13. “Oh shit, the bed just broke” 

14. Touch

15. Burying their face in their s.o’s chest

16. Chest kiss

17. Stomach kiss

18. Do they like it slow? Or fast and hard?

19. Kiss with tongue

20. Kissing wounds, scars, injuries 

21. Them being really gentle during sex

22. “He didn’t realize how badly he craved her touch” 

23. Kissing their s.o’s tattoos

24. Them tying their s.o’s wrists and or ankles with a rope of fake pearls

25. Them receiving some risque polaroids and photos of their s.o

26. “Your kiss lit a fire in me that still burns” 

27. Licking

28. “Oh you naughty little shit!” 

29. Kissing their s.o’s hand

30. Skin to skin contact

31. Sex on the beach

32. Sex during the full moon

33. “I know we’ve got three days/two weeks left but I’m soooo horny!!!” 

34. “I’ll be a good boy/girl, I promise” 

35. “Please, just touch me” 

36. Do they masturbate??

37. Kissing the sore spots on their s.o

38. Doing it in the back field at the ranch

39. Doing it in the truck bed or vehicle

40. “Oh so it’s one of those nights, is it?” 

41. “SHIT IT’S THE WRONG VIDEOTAPE!!!!” 

42. How they show they love you

43. “You’re my love, my life, my joy and my everything” 

44. Kissing the spots on their s.o where the heartbeat can physically be felt

45. Hair pulling

46. Running their hands through their s.o’s hair

47. Sex by the fire in freezing weather

48. “You’re blushing!” 

49. Their most sensitive spots

50. Love bits/nipping

51. Hickeys

52. The smells that make them absolutely feral

53.  Using ice cubes to play with them on a hot day

54. Their favorite screw spots

55. Brushing your fingers against the exposed skin and or nipples (hee hee)

56. “Will you quit teasing me?!” 

57. “Take your time, I don’t want to hurt you” 

58. What’s their safe word?

59. “On your back.....please? For me?” 

60. “Follow your breath.....I’ll do the rest” 

61. “Do you have any idea how fucking hard you’re making me right now?” 

62. “Your eyes are the sweetest I’ve ever seen” 

63. Kissing while you slow dance

64. “Oh that feels so good.....” 

65. “Shhh, baby.......let me look in those pretty eyes of yours” 

66. Sucking and biting

67. “Oh my God!!! Baby, you’re so wet!!!” 

68. Slowly helping each other undress before getting into bed

69. (I think this number speaks for itself, lol) 

70. “We’ve got all day and all night” 

71. “It’s been a month since we started trying and I still can’t get him/her off of me”

72. Nose kiss

73. Eskimo kiss

74. Kiss on the forehead

75. “After all this time....? Always” 

76. Underneath your clothes

77. “I kissed you once and you took my breath away”

78. Who’s the dominant one in the bedroom?

79. Cheek kiss

80. Eating out their s.o

81. Eating out their s.o in the bathtub

82. Proud of their guy/girl

83. “We’d better not make a mess” 

84. “Please, I’m begging you, use your hands” 

85. Something they won’t do

86. Wearing their s.o’s clothes after sex

87. “Tell me what you want?” 

88. “Oh baby, you did so good”

89. “Did.......did you just come?”

90. How fast/long can they go?

91. “You’re really sensitive aren’t you?” 

92. “Can I be on top this time?” 

93. “This feels so good” 

94. Their fingers brushing against your cheek

95. “Touch me here” 

96. Wet dreams

97. “Talk dirty to me” 

98. “You have no idea how sexy you look in that” 

99. “Here, let me help you get off” 

100. First time

[subbiergirldick]

19, 29, 41?

Okay, I don't know which ask game this is for so you get extra answers!

For this one

19. What underwear do you have on right now?

I have on some peach colored panties

29. Describe a typical masturbation session

Eep >×< well I sit at my computer and open my huge porn folders and find something I'm in the mood for. I lube up a bit and put on some lofi~ then I... Ya know.... Touch myself. It takes about 45 minutes, unless I have it last longer or shorter.

41. Do you like being called a slut or whore in bed?

God yes! Both, but slut is the preferred one. They're not my absolute favorite thing to be called but they're up there! Especially with modifiers like 'dirty', 'bratty', 'musk-huffing', etc

For this one

19. Would you prefer sex in the bath or sex in the shower?

So Ive done both and bath is the better option imo. Eating someone out while they hold my head underwater is a holy experience!

29. Favorite body part on the same sex?

Oooo there are so many options! Probably tummy but back is the runner up! Though truly all of the girl is gorgeous.

41. When was the first time you masturbated?

So I did it in a weird way for a while but the first time I for real masturbated I was 11!

I just looked up #sex on Instagram and got some decent porn (decent for my 11 y/o brain) and did the deed in the bathroom

[the-ultimate-pie-family]

Sara's encounter with god part 4

Sara: *cuddling god kissing his chest* that was amazing babe *kisses his lips*

God: u sure beautiful? *kisses sara back cuddling her back*

Sara: oh yes babe that was magical u think I'll get pregnant after we did the dirty deed?

God: well i am god my dear but that ur choice we can wear protection next time

Sara: I don't know? Would i be a good mother?

God: that's ur choice babe i can't make that decision u have too

Sara: ......... can i think about?

God: no *giggles*

Sara: u ass *hits god playfully*

God: u love me right?

Sara: i don't know why don't make me love u *smirks kissing god* because i been a bad mare why don't u punish me?

God: *uses his magic to spank her flank squeezing it* ur always a bad girl babe

Sara: hm is that so? *sits on god face* then eat me ur no baby making later or unless we can't no more

God: hmm *licks sara pussy slowly using more of his magic to choke her gently*

Sara: *bites her lip trying not moan enjoying the licking and the small choke* mmmmm u fucking ass hole

God: u love it *eats out sara pussy more faster squeezing her flank*

Sara: *moans softly* yes babe eat my wet pussy

God: *uses his magic to spread sara pussy lip eating her out deeper*

Sara: ahhhh im cumming *cums hard falling on the bed twitching* mmmm s-so when do i see ur mom again i have something to ask her

God: u sure like i know u two r friends

Sara: im sure babe u should know that by now hehehe

God: i do know that babe *kisses her deeply* but if u want we getting and head to my mom house?

Sara: plz babe i really need to talk to her badly

God: ok babe let's go then

Sara: yay *stumbles out of bed forgetting her legs were still weak* damn i totally forgot

God: need help babe?

Sara: no i can get up myself thank u *crawls to her closet getting dressed* o-ok

God: *summons a portal* after u cutie

Sara: is that so? *tackles god thru the portal*

Pinkie: hey sara and hi son wats up? *smoking some medical weed*

God: came to visit

Sara: yeah came to visit and "hang out" *kisses god*

Pinkie: *sneaks into her basement quietly*

God: ur in the mood again?

Sara: shut up and fuck me *starts rubbing her pussy against his cock* plz babe

God: i can never say no to u babe

Sara: good *thrusts his cock deeply inside her pussy cumming a little* mmmm....

God: *uses his magic to spank her flank hard thrusting harder* mmmmm babe u feel so good

Sara: *moans loud* oh babe ur cock feels so amazing don't stop

God: *uses his magic to choke her slowly thrusting faster*

Pinkamena: damn those two r getting it on heh

Pony: *has a gag in her mouth trying to escape* mmmm

Pinkamena: *smacks her ingredients upside the head then slowly cuts open the pony to harvest the ingredients*

Pony: mmmmm *looks down seeing her chest is wide open fainting*

Pinkamena: awww poor thing hahahaha *hears the sex increasing from upstairs* oh my?

God: *thrusting more deeper using his magic to spank her flank rougher*

Sara: yes god plz fuck me rougher

God: *thrusts more rougher kissing her deeply getting close to cumming* babe im so close

Sara: *enjoying how hard he's pounding her not know he's about to cum*

God: *keeps thrusting more rougher*

Sara: f-f-fuck *cums hard moaning loudly*

God: *feels her cumming pulling out cumming on her*

Sara: mmmmm so warm too bad u didn't cum inside me

God: next time if u want

Sara: might need to wear protection next time babe heheh but if u'll excuse me im getting cleaned up *gets off the table stumbling to the bathroom*

God: u ok babe? *follows her*

Sara: yeah my legs r a little weak *turns on the hot water getting in the tub relaxing* mmmm yeah so relaxing

God: i left a towel by the sink love

Sara: ur not joining me?

God: i mean i can if u want?

Sara: plz join me babe

God: *sits in the tub* very relaxing ahh

Sara: *gets up gods lap feeling more relaxed cuddling him*

To be continued

Tag for @saraali-19

[thefatedthoughtofyou]

Dirty Deeds (Done Dirt Cheap) ~ Part 19: Wizards Aren't A Thing

Summary: Sam inherits Steve Roger's crime empire after a handful of his men betray and kill him. The rest of the crime world, sensing an opening, go after Sam and the territories he's inherited from Steve. Thankfully, Steve left him a number, someone to call if he ever needs help. Someone, Steve claimed, he can trust. But can Sam really trust a mercenary with that much blood on his name? And that many knives in his pockets.

WARNINGS: (there will eventually be all of these things) blood, violence, murder, shooting, stabbing, sex, blood play , food related things: malnutrition, feeding, blow jobs, bathing/washing, chronic pain. Limb loss and regrowth. Bullet wounds. Gore.

18+ Content: Make Good Choices Kids <3

Ao3

Sam's POV

The lunch had gone badly. Not because of the brothers. But because of another, albeit small, attempt on his life. Loki had spotted the man in time, freezing him in place with a simple flick of the wrist. Thor had taken care of it further, having Loki teleport them home swiftly, Sam hadn't asked what he'd planned to do with him. And he and Bucky had gone home to await further instructions and/or further plans.

Loki had sent them a letter late in the evening, it had flown through a small portal, smacking Wade in the face as it flew past him and landed in Sam's lap. He'd given Wade a small grimace of apology and opened the letter. It burst into green flames after he'd read it. It had a time and location. Nothing else.

They'd been waiting in front of the Strange mansion for almost twenty minutes now. Loki had met them at Bucky's and brought them here. He, Wade, and Bucky had been ready. They were now waiting for Thor. Sam leaned his back against the wall, glancing to his right, watching Wade shuffle through music on his phone. Wade noticed his gaze and looked up at him with a smile before looking back down.

"I'm thinking Cherrybomb for any fighting that might happen. Unless that'll cause some kind of copyright issue. I'm never sure how that works for things like this." Wade said to his phone. Sam looked at him for a moment, waiting for further explanation, he got none.

"Are you ask me?" He said, lifting his head to look at Wade properly. Wade looked back to him, his brow furrowed under his mask.

"What?" He asked, his head tilting.

"We're talking to me? Just then." Sam clarified.

"What? No. I was talking to them." He said, nodding his head upwards once. Sam felt Bucky move a bit closer to him, peeking past Sam to look at Wade as well.

"I'm sorry... who?" Sam asked, feeling more and more confused with every word Wade said.

"Them. Up there. The person writing this." Wade said, speaking slowly like he was explaining something complicated to a small child.

"The... huh?" Sam asked, sounding intelligent. Wade sighed, loud and long suffering.

"The writer. The author. The person sitting on their phone right now typing this all out while watching Lord of the Rings for the millionth time." Wade said, pointing his finger up in the air like it was obvious if they'd just look. Sam glanced upward, and then back, saying nothing. He wasn't sure what exactly he could say. He glanced at Bucky quickly, starting to worry very seriously about one of his partners mental stability. Wade rolled his eyes and looked back to his phone.

"Ya know what? Nevermind. Cherrybomb it is. If we get in a fight. I'm handling the music. Jesus." He huffed, finger sliding agaisnt his phone screen as he scrolled aggressively.

Sam startled when Bucky's hand dropped onto his should. His eyes wide as he turned to look at him.

"Don't worry about it. He's always sayin shit like that." Bucky assured him. Falling back against the stone fence they'd been waiting by. Sam nodded, falling back into place as well, but glancing at Wade again. He lifted his hand to wave at Sam but didn't look at him. Sam furrowed his brow and shook his head as they fell back into silence and waited.

"So. You and Heimdall huh?" Wade's voice broke the silence about ten mintues later, throwing a question out, apropos of nothing. Sam watched Loki lean forward, a hard to read look in his eyes as he glared at Wade. Wade looked at him, the eyes on his mask wide and expectant. Loki sighed. And nodded. Once. Wade nodded back with a smile and pushed himself forward off the wall.

"What a catch. You got some skill man. First Buck, now that hunky tall drink of water. What's your secret. And don't say magic. Cuz i mean i know Bucky definitely would be susceptible to your magics but i'm-"

"Hey." Bucky said. Wade ignoring him as he walked closer to Loki. The stream of words leaving him barely pausing for him to breath between them.

"I'm almost positive that Heimdall would see you coming a mile away. Unless he let you. Like maybe that's his thing. Ya know? And i can see the appeal. Someone wanting you so badly they magic you to be with them. Kinda flattering. If a bit sad that you're can't get someone without magic, that i-" Wade finally stopped talking, Loki's dagger digging into his throat as he spun Wade and pressed him agaisnt the wall slowly.

"You were saying?" He asked, eyes dark, pale slender fingers curled around the hilt of his dagger like a coiled snake. Wade laughed.

"Hey come on. I was just kiddin around Loki Doki. I get why they like you. I mean this is here is really doing it for me." He motioned to the situation he was in. Sam realized belatedly that neither he, nor Bucky, had moved to help Wade. In fact Sam was almost sure Bucky was smiling down at his feet. Loki's eyes narrowed as he moved his dagger back, but only a small amount.

"Yeah see, this is nice. And I'm gonna call you Loki Doki forever now. Just so ya know. Okie dokie Loki Doki?" Wade asked, Sam could here the smile under his mask. Loki rolled his eyes and his dagger disappeared with a small flash of light. He sighed deeply and stepped away from Wade. Wade stumbled forward and walked back passed Bucky and Sam.

"I can see why you liked him." He muttered to Bucky as he passed him.

"Do you ever stop talking?" Loki asked, not looking at the man that was currently pushing his buttons.

"Not while I'm awake."

"Not while he's awake." Wade and Bucky answered in sync. Wade gasped and turned to Bucky.

"Oh my god how adorable are we?!? Oh don't answer that here's comes Thor." He said, waving off whatever Bucky had opened his mouth to say, pushing past them, and running toward the man who was indeed finally approaching. Sam watched him run at the man, jumping as he got close. A startled laugh escaping him as he watched Thor catch him with a smile.

"Everytime I'm around him I feeling I'm having a conversation with a hurricane." Sam said to Bucky, glancing at him as he watched Bucky, watch Wade and Thor, with a dopey smile.

"Does that ever go away?" Sam watched Bucky turn to him. His smile smaller now. Lingering at the corners of his mouth.

"It does not." He said, laughing a little as Wade jumped out of Thor's arms as he joined them.

"Sorry for the delay. But you all did have a teleport, so who's fault is it really?" He said, a smile on his lips as he eyed his brother playfully.

"Really? You're going to blame me for this? You walk up here, in a bright red, velvet suit, and you're gonna blame me?" Loki said, dragging his eyes over his brother's fashion choice pointedly.

"I was trying to make a statement." Thor crossed his arms.

"Oh you are." Wade assured, nodding slowly, staring at Thor's biceps stretching his suit jacket.

"Yes. You look like Santa's body building son. Congratulations. May we get this over with please?" Loki asked, exasperated. Thor chuckled and clapped him on the back roughly, shaking Loki's entire body.

"Yes yes alright. In we go." Thor walked toward the gate, Sam followed, the other three trailing behind them, covering Sam.

"I hear Wade's in charge of the music this evening." Thor said conversationly, leaning closer to Sam.

"Yeah. I think he might always be in charge of it. And maybe other things too." Sam glanced at the sky again, still thinking about his conversation with Wade. Thor laughed next to him and nodded.

"He is an odd duck that's for sure." Thor said, smiling as they reached the door of the mansion. It was bright red, and had strange markings Sam could never to seem to look straight at. Steve had always told him it was magic. That that's why Sam couldn't see them right. The markings hid the house from people who weren't wanted. He should have guessed something like this would be Strange's doing.

Steve had never been able to look at the markings either.

~

"Good thing this isn't sketchy at all." Wade said, his voice low and still echoing around the nearly empty room. Sam didn't say it, but he agreed. He'd never seen this room before. And it had never been at the front of the house when they visited, though he'd heard stories of the Strange house changing and moving on it's own for years. The stories of its owner were less than kind. He'd been a mage, once. Long ago. But he'd been banished, his powers taken from him. And so he'd gained power another way. Through fear. And violence. And death. The house had clearly retained some small amount of magic, moving and shaping itself at his will.

It was a large room that looked like it may have been a library once. There were empty shelves lining the walls and a balcony second floor circling the room. Perfect for people to fill in and ambush them. He heard Bucky draw his guns and knew he was thinking the same.

"Stay calm." Loki's voice, sounding very much not calm. Sam nodded anyway, moving a step closer to Thor.

"You wanted a meeting."

The voice seemed to boom through the whole house, the walls shaking. Their small group shrinking in on each other, backs together, around Sam, ready to protect him.

"We did. And here we are. We kept our word." Sam said, his voice sounding much more confident than he felt. A low chuckle filled the room and then the lights flickered off, leaving them in darkness. Sam felt Bucky's back press hard into his shoulder and leaned into it, letting him know he was okay, and trying to stay close. The lights flickered back up, and there was a man standing on the balcony, a bright doorway of light behind him. Sam squinted at the sudden brightness, he wasn't sure but it looked like he was wearing-

"Is that a cape?" Wade's voice called over his shoulder. Loki shh-ed him.

"I wanna cape." Wade whispered, leaning closer to both Bucky and Sam. Loki made another hushing noise but Sam heard Bucky laugh. He couldn't keep the smile off his own face either.

"You'd just get killed with it. Cape's are dangerous." Bucky whispered back.

"Oh right. Edna. She's so smart. No capes!" Wade whispered back. Sam snorted this time and then cleared his throat.

"Would you please shut up." Loki hissed, Sam's eyes had now adjusted to light, and he could see the man staring down at them. He'd never liked Stephen Strange. He'd always seemed pretentious, and like he was smirking at everything Steve ever said to him. Sam felt rage boil inside him. Of course he'd been a part of this, Sam should have fucking known. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"Hey." Wade's voice in his ear now, serious, no joking now. One of his gloved hands wrapped around Sam's wrists, squeezing gently until Sam felt the tension leave him.

"It's gonna be okay." Bucky now, on his other side, reassuring as he pressed his back to Sam's shoulder again.

"Deep breath." Wade again. Another squeeze and his fingers slid away from Sam.

"If you're all quite done. What is it that you came here for?" That pretentious voice had Sam's rage spiking again. But he took a deep breath and kept his cool.

"Honestly. I kind of came to ask that you stop trying to kill me." Sam said, feeling his confidence now.

"Is that so? And why would i do that?" He asked, his hands spreading on the bar of the balcony. His voice and face looking smug.

"Because if you do not." Thor stepped up beside Sam, shoulder to shoulder.

"We'll have to send you another message." He finished, glaring up at Strange.

"Oh? A message hmm? Like a warehouse full of deadmen? Did that work so well for you last time? Perhaps if you hadn't sent such an incompetent pair to do your jobs, you wouldn't still be fighting for a place at the table." He said with a chuckle.

"Hey!" Wade yelled, offended.

"We might be incompetent, but at least we're professionally incompetent! Or.. wait... incompetent professionals. One of those!" Wade called, attempting to defend himself and Bucky.

"Yeah!" Bucky joined,

"And i mean shit. We're not that incompetent. We went to kill a wearhouse full of guys and we did that. I'd say we're doing great. Better than most for sure." He bumped his shoulder into Wade's with a smile.

"Hey yeah! You've been trying to kill Sam for like... how long? And look," he pointed over his shoulder, not turning his back on Strange,

"Still here. So, i mean, between the three of us, who's fucking incompetent dude?" Wade shurgged and pointed silently at Strange. Sam bit his lip to hide the smile that was threatening, Strange looked livid. If he'd still had magic Sam was sure they'd all be dead right now.

"Yes. Still here. And you've brought him right to me." Strange said, his lips curling into a sinsiter smile. He raised his hand and several doors around the room opened, armed men filing into the room quicky, surrounding them. And yeah, Sam thought, that seemed right. He probably should have listened to Bucky's warnings about not showing up here himself, but he needed to. He had to do this. Be a part of things.

"Well. I guess we should have seen that coming." Wade sighed, his swords clinking as he his arms drooped and their tips hit the floor.

"Who says we didn't?" Loki's voice was full of mischief. Sam glanced at him and saw his eyes were full of the same, as were his brothers, Thor was smiling. Loki looked to him, Thor nodded. Loki raisied his hand above his head, his fingers glimmering green with magic, and snapped his fingers. Over half the men in the room glimmered green as well and then disappeared.

"Sorry about that. It just didn't seem fair. You having an army while we walked in here nearly weaponless in good faith." Thor explained, glancing at Sam with a smirk.

"So my brother paid your some of your men a little visit. Ya know, a little something to even the odds a bit." Thor explained, smiling up at Strange now.

"Oooh ho ho! I love this. These are much better odds. I fucking love magic. Loki Doki you're kind of a badass. I'm a little turned on." Wade agreed, raising his swords again. Sam would have sworn he saw Loki smile.

"So it's a fight you want?" Strange asked, his voice tight.

"It's you who wanted the fight. I didn't start this. But i intend to finish it." Sam slid his hand into his jacket and pulled out his gun, his finger pressed to the trigger as he lifted it.

"I see. Well then. Go right ahead." Strange lifted his hand, the men around them began to close in as he turned on the spot, his cape flowing behind him as he left the room, heavy doors closing behind him with a deafening thud.

"Oh shit! We get a fight scene! Hit it Cherie!" Wade yelled as the men ran toward them. Wade lifted his swords and ran forward as Cherrybomb started blaring from seemingly nowwhere and everywhere, filling the space around them better than any surround sound Sam had ever heard. Bucky pressed himself to Sam's back, both of them firing their guns as men ran at them, Loki and Thor beside them tossing men aside like they weighed nothing, fighting so in sync it was difficult to tell where one of them ended and the other began.

"How did he do that?" Sam yelled over his shoulder, grabbing a man and firing his gun into his chest twice before tossing him aside. Bucky turned, grabbed Sam's arm and spun him to the side just as a man's knife came down where he'd been standing, Bucky's arm around his waist, holding Sam to his chest. Bucky smiled at him.

"I find it best not to ask." He wiggled his eyebrows and spun Sam out, like they were dancing and not in the middle of a fight. Sam swung his fist out, dropping the man he hit and turning to shoot a man coming up behind Thor.

"Thank you Sam!" Thor shouted, tossing two men who'd been holding his arms and then jumping into the air, flying three more men into the far wall, a bolt of lightning shooting into them for good measure. There were flashes of green light all over the room as Loki teleported and took out man after man. He landed next to Wade, who was struggling to remove one of his swords from a dead mans spine, his foot on his back, yanking as hard as he could. Loki grabbed the man sneaking up on Wade, spun him to his chest and sank a dagger into him three times before pushing him away again. Wade looked up at him as he walked over.

"Need a hand?" Loki asked, not waiting for an answer and he wrapped his hands around Wade's and yanked. The sword came free with a sickening squelch and Wade's eyes widened as he stared at Loki, looking love struck.

"Teleporting is cheating ya know!" Wade yelled over the noise of the room. Sam didnt know if it was the heat of the battle or Wade teasing him, but he watched Loki smile at him.

"Wanna come?" Loki held his hand out to Wade, wiggling his fingers.

"Oh god that is such a layered question but god yes!" Wade reached out and grabbed Loki's hand, disappearing in a green flash instantly.

Sam spun quickly, grabbing the man who was just about to hit him, he wrapped his fingers around the man's wrist and twisted his arm behind his back.

"Hey Bucky, little help. I'm outta ammo." Sam yelled, Bucky turned from where he'd been beating a man to a pulp with his metal arm and smirked at Sam. He reached behind him, pulled a knife from somewhere Sam couldn't see and threw it, his eyes already back on the man in front of him when the blade left his fingers. Sam never questioning for a second that it would hit its mark and not him. The blade sunk into the man's skull, no resistance at all, and he went limp in Sam's arm. He let the body slide the floor, pulling the knife from his as he fell and sinking into the man running past him, toward where Loki and Wade were now tossing one of Wade's swords back and forth, taking turns with the one he had left, the other clearly lost somewhere as they'd been teleporting from deadman to deadman.

"That's ENOOOUUUUGH!"

The voice screamed through the air. Covering and cutting off all noise in the room. The screams and music stopping on command. Everyone still left alive, cowering and covering their ears. Bucky and Thor both moving instantly to Sam's sides, Wade was on the floor covering his ears, Loki cowering over him, face etched with pain.

The scream stopped, the pain leaving immediately as silence descended on the room once more.

"That. Is enough." Strange was back, standing on the balcony again.

"Perhaps we should make a deal." His voice was quiet. Wade and Loki walked over to Sam slowly, circling to stand behind him, Bucky and Thor moving to the front.

"Probably for the best." Sam nearly snarled, his hands, and the men beside him, covered in blood.

"Hmm. You have terms i take it?" Strange asked, his head tilting.

"Just the big one currently. Stop trying to fucking kill me man." Sam said, his hands lifting and falling back down to his thighs. There was a long pause, Strange just staring down at them all.

"Fine." Was all he said.

"You'll stop?" Sam narrowed his eyes.

"Sure. It's in my best interests after all,  isn't it?" He sounded smug again. Sam really fuckin hated this guy.

"I assure you, it is." Thor said, his voice deep, Sam had never heard him so angry, and felt gratitude run through him.

He was about to open his mouth and give Strange a half assed thank you, maybe lay down some other terms, when he was yanked sideways. Wade's hands on his arm tossing him to the side roughly, Loki barley caught him as they both tumbled to the ground, Sam's back slamming into it, the wind knocked from his lungs. Wade was standing where he'd been just seconds ago, a large blade through his chest. He was looking down at the blood covered metal, his hand moving slowly to touch it.

"Wade?" Bucky's voice, a whisper. Sam looked to him, his eyes were wide, there was horror on his face as he looked at Wade, and then anger, and then fury. His hand moved to his waist, fingers wrapping around a knife as Strange began to laugh behind them.

"You fucker." Sam growled, letting Loki pull him to his feet. His eyes back on Wade, who was oddly silent, blade through the chest or no. Sam had seen him missing an arm and a foot and still chatting, but this seemed different. Wade's knees buckled and Sam and Loki rushed to him.

"You think. For one second. That'll I'd just let you take his spot? A spot not even HE HIMSELF deserved?" Strange spat. Bucky turned to him slowly, knife in hand. Loki grabbed Thor, brought him closer.

"Bucky." Loki said, voice low. Sam grabbed Wade's hand as blood pooled around them on the floor. Bucky glanced back at them, Loki moved two of his fingers, motioning for him to move, Bucky took two steps backward, closer to them, and then turned back to Strange.

"I AM THE HIGH WARLOCK. THIS CITY IS MINE!" Strange bellowed, the walls shaking again as he screamed.

"No one fucking cares bitch." Bucky said, sounding bored, and threw the knife. Strange turned as he did. The blade landing in his shoulder instead of his chest.

"HEIMDALL!" Thor yelled his name and they were immediately bathed in light as the bifrost ripped through the room to take them.

~

They landed in Thor's thrown room, Wade was choking now. Bucky turned and fell to his knees, quickly reaching forward and pulling off his mask.

"Wade. Wade? Hey hey I'm here." He soothed as Wade reached for him. Sam moved to his other side. Not wanting to let go of his hand as Bucky moved closer still, cradling Wade to him, wiping blood off his face as he choked again.

"We have to get this out of him." Loki's voice was calm, soothing even, as he eyed the giant peice of metal in Wade's chest. Bucky grimaced when he looked at it.

"Loki's gonna get it outta you okay? And then you're gonna be okay." He said, sniffling as he pulled Wade's head closer, soothing his hand over the scarred skin. Wade shook his head, his eyes watering.

"What? What does that mean? What do you mean no?" Bucky asked, bending closer still, his fingers pressing into Wade's shoulder so hard Sam could see them sinking into him. Wade squeezed Sam's hand as he looked up at Bucky, Sam squeezed back, his throat burning.

"Poison. I- i can f-feel it." Wade choked out. His teeth red, little dropplet of blood staining the front of Bucky's shirt as he spoke.

"No that's. You can heal. You can heal from poison." Bucky said, his voice growing frantic. Sam wanted to reach out to him. But he was frozen. This wasn't right. This wasn't how this was supposed to go.

"It hur-urts." Wade grimaced.

"I have to do this now." Loki said, his voice filled with sympathy.

Wade reached up with his free hand, pressed it to Bucky's cheek.

"You're fine. You'll be fine." Bucky whispered, tears dripping down his cheeks. Wade moved his thumb over Bucky's lips, slowly, as he looked up at him.

"Feels different. I don't- i don't know." Wade stammered, shaking his head gently. Sam could see him struggling. See him trying to say more. But he could also see him not needing too, Bucky's entire body drooped, curing itself around Wade like a shield.

"It can't be different." He shook his head gently, moving his hand to Wade's cheek now.

"I need you. I need you here. With me. You have to heal. You have to." He sniffled, wiped more blood from Wade's mouth. Wade smiled and nodded. His eyes fluttering.

"I know big guy. I love you too." His voice barely a whisper.

"I didn't say i love you."

"Yeah but you meant it."

Bucky laughed through a sob, Wade tired to laugh too but just coughed up blood. Bucky whined in the back of his throat and leaned forward, pressing his forhead to Wade's. Sam gripped Wade's shoulder hard, silently willing him to heal. To just heal. Because they needed him. It couldn't end like this. He felt Wade take a deep shuddering breath.

"Alright. Ta-take it out. L-loki Doki." His voice trailed off as his head fell to the side. Loki yanked the blade out swiftly, barely moving Wade's body at all. He tossed the blade to the side, Sam watched it spin across the marble floor into darkness. He shook his head and moved his eyes back to Wade. His eyes were still closed. The wound in his chest however, was still open.

"He's not healing." Thor's voice, from Sam's left. He was kneeling at Wade's feet, hands resting on his ankles.

"He will." Bucky whispered, trying and failing to clean the blood off Wade's face. Sam reached into his pocket mindlessly and handed Bucky the handkerchief that was always tucked away in his suits. Bucky looked at him, his eyes wide and glassy. Sam nodded. Bucky took it and wiped at Wade's face some more, the cloth helped a little, but there was so much blood.

"Bucky." Loki this time, trying to get through.

"He's not-".

"He. Will." Bucky growled. Looking at Loki with a glare Sam could only call murderous. Sam squeezed Wade's limp hand and closed his eyes. The mantra of "Please heal. Please wake up" running over and over in his head like a broken record.

"He will heal. He has to." Bucky said, his voice hollow as he looked down at Wade, his blood covered hands cradling the man's head so gently, his knees tucked up under Wade's body as he held him close. Bucky closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Wade, pulling him closer still. Tears dripped down Sam's face as he began rocking slightly.

"Please wake up. Please." Bucky's voice was shaking, along with the rest of him. He rocked Wade's body, quietly pleading to him, begging him to come back.

Sam had never understood when people described someone being broken by grief. His own parents had passed peacefully, and it hadn't been sudden. They'd had time to... prepare. And he'd seen people broken from pain, and from torture, but this? This was different. This was hard. He'd never seen anyone cling to someone they loved, willing them to come back.

And surely that had happened before. Wade had surely died and come back before. Sam had heard those stories. But he'd said it was different. Had felt different. But it couldn't have been like this, the way Bucky was holding him, his eyes were open, Sam could see them, but Bucky wasn't there. He was somewhere far away. Pleading for Wade to wake up.

Sam didn't know if it was possible to will someone back to life. But this was Wade. Bucky's Wade. His Wade, even. So he was going to fucking try. He tightened his grip on Wade's hand, holding it closer.

"Please." He whispered. Bucky looked up at him, eyes red and empty. He clung to Wade. Sam nodded at him and closed his eyes.

"Please wake up." Sam sighed.

"Please. Wade i need you. You have to wake up." Bucky shook him that time. Jostling his body in frustration.

Silence.

They stayed that way for three hours. Sitting there. On the cold floor. Holding him. Heimdal joined them at some point, kneeling beside Loki and pulling him close. Sam hadn't noticed until then, but there were tears in his eyes, shinging trails down his cheeks. He'd looked at Heimdall, eyes glassy the same way Bucky's were.

"It won't work. I tired." He sounded lost, looking at his empty hands. Heimdall had wrapped his hands around Loki's, pulling them to his chest.

"I know." He'd said, voice full of sorrow as Loki fell against him.

They sat there. Waiting. Sam's feet and legs had been numb for hours. The silence in his ears screaming that this was his fault. Everything that had happened was his fucking fault. He'd done this to save Sam and now they'd lost him. Fresh tears fell from Sam's eyes, warm agaisnt his cold skin.

Cold skin.

The words echoed in his mind. His brain was struggling to put thoughts together. He was cold. From sitting on the stone floor. His feet were cold, his legs, his ass, and chest, and his face. All cold. And his hands. They had to be cold too. Sam focused. They weren't. His hands, still touching Wade, were warm. The synapses in his brain began to fire, just not quite fast enough. Before he could find the thought he was trying to reach, a stangled gasped rang through the room as Wade shot up.

His head smacking into Bucky's, knocking him back a bit. Sam's heart was in his throat, face to face with Wade, alive, for only a second before he fell back. Bucky catching him and holding him.

"Wade?" Bucky's voice was small. Wade's breathing was heavy, his chest, still not healed completely, rising and falling rapidly. His eyes squeezed shut.

"Hey there. Fuck that hurt." He breathed, his hand shaking as he moved it to cover Bucky's.

"You're okay. Are you okay?" Bucky asked, moving his hands to Wade's head again. Wade nodded slowly.

"I think- i think so." He looked down at his chest and groaned, the long slit in his skin bright red. He dropped his head back onto Bucky, looking up at him.

"That's taking forever." He sighed, and then smiled.

"Hi." His toothy grin spreading as Bucky smiled back at him.

"Hi yourself. You asshole." He laughed. Leaning down and kissing Wade's forhead. Wade made a happy sound and then he was looking at Sam. And then Loki and Heimdall. And then Thor. All of them smiling at him in turn.

"Oh. You're all still here. That's nice." He sighed again. His eyes closing as he rested on Bucky. They shot open again seconds later.

"Hang on. Have we all just been on the floor this whole time?" He asked, looking around dazzedly.

"Mhm." Sam hummed.

"This whole time? The whole time!? Why!?" He kept moving his eyes around the group standing around him.

"Guys, we're not young men. We can't be on the floor this long we're not gonne be able to get up. I can't feeling my ass. And Sam, oh god Sam, you're human! You don't even have super strength you're gonna be down here forever! This floor is your home now!" Wade wailed, drooping his arm over his face dramatically. All of them laughing, a little harder than normal, as they watched his dramatics. He peeked out from under his arm and winked at Sam. Sam smiled back, shaking his head as he laughed.

"Okay seriously though, seriously? Get me off the floor. I'm all blood sticky. And it's gonna take me forever to get this ass outta these spandex." Wade groaned. Thor let out a bellow of a laugh and hopped to his feet, leaning forward to pull Wade to his. Bucky and the others stood as well. Sam groaned when he moved to his knees. Bucky's hand dropped in front of him.

"Fuckin annoying when he's right ain't it?" Bucky said, grinning down at him. Sam breathed a laugh and took his hand, grimacing as he pulled him up. Bucky fell into step beside him as they followed Thor and Wade, slowly, as Sam's joints learned how to move again.

"Seriously, I'm gonna have to cut myself outta this. Look at this." Wade pointed to the little waddle he was doing. Thor made a show of leaning back and watching Wade walk.

"I'd be more than happy to help get you of that." Thor said, a cheeky smirk curling his lips as Wade gasped and looked at him.

"Don't tease." Wade batted at his shoulder.

"Who said i was teasing." Thor looked down at him, serious this time as he reached up and wiped a stray drop of blood from Wade's neck. He smiled at him and walked on ahead of them. Wade's eyes widened as he turned to look back at Sam and Bucky, he mouthed 'oh my fucking god', and then waddled forward quicky, trying to catch up to Thor.

Bucky laughed beside Sam shaking his head. Sam looked at him, trying to keep his brain from wandering.

"What?" He asked, bumping his shoulder into Sam.

"I just... i don't know." Sam said, shrugging, shaking his head.

"You don't know in general, or you don't know how to ask?" Bucky smirked at him, and then smiled when Sam rolled his eyes. The fucker.

"Closer to the second one i guess. You and Wade. You're relationship... confuses me." Sam said slowly. The laugh that burst out of Bucky startling him.

"Join the club." Bucky said, shrugging, but smiling fondly.

"No i mean. Not like that, i ... i get that. I think." He laughed when Bucky raised his eyesbrows.

"It's just. You two seem... i mean you care so much about each other. But he's... i mean he's going in there with... with Thor." Sam said, his eyes moving around like he was trying to mentally calculate something.

"Oh right. That part's confusing you. Okay well, that's an easy one at least." Bucky said, doing a little hop skip and turn until he was in front of Sam, walking backwards as Sam moved forward.

"The thing is. Simplest terms i guess. We love each other. But uh..." he shrugged, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

"There's always room for more. We don't like to limit ourselves." He shrugged again. And then the fucker winked, spinning again as he chased after Wade, and Thor, and Loki and Heimdall. Leaving Sam walking slowly through the throne room. Wondering what the fuck they were gonna do next. And wondering why the near mention of "more" with Bucky and Wade had made his insides flutter like a school boy. He shook his head and took a deep breath. Strange first. He could examine his feelings after they were rid of the nonmagical wizard.

Not that there were any feelings to examine. High stress situations were a breeding ground for perceived romantic feelings, you could ask anyone that. They'd tell you. The movie Speed could tell you. He groaned, stretched his knees a little, and followed the other's deeper into the clusterfuck that his life had become.

[pisupsala]

One for The History Books [Chapter 6] [Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw]

[Summary] You are an archivist at the Pentagon, sent on assignment to TOPGUN to catalog and report on a top secret mission. In the days under the Californian sun, a certain naval aviator puts your once orderly life in a tailspin that you might never recover from.

[Pairing] Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!reader / Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!oc

[Warnings] Mature content: swearing, (explicit) smut. 18+ only.

[Words] 3.9k

[Index] All Chapters | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Epilogue

[Library]

One for The History Books - Chapter 6: Adrift You sleep restlessly that night. Your brain is overtired from everything that happened—the sudden orders to ship out, Lt. Bradshaw coming to you, Lt. Bradshaw cumming for you. The bottom line is: this is more than a temporary lapse in judgment and making out in the parking lot. This is premeditated, and considering you are entering the crucial part of the mission, namely the actual execution, this would be a very bad time for anyone - Riks for example—finding out about your... fling.

No. Fuck session? No, that's not it. Hot, steamy, desperate I-might-die-soon-sex. Something to that effect you suppose. The moment this assignment is over, you need to recuse yourself, regardless that it's a bad move for your career. You cannot be involved in any further research, and you cannot risk anyone finding out you compromised your impartiality for a fine piece of naval fighter pilot ass. Like, really fine. You giggle as you think of explaining to your boss, a retired marine colonel, how, sure—you broke a cardinal rule of documentation and research, but have you seen Lt. Bradshaw? And just present his picture as evidence. Your boss might actually murder you for that. Ultimately, it's moot if Lt. Bradshaw will actually call you or not. As far as your job is concerned, the damage is already done, and all you can do is to keep it under wraps and finish this as soon and as well as possible. The insane rule-bending ways of TOPGUN are rubbing off on you. You really want Lt. Bradshaw to call you, though. And that's the crux of your dilemma. You've worked so hard, for so many years, to get where you are. You love what you do. Are you really about that throw that away on a man? Because he's charming, good-looking and a good lay?

It's not like you—at all. However, you cannot, just fucking can not bring yourself to regret having sex with Bradshaw. Perhaps you will come to bitterly regret it, but for now, you just want to continue in these feelings of being wanted. Needed. Not because of what you can do for someone, fix their problem, but just... for you. And it feels so good. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ As the squadron is on their way to the USS Roosevelt that is coming to pick them up somewhere off the coast of Hawaii, there is no morning brief to sift through. Simpson and Bates left with the squadron (presumably to keep them in hand), which leaves you with no unexpected requests. That's actually kind of nice, you conclude. So you spend the morning packing files for transport to the Pentagon. Each time you stretch your left arm, you feel the dull ache of the bite mark on your collar bone. A shiver runs down your spine as you think of Bradley marking you like that.

When you were getting dressed that morning, you realized that the bite mark—a hard-to-miss purple—posed a somewhat logistical problem. It would peek from under the collar of most shirts you had, so you were resigned to wearing blouses, buttoned-up high in an almost matronly fashion. It's exciting. Hiding dirty evidence of dirty, delicious deeds. Your eyes keep going to your phone—while you usually keep it in your purse, you've perched it against some books on your desk. As you move around the office packing papers, you have a clear view of any incoming calls and messages. Truly, it's like you're back in high school. Every time your phone buzzes, you lunge for it, disappointed to see a notification from your email, app updates and recommendations. Ugh. It's kind of pathetic how starved you are for his attention. It's almost dinnertime when your phone buzzes in the pocket of your slacks. You get immediate butterflies. It's him. You just know it is. You duck into a quiet hallway just before the chow hall entrance, back to the route full of personnel on their way to and from dinner. You take a deep breath as you fish your phone from your pocket with trembling fingers. A notification from your message app. Sender: BB.

Your heart is doing somersaults now. You click the notification and start to hastily enter your code. You are so excited, you actually mistype on the first try. God. Calm and easy. It's a text. As the app finally unlocks, the message pops up in the chat.

“all hands safely on deck” What the fuck? Another message pops up. “no visual. opsec” You imagined many different things Bradley could send you. This...was not among any of the scenarios you envisioned. What in the ever-loving fuck is this supposed to mean? Another message. ;) He's fucking with you. You snort out loud. Shit, of course he would. You went straight into overthinking. Not bothering with any grace period for answering—god knows how long he'll have signal or time to talk— you write back. “All is quiet on the western seafront” You think for a second, and continue, deliberately copying his style of writing: “no visual. chow hall” You feel giddy and you see the three dots appear in the bottom left of the screen. He is typing. “hah, clever. love a good movie reference” You're bouncing on your heels. “Are you into old movies?” “the classics, sure. more of a music guy tbh” He continues: “but i'm open to recommendations” Your heart flutters. He's actually interested? “You bring the music, I'll bring the movies” You type quickly. You cannot remember the last time a text conversation made you this excited.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Willams?” You yelp loudly and nearly drop your phone in surprise, fumbling and catching it just in time. Your heart is nearly beating out of your chest—not the sexy way, but in the scared shitless kind. “What do you want, Riks?” You say testily, shoving your phone in your pocket. “Why are you standing here? Aren't you going to eat?” Y He sounds bored, and you wonder why he even bothers talking to you outside of work. “Yeah, on my way, had some personal business.” As the words leave your mouth, your phone vibrates. Damnit.

“Go ahead, I'm coming up right behind you.” You hope you don't sound as impatient as you feel. Riks just quirks an eyebrow, and to your relief, turns and starts walking into the chow hall. As soon as he's a few steps ahead, you grab your phone and unlock it. It opens on the messaging app. “as long as you bring yourself” You flush. Shit. Fingers trembling from giddiness, you reply. “I could be convinced to come” The reply is immediate.

"i know ;)"

You are just about ready to melt into a puddle. “WILLAMS!” Riks is standing in the chow hall doorway and looks actually pissed. Jesus, like he's your teacher. Quickly, you leg it after him to dinner, your phone just about burning a hole in your pocket.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ You eat quickly, although you can barely finish your meal. Eating with your phone in your hand with Riks across from you would be too rude (why did he even want to eat together today of all days, he's just droning on about unimportant work stuff). Not that you particularly care about being rude to him, of all people. It's that, as misfortune would have it, Riks is far from dumb. Annoying, cock sure and overconfident in his abilities at work—but he's clever. Especially when it comes to weaseling his way to information that could benefit him personally or get him one over on others professionally. You stuff the candy bar you got yourself as your desert in your pocket, not really wanting to sit around the chow hall longer than necessary. You walk, hopefully casually enough, back to your barracks room, fingers drumming on your phone in your pocket.

Once you're satisfied you're far enough, and Riks is not following you, you grab your phone again.

“Sorry—had to take evasive maneuvers against a blue falcon”

You hit send, stupidly hoping Bradley didn't think you left him on read. As adults, surely he wouldn't take it personally... right? “he's a pesky one" The answer arrives promptly, quickly followed by another. “coast clear?” “All clear”

You kick off your shoes and the door clicks closed behind you. Throwing your phone and candy bar on the bed, you unbutton your slacks and step out of them. It's growing dark rapidly while you rummage around for your pj's.

You keep an eye on your phone from the corner of your eye. No new notifications. You pull your hair in a bun, and grab your laptop—seeing no use in grabbing a book, as—how could you focus on reading tonight? You lay down on top of your covers in an oversized shirt and shorts, unwrapping your candy bar, and scrolling through one of the many tabs you keep open to distract yourself. Of course, the moment you have taken a big bite of your chocolate —too big, because you're alone in your room, and who cares about manners when you're eating a candy bar in your pj's on a weekday? — your phone buzzes. Except it doesn't stop buzzing. Stopping mid-chew, your brain connects that it's not a text coming in, it's a call. Oh god. You clasp your hand over your mouth as you force yourself to chew faster, seeing the caller ID on the screen.

BB. Of course. He did say he would call. Chew, chew, chew! Swallowing heavily, you pick up your phone. “Mwhello?” Yikes, well, close enough. An amused chuckle greets you from the other side of the line. “Am I interrupting?” His voice sounds quiet, like he is trying to keep the conversation private. You assume that if he's on the ship already, there's probably not that much privacy. Mouth finally clear of chocolate, you push away your embarrassment. “Hah, no, just an evening snack.” You say lightly. “How are you?” “Tired, mostly.” Bradley's voice still sounds amused. “What about you? No bird of prey circling?” “Oh no, thank god.” You chuckle dryly. “I gave him the slip after dinner.” “You could just tell him to fuck off, instead of stealthing around base.” Bradley laughs.

“And give him the satisfaction that he got a rise out of me?” You question. “No, no, the less attention, the better. He's barely worth more.” “Such a rational approach.” He teases you. “What would you have done? Punched him?” You quip playfully. “I probably should have that time at breakfast for yelling at you.” He sounds matter of fact, although there's an edge to his voice. “Although I admire your stoicism.” You flush—he sounds so protective. A warmth fills your stomach. “Well, I certainly do appreciate the sentiment, lieutenant.” You smile. Normally, the nerves would have reduced you to a blushing, babbling puddle, but Bradley is so easy to talk to. Maybe it's because you're on the phone, your brain can actually focus on words, rather than his tall, tan and muscular physique.

You continue talking about light topics—Bradley promising to send you music recommendations, talking about your favorite movies and fun stuff to do around Miramar. The conversation turns to life on a ship. “So you're back on a regimen of peanut butter and jelly?” You giggle.

“If I'm lucky, I won't be out on sea that long this time.” Suddenly, he lets out a deep sigh. You can almost feel his mood change.

“The atmosphere is weird on the ship. Everyone is on edge—more than usual.” His voice is low and serious. “Do you feel more on edge than usual?” You ask softly. “Yeah - fuck, I don't know.” He sounds frustrated. “It's not like I'll be flying the mission anyway.” You sit up in your bed, frowning. “What makes you say that?” You don't remember reading anything pointing to Bradley not getting chosen—hell, you haven't seen anything about any possible mission team members. Mitchell, who would be making the decision, was keeping his card close to his chest. Nothing even specifically stood out from reports as much better or worse in the assessment of Bradley's flying skills—he was cautious, but all candidates had flaws that held them back from being successful in training. “Maverick has it out for me. He's going to bench me.” He sounds definitive in his conclusion. But you can hear the disappointment in his voice. Flying is his purpose and getting picked for a mission, no matter how insane, is a matter of honor and pride—a testament to unparalleled skill. “It sounds like that is about more than just the mission.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Bradley closes his eyes. Your voice sounds soft and soothing, but your perceptiveness cuts through. He hadn't wanted to talk about this, he wanted to have a fun, flirty, maybe sexy conversation to get his mind off things. But his temper got the better of him.

And you just sit there listening and being kind and understanding, making it so fucking easy to just unload. “He pulled my papers from the Naval Academy.” Bradley says bitterly. “He did what?” The sharp disbelief in your voice feels like a validation of all the resentment Bradley's been holding on to. The things he never really wanted to tell anyone about—the years of anger and pain of the betrayal—suddenly come tumbling out. “And all he tells me, is that I wasn't ready.” Bradley seethes. “A lot has changed since then.” Your voice is calm, and soothes some of his anger. Bradley sighs, trying to calm himself down. “Maverick set me back 4 fucking years, and he'll keep holding me back.” A note of defeat in his voice. “I know it's a small consolation, but it will be just this mission—you won't be under his command beyond that.” You try to encourage him. “Ultimately, you can't change what happened, but you can choose how to move forward from it.” “I'm sorry.” Bradley says softly, tiredly. His anger subsiding. “What for?” He notes the surprise in your voice, like you don't even think it's strange to compassionately accept his anger. “I didn't mean to bring this up, burden you with this.” He says slowly. “This was supposed to be a fun call.” “Please don't worry.” Your voice sounds hurried. “You needed to blow off some steam, and I hope I could help a bit.” Bradley smiles. Your acceptance of him gives him a warm feeling in his chest that he hasn't felt in a long time. He's been attracted to you since he saw you dunk that beer at the Hard Deck—first just kind of impressed by you dunking that beer in the first place, but also the cute flare of your temper to just shut the whole table up. He felt intrigued as you stumbled and blushed around him, but then suddenly would tease and meet him beat for beat. “I could think of a few other ways to blow off steam...” Bradley teases, voice deliberately low, grin on his face. The strangled little squeak on the other end of the line makes him grin broader. He can just imagine you blushing so delightfully as he throws you this curveball.

“Ah- ehm- I-” He chuckles as he listens to you struggle to form a sentence. “Darlin'...” He croons softly, laying it on thick. “I don't have much tim - jesus fucking christ!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ You nearly fall off the bed as Bradley suddenly swears loudly. Your face is burning and your heart pounds, so loudly you can barely hear the other end of the line. “Bradley?” You ask, hesitantly. On the other end, you hear a muffled voice. Bradley's annoyed voice cuts in, closer than the other voice, but he's clearly not talking into the phone. “I swear to god, Bob, don't fucking sneak up on people like that. I'm having a private conversation here.” The other voice is talking hurriedly—you still can't make out what they are saying. “Yeah, yeah, I'll be there shortly.” Bradley's voice is dismissive. “Sweetheart-” His voice has taken on a softer quality again. “I have to go. Rain check on where we left off?” You swallow heavily. “Yeah, yeah, of course.” You say somewhat breathlessly. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you grin. “You owe me one now.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ In the next two days, comms between you and Bradley are sporadic. He's out a sea now, so you know his reception will be spotty at best, never mind that he is probably busy with the final preparations for the mission. It's 48 hours until the mission is planned—weather conditions permitting. That means that today, Mitchell should have assembled his flight team and announce his picks. You have a strange feeling in your stomach—not quite nerves, but a foreboding feeling. You have not really examined your own feelings on the possibility of Bradley getting picked for the mission—he wants to do it, obviously. You almost feel like it's not really your place to have an opinion on it—sure as hell not as a professional, let alone personally. In your heart of hearts, the whole thing terrifies you. So when you are handed the morning brief containing the definite mission team, you don't open it immediately. Steeling yourself, willing your fingers not to tremble, you flick through the pages. Your eyes scan for the attack formation. Dagger 2 - Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw You slam the folder shut. Shit. You should be happy for him, but... but what? You chastise yourself. It's what he wants, it's what he does—and your opinion on it doesn't matter. You're not his girlfriend. Pushing your feelings on the matter away, you grab your phone and shoot Bradley a quick text. “Congrats :*” He probably won't see the message till late, but it's the thought that counts, letting him know you are thinking about him. The uneasy feeling in your stomach has only gotten stronger and doesn't leave the rest of the day. Late that evening, when you are in bed, you are forcing yourself to read your new book to get your mind off that strange feeling. It only works so-so as every few paragraphs you get distracted by errant thoughts about Bradley and the mission. No. It's really not something you should be overthinking this much. It's not about you. You tap your phone, no notifications, but it's nearing midnight. This would probably be a good time to go to sleep—the mission time is going to happen in the middle of the night local time, so getting as much sleep as you can beforehand is probably a good idea.

You flick off the light on the nightstand, curl up, and start looking for a video on your phone to listen to while you fall asleep. Clicking a random long video, you nestle in and close your eyes. You are not quite asleep, but dozing. Somewhere, from far away, the sound of the video is replaced by buzzing. Why is it buzzing? It's not supposed to be buzzing. How annoying. Flailing, you sit up in your bed—your phone is ringing. In a panic, you scramble for it in the pitch dark of your room. You don't even have to look at the caller ID, only one person would call you this late. “Hi” Your voice is thick from sleepiness. “I'm sorry, darlin', were you already asleep?” Bradley sounds apologetic. You clear your throat. “No, no, it's okay, don't worry about it.” You say quickly, betraying your eagerness. He chuckles. “I know it's already late back there, but I just wanted to hear your voice for a little bit.” You blush, not actually knowing what to say. “I have been thinking about you today.” You admit. “Have you, now?” His voice takes on a teasing quality. You swallow. “I meant...” You start, flustered. “With the team being announced today.” “Let's not talk about that now, darlin'.” Bradley's voice is low and smooth. “I'd rather hear how you've been thinking about outside of work hours.” Your mouth is dry. Is he serious? You're about as much turned on as you are embarrassed. Which is a lot on both accounts. You stumble over your words, reaching for something to say—something sexy, preferably. “I—I've never done this before.” Your voice trails off in embarrassment. Way to go, very sexy. “That's okay, sweetheart.” Bradley's voice is deep with desire. “I've been thinking about you so much - fuck, you cumming on my hand while moaning my name keeps me awake at night.” Heart beating loudly, you are wide awake now. Your fingers wander over your collar bone to the mark Bradley left on you. It's slightly faded, but still tender to the touch. You inhale sharply and close your eyes. “You marked me.” You utter breathlessly. “I can feel you with every move.” Licking your dry lips, you continue; “I have to hide it, and it's such a massive fucking turn on.” “I'll mark you as mine as much as you'll let me.” He's practically purring. God, that voice alone sends shivers down your spine. “I can't wait.” You rub your thighs together in anticipation as you lay back on your pillow. “I want to feel you on me.” “Tell me, darlin', how wet are you for me now?” You hum in reply, and your hand, as if it has a mind of its own, dips into your shorts. Just from the short conversation, you are already soaking. You moan softly. On the other end of the line, Bradley lets out a grunt. “You have to tell me, darlin', I'm not there to taste you.” “Fuck -” You let out a strangled sigh. “You make me so wet, I need—your touch.” “I want to hear you make yourself cum.” He's commanding you again. It's sending waves of heat down to your wet pussy. Your fingers start to stroke up and down your slit, spreading your juices. “Are you hard for me, baby?” You moan out as you softly run your fingertips over your clit. You hear Bradley swearing under his breath. “Hell, darlin', how could I not be with you moaning so sweetly.” He replies, voice thick. You start rubbing harder. “I want you to eat my pussy so fucking badly.” You say bravely as your breath hitches. “So much better than just fingers...” “Look at you talking dirty and swearing.” Bradley chuckles. “I want to find out how loud I can make you scream, eating you out.” “I'll ruin you for everyone else, darlin'” The possessiveness in his voice is doing strange things to you. You plunge two fingers into your cunt, the heel of your hand rubbing against your clit.

“I - I want no one else but you.” Your eyes are screwed shut from the overwhelming sensation of his words and your hand. “Your hand on my throat...” “Keep going...” Bradley grunts out. “There's so much I want to do to you—suck you off 'till you forget your own name. Cum over your cock over and over...” You are more moaning than talking. Bradley is breathing heavily. “Shit, sweetheart, I'm so close.” Your fingers move back to your clit and start moving erratically. “If you ruin me, I'm taking you with me, baby.” A heavy grunt comes from the other end of the line, followed by the dull sound of what is probably his back hitting a wall. He is panting and softly swearing. You are close now, the budding orgasm tightening the muscles in your abdomen. “Bradley...” You breathe. “I'm going to cum...” “Keep going, sweetheart.” His voice is hoarse. “Give the sweetest send-off I could ask for.” And with that, you fall over the edge, moaning his name like a prayer. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[note] Yikes, was so busy at work, this took a bit longer than anticipated. I can't wait for TGM to come out on stream, I've only seen it once and I know I'm missing a ton of story beats that could make the dynamic more interesting, but I don't quite remember in which order they happened—oops. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter! [taglist]@ponyboys-sunsets | @thatchickwiththecamera | @littlewhiterose | @katieshook02 | @straightforwardly | @zazzysseoul | @rororo06 | @datingbtr | @notalxx | @fresh-new-yoik-watah | @gretagerwigsmuse  | @swthxrry | @joshkiskasbunion | @caelipartem | @blackbrownie | @yanak324 | @unluckymonaghan | @letusbewildflowers | @ticklish-leafy-plant | @alana4610 | @eg-dr3amer3 

[inagetawaycarxo]

All the kink prompts w/ tom holland but a headcanon.🥺

WARNINGS: smut, sex, oral, nsfw, 18+, errors I missed

1. mirror sex;

Mirror sex often happens when Tom is in a possessive or jealous mood.

He while takes you from behind, either doggy style or taking you while the both of you stand up.

He will either press your face flush up against the mirror or fuck you on the bed making you look at the mirror as he fucks you.

Or both of you have sex in the bathroom. While you stare at the mirror while he fucks you.

“I want you to keep those pretty [e/c] eyes of yours open, I want you to look in the mirror as I fuck you,”

“Watch me fuck you,”

“Only I can fuck you like this,”

He will pull your hair back, pressing his mouth against your ear. Looking in the mirror as he fucks you.

Sometimes he will take photos of him fucking you, for masturbation inspiration when he is away from you.

2. thigh riding;

Thigh riding happens when Tom isn’t paying attention to you, and you are extremely sexually frustrated.

Normally happens when he is playing video games.

You will straddle one of his thighs and humping his thigh. Creating friction. Letting out small moans.

Tom would quickly disconnect his mic and exit the game or pause it.

“Babe, I’m in the middle of playing a game,” Tom whined. Pouting at you. as you continued to hump his thigh.

“And I’m horny,” You whined. Making Tom gulp, as he felt his erection grow.

He will quickly exit the game. Giving you his full attention.

Or he will continue to play the game, occasionally glazing at you, or seeing you ride his thigh from the corner of his eyes. His bulge growing by the second. Doing his best to avoid you till he can’t anymore.

3. dry humping;

Dry humping happens when Tom and you make out heavily. Grinding against each other.

Or when you ride his thigh.

4. voice kink;

You get turned on when Tom speaks in an American accent. Though you don’t mind his British accent. It’s the American accent that gets you turned on. Biting your lower lip, as your eyes darken with lust.

5. handcuffs;

Handcuffs are a rare occurrence. Mostly happens when Tom is anger or beyond jealous.

He will either handcuff you to the bedpost or put your wrists behind your back and handcuff you, with your hands behind your back.

Or you take the lead and put handcuffs on him. Handcuffing him to the bed. Where he begs you to take them off so he can touch you.

6. Overstimulation;

Tom likes to overstimulated you to the point you either squirt or blackout.

He will always have a smirk on his lips as he overstimulates you.

You will always beg him to stop, or at least let you have a rest.

7. choking;

He does choke you but only lightly.

Not hard enough to cut circulation on you.

He mostly does it when he is having angry sex with you or rough sex.

8. edging;

Tom loves teasing you.

He loves bringing you close to your release, then pull out, or slowly build you up to your orgasm but will never let you reach your orgasm.

He does this every time the both of you have sex. Which makes you whine and whimper. Begging him to let you cum.

9. praise kink;

Tom likes it when you praise him while he is either giving you oral, making love to you or fucking you.

He loves it when you compliment him on his size, and how he makes you feel.

Though you also like being praised as well. You love it when he praises you as you give him a blowjob or ride him.

10. spanking;

Spanking happens when you have disobeyed him, or he is jealous.

“Lay on my lap,” He commanded. Making you comply.

He will then proceed to spank you telling you to count the smacks.

11. biting;

Biting occurs a lot, mostly its love bites left on each other’s bodies.

Biting each other’s lips when it gets heated.

12. masturbation;

Both of you only really masturbate when he is away.

It is either facetime sex or skype sex or phone sex.

Both of you getting off in front of each other on a screen.

Or if you don’t answer and you are asleep or he is unable to reach you, he will go into his phone. Going into the locked photos. Choosing an explicit photo of you or video of you and jerking off to the pic/video of you.

13. face sitting;

Tom loves giving you oral.

He loves it when you sit on his face. your wet heat hovering above his mouth.

Grabbing a hold of your waist, as you press your wet heat against his mouth, as he eats you out.

Gliding his tongue up your folds or tongue fucking you.

14. begging;

Begging happens all the time.

It’s not you that just begs it’s Tom as well.

Whether it's for him to let you come.

Or for him to please you.

He likes to tease you with the head of his cock. Teasing your entrance before he puts it in.

When you take control Tom will beg you to suck him off.

15. shower sex;

Shower sex happens a lot.

Tom likes to say, “Save water, show together,”

Which often leads to sex.

Both of you giving each other oral.

He will either push you against the wall, and take you from behind, or doggy style, or pick you up and press your back against the shower wall.

The water makes it more pleasurable, as it hits his and your skin.

16. striptease;

Tom loves it when you striptease.

Slowly taking your clothes off in front of him, as he stares at you hungrily. Eyes darkening with lust. Biting his lower lips. Whistling at you.

“You look so hot,” He moaned out. Taking his lower lip in between his teeth.

17. against the wall;

It is either the shower wall, a wall in the bedroom or a wall in any room.

Your front pressed against the wall or your back.

If it is your back, then he will pick you up. Your legs wrapping around his waist. Holding onto his shoulders for dear life.

18. body worship;

Tom loves every single part of your body, down to freckles, stretch marks, scars, etc. he will kiss them softly.

Just like Tom, you love every single part and feature of his body. making sure you pay attention to his freckles and features.

19. eating out;

Tom enjoys eating you out.

He gets turned on and has a huge ego boost when you moan his name.

He finds your reaction to getting eating out hot.

The way you tremble at his touch.

He has to hold your hips down.

Swirling his tongue around your clit. Or his thumb.

Sucking and licking.

Kitten licks, quick flicks, zigzag, sucking and gliding up while still sucking, weaving his tongue between your folds, long licks and circling the clit.

Holding onto his hair tightly. Tugging his hair. As moans escape your mouth. Head tossed back.

You wrap your legs around his head. Or if he is eating you up while you are standing you hook one of your legs around his shoulder.

20. blowjob;

Like any guy, he loves it when you give him a blowjob.

He loves it when your warm wet mouth wraps around his cock. Slowly bobbing your head. All the while looking at him.

Or when you lick your tongue up the base of his shaft to his head.

Swirling your tongue around the head of his cock.

Tom’s fingers raking through your hair. Gripping it into a ponytail, as he watched you bob your head up and down.

He likes to praise you, moaning your name.

Tossing his head back as pleasure coursed through his body.

21. early morning sex;

Early morning sex does happen if both of you wake up in the morning early enough.

It’s either lazy sex in bed or sex in the shower.

Being quiet as possible. Tom will cup his hand over your mouth muffling your moans and gasps.

22. marking;

Both Tom and you like marking each other’s bodies.

Leaving a litter of love bites on each other’s bodies.

Tom does not attempt to cover them up. Unless he is in public.

You however try and cover them up, but they still show up no matter how much makeup you use.

Tom just shrugs his shoulders and gives you an innocent look, obviously not that bothered you can’t cover them up.

23. possessiveness;

Tom tries to suppress his possessiveness, but it fails. He doesn’t like it when other males or females look at you like you are single.

You are his and his only.

They can look but they can’t touch. Though he prefers them not to lust over you.

It definitely shows.

Whenever he is possessive it leads to rough sex.

24. size kink;

You lust over his muscles all the time. grabbing a hold of them. Gripping them, touching them. Just plain out staring at them as your mind wanders to dirty thoughts.

25. public/semi-public;

He does it discreetly. Normally either he or you give a signal or he gives you a signal, or one of you sneaks off and the other one follows.

It’s happened in the club a lot, both of you sneaking off to have sex in the bathroom stall. Or somewhere private.

If it’s not the club then it's some other event he and you go to then the both of you will sneak off somewhere to do the dirty deed.

26. watching the other get off;

Tom likes to watch you get off.

Especially during phone sex [facetime sex].

Both of you getting turned on as he and you watch each other masturbate.

Moans motivating each other.

He wishes it were his fingers inside of you, and your mouth around his cock instead of his hand but unfortunately his far away and watching each other get off was the only option.

Talking dirty to each other.

Coaxing each other into orgasming.

[metalsongoftheday]

Friday, August 19: AC/DC, “Rocker”

R.I.P. Ronald Belford “Bon” Scott (1946-1980), Malcolm Young (1953-2017)

Up until Highway to Hell, AC/DC’s albums were released in different configurations, track listings and even mixes depending on the territory, making it hard to determine which version of, say, Powerage was the “proper” one.  And “Rocker” in particular had a few different lives: it wasn’t properly released in the US until 1981 when Atlantic Records finally opted to release Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap (though it had appeared on the live If You Want Blood You’ve Got It), though it had been in circulation in Europe since 1976, and was actually originally released in Australia in 1975 as part of T.N.T., and with a different mix to boot (it was slightly longer).  But even with that strange history, the track was a band and fan favorite, usually popping up either as the first encore or the grand finale at their shows.  Funny enough, they actually performed “Rocker” a bit slower on stage, as if the recorded version was too fast even for them. Perhaps that wasn’t surprising, since on record the tune was frantic to the point of nearing punk rock, if not proto-speed metal: Angus and Malcolm Young’s riffing outpaced Phil Rudd’s drum slap, and Bon Scott’s rowdy yelping could hardly keep up.  Of course, all of that was part of the magic of AC/DC’s early years: they hadn’t fully developed as writers just yet, but Harry Vanda and George Young knew how to capture their intensity, and there was something singular about the way they locked in as a single power surge.  And “Rocker” was pure power, a jolt of electricity in a bottle by a band bursting at the seams. It was no wonder shows during the Bon era frequently ended with this, since it was the perfect distillation of their energy and charisma.

[infinitelytheheartexpands]

Do you have any stories or figures, etc. (of your creation OR already existent) that you'd like to see adapted into an opera? Who'd the dream cast be and what would it look like, sound like?

I have two stories I wrote in high school that I'd love to see as operas:

For Every Spring--short story about a mother and daughter during the Reign of Terror

Madeleine: Ying Fang

The Mother: Joyce DiDonato

sparse unit set, cross between music of the time period and a quintessential French Romantic style

The Last Testament of a "Monstrous" Condemned Woman-- prison flashback story about rediscovering art, burglary, and murderous arson

The Woman: Marina Rebeka

The Investigator: Gerald Finley

not sure about who to play the smaller characters, it's set at an unspecified point in the mid-to-late 1800s, so look reflects that, sound kinda reflects that but I also envision it as Korngold/Expressionist-esque

(the full text of both stories is below. please keep in mind that these are both at least three and a half years old):

For Every Spring:

March 19, 1794, evening.

“Go on now. Do it.”

The woman’s voice filled her daughter’s ears with that simple command. The daughter was standing with a pair of scissors in one hand, staring into a mirror hung on the otherwise bare wooden wall. Her eyes brimmed with tears.

“Mama, how much more can this revolution take from me?”

Her mother could hear her daughter’s weariness and despair, and for a moment, felt pity for her, but steeled herself. “You must do it. There is nothing left for me. But perhaps you could still escape.”

“I don’t want to go without you.”

“You must. There is no way I could escape… the revolutionary leaders know me too well. But they wouldn’t recognize you if you dressed in an urchin boy’s rags and had a dirty face.” Mother glanced at her daughter’s shining blonde hair that went almost halfway down her back again and sighed. “The hair, though. In order to look like a boy, you have to cut off your hair. If they see long hair, they’d suspect you’re hiding something…” She shivered. “And they would investigate, and it wouldn’t end well for you.”

“But what if I pulled it back? Tucked it in under my hat?”

“It could fall down. And if they took your hat off and saw a bunch of pulled-back hair…”

“I know, but other than you, my hair is my one joy left.”

“It’ll grow back.”

The young woman paused. She fell into a swirl of memories: how her father had loved her long golden hair, how when she was little, he would toy with it and tell her it was more beautiful than any princess’s, and finally, how the Reign of Terror had brutally claimed him, just like it was about to claim her mother.

Her mother went on, “Your life is more important…” Knowing her daughter was still hesitant, she took the scissors out of her daughter’s hand. “Now hold up your hair so I can cut it.”

The daughter obliged, but at the same time, a single tear trickled down her pale cheek.

Snip.

The first cut, like a dagger to the heart.

Snip-snip-snip-snip-snip…

In just a few minutes, the deed was done. The girl’s long golden locks were scattered all over the bare floor.

Mother turned her around and gazed into the girl’s eyes. She slowly whispered, “You look just like Papa…”

The tears her daughter had tried to hold back burst forth in her grief, and she collapsed in the middle of the cut-off locks of hair, weeping.

“I lost Papa, and now I must lose you! Why must I lose everyone and everything that brings me any happiness?”

The woman took her daughter in her arms as outside in the streets, people cried, “Vive la révolution! Vive Robespierre!” She said, almost under her breath, “You haven’t lost your life like I will tomorrow. You can make it out of the country, and you will, I know. Don’t stay to see me die, or you will too. Remember the plan?”

“Wear the peasant rags. I’ve done that,” she broke off, gesturing at the clothes she was now wearing. She quickly continued, “Dirty your face in the soot. Take the sack of bread, cheese, and money and leave under cover of night. Tell the guards at the city gates that your name is Raoul, and you’re going to see your sick aunt in Calais. Go to Calais; tell the guards there that you’re going to London to see your uncle. Get to London somehow- stow away on a ship if you must, and start over again. Without your mother who cares for you and wants nothing more than-“ She stopped, momentarily unwilling to recite the last part of the instructions her mother had drilled into her head.

But she took a slow, deep breath and finished,“To go with you, but she must be with you from afar, not by your side.” Her body shook with her sobs.

“Yes,” her mother replied. Now she was crying too. “But take heart, my child, and remember I love you more than the sun and the moon and the stars and the whole world.” She sighed. “Madeleine…”

“Yes, Mama?”

“I wish it didn’t have to end this way.”

“Me too.”

Now it was raining outside, and it was dark. The only light came from the half-moon shimmering in the black sky. It was silent now except for their weeping.

At last, Madeleine said, “It’s raining. See? The sky is crying because of your death.”

“No,” her mother firmly replied, not wanting to hear of any pity. “The sky is not crying- not for me, not for you, not for anyone. It is merely raining, my child. Spring is coming, don’t you remember?”

“Yes, but for every spring…” Madeleine did not dare say the second part of the saying she had heard about spring.

Mama sighed and finished it for her, “A winter melts away.” She shivered and continued, “I am the winter. I have lived a long life, I am old, I am about to die.”

Madeleine wept.

“But you- you are the spring, so young, so beautiful, with such a bright future ahead. Go and live. Do not stay to see me die.”

Madeleine, still crying, sat by her mother, and her mother took her into her arms. They held on to each other, not wanting to ever let go, though they both knew inside that sometime, they would have to let go of each other- forever.

At last, Mother whispered, “Go, my child.” She let go.

Madeleine grabbed the sack and was almost out the window before she looked back at her mother for the last time. She whispered, “I love you, Mama.”

The response, softly spoken through quiet tears, was simple. “I love you too. Goodbye.”

Madeleine slipped out the window.

Some time later, a church bell chimed midnight. “The beginning of a new day, a new spring. Today is the first day of spring,” she thought.

At last, she whispered into the air, to her daughter, wherever she was now,

“For every spring, a winter melts away. But please, Madeleine, do not think about the winter melting… ”

The Last Testament of A "Monstrous" Condemned Woman:

“The Venetian government sent me here.”

The man faced me, with a look that could best be described as a mix of utter contempt and bewildered curiosity, but still managing to be very official, on his face.

“Why? Do they usually do this to prisoners awaiting their imminent execution?”

“No,” he replied very sharply. “They sent me here because even after the questioning and your trial, they still do not understand why you did everything that you did. And your crimes- they are sensational, to say the least. Your trial had the whole city in an uproar. And, mia piccina,” he added with disdain, “that is a very hard thing to do in such a city as Venice. So before you are executed at dawn, they want to know why-why you caused such destruction so heartlessly, why you took so many lives like a hardened assassin.”

“Heartless? A hardened assassin?” I just managed to get out the words. “No, no. You do not understand. The reason I did not talk is because they would not listen. They saw a monster. That is all they saw, just like I know you see me now.”

“Do you not want to preserve your own story before you die?”

His words startled me. And then I realized it: This is my only chance to show them that I am no monster.

“Very well, then,” I replied. “I will tell you everything.”

Without looking at me, he reached into his bag, pulling out a notepad and a pen and setting the pad on his lap. After that, with eyes still averted, he told me, “You talk, I take notes. Begin now, for dawn will come before long.”

“I was born in the English countryside, the only child of a scholar who had come into some wealth thanks to his marriage to the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in all England. Throughout my childhood, I was constantly exposed to all sorts of wonderful thoughts and books and ideas because many scholars would come and share their thoughts on every subject imaginable. My father was always one of the ones who talked the most- he knew so much, and he always wanted to learn more, to discover more-”

“Will you please stop wasting time and get to the point?”

“That was just what I was doing,” I snapped back. “Anyway, he was very ambitious. As time went on, I became more interested in art than anything else. I could not draw, paint, or sculpt to save my life, but I marveled at its beauty, the way some people were just able to recreate something out there in the world, and I wanted to understand how they did it. And there was another aspect of it, too, that fascinated me: there would be scholars that came from Paris, from Rome, from the Netherlands to share these great lost artworks that they had rediscovered, and to tell how they had become renowned for finding these artworks, how the art would be preserved for eternity and so would they, for the simple reason that after all these years, they had found these masterpieces and given them new life. And I? I wanted to do just that too.”

At that moment, I noticed him hurriedly writing, trying to keep up with everything I was saying.

“I can wait for you to finish writing,” I offered.

He nodded, and for several seconds, I said nothing as he finished his notes.

“So what does this have to do with you coming to Venice?” he eventually asked.

“Well, the time came when my father passed away. When he died, he left his entire estate to me, including all of the books in his library. I had never seen many of them- he never let me read them, because they were too precious. But he promised me that when I inherited the estate, I could read as many of the books as I wished.”

“Those books,” I continued, “became my way of healing from the grief. To read the same books that my father had studied from somehow felt like a way of being near him, and that eased the pain. I spent almost every waking hour exploring the library, reading and then reading some more.”

I paused, and a thought shot through me: This is the moment you set down this road of sorrow. I shook it off though, and went on:

“One night, I was browsing through the shelves when I came across a set of eight dusty old books. They were all about Italian artists from the Late Middle Ages and the Renaissance. I can hardly describe to you the effect of these books. They had a massive effect on me, but not for the reason you think.”

“Well then, what was the reason?”

“The front cover of each book had a most interesting thing written in it. Together, they seemed to make up a series of instructions for finding a lost artwork. And those instructions were thus:

‘The city of the winged lion has many secrets yet to give up,

Including one by one not older, but younger.

A fire blazing in the Palazzo Ducale

Took the lives of many masterpieces,

And this was thought to be one of them.

But a saint still lives, preserved in that palace,

Old but still preserved, and still preserving,

Francesco’s St. Jerome writes, though he is asleep, and does not die!’

Now I knew enough to know this: the city of the winged lion is Venice, and the fire was the great Doge’s Palace fire in the late 1500s. The “younger” was almost certainly Palma il Giovane, who was the great-nephew of Palma Vecchio, a good enough painter, and who painted extensively for a Francesco, Duke Francesco Maria II of Urbino. It was known that Palma had painted St. Jerome for Francesco, but everyone assumed that the painting had been lost. And as soon as I figured all of this out, I thought, ‘What if this could be the great discovery I have hoped to make?’ You understand, I was very ambitious, and at that moment I resolved to find it, no matter what.”

“Let me get this straight. You pieced together some handwritten sentences, thought overly hard about their implications, and decided to go and do whatever it took to get this precious painting?”

“Exactly.”

“You are British, yes? You are just like Lady Macbeth! You get a hint of an idea, and you murder anyone who stands in the way of you!”

“No. I never planned on murdering anyone, I swear! Now if you would just be quiet, I would get to that!”

Silence. I shook my head, and went on:

“The next day, with nothing but two hundred pounds, a sack of food and water, and the instructions copied onto a sheet- you see, I wasn’t planning on staying in Venice- I left home, and went to London. And from there I traveled on, first to Le Havre, then to Paris-”

“No one needs to know your travel itinerary.”

At that moment, a church bell chimed twice.

“It’s summer, and dawn will be here before too long,” the man advised. “Now I suggest you stop wasting your last hours and skip to you getting to Venice and exactly why you did what you did here. You don’t have much time left to tell your story, you know.” He seemed not so much impatient now as considerate, as if he were genuinely interested in what I was telling him.

“Fine. Anyway, I arrived in Venice, and I immediately set out for the Doge’s Palace. When I got there, it took me forever to find the painting, especially because I had no idea what it actually would look like. No one knew anything about the dimensions or the medium or what it looked like because it had been lost for so long. But everyone was saying that it had been called a masterpiece in its day, that it would be a major find. And that was what kept me going during those hard days and nights of searching. And at last, I found it inside one of the private rooms once used by the Doges of Venice.”

“So you found it. Congratulations. And how did you get here?”

“I wanted to return home, to my books, and bring the painting with me. I was planning to study the painting and only then reveal to the world what I found. But there was a problem, one I had not anticipated.”

“And what was that, mia piccina?” He no longer said it condescendingly, but as if he genuinely cared about everything I had gone through.

“I had no money left, no money to return home, and no way of getting any money, or at least, I did not think I had a way of getting any money.”

I shuddered with remorse now, thinking of where I had gotten the idea.

“Later on, I was roaming the streets, thinking about what I could do in order to get back home. At first, I was thinking of begging, but I thought that was weak. I am not a victim, and I would not allow myself to be weak like that. And then, I saw a jewelry house, with many fine jewels in the windows, the most and the finest diamonds by far I had ever seen! And the store- it was called the Salvadori Diamond Atelier, I believe- was not even guarded! Even though it had all these wonderful jewels worth thousands, thousands of pounds, I tell you!” I cried.

His brows had furrowed, and I knew what he was thinking now.

“Sir, sir, I feel so much remorse for this, it’s true, but when I saw all those lovely diamonds, I could not help but think, ‘This is my way to get money, to go home at last and someday show the world what I have accomplished, and fulfill my ambition.’ And I resolved to steal as many diamonds as I could that very night, so I could sell them for money.”

No, no, no. I cannot bear to tell this… but all of Venice already knows this…and I must tell this…oh God, but it haunts me so much…

My face must have gone pale, because the man asked, “Are you ill? Do you need to rest?”

“No, I just feel so, so guilty and horrified by what I am about to tell you…” I took a deep breath. “But I must tell you anyway.”

“That night, it happened to be a new moon, and the full darkness of the sky covered me. I felt so confident that everything would go according to plan. I would get in, take some diamonds, and leave Venice at once.”

“And indeed,” I continued, “at first, everything went according to plan. There was a door in the back, a very small door, that had been left unlocked. I slipped inside and slowly felt my way into the shop until I found the glass cases. And that was the point when things started going awry: I had found a pin, and since I had been taught how to trick a lock using a pin, I thought that I could simply use the pin, unlock the case, and stuff the jewels inside my bag. But the pin did not work- I don’t know whether the lock was very special or whether I just performed the trick wrong. It wouldn’t open though, so I had to resort to smashing the glass.”

“Let me guess,” he said, looking up from his notes. “Someone heard, and started shouting for the police?”

“To tell you the truth, I don’t know, because of how concentrated I was on my work, although that is probably it. But in any case, the police arrived, and in that moment, I realized that if I was caught, then I would be arrested and likely never return to England again. And I also realized that there was no way for me to make it to that small door unseen. But there was still another option.”

“What was it?” Now he was leaning forward.

I panicked inside. Please, I want to go back in time somehow, make it so I never did this, so that I never caused so much pain, which I never wanted to do…

“There was a small oil lamp with a flame inside the case, some wood that had broken off the case frame, and a jar of oil. And I realized that a fire would cause confusion, during which I could possibly escape. So,” I shut my eyes and said as fast as possible, “I poured the oil onto the wood, dropped the lamp on top, yelled ‘You will die before you discover me!’, and ran out of the shop, to the streets, and as I ran, I saw the whole building burst into flames and I heard screams, screams of officers burning, burning to death. Those screams, they haunt me still, even after all these weeks in prison and in court. And I smelled their flesh burning, and I relished it at first, knowing I had made it out.” And I realized I was shaking, and yes, starting to feel sick.

“But you seem so full of pain and remorse now,” the man said, confused.

“Just a few minutes later, I ran into another officer. The sight of him made me realize what I had done- I had killed innocent men just for money…” I was crying now, but I knew I still had to finish. So I continued, “At that moment, my conscience overwhelmed me for the first time ever, and I started weeping, just as I am now, and started screaming about how I had burned a group of officers in the Salvadori Diamond Atelier to death. The officer was confused, but I led him there, and showed him- the burning building, the people screaming, the firemen bringing out the bodies of dead officers. And then he arrested me right then and there.”

I fell silent. I have nothing left to say.

The man looked at me. “Do you have anything else you want to tell me?”

Through my tears, I choked out, “No, the rest of the story, you already know it…the trial, my sentencing to death…I just want it all to end. I never wanted any of this, and now I just want it to end, to spare the world any more horror I could cause…You see, the world is right- I am a monster…” Again, I fell silent.

“It is a strange thing, life,” he observed. “So many times, good people are driven to do unspeakable things which they never would have dreamed of doing except in the moment they did them. And for that, they are unjustly called monsters, for that one black blemish in an otherwise good life, and they are condemned to eternal damnation in the minds of the world, to be forever called a monster. Most of the time, the condemned do not speak.”

The cell door opened.

“Dawn breaks,” the jailer said. “And with it, your monstrous life ends.”

“-But you have broken the silence. You are very brave and strong to do that. That man will soon realize, like the rest of the world will, like I already know, that you are not a monster.”

“Now I must leave, for the hour of your death has come. Remember, you might die to expiate what the world has labeled you a monster for, but soon, your legacy will be realized for what it actually is. Go. Hold your head high. You have suffered much, but you do not deserve to suffer forever, and you will not suffer forever. Goodbye, mia piccina.”

And with that, he left. I rose, and surrendered to the jailer.

That black blemish he spoke of, I thought to myself as I walked with the jailer, will never be excusable. But it is not everything I am. And the world will know it is not everything I am.

Suddenly emboldened by this thought, I raised my head and held it high.

I know that I will find redemption somehow, for the world cannot truthfully say now that this is all I am. For I have said otherwise.

Now I am ready to die.

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Puppet Strings

Please don’t police the shit out of me for this one (I’ve read and seen all of what’s happening in Tumblr with the talented authors 😭😫---either way, I DGAF if I get judged for writing this. Y’all are getting this for free. LMAO. Welcome to my freakin’ kinky world. 😭

MASTERLIST

Characters: Stephen Colley x Reader

Summary: You’ve had Stephen wrapped around your finger by using your family’s kindness to your advantage---keeping him guilty and complying over whatever wishes you wanted---he was giving it due to your manipulative, cunning persona. You were being head-over-heels for him that made you have your reasons, thinking that being the way you are was fine for your strong obsession. 

Warnings: NSFW 18+ Manipulative reader. Obsessed reader. This is quite dark for me because she’s using our puppy to her benefit (somehow?)---using Stephen as if he’s her boy toy. Spitting. Sub!Stephen. Porn with a plot. (Though, this was planned to only be porn without a plot LMAO) Dub-con. Exhibitionism. Angst? Thirsty ass reader. Not connected to the plot of the movie.

Words: 3,810+

A/N: I didn’t know what happened that this ended up this way. Please don’t judge my soul for this.I was all ‘oh my baby stephen’ to writing this filthy shit. Also, Stephen’s 20 in this and the reader is 19, okay? So, legal. (In my country it is) ENJOY, FILTHY LADIES! This made me pout because of how soft Stephen is and the reader is quite...Eh. 😭 I think this will be a 3-5 part fic. Heehee. Or maybe not----lmao. We’ll see. 

Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS PART! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK AFTER READING, BB!  

Disclaimer: PNG’s and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and this fanfic is definitely from moi.

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

THE SMELL OF BLUEBELLS WAS ARDENT AND SWITH, it's scent thoroughly withstanding and wafting through your nose with the odor of sweat. Stephen's earthy and musk scent adding more stimulation to what was being given down south and around the canvas of your breasts.

An ample amount of slime trailed a path from the swell of your knockers through the meander of your neck, feeling a pair of soft, delicate lips having its way and paving to have a suck; thrilled and exploratory over giving you a mark that you surely ordered him around to.

You've felt the tiny nibbles on your neck, feeling full over being filled by the cock of your family's lackey who happened to be under your manipulative, presumptuous fingers. Stephen was having his way with you, as he was commanded to do so in the middle of harvesting crops; all sweaty, dirty and masking in his domestic labor as your fingers hooked along his belt hoops, pulling him away from the field towards a veiled place where bluebells were filled.

The first time you've had sex with Stephen, he was beyond hesitant. His rosy cheeks fueled as if it was on fire from the moment you've asked him for more of his services; to be the one to take your virginity rather than a rich, middle aged man who had terrible mustaches that crept the heck out of you.

Stephen and his pure innocence understood your favors of help by wanting him to accompany you in the city while you buy things for yourself or stuff that your mother asked to buy.

Much to your dismay for his lack of apprehension, It wasn't the type of aid you were asking for.

How pretty his face flushed a lot more from how you've frankly told him that you needed a different type of assistance to satisfy that curiosity of yours made you giggle, the desire pooling more in the pit of your stomach, filling in the prurient passion as if it was enough to stimulate you.

Stephen Colley was utterly pretty, beyond God's work as he was sculpted with a face of a Greek God as people have been saying. Your family even admiring God's work of art by how he was created; enough to be painted and inspired to be sculptured in the museums. He was the first boy in your fantasies and the only one that could make you breathe deep breaths in between rubbing the itch in your mound as you explored your body by yourself that nobody ever had yet.

He was your fantasy. The boy in your dreams that you would gladly want to have in your life for years end.

After welcoming the afterglow of an orgasm, such debauched thoughts came into your head in the same time you've wanted to rub onto that button again for thinking about him.

You were going to have him. You wanted him, you've mindlessly convinced yourself. Stephen was a plague that could infect your precious little mind---the facade of an innocent, kind and shy sweetheart that your family has been seeing from you was ruined when you've reached puberty.

It wasn't helping that Stephen walked around the house with clothes that you surely want to ruin. Your mind being influenced by your older sister's experiences with men and how her sex life have been.

She was a wild one and deep inside---no matter how much you tell yourself that it was a deed that people respectfully hold onto, the untamed part of you wanted to experience it with the boy who had adorable rosy cheeks and a gorgeous accent that could make you gush.

Being in line with the heavens, you were lucky Stephen was quite naive despite being a year older than you and with all the plans you had inside your head, being manipulative and guilt-tripping him till he would obey was the only answer for him to accept your offers because the boy was beyond nice and respectful, innocent---delicate as he may seem in being a rose without thorns amongst the bundle of daisies growing along the field.

You weren't his first to be honest; hearing that he had his virginity taken by a lady when he was taking a trip to the city, the woman being older than him and enamored by his beauty, she was very pretty as Stephen saw her the first time---growing a little crush before the lady has offered him a night filled with pleasure, leaving him alone the next morning and a ton of cash that has left him heartbroken by expecting a number or a sweet filled morning with her.

Was this obsession you had for Stephen? you couldn't tell while having the luck of being boffed by him no matter how tentative he may been. The phrase you've been telling whenever he was reluctant held a powerful will for making him capitulate over your wishes.

'You're working for us---I'm your miss. Shouldn't you always follow what I have to say, Stephen?'

Guileful and conniving for you, but you've had no other choice especially when you've heard your sister gossip about how he was starting to take a liking over a girl across the neighborhood, the lady living in a castle---going way back with him and her family because they've known each other since they were kids until they've moved away and came back to their hometown.

Cassandra. That was her name. It was a name that should be left forgotten in Stephen's mind.

Your boy shifted in between your opened legs, your dress hiked up and his trousers unbuttoned; stopping on the end of his derriere as he stuck his swollen cock inside your tight folds, kissing and licking along your throat and breasts that had you mewling beneath him.

Begging him to take you in the middle of the grass to relieve that fantasy only he could satisfy, you've laid beneath him and promised that he could take his time and do whatever he pleases. Exploring every inch and depth of your body with your dress being in a bunch and unfastened by Stephen. Today, you've just wanted to feel him, touch him and let him be inside you because of certain feelings that can't be resisted.

He was patiently taking his time, both of you basking in the afternoon glow before dusk and never bringing in a gas lamp before night even arrives. Stephen was licking your taut nub, his mouth close to your nipple as his hot breath was fanning along his own saliva, bringing pleasure and satisfaction. Another weak whimper erupted from your mouth, watching his eyes closed; tongue darting out to flick your other hardened nipple before deeply moaning out his approval as he devoured your breasts with a tight, strong suck.

The lewd action was enough to make your spine and toes curl.

You've flexed your cunt, tightening around his girth and you've heard him lowly groan with your nipple in his mouth. He immediately pulled his mouth off your breasts with a pop. Innocent, lust-filled baby blues stared above you, the flicker in his eyes asking and waiting for your next behest.

"Stephen," was the only word you managed to croak out, sounding like you were being choked as you felt him slowly pull out of your thirsty cunt. He leaned his head to the left, dipping his head and giving you a kiss which caught you off-guard; it was plain and enough to take your mind off his throbbing cock that has slithered in. After being explored by his mouth on your body, Stephen's lips that landed on you to give a peck surely felt unfamiliar because you both rarely do share kisses in the midst of intercourse.

His crimson colored lips on yours felt divine. The sudden smooch probably involuntary in his part because of how sexually intimate you were being with him. You've swallowed the moan forming in your throat by feeling him wholly pull out, moaning and whining from the lack of imbue and by forcing yourself not to have your way with his lips---wanting nothing but to dance your mouth with his.

You knew this was a one-sided affection and he didn't entirely adored you like how you do for him.

Your fingers gripped onto the grass on either side, it traveled and clasped around Stephen's neck that felt balmy beneath the pad of your fingers. Drops of perspiration smoothening out as you watched him pant above you, breathless and in a daze. His cheeks turning rosier and crimson from such scabrous act you've brought him in.

He was heavy and scathing on your thigh. His hand grabbing onto the growing base of his throbbing, uncut, hard cock as he looked between you both, a shaky breath leaving his lips as he was feeling his cock on his hands, fingers enclosing around his girth to give it one jerk that made you salivate.

His neck was sweating, drops of perspiration falling along his temples and to distract yourself, you've darted your tongue out to sweep the sweat off his face, catching him off guard that made him throatily groan and cast you a look, his eyes withdrawn and thoroughly focused on what taboo you tried to help him be accustomed with.

The place you decided to be ravished on was rather risquè but also getting you more thrilled to know that your sister knew this spot as a location you always spend time with whenever you were reading. You've heard tiny shuffling of bushes which made Stephen look away and observe whoever that was with his eyebrows knotted together---distracting him and pushing the worry away just like you always do, you've quietly whispered in his ear.

"Put that cock in me, Stephen. Please,"

At the sound of you pleading, it was enough to pull his thoughts away from being concerned over your family catching you both in such a raunchy moment. Their daughter laid amongst the land, being ravished by their worker who they've trusted for all their heart---a boy whom they didn't expect to be salaciously connected with you.

The both of you were in for a tough scolding if caught.

Pointing the head of his cock in your entrance, he'd swiftly drove in. You were wet enough for him to slip inside with the right tightness of your cunt that pushed him to grunt as he filled you in one go. Your back curled from the penetration, the thirst for sexual gratification being answered by Stephen when he started to thrust his hips, experimenting over the pace that could make you moan around his arms before pummeling like how he wanted to.

"Oh yeah---yeah---yes, just like that," you've choked in your own moans and pleasure, licking your lips and watching how he was defiling your cunt with his cock, your slick moisturizing his---the filthy sound of your juices coating his, thrusting in and out of your folds; becoming music to the sound of insects probably watching how you were both sending each other raptures.

Stephen knew how thrilled you were becoming by the audible sound of how filthy he was making you feel. Being aware of the obscene sound whenever he tries to fasten the pace, slowing down to let you both appreciate the erotic sense of debauchery has gotten you biting your lip up at him.

You were his miss and whatever you wanted was his job to give.

He'd slip a hand in between you, the pad of his thumb finding your clit and when he did, Stephen started rubbing that throbbing nub of yours in rough, circular motions making your core jerk, your hips chasing his hand with each thrust he gives; entirely accepting and embracing the sheer pleasure he was giving.

Your boy was deeply grunting with each shove of his hips, his cock befouling your scheming soul and you were loving every moment---cherishing the sounds he create that only you could muster.

Only you, not Cassandra---not anyone.

In the midst of such onslaught and currently trapped in your own bliss, you've never took heed of Stephen panting out your name; thinking that he was bemoaning his desperation for continuously prodding your hole in a greedy pace, his carping had a flicker of perturbation in his diluted, lust-filled baby blues as he tried to catch your attention.

"Miss---Miss," Stephen couldn't stop his smutty assaults. Too concentrated on reaching both of your highs as he peered down at you with his peepers growing larger when he heard your name being called from afar; being an echo of warning that what you were both caught up with was utterly unchaste.

"---your family---ugh---they're seeking for you," he grunted with every word and plunge; his pace never stopping and his fingers reaching further down to polish your clit. Your leak being spread all over your folds as he licked his lips, admiring how you were writhing beneath his body---how you reacted to his ministrations.

Their voices echoed from afar, alerting you both that they were closer than you imagined them to be. It was the dead of the night already, the time after nightfall as you both welcomed the sins of passion that you have gotten Stephen to be involved in again. Being in the shadows of the night, the moment was easier to covert from your family as you laid to satisfy your mania. The ruffle of grass being stepped on repeatedly actually has been the sound of Stephen ardently violating your cunt along the land of dew.

You've both turned your heads to see light coming from the far distance. A buzz of incomprehensible words of unknown from your sister who was mindlessly telling her hunches as to where you both went; remembering that Stephen was also not around for her to ask if he could buy stuff around town because it was already night time.

"Oh, yes!---don't mind them!---just do me,"

He slowed down his pace, skeptical over being caught but never stopping his thrusts while his features turned conflicted over being dubious and also feeling like he was floating for the twist of elation written on your face from his drives. You've grabbed onto his hair, roughly turning his head to face yours as he loudly grunted and groaned above you, the sound made you slip a finger on his lips to shush his moans.

"You're not going to get caught---we're not going to get caught. Just stifle your moans. You can do that. You're a good boy---our good boy and you'll make me cum, right?"

The whispers you've managed to slip past your lips made him stare down at you, understanding what you were trying to point out and it has not been seconds before he'd nodded before you, starting his relentless pace that made you sigh as he was trying to build up your orgasm again, grabbing onto your ankle and hooking it around his hip as he continued to forge himself in you; his breath hitting your face with every push---grunts being uncontrolled from the actions.

You've heard a twig break from behind, not wanting Stephen to be distracted---you've grabbed onto his face and forced him to look at you; your heart beat never ceasing to run fast whenever he stares into your eyes. The fast heart beat also being the cause of your orgasm coming.

He'd shifted in between you, your hips bucking to meet every thrust he offered. Mewling out lewd moans whenever he hits that spot that felt so heavenly. Reaching for his hand, you've guided him back to where he has been flicking---your clit that he immediately rubbed on as you were approaching your high.

Loud, rough grunts came from his throat, feeling his own coming as your cunt gripped him hard for the sounds he was creating. Your mouth and face contorted in sheer pleasure when you've violently thrashed against his hold. Stephen's unconscious response was to grab onto you, keeping you closer to his lean, muscular body---a wiry sculpted body from all the hard work that he does for your family; convulsing in his arms as you gushed around his penetrative cock.

Rambunctious ugh's came from the both of you, especially from your boy who was in the midst of coming. Your sensitive cunt was jolting as Stephen went on in propelling himself, his face of bliss bringing you ecstacy as it was hot for a beautiful face to be debauched like that. You've forgotten your family who was in search for you when he wholly pulled out just in time for him to spill his warm seed over your torso, his load shooting out in spurts as he breathed heavily above you.

You've both shared silence after a moment of paradise. As a habit you've held Stephen accountable, he'd delicately held onto your jaw with his calloused fingers, pinching them together to set forth over opening your mouth. It was an understanding and idea that you told him about after an act of pleasure. He was against the idea at first before you've basically convinced him that there would be no moment as if you were being degraded. But, he somehow has become used to it after quite some time.

Besides, it was one of your wishes. His miss surely needed to have it when she wants it.

Gradually opening your lips, Stephen has lined his mouth on you. Drawing down a line of spit and aiming to shoot it inside; thoroughly not bothered about the fact of it already as he spat inside your mouth, making you grin as he gathered his spilled cum on your torso with a finger, slipping them inside your vermillion, his eyes in a daze as he concentrated over the mouth that has sucked on his cream-filled fingers---swallowing the mixture of his saliva and release like it was food for your tainted soul.

He certainly didn't expect you to be ribald and deceptive from such a religious family---But, considering your sister and her liberated moments, maybe it was probably in the blood.

"Was it how you liked it today?" he simply acknowledged, tone curious over the fact of being caught by your family was thrilling you which is why you've dragged him along the meadow while he was working, asking him for a quick frigging in a deserted, furtive space.

Stephen helped you wear your dress after snapping his breeches back, keeping himself decent. He still wore his white, dirt-filled tank top. Slipping over his suspenders on his shoulders, the latter remained sitting on the grass as you stood up. The expression on his face mixed with a look of a puppy who was blushing under the moon light, his hair utmost unkempt and clothes looking rumpled as if he had a wild night.

"It was everything, Stephen." you softly muttered, flattening the stresses of your dress with the back of your hand, erasing any proof or evidence that you had a nooky with your family's beautiful helper. A sigh left your lips as the ache of thirst was probing your spine, yearning for more than once today.

"---But, can you do me one more favor?"

"Anything, Miss Y/N."

Stephen waited and watched for your response, seeing you ogling at his beauty as he sat silently, catching sight of those suggestive flicker of your eyes under the night.

You've knelt before him, having your height differences obvious from how you tried being eye to eye as he was still taller than you. He'd simply studied your face, changing into an expression that he wouldn't get to reject---not that he ever does because he had no other choice but to follow what you wanted because you were still his patron.

"Can you visit my chambers after dinner?"

He was quick to become uncertain over the service being asked. His thoughts hastily going to what happened in the middle of fornication a while ago; the risk of being exposed by your family for what you both decided to tumble through the afternoon, "But, Miss---"

His protests were cut short when you've distracted him with a delicate kiss to the lips, using it to your advantage as it left seeing him swallowing his apprehension down in the pit of his stomach. Kissing you back with a soft peck that got you sighing when he pulled away to wait for your answer, his complains never being risked to be told. Currently disoriented from the kiss you've given him out of the blue and from the feeling of being confused over what he should feel for letting you have him explicitly.

"My family won't be awake in the middle of the night,"

"Would...you wish to be ravished again?" he understood what you wanted. Another part of his services that he only gives you because you were artful enough to manipulate him into thinking that the idea was fine---that giving you his body and soul was fine.

Stephen had his utmost respect for everyone in your family because he was thankful for them to be employed in the household. Which is why he was even helping you in this part of favor that he surely could have no say about.

"Yes. Can I have you for the night?---I need you tonight,"

He gave a small smile, his fingers reaching for a couple of bluebells from behind. Completely helpless to be under your demands, "If you are in need of it, then I suppose it is fine. Will it help you sleep at night?" the latter slipped the flower behind your ear, his beam so precious with a soul valuable enough to be exploited or influenced by your manipulative ploys.

"Yes---Yes, it does. It'll keep me in deep slumber rather than sleeping like I never have slept at all,"

"---Then you can have me again if you want to---all night if you wish so,"

You've let him tuck the flower, appreciating how handsome and charming he sweetly smiled when you've taken his fingers and kissed every pad of it.

"Thank you, Stephen. You're amazing,"

"Anything for you, Miss."

There will be no place for Cassandra or any other women in his mind. You were determined to swarm his thoughts with only you---where he would worship no other woman nor let him have the desire to feel pleasure over others. From the moment he came into your lives, you've already marked him as your person when you were younger; having this toxic affection for him from the moment you've seen his sweet, seraph face. His personality and characteristics being adding more to your fixation when he was so kind to be gullible---fastening him in a physical-venereal connection that would aid to your benefit.

Stephen Colley was only yours and a puppy---your puppy that you would gladly take care of forever even if it means to be the bad guy in the house.

So, what’s cooking? LMAO. Leave feedbacks to give me power to write the second part. HA!

General taglist for Henry and his characters: @agniavateira​, @iloveyouyen​, @rahdaleigh​, @silverkitten547​, @henrythickcavill​, @kaatelyyynn​

[extremelyblackandwhite]

the unseen one - 17

Pairing: Hades!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: none

A/N: hope you guys enjoy it xx

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Y/N was somehow divided between her mind and listening to what James was telling her. Part of her just couldn’t believe it. Her parents had worked their whole lives on explaining why the Greek pantheon existed, on why the Greeks would raise architectural architectures when those gods were mere mythical beings created so that the human conscience and idea of mortality could be satisfied. Turns out they existed, they really existed and she had not only slept with one of them but was now stuck in the land of the dead due to eating pomegranate like some modern day Persephone.

James had assured her that there was no Persephone, that he was not the first person to take on the Hades mantra but she was still stuck inside her head. Anne had given her the pomegranate, how had she gotten it? She had known Anne since they were teenagers, she would never harm her. 

      - Sweetness? - Bucky took her hand in his, his other hand coming to draw imaginary circles on her palm. He had a serene facade which hid a wave of emotions he was doing his best not to show to her, understanding her predicament was worse than his. - Where did you get the pomegranates? 

      - Anne gave them to me. - his face scrunched in confusion as she mentioned her friend’s name. Sure, he wasn’t very found of her due to how she would always somehow stare at him and her with a unreadable look. His interaction with her just after he left Y/N rushed back to him. - She said she was sorry before she left.

      - She was with you when you ate the fruit? 

      - Yeah, she was acting very weird. - Y/N shrugged not being entirely sure of what she remembered before everything went dark. She just remembered Anne being there and then leaving but everything else was shrouded in the mystery of her mind. James got up from his seat, offering her his hand to take to help her get up too. - Where are we going? 

     - I have to go, but I’ll leave you with the Lampades for the time being. - he walked with a fastened pace, almost as if pulling her through the Underworld. She found the Meadows bleak and almost terrifying with the constant cries and every so often souls grabbing her feet to try and keep her from coming, but James pull and aura were much stronger than the poor unfortunate souls of the meadows. All she saw was darkness with the glimpse of shimmer from the black rocks and stones that adorned the meadows until suddenly patches of grass started to show. She looked down at her bare feet touching the small piece of grass. 

Bucky took a golden coin from his pocket, climbing onto one of the boats that were standing by the river’s bay and offered it to a clothed figure, much too similar to the faceless figure from before. She clang onto James as the boat started to move, her eyes moving side to side observing the river. She wasn’t exactly sure what river it was as her dad had once told her the Underworld had five rivers, but the sounds of the damned soon perished and the light chirping of birds could be heard. The boat docked by a bigger patch of grass then before. She was certain Bucky had said something to the clothed figure but that went unnoticed as she took in where she was standing. The greenery was tall, reaching past her ankle and the skies were the clearest shade of blue she’d ever seen. The horizons were filled with beautiful green mountains and there were trees of various fruits along with various flowers blooming from the grounds. She was almost certain she was standing in the Elysium but chose not to ask as the King of Underworld kept on moving through the grass and in direction of a particular area where various ladies dressed in white gowns were tending to the plants. 

       - Wait here ... - he let go of her wrist, the faintest memory of his touch still lingering which made her hand reach the once touched spot. She stood there watching as he walked to a woman she had seen before. Hecate had always been one of Y/N’s favourites goddesses, mainly due to how, other than Persephone, she made sure the Underworld worked by tending to its sections and guiding the new souls. However, Hecate seemed to be not that found of her. The pair turned to face her and took to reach her, the goddess looking at the mortal woman as if she were the lowest of kin. - Y/N, Hecate will take care of you while I’m gone. 

      - Where are you going? - she wrapped her hands around his hand, stopping him from leaving so soon. 

      - I have some business to tend to, sweetness but you needn’t worry, Hecate will make sure you’re alright and safe until I return. - he kissed the top of her head, faint smile on his lips. - I won’t be long, besides, there’s not much to worry in the Elysium. 

    - Alright. - Y/N declared, unwillingly letting go of him to see him walk away. If time had allowed her, she probably would mourn it for a bit but the goddess of witchcraft had already put her hands on her shoulders, turning her to face the place where her maidens were tending to various plants.

    - If someone asks, you are one of my maidens and as such you’ll stay in the Elysium and tend to the Groves of Persephone. You are not to be intimate with the God of the Underworld as not to entice any gossiping and unless told otherwise you will listen to me and my maidens. Are we in agreement? - Hecate always carried an air of dominance that contrasted with James’ cool demeanour. His command seemed to be an unspoken rule and people just did his deeds, Hecate’s, on the other hand, came from the will of what looked like both fear and attraction. People seemed to want to be in her good graces. 

She gestured towards one of the ladies taking care of a rose bush. The maiden immediately got in her feet and rushed over to them. Y/N took in her appearance, she looked exactly like the beautiful water coloured paintings of nymphs following various hunters with her light ginger hair pulled with threads of gold and light green dress. 

       - Minthe, this is Y/N. She’s a new arrival and I’m assuming you can put her in the proper garments. - she clearly meant the now blemished satin white dress Y/N was wearing. The nymph nodded and instructed Y/N to follow her into one of the white marbled buildings scattered around the grounds. 

      - So, you and the King looked rather comfortable with one another. - the nymph mentioned, a twist of malicious curiosity in her voice as she grabbed a jug of water to fill in one of the baths. - He doesn’t tend to pay favour to the maidens. Are you a minor goddess, a demigoddess maybe?

      - Not really. 

      - That’s good. Zeus has been trying to marry him off for the longest time and, well, the Queen of the Underworld has to have some value in the pantheon. 

      - You needn’t worry. - Y/N pushed a strain of her hair behind her ear, climbing into the bath trying to clear her worries.

Meanwhile, James and Thanatos had gone back to the mortal realm. He knew where Anne lived, he had figured that out from Y/N when she used to talk about how her friend would use the fire escape to come into her flat. He wasn’t entirely sure if he would doom her to the underworld, knowing how Y/N would react to that but he was mad. Thanatos was the only God allowed to enter someone’s home without permission which he why he managed to break into Anne’s flat finding her in the coach. 

She turned her head to look at the two gods, the most serene look in her face as if nothing had occurred.

      - You’re late. - she said, placing her cup of coffee on the coffee table. - You would think the God of the Underworld wouldn’t be so dense. 

      - You’re an oracle. - Thanatos interjected. 

      - An oracle? - James looked at her with confusion in his eyes. Why would an oracle be amongst mortals, besides, why would she do that to Y/N? - You stole the pomegranate didn’t you?

      - I don’t do that sort of dirty work.

      - Did you or did you not feed it to Y/N? - he was starting to lose his patient with the girl and the unmoving smirk on her lips. 

      - My job is to make sure my prophecies happen. It has nothing to do with Y/N, it’s just how things are designed.

      - You don’t wanna mess with me. - he almost growled at her, his eyes alone darkening in such fashion that even Zeus would cower before him. 

      - Now, would Y/N really enjoy if you asked for my death? 

      - Stay away from Y/N. 

      - Maybe you should stay away from her.

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