#first they send him to fucking Saint John

[malcolm-reeds-pineapple]

They killed my fucking boy!

[polakina]

evenings in the east

pairing: javier escuella x reader

rating: explicit

outline: a job takes you to saint denis, and you take the perfect person for the job. who also so happens to be your favourite person in camp. one night away from camp couldn't do any harm, right?

warnings: fluff, flirting, cursing, pining, smut, unprotected sex, oral (fem recieving), canon typical racism, illegal shit (but we've all robbed someone in the games, let's be honest)

requests are open! hope you enjoy, petals <3

a/n: this is a looong one. and also my first rdr2 attempt (but there will be more). so i took my sweet ass time with it. javier has had me in a fucking chokehold for years and i'm not even complaining

masterlist

II

When the team wanted revenge, it was you and Arthur on a mission. When they wanted chaos, Sean was the best to take. But for a little finesse, Javier was your go-to man.

Walking over to him, you noticed how he put down his weapons on the table, his eyes already on you before you reached him. Poncho draped over his shoulder, hat tipped down half his face, only his lips on show, he looked so elusive. Unapproachable to an outsider. But not to you.

“Good morning, cariňa,” he said softly, the words rolling off his tongue. His accent was always a little huskier in the morning. You’d learned over the years you’d known him that he wasn’t a morning person at all. It wasn’t in his nature. You often had to kick him awake, and even then he’d roll over at you and curse in his native tongue. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You smiled, taking a seat with two cups of coffee in your hands, sliding one across the wooden table to him. He nodded appreciatively, taking the cup and sipping a small amount. “Hosea’s sending me on a job. Should be fun. It’s a pretty lucrative deal, out in Saint Denis.”

“And…my role?” He asked, waving his hand in the air expectantly.

“Uhm…well…” you hadn’t really figured out his role. Just that you wanted his company for the job. 

“Wait. Let me guess,” he smirked. “You want me to be the charmingly handsome distraction while you steal from a bunch of big money spenders in a high class bar?”

Rolling your eyes, you sipped your coffee. “Idiota. I need someone calm. Someone sneaky. You were my top pick.”

“Sneaky is not my talent, hermosa. I steal things with style,” he gestured to himself with his free hand, and you couldn’t help but chuckle. But he wasn’t wrong. He had a certain way about him. He always liked to put on a show. Not as much as Trewlany did, he was more subtle with his methods. 

“Do you want the job or not, Javi?” You asked, leaning over the table, eyebrows raised.

He nodded almost immediately. “Very much so. Anything to get me out of this camp and away from sleeping in the tent next to Bill.” You laughed, and you both finished your coffee in comfortable silence.

-

Your relationship with Javier was a complicated one. And a long story. Your first encounter, he tried to rob you. It was a good lift. Any regular person going about their day wouldn’t have noticed. But the best of the best taught you to steal. To lie. To scam. So you noticed. 

So when he tried to walk away, you didn’t stop him immediately, which confused Marston, who you were riding with. “What are you doin’, darlin’? He’s gonna get away.”

“I wanna have a little fun with it. I haven’t been robbed before,” you smiled sweetly, looking over at John innocently. “Wanna make it special.”

He looked at you in bewilderment. “You’re fuckin’ weird, doll.”

So you followed for a while, at a safe distance, while this mysterious Mexican rode his horse away, none the wiser. It’s only when he paced faster into a gallop that you finally decided it was time. Speeding past him on your horse you roped him with your lasso, tearing him off his horse and hitting the floor hard. Really hard. 

John laughed at the man, and you dismounted your horse, wandering over to him, pulling your rope taut as you approached the thief. 

“Hijo de puta, who the hell are you?” He groaned, rolling onto his back, his face painting a pained expression.

“The lady you robbed. Now give me back my shit and you can walk away from this,” you crouched down to his level, tipping your hat up to look him in the eye. 

“How the hell do you know I robbed you? Huh? You accuse every Mexican you see of being a criminal?” His accent was thick, syllables rolling off his tongue effortlessly. 

You smirked, flicking his hat off his head in one swift motion. “No, but I know a thief when I see one. Yeah, you’re a pretty good one, honey, but I’m better.” You held out your hand expectantly, and he sighed, reaching into his pocket and pulling a leather pouch out. It landed in your palm with a soft thud.

“You finished, darlin’? Or you wanna pack him up and take him with us? Either way, can we get moving? My ass hurts and it’s getting dark out.”

“Stop your whining, Marston,” you chuckled, standing up and releasing the man from your rope. What he’d said wasn’t actually a bad idea though. Taking him with you. He’d be an asset, sure. But it’d definitely take the camp a while to warm to the idea of it. You weighed the idea for a few minutes as the man stood up, brushing dirt off his knees. “What’s your name?”

He looked at you, slightly confused. You just lassoed him off his horse, and now you wanted to get to know him? “Javier.” You shook his hand, replying with your own name. He noted how gentle your voice was, as opposed to how harsh your actions were just moments ago. 

“Where you headed?”

He walked back over to his horse, mounting it with a grunt and putting his hat back on his head, adjusting his poncho to sit comfortably. “Not sure yet. Wherever this road takes me, I guess. It was nice…getting thrown to the ground by you, I guess. But I got places to be. I’ll see you around.” He tipped his hat and jutted his heels into the sides of his horse.

“There’s a camp,” you said, watching him turn back to you with a curious expression. “About a mile east of Blackwater. You ever find your way out that direction, come introduce yourself. There might even be a place for you there.” He smiled and nodded before riding off west.

“Think that was a good idea?” John asked, walking his horse up next to you, looking down as you watched Javier leave. “Telling him where camp was?”

You shrugged, mounting your own horse and setting off into a trot back to camp. “Can’t do any harm, right? Besides, who knows? Maybe he really will stop by.”

He did. Two weeks later. He never ended up leaving. He became part of Van Der Linde’s most trusted and years later, still managed to prove himself one way or another.

-

“This dress hurts my lungs,” you complained. For the forty sixth time, Javier had been counting since you left camp in search of Saint Denis. “Can’t fucking breathe in this thing. How do ladies wear these all day?” You shuffled in your seat on the wagon, trying any way to get the pressure of this corset off your chest.

“Keep moving around and that corset is going to pierce an organ or something, hermosa,” Javier chuckled. He was lucky. He got to wear a suit and tie, and his hat, of course. What you wouldn’t give to switch this dress for your riding pants right about now. Or your hat. God, you missed your hat. You felt naked without it.

“I’ll pierce your organs with it if you keep laughing at me.”

That just made him chuckle even harder. “We’ve got to play the part. Distinguished members of society.” He looked over to you and was just met with a blank stare.

“I hate every word that just came out of your mouth,” you said, rolling your eyes. Coming into view was the city you were heading for. The tall industrial looking buildings, the rows and rows of streets and train tracks and stores. It was occupied by more people than you think you’d ever come across in your life. “Jesus, that place is huge.”

“Just look like you belong, we’ll be fine.” Javier patted your thigh comfortingly. It made your stomach flip.

Parking the wagon by the side of the saloon Hosea had told you about, you looked up at the mountain of a building. “How the hell are these buildings so tall?” You muttered to yourself. A quiet cough pulled you out of your thoughts and you looked to your right, where Javier was standing, a hand extended to help you off the wagon. “Such a gentleman, aren’t you?” You smiled. 

“I’m always a gentleman, thank you very much,” he joked. “You’d do well to remember that.” Holding out his arm, you took it, looping your arm through his and making your way to the entrance. But he stopped just before opening the door, turning to you. “Hold out your hand.” You did, confused, but also trusting him completely. “Other hand, hermosa.” You switched for your left hand.

“What are you doing, Javi?”

He said nothing, slipping a ring onto your finger. A wedding ring, from the looks of it. Your confusion was now fully recognisable in your features. “Playing the part,” he replied, winking. He switched one of his own rings to his ring finger. Then he pushed the door open with a smile.

The hotel clerk gave you a strange look, but it immediately washed away when he saw your hardened glare. “Evening folks, how can I help you tonight?”

You took point on the situation, as planned. “Good evening, sir,” you beamed sweetly. “We’d like a room for the night. We were recommended this establishment by friends and our expectations certainly seemed to be met from just the look of this place.” Javier loved your way with words. You’d taken after Hosea in that regard, able to smooth talk your way into anything you wanted.

“Well, ma’am, we certainly do have rooms available. Is the room just for yourself, or is this…gentleman joining you?” He looked to Javier with uncertainty. Your blood boiled a little, and Jvaier’s finger interlaced with yours, squeezing your hand gently. He could sense anger in you. 

“You mean my husband?” It felt strange saying such foreign words, but you powered through it. “Yes, he will. Is that a problem for you? Sir?” Venom laced that last word, and the clerk realised he fucked up. A lot. 

“No, no of course not. Here, the key to your room,” he said, handing a key with the number 4C etched into the key chain. “And a bottle of wine at the bar, on the house.” You and Javier looked to one another, he smirked and turned back to the clerk. 

“Make that a bottle of whiskey and you have yourself a deal, amigo,” he flashed a smile in the clerk’s direction. He still hadn’t loosened his grip on your hand yet, you’d eased into his touch over time. 

“Of course, sir,” the clerk returned with an awkward, tight lipped smile, gesturing to the stairs leading to the first floor. “Your room is on the fourth floor, folks. Enjoy your night.”

You smiled sweetly, leaning over the desk, closer to the clerk until he saw the fire simmering in your eyes. It scared him a little. “Thank you, sir,” you spoke quietly, too quiet for Javier to hear. “But you insult my husband again, and I’ll take your tongue for good measure.” The clerk’s face drained of all life. You walked away, Javier leading you up the stairs.

“What did you say to him?” Javier asked, unlocking the hotel door and entering inside.

“Nothing, really,” you vaguely responded, “Just…commenting on his customer service.”

-

The bar was pretty quiet. A group of young ladies sat in the corner, eyeing up the married men who were sat on the right side of the bar, smoking and laughing amongst one another. It had been a long time since you’d been somewhere like this. So civilised. So populated with the high end of society. It made you uncomfortable, but your face read as calm. Collected. You belonged here. Javier guided you to the bar, his hand on the small of your back. You felt comforted by the brief touches. 

Your targets were all around you. Rich folk visiting from New York for the yearly Saint Denis festival and theatre house. They came like clockwork, swaying through the city in their frocks and suits, casting eyes down at the lower class occupants as they sat by the road, only a few coins in their hats.

The bottle of whiskey was waiting for you on the bar, the one gifted from staff for your previously rude introduction with the clerk. The bartender poured two glasses of whiskey, adding ice for yours. You took a seat at the bar, Javier on your left, situated at the corner of the bar so he could see the entire room. You sat yourself where the mirror hanging on the back of the bar was situated, giving you a perfect view of those behind you.

“Some pretty good shit we could get off these people, I think,” Javier whispered, leaning close to you. You hummed a response, twisting the ring on your hand between your fingers. The metal felt strange, cold. But you enjoyed the feeling.

“Agreed. But we gotta keep it quiet. Split up, maybe?” You cast your eyes out to the unknowing victims you were planning to rob. The ladies in the corner had since turned their attention to Javier. Whispering words between them, they giggled, and you saw an opportunity. “Group of women, over my right shoulder. Seems you’ve got their attention. Maybe you should go say hi.”

He smirked, tipping his hat to the ladies with a flirtatious edge to his smile. You ignored the pang of jealousy that seeped through you. “What, and leave my lovely wife at the bar alone? That’d be a poor husband you’re making me out to be, amor.” He was seriously leaning into this act the two of you were playing out. You were eating up every second of it.

Turning to face him, you locked onto his eyes which were fully focused on you. “I’m sure I can handle myself, darlin’. Go mingle. Perhaps a kind gentleman will come over and give me a moment of his time.” His smile faltered at the thought of another man having your attention, but he brushed it away.

“I’ll keep an eye out, just be careful.”

Then he kissed your cheek and walked away. You were left sat there, stunned. But Javier had an enormous grin on his face as he walked away.

It didn’t take long for a drunken man to stumble over to you. But you ignored him, sipping your whiskey and occasionally sneaking a glance to Javier, who had all four women swooning at his charm. You’d noticed the way he’d taken their hands, slipping the bracelet off their wrist and pocketing it in swift, simple motions. You were glad to have brought him along. Anyone else would have been caught in an instant.

“Ma’am, how are you doing on this fine, lovely evening,” the man slurred, standing directly behind you. You looked into the mirror, seeing the tall, brutish looking fellow with glazed eyes, swaying slightly as he looked at you. You turned your head slightly to look at him.

“Just fine, sir. And yourself?” You turned to face him fully, but you caught Javier glancing over as you swivelled on your bar stool.in one hand, you held your almost empty whiskey glass, in the other, you were slowly reaching for the drunk’s pocket.

“Even better now that I’ve seen your pretty face. Say, what you doin’ out here all alone? That greaser you were with earlier left you. Suppose he wasn’t great company, was he? No surprise there.” Your pulse quickened, and your grip on your glass tightened.

“I think you should go find someone else to pester, honey,” your gaze darkened, and you retrieved everything you could from your pockets, slipping them into the pockets that Abigail had sewn into your dress for this mission. “I don’t care much for company right now.”

He just smirked. But there was no charm in it. It was an ugly smirk. A gap toothed grin that you would see again in your nightmares at some point, you were sure of it. “Come on, sweetheart, you’d love my company, I promise you.”

You turned back to the bar, slightly leaning over to get to the bartender’s attention, pointing to your glass for a refill. The bartender nodded, turning away from you to collect the bottle. But as you moved to sit back on your stool, you felt a large, warm slap on your ass. You almost broke the stool with the speed you leapt off it, turning to the man who was significantly larger than yourself. “Keep your hands to your fucking self,” you seethed, your hand gripping his wrist. You saw movement out of the corner of your eye, and eyes on you everywhere. “Touch me again, and I’ll break your fucking wrist, you understand?” He just smiled, chuckling slightly.

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.”

“I’m pretty sure she didn’t, amigo,” Javier appeared at your side, his eyes practically red with rage. But he kept it all in pretty well, somehow. “You best move along. Unless you want more than that wrist of yours snapping in two.” The way Javier spoke made him seem bigger than he actually was. More confident, but more dangerous.

The man saw his chances were slim and made his way over to a free table, slumping down in it while muttering something about can’t even be nice to people anymore. You weren’t really listening. A finger tipped your chin over to Javier, his eyes softening in your gaze. “All good, hermosa?”

You nodded, heart beating faster as his fingers moved to the side of your neck, his thumb caressing your cheek. “All better now,” you smiled.

The night went on, and you filled your pockets, Javier did the same. With half a bottle of whiskey left, you decided to turn in for the night. You led the way back to the room, the key in one hand, your glass in the other. Javier followed close behind, holding his own glass and the rest of the bottle.

Locking the room door behind the two of you, you both emptied your valuables onto the desk opposite the bed. It was a good haul. A really good haul. Over five hundred dollars in cash and at least another four hundred in jewellery and personal belongings. 

“So what do we do for the rest of the night?” you asked, heading to the balcony doors and opening them, letting some air into the room. “We did the job, and it's not even midnight yet.”

Javier thought about it, moving over to join you on the balcony, sitting on one of the chairs beside you, pouring whiskey into the glasses on the table. “Well, we could enjoy the rest of our night away from camp. I, for one, am happy to not having to lie on the ground for one night, if you feel the same?” He looked over, slightly hopeful in a sense.

“That…actually sounds like a nice idea,” you admitted, taking a drag of the cigarette you had lit. You both sat there for a short while, listening to the wind whistling, the town bustling, the horses braying in the street. It was peace. Peace was not something you had felt in a while, or been able to enjoy. You planned on soaking up as much of it as you could before morning.

After an hour or so, the whiskey bottle had been poured dry, and you and Javier had chatted away until silence consumed you. But the pain of that fucking dress was ruining your whole mood. You stood slowly, huffing as you turned back to the room. Javier watched as you went, furrowing his brows as he saw your hands fiddling with the lace knot at the base of your spine. “Everything okay, hermosa?” He called out, following you into the room.

“Need to take this damned thing off, can’t feel my back at all,” you laughed. But you couldn’t untie the knot. It was intricate and fiddly, even with a mirror, you wouldn’t even know where to start. “Can you…please…” You were out of breath already from sucking in your stomach as though that would somehow loosen the lace.

“Stop fiddling, you’ll make it worse.” You heard his voice in your ear. He was right behind you, batting your hands away and taking the tie in his own fingers. He struggled for a second, you heard the laugh in his voice as he cursed at the dress in Spanish, it made you silently chuckle with him.”You’re laughing at me? I see your shoulders shaking. Keep it up and I’ll leave you to sleep in this dress, amor.”

“Please, no, get this dress off me,” you managed to say between giggles. 

“Por el amor de dios,” he muttered before slicing through the lace with his knife. “Hope you weren’t planning on wearing this again.”

“You cut it?!” You exclaimed, flipping your  head to the side, glaring at him amusedly. “You were defeated by a corset. We’ve found your weakness, Javi. It’s lace.”

He smiled. “Cállate,” he mused playfully. Untying the rest of the lace, you let out a huge breath as the bone corset loosened, allowing you to intake breath comfortably.

“Oh, my hero,” you whispered, breathing deeply. He murmured a ‘you’re welcome’, continuing to untangle the lace all the way up to your shoulders. He watched as the dress peeled off your body, showing your back, your spine, your shoulder blades, all encased in soft, pretty, perfect skin. He was mesmerised as he watched as you rolled your shoulders, relieving the tension in your muscles.

Javier couldn’t help but reach out, pulling your dress to the side, pushing it off your shoulder. He hadn’t noticed the way you’d stopped breathing. Hadn’t noticed the way you’d turned your head to the side, peering at him through your peripheral. Hadn’t noticed the look in your eye. Curiosity? Anticipation? Excitement? He wouldn’t have known. Didn’t know you were waiting to see what he was doing. Or what he would do next.

You felt his fingers run up your spine. Soft, yet calloused fingers dragged up your skin, running over your bones and your muscles. Your scars felt strange under his touch, but you said nothing. You didn’t want him to stop. You felt the dress slip off your other shoulder, the only thing holding the clothing up was your arm, your hand pressed flat against your chest, the fabric bunching as you supported the weight of it.

His other hand came to your waist, and you shuddered under the feeling, seemingly snapping Javier out of the trance he had locked himself in. His hands fell from your body, and he stepped back slightly. “I…sorry,” he spoke quietly. Meekly. “I’ll leave you to change.”

You turned on your heel, your eyes gazing at him. “Or you could sta-” Your words stuck to the insides of your throat as his hands cupped the sides of your neck, his head dipping down, connecting his lips to yours. He smelled of smoke and whiskey. He tasted the same, and you revelled in the taste as your tongue slipped into his mouth, melting with his own. His hands drifted to your waist, his lips travelling to your neck, to your exposed shoulder and you let the dress fall to the floor with a soft thud. His eyes explored every inch of you. But it didn’t make you feel uneasy, or uncomfortable, like when other men had laid their gaze on you, eyes filled with hunger. Javier’s eyes only shone in affection, taking in every feature, every part of your body.

“Tan hermosa, amor,” he mumbled, kissing you once again, his lips slotting against yours perfectly. He walked you backwards to the bed, and you stepped out of your shoes, kicking them aside as your thighs hit something solid. He guided you to lie on the bed, his body hovering over yours, his leg slipping between your thighs as his kisses grew heavier, passionate, hungry. Your fingers unbuttoned his shirt with ease, and he shrugged it off, his soft honey skin mixing with the candlelight across the room. Soft, fuzzy hair on his chest tickled your skin as his body pressed against yours, his right hand firmly pressed into the mattress, holding his body above yours so he didn’t crush you under his weight.

His other hand drifted to your leg, cupping under your thigh and pulling it up until it wrapped around his waist. You felt his thigh softly shift in between your legs, brushing coarsely against something sensitive, pulling a soft gasp from your throat. He smiled against your lips. “What was that, cariňa? Something feel good, hm?” God you could hear the cockiness dripping off his words. But you loved it. He knew what he was doing. Exactly what he was doing to you. So Javier repeated the motion, a little harder this time, and you moaned this time. It was like sweet nectar to his ears. “Fuck, I love the noises you make. I haven’t even started yet, sweetheart.”

His lips trailed south, down your stomach, over your tits, nipping and sucking at your flesh until it was blemished red. His beard tickled your stomach, but once he reached below your navel, every thought or feeling exited your head. He pried the underwear off your body, pulling it painfully slowly down your legs and tossing it to the ground. Looking up at you from where he was kneeled between your thighs, only inches from your already wet cunt, he looked for signs of discomfort. You gave him none. You had none. All you wanted was this. So he dove in. He couldn’t help himself. Like a man starved, he licked his tongue up your soaked pussy, groaning at the taste of you on his tongue. God, he fucking loved it. But when he found your clit with the tip of his tongue, he wished he could play the noise you made on repeat in his head forever. It was a sharp gasping moan. A pleasurable realisation that he’d find the most sensitive part of you. So he focused on it like a hawk focusing on prey. The tingles that ran through your veins overtook your senses, and you ran a hand through his hair, pulling the tie that bound it together apart to grab a fistful between your fingers. 

He stayed right where you kept him, right where he wanted to be. His right arm wrapped around your thigh, pinning you in place. You didn’t know where his other hand went until you felt his finger teasing your hole. Your mouth fell open, silently begging for him to do what you knew he was thinking of doing. As though he could hear you, he slipped his finger in with ease, curling it upwards and hitting something devastatingly perfect in your core. “Shit, just like that. Please,” you whined. He gazed up at you through hooded lids. It was the first time you’d spoken since he’d kissed you. Just the way you spoke made him want to ravage you right there and then. But he couldn’t. He had to take his time with you. He didn’t know when he’d next get time alone with you like this.

Adding another finger, he felt your juices coat him, drown his fingers inside you. His jaw ached, but he couldn’t stop, not when he felt your thighs clench around his head, caging him in. His fingers moved with deft precision, hitting that spot inside that made your legs shake against his ears. Your moans filled the room, urging Javier on. You felt his fingers speed up, thrusting harder and deeper inside you, his tongue toying with your clit and sending shockwaves up your spine.

You felt the cusp of something perfect building up inside you, and your back arched against the sheets, your grip tightening in Javi’s hair. “Yes, yes, fuck. I’m close, Javi,” you whispered into the darkness, the sun completely gone from the sky for the night, letting the moon take the limelight right outside your window. 

But Javier had different plans, his fingers forcefully pulling out of your cunt and leaving you feeling empty. Your head lifted off the mattress in an instant, seeing the smirk playing at his lips. Javier kissed your inner thigh, kicking off his boots as he crawled up your body. “What are you doing, Javi?” You whined, leaning into his deep kiss. Tasting yourself on his tongue felt strange, but you liked it, you learned quickly.

“Well, I want you to come. But not on my fingers, darlin’.” His voice was husky, needy. God, you could have cum at just his voice at that point. Your hands drifted to his pants, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his trousers. “That’s what I thought.”

He tilted your face back up to his as he felt your fingers drift along cock, confined beneath his underwear. “Please, Javi,” you breathed, palming his erection gently.

“Let me take care of you, hermosa.” His hand enclosed around your wrist, pulling it away from his cock and over your head, doing the same with your other hand. Holding himself up against the mattress once again, he freed his cock with his other hand, teasing the tip of it through your folds. God, you needed him. Your pussy was practically begging for him.

The second he pushed inside you, you knew you wouldn’t last long. He was thick, filling you as he eased his dick to the base inside you. Javier groaned once fully inside you, his hand coming up to grip your wrists, holding them firm against the mattress. “God, you feel good, amor. Too fuckin’ good. Need to fuck you. Please, let me fuck you.” Fuck, he was begging you now. It made you clench around him, causing him to grunt against your neck.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, closing him in, pushing his body further against yours. Your foot nudged against his ass, grinding his dick into you. “Javi, please. Please fuck me.”

Without warning, he thrust hard and deep in you. You cried out his name, and it set him off in a feral kind of motion. The tip of his cock brushed against your core with each thrust, balls slapping against your ass with each movement. Javier propped himself on his knees, his hand gripping your wrists, his other hand gripping the outside of your thigh, fingers kneading into your ass. He rocked into you at an animalistic pace, the bed shaking and creaking, the headboard knocking against the wall in perfect rhythm with his hips. Words escaped you, his cock rendering you to a moaning mess beneath him. God, you were a perfect sight. He cursed in Spanish, nearing his own high. Javier watched as you fell apart, your face contorted in pleasure, your leg sliding off his back and onto the mattress, completely spread for him to see.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” you managed to say between thrusts. You were close. So fucking close. And so was he. You could feel it. The way his hips faltered sometimes, his laboured breathing, the strength in the way he held you pinned against the mattress, completely submissive underneath him.

“Come on, hermosa, come for me. Come on my cock, I know you can,” he gritted through his teeth, pushing a few more forceful pumps inside your sopping pussy until you finally clenched around him hard. You flooded his cock, your insides tensed and clamped around his dick. Javier followed not too far behind, his cum spurting out and painting your walls in white. 

The only sound in the room was your matching breaths. Heavy, and desperate. His face buried in the crook of your neck, kissing your salty skin, his teeth dragging along your pulse. Javier rolled onto his side, pulling you with him so he didn’t have to pull out of you just yet.

You laid on his chest, the sweat on your skin sticking you together, but you didn’t care. The breeze of the open balcony doors would cool you both eventually. 

“I’m glad I chose to come on this job with you,” Javier whispered to you. You couldn’t help but giggle, hearing the smile in his voice. 

You turned your head to look up at him. His hair was slicked back, you never saw it like this. You only saw him with his hair tied back. “Me too, Javi.” He leaned down to kiss you softly, gently brushing his lips against yours. 

“We should go on jobs together in the future. Gotta keep eachother company, you know?” He smirked as you rolled your eyes. 

“Oh, so just on jobs, Escuella?”

His eyebrow quirked up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You smiled. “Your tent is off limits?”

“Absolutely not. After this, I’d be honoured to have you in my tent whenever you’d like, amor. You just say the word.”

-

Camp felt different after the job. Javier was more open and affectionate with you. Kissing the top of your head when bringing you coffee if you were on morning watch. He’d sit with you at the campfire and let you play around with his guitar. He fucked you gently in his tent at night, covering your mouth so Bill had nothing to bring up at breakfast. Everyone noticed. But said nothing. It’s almost like they had expected it to go exactly like this. Hosea especially.

[wizzdot]

The Patron Saint of One Way Trips

Ch25

Description: Fluff Fluff Fluff

*Laika's POV*

Johnny announces that he has ordered a takeaway. He and Kyle leave the kitchen shouting something to John about car keys and collecting it - they said they'd be twenty or so minutes. I settle onto the sofa, trying to relax myself from today's events. I close my eyes and take some deep breaths.

My phone, long forgotten in my pocket, dings. It's a message from an unknown number.

Hello Amorcito,

Alejo and I shipped your things a couple of days ago. They should arrive tomorrow.

Please, if you ever need somewhere, know that you are always welcome in Las Almas.

I hope your Alphas come to their senses soon. You belong with them even if you do not see it yet.

-Rudy x

I read the message, smiling with teary eyes. I'd never felt so.. cared for.

"What're you crying about?" Simon asks in that gruff voice of his.

"Oh" I sniff "it's nothing.. just a text from Rodolfo.. they shipped our stuff. He says it'll be here tomorrow.."

He nods with narrowed eyes "and that made you cry because..." he tilts his head, confused.

I can't help but giggle at his lack of social skills.. I just turn my phone around to him so he can read the text himself.

"You're not fuckin' going back to Las Almas, love.." he grumbles.

"No, I - I" I gulp, nervous about what I'm about to say "I think I want to stay here.. until you guys get sick of me, that is.. I know I'm a lot to deal with"

He rolls his eyes, throwing himself heavily on the sofa beside me. He grabs me around the waist, easily dragging me over his lap, so that I'm sat sideways over his huge thighs.

I squeal at the sudden shift and the blast of Alpha scent I get due to being so close to him.

"Stop doubting yourself so much. I did the same when I first joined. Wasted months pushing them away, love.. don't make the same mistake.."

"But it's hard.. I don't mean it.." - "I know you don't, just let us prove to you that we want you here, yeah?"

I gulp again and nod, sending a soft smile his way.

"Uhm.. Simon..?" I ask, thinking that now is as good a time as any to ask the question that had been burning in the back of my mind all day.

"What is it, little bird..?" - "How.. How much do you know about Omegas.. and heats..?" - "Enough.. why, what's botherin' you?"

"I - I thought my heat would last longer.. what if I'm damaged..?"

"Wish ya' wouldn't think like that.. Your heat technically started when you went feral because of that fuckin' Graves wanker.. musta' lasted a coupla' days, at least.."

"But.. why could you smell me, when the others couldn't.. and do I still smell..?"

"You still smell, don't have to worry about that, sweet girl" he purrs, making a point to sniff into my neck, making me giggle and push against him.

"And.. the others could still smell you, love.. but it wasn't as strong. I must have some resistance to the blockers or whatever fuckin' drugs the Russians put you on. Could always smell you just fine. It was bitter to begin with, because you were so stressed and scared.. but it's changed... I can tell it's leavin' your system.. not long now and you'll be clean as a whistle.." he jokes, nudging me gently.

"Do- do I smell nice..?" I ask, self consciously ..

He looks at me as if I'd grown two heads. "Are you havin' a fuckin' laugh? Can't you see how we all react to you? And that's us holdin' back.. Johnny was droolin' and humpin' you for fuck sake, love"

I hide in his neck, giggling. "You're not as scary as you try to pretend to be, Lieutenant.." I whisper into his ear.

He growls softly and pinches me in my waist softly, causing me to jolt and yelp in surprise, giggling against him louder now.

"Behave, girl.." he grumbles at me. I relax against him and wait for the food to arrive. I must doze off momentarily, because when I wake to the sound of Johnny and Kyle arriving back, I can feel Simon tracing shapes on my back, softly while scratching my scalp. He had taken his gloves off. I relax into him, so that he doesn't know that I'm awake. I feel him move slightly and whisper shout to Johnny and Kyle to shut the fuck up. I can't help the little giggle that I let out.

"Awkt, the little lass was havin' you on, Si.. she wisnae even sleepin'! Just wanted you to keep scratchin' her.. You like bein' petted like a little kitten then, do ya lass?"

I blush and hide from them, whining into Simon's neck tiredly.

"Johnny, piss off and go find Cap.. he'll be in his office. Kyle, get the food ready would ya?"

"On it, LT" Kyle replies, quickly leaning over the arm of the sofa to place a kiss on my forehead then looking to Simon, holding me so softly, before giving him a quick kiss on the top of his masked head as well.

A couple of minutes later, Johnny and John return.

I shuffle off of Simon's lap, much to his disapproval. I settle in between his and John's thick thighs.

"You okay, gorgeous..?" John asks me. I blush and nod. He curls a large arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer.

"Was on the phone to Alejandro.. he says your stuff should be arriving tomorrow" - "I know.. Rudy told me.." I giggle.

He furrows his brow. "How did Rudy tell you, Love.. I've just found out myself..?" - "He text me" I hold up my phone and show him the message.

He takes the phone and reads the message grumbling the words aloud as he reads.

"Nice that he messaged you and all, Love. But you ain't going back to Las Almas.." he says lowly.

"Already told her that, Cap" Ghost huffs from my other side.

"Good thing we came to our senses then, eh, Simon?"

"What does the text say? I'm confused.." Kyle shouts over from the other side of the kitchen.

"Aye, let's see it Lass.."

I stand up and walk towards the two sergeants, holding my phone out for them to read.

Johnny reads the message quickly, plucking the phone from my hands and placing it on the counter, before grabbing me and lifting me into his arms.

"No fuckin' way.. staying with us now, Lass.. Cap, you need to get a move on and bite a claim into her pretty wee neck.. don't want her wanderin' off to a new pack.." he jokes, licking and nipping at my scent glands, cheekily.

"Johnny!" I whine, giggling. "What, Lass? We'll mark you up real good. All four of us.. I think I'll put my mark rigghhtttt..." - he nips dangerously hard into the valley between my collarbone and shoulder - "HERE!"

I yelp and moan in pleasure. He just laughs at my reaction, smug in the knowledge that he was turning me on.

"Johnny, stop teasing the poor girl" John warns him, standing from the sofa and making his way over towards us.

Johnny slowly lowers me back to the ground, planting another quick kiss to my cheek.

I feel John's big, burly arms wrap around me from behind.

"Seems like I'm the last one to get my hands on you, Love.." he growls into my ear - "Y-you've been busy.." I whisper, overwhelmed by all of the attention.

"Aye, been busy but I've managed to get us a few days off.. we're shippin' out again next week, but until then, we're on leave" he grumbles to the other Alphas who all sound pleased.

He massages my shoulders, still pressed up against my back. I lean into him, loving how warm and safe he felt.

"I thought we could take our girl out, tomorrow. Shopping and a meal.. what do we think?" he asks.

The others all agree, I turn in his arms and whisper "I'd like that, Alpha.."

"Means I'll finally get to spend some time with you. Been jealous watchin' these prats get to play with you while I've been working. Drives me fucking mad"

I lean into him, standing as tall as I can, and press a sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth. He purrs, before suddenly showing his Alpha side.

"And as for marking you up, Love.." he pulls my hair away from my neck, and studies where Johnny had left small marks, and the slightly darker one where he had bitten, not enough to break skin..

"I reckon mine will sit right here.." he circles the spot on my neck, where he has chosen to mark me, with the soft pads of his thumb, leaning down to kiss softly on it.

"But needs to be done properly.. not just gonna bite into you like a mutt.." he grumbles.

"Alpha.." I whine.

"Shh, all in good time, sweet heart.. all in good time"

"C'mon now, time to eat".

He steps away from me and I glance at the others in the room.

They were all staring at the scene before them, at how their pack Alpha had teased me.

I stumble back to the sofa and curl up to Simon, whining and whimpering. Simon whispers to me "Won't be long, love. Don't worry".

[verdemoun]

things my "cishet" "neurotypical" 25 year old (has never played a video game in his life) humanities teacher friend has said during his rdr2 playthrough

(dutch going off at bill at the start of revenge is a dish best eaten) well that seemed uncalled for. dutch is. dutch is starting to lose it, huh

visibly upset over having to shoot up the mansion, esp the stained glass windows. loves the double barrel tho.

(dutch going off at bronte) yeah dutch has full lost it. oh! oh! gator! :D DO IT! DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!

only comment during banking the american art: papa hosea noooooo!!

(the diagnosis) ah yes well he’s dead he’s got consumption

(arthur's walk) why is there a moose in saint denis.

"the hot air balloon! first invented in 1793" (demanded i fact check, he was correct)

oh it's like the wizard of oz! there's no place like blackwater, there's no place like blackwater, there's no place like blackwater.

despite having no reaction to the diagnosis, immediately had tears in his eyes screaming ARTURO NOOOOOO as the funny man died

"mrs adler has the sort of perky butchness i can see you being attracted to"

meeting algernon: don’t you dare fucking say that’s me

five seconds into the intro cut scene: oh no he’s me

micah being on scene for any amount of time: i am dryer than the sahara rn.

i asked him to clarify. he paused. proceeded to refer to which characters made his pussy wet/dry for the rest of the evening. has never made this joke before.

thought abigail was the rat during guarma until seeing dutch muttering chess moves to himself. had decided dutch is very much unhinged and no longer trusts anything dutch says.

no idea who the rat is. does believe there's a rat. thought it was john until i said 'no try again'

bought a theatre ticket and missed most of the show admiring the foyer and guessing what sort of marble it was meant to imitate.

failed to steal the black arabian from the couple in saint denis and sulked because the red arabian is his fav.

spent an hour customizing arthur's outfit. (arthur is hideous pls send help)

spent an additional 20 minutes deciding on a hair style and going through every moustache option only to settle on day 2 stubble.

"i like bill. he might be homophobic and racist and dumb but - i don't know i just think he's neat"

(excitedly) OH I FOUND THE KKK QUICK HOW TO I THROW TNT AGAIN!!

(attempting to dismount a horse) "e for eject"

(getting a low honor dream after killing every single npc in strawberry for funsies) oh no oh no i do not like that how do we fix that

annoyed he can't actually listen to pearson's navy stories

[lunchtimebedamned1997]

Harrow The Ninth current progress reading thoughts (pt.2)

Part one | Here

Please no spoilers for beyond chapter 11 of book two, and none for book three please.

Spoilers for HTN and GTN below:

Chapters 7-9 (+prev chapters rambling):

HAHAHA GOD'S NAME IS JOHN AND THE SPOILER I GOT SAID THAT WAS GIDEON'S DAD'S NAME I WAS RIGHT!!!

Also Harrow being disappointment by and internally 'making fun' (as much as Harrow can in the state she's in, the poor thing) of God's name being John is so fucking funny to me. Like, I had the same reaction to the name John and his ownership of it, Harrow. I feel vindicated ty, girly. XD

I fucking love how Moira Quirk voices Harrow btw. I keep doing 'Harrow Voice' around the house now and it is far too fun. Also I miss Gideon give me my bby girl back and don't make her suffer too much!!! (She's gonna suffer so much, isn't she?) She [Moira] slips back into 'Gideon voice' here and there despite it being Harrow's perspective and I don't know if that's intentionallll ohhh my god WAIT I'm so dumb. Is the main section of the book in second person and leading with "you" because it's not just Harrow??? Bc she's a Lyctor and technically not just one person anymore???? Fuck that would make so much sense. Bc when Harrow is having dream/delusion time, it's back in the third-person format of the first book, which would work so perfectly with this train of thought since, in those delusions, Harrow is just Harrow. In a world without Gideon. God, if that's why, that is such a clever use of formatting and makes me appreciate the use of second person. (Which I usually do not like at all. In fact, usually, actively hate XD)

I just got to the part where we find out The Saint of Duty is also named Ortus?! And Harrow promptly passes tf out??? I fucking love this series haha (Which means I've just finished chapter nine as I type this note woop woop!)

I really am just feral for Harrow to open more of her notes and - OH MY GOD RIGHT SHE KISSED IANTHE?! XD I know it was to check that she hadn't cut out her tongue or removed teeth to sever the pact and that she had to be 'discrete' about it (oml) but holy fuck I'm cackling at the memory. I cannot believe Harrow kissed fucking Ianthe triden-fucking-tarius before she kissed Gideon or that stupid creepy ice woman!!! I'm cackling at the absurdity.

Though - I mean, Gideon dying by killing herself to save Harrow (and Camilla), and like literally doing so, to send her soul to live inside of Harrow??? They skipped the U-haul and went to fantasy soul-fused martyrdom XD (I'm using Martyr here even though it's wrong bc I'm typing this at 3 a.m. and I can't think of a better word for this rn - and this series is dripping with religious stuff soooo idc rn (I so do. It is actively bothering me)) (it's now 8 p.m. the following day as I'm editing this and my internal thesaurus is still failing me woops XD)

Why is Ianthe fucking here bro - I don't hate her but I certainly don't like her, and I'm neutral in my experience of not liking her so... IDK Ugh. They're probably going to make me attached at some point and then kill her.

I do like that Ianthe seems to be genuinely worried about Coronabeth's whereabouts. It's nice to see her care for something (someone) other than herself. I know her Cavalier was insufferable, but she killed him with so much coldness! Honestly, I suppose the more I think of her, the more interested that I am. I don't think I fully grasped the reveal that Coronabeth wasn't a necromancer at the end of the last book? Why on earth - metaphorical earth i suppose - why on any planet would your family want you to pretend your twin is also magical? Was it for appearances? Was it to keep her sister safe from their family? She managed to delude everyone into believing it the entirety of book one??? Just how powerful was she before Lyctorhood. How powerful is she now.

She seems to at least have less cognitive resolve than Harrow - if not less power overall - considering Harrow could use theorems in The River... but perhaps that was more Gideon's influence on Harrow's power than her own? They don't seem to be very integrated at the moment - especially with Harrow's falsified memories? But she is a Lyctor so idk. Mercy seemed flabbergasted by it.

I also did want to mention that I liked the detail that Delusional!Harrow was glad her eyes 'hadn't changed much' bc Ortus and her had similar, black ninth-eyes. Why does The Body have Gideon's eyes. Why does the body give her advice. Is Harrow crazy (you know, clinically not just... Harrow XD) or is she truly being haunted?

I'm actually really enjoying having somewhere to sort through some of my jumbled thoughts as I read! Especially with a book series like this that has so many moving parts - many of which I'm sure I've only gotten the barest scrap about - I've probably missed quite a few tbh.

It's fun getting to meet some more of the surviving Lyctors, and it was really interesting to hear about Cytherea a bit from their perspective, and get a bit more of the very ancient timeline sorted.

Bro I've been listening to the audiobooks and I feel like I'm in an Olympic obstacle course looking up all these names while trying to avoid spoilers. I fully expected Cytherea to be spelled Kithrea and Gideon's last name to be Navv and not Nav. etc. etc. Also though Ortus' name was Aughtus - I did not hear that 'r' XD My brain also keeps deciding that Magnus and Abigail are Maximus and Annabeth???? I don't have any clue why. This is what happens when you give a visual learner an audiobook I suppose.

Also did Ianthe kill Silas at the end of the last book when she became a Lyctor? And his Cavalier? I fully lost track of whatever happened to those two. I'm going to have to go back at some point and re-listen to that whole Ianthe section.

Chapter 10:

It was really nice getting to see Magnus and Abigail, even slightly-odd Harrow-skewed dream versions of them.

Magnus's eye's being 'a color that was suddenly hard to define' and asking Harrow "is this really how it happened?" is fucking haunting bro.

Also poor Ortucs, let that poor make-believe baby be a scribe XD It was also interesting how much his agreeableness aggravates Harrow. It's such a nice, jolting ache for her and for us. How hollow and absent her life is without Gideon. How much it lacks color both literal and metaphorical.

Oh. Ohhhh my god, I need to be paying more attention to the 'crazy' notes in the dreams, don't I? Implantation?! Of Gideon mayhaps?

She has a very physical reaction to seeing these notes as well, her eyes 'almost strobing' at the sight of it. Like it's something that does not fit into her carefully-crafted false reality. Something like Gideon. How Gideon or Gideon's soul or essence or whatever would have any idea of things pre-conception, I don't know. But this is all made up, so who's to say, right? I suppose it could have to do with Harrow as well, given dream!Abigail's comments about the soul-price hovering around Harrow. Even if the notes are not quite so literal, I'm sure that they don't mean nothing. Especially because Ortus, the literal manifestation of Harrow's rewriting of events - can't read it, refutes it. Surely they must mean something. Who knows, maybe it's about the girl in the ice.

The fact that Harrow, or at least, falsified-reality-dream-Harrow, has never eaten a potato is absolutely tragic (I type, while eating Gnocchi, feeling quite mocking towards our potato-less girl, despite no intention to.) Though, I wouldn't put it past our Queen of Misery to decide in this falsified reality, to deny herself the existence of potatoes in the Ninth. Just to make herself that much more miserable XD

Also LOL to even dream Ortucs being like "Bro I'm so glad this wasn't what I ended up to be" like, poor dead mama's boy. I actually feel kind of bad for him. Born in the wrong house to the wrong family at the wrong point in time, huh? Sorry your ship blew up, pookie. But like, also maybe try zoloft or vitamin D, babes, you're really bringing down the vibe - and like, the vibe is quite literally dead with all this necromancy so... that is really saying something sweetie. XD

I've wondered a couple times if the woman in the ice has anything to do with Gideon specifically, like being her mother - bc there's technically no proof thus far (to my memory) that the dead woman who carried Gideon in the life-support container was actually her mom. Wasn't Gideon only an hour old when found? All of this is so funky. I'm thinking so many things you guys sshashohaowihaoij Could the woman who brought Gideon to the Ninth have been taking her 'back to her mother' if there were time-shinnanigan things? Like if she was born or stillborn ages ago - or removed from the woman in the ice w/o really being born and god put her into the resurrection sleep or or or. I really just don't know. Fuck, I'm so curious. Idk I feel like I'm grapsing at straws here, but I was right about God being her dad and that felt just as insane at the time XD Also, fr though, WTF is god? Like, tell me.

Chapter 11:

HA - hahaha XD Ohh my god. Gideon saw Cythrea's dead body from Harrow's eyes and went "fuck you, bitch, die again.", huh? XD Not Harrow using the sword in her blackout even though they're not fully integrated. You cannot convince me that wasn't our precious Gideon being so very herself lmao

I wonder if it's Gideon like... directly, or if it's more of an echo of her final purpose in regards to her sacrifice? I imagine Harrow blacking out around that whole section is bc she's not integrated with Gideon (and can't even let herself remember the reality of her LMAO)

ONTO ACT TWO!!! WOOP WOOP!

[tehnakki]

Honestly, Jod (God John) fucking his way through the hot officers on his flag ship in post-I killed my best friends-breakup rebound sex is truly one of the funniest things to come out of tlt.

Especially from the officers perspectives.

Fucking God has been living on your ship for the last x amount of decades. Y'all work your whole adolescence to get good enough at sword or bones so you'll end up on the flag ship. Every bit of your life is starched and pressed and exactly to the military manual. And for months all you hear of God is morning instructions passed through your platoon leaders or being called to attention when he passes through your work zone, but you're always just out of sight of God.

And then one day you are running and errand between decks and get caught in a hallway was High Command and God sweep by and it's everything you hoped. You look on the face of God and only years of military bearing keep you from bursting into tears. And then they are gone and you're trying to catch your breadth and remember what the fuck you were even doing in this hallway.

And shit's good. You've seen the glowing rings of His eyes and it affirms everything you've learned over your lifetime in His Houses. And it's almost like it opens the floodgates because days later you have the honor of standing at attention while the Saint of Patience chews out your commander for what felt like forever over someone misplacing his stash of cigarettes. And then the next week you're Blessed by the Saint of Joy's rant about never being able to figure out where the Goddamned meeting rooms are.

And that becomes you life until suddenly there are whispers that the Flagship is heading home, back to Dominicus even though God has not been back to the home system in a myriad and everyone is worried what this could mean. Then the rumors begin about First House, that God has called on the Houses to send their best to the First that they may become his newest Saints. And for a moment you find yourself breathless with frustration that maybe you should have stayed home after all, that maybe you could have served God at his side for the next myriad. But that feeling is fleeting as you're to sensible to think for long that you were the best. One of the best sure, that's how you had earned your home on the flagship, but not THE Best. And to think that you'd never have seen God laugh, or Patience rant or Joy rage if you'd stayed at home and vied for the top slot... no. This was your place in Gods realm if anything.

Week pass and everything continues as normal until the next set of rumors erupt. A call from First House, they've succeeded and they've died. And suddenly the slow meandering path the ship has been taking ends and we are at the gates to Home. The saints depart, Patience to the River and Joy to the First House.

And Joy returns. The first two new Saints in a myriad are brought aboard, and the bodies of the rest of the houses, those that could be found. Your platoon was commanded to ready the caskets to receive them so y'all were the first to hear of the fallen Saint of __, and to witness the tears of God when He visited her body.

God should never cry, you wept openly at His pain and wished their was anything within yourself that could absolve Him of it.

And then God left. He left the flagship, His home, His people. And disappeared into the River with His saints. The entire ship is in mourning. The long journey back to the Cohort Fleet is begun, but no enthusiasm is felt by anyone. It feels like being trapped in limbo.

[[A/N: I made the mistake of starting at GtN when really I wanted to talk about Fuckking, so I'm skipping to the bit I wanted to talk about]]

God's return was portentous after the preceding days news of Resurrection Beast sightings. One moment we were just another ship in the Fleet, and the next we were the Seat of God again. It was like the return of sunlight, or color, or taste! God stepped from the River alone to the Bridge of the Flagship and High Command was in ecstasy of His arrival! Every inch of the ship whispered with news of sightings. How God looked--tired, sad; How God smelled--like the paint thinner that was being misplaced at a surprising regularity and quantity; How God sounded--dull, heartbroken.

And oh how that last hurt you to think of. His oldest saints had been destroyed, only one of the newest Saints remained. And she could be found huddled with High Command, or prying God out of an officers bunk escorting Him to the closest shower then to the war room or Bridge, until God found a way around her and back into the nearest warm body.

And one of those days, oh one of those days you were honored to be that warm body. Surprised in a narrow junction room as you struggled with a power relay, the scorching warmth of God suddenly between you and the closing door. He pressed so close that all you could see were the black depths of his eyes, sorrow shining through every inch of him and your heart ached for Him. Your tears welled and spilled for Him. Your voice choked for Him as you prayed "oh Lord, please let me ease your pain." And He answered your prayer with one of His own. His tongue tracing His blessings across your lips, your tongue. His hands slipping inside your uniform pants and bearing your cock to the air. God slips to his knees and chokes on your cock, your hands flail and he grabs them and holds them to his head. You gasp out the lords prayer as he chokes and drools on your pants, eyes squinting up at you and dripping tears. And then the air hits your wet cock like a slap and God is standing, back to you as He drops his trousers and all but backs onto your cock. You can hear His soft pants of "fuck me, fuck me" as He presses your hands to His hips, His fingernails digging in to hold yours in place.

And so you do, sinking into the tight, feverish, grasping hole of God. Pressing kisses and prayers to the back of His neck. Worshipping Him with your entire being as His hands draw your blood and His voice urges you to move faster and faster. And somewhere between frantic beats of your hearts His body spasm and clenches oh so tightly on yours that your bodies seem to meld and for one endless moment you think you can see the universe as he sees it. Spinning thenergy and thalergy entertwined forever chasing in one anothers trails.... and then you are just you again, panting on the neck of your Lord, the Necrolord Prime and God who became Emperor Emperero who became God.

And reality returns with the banging of the sliding door being forced open by Gods remaining Saint. Who takes one look at the sweaty trembling mess of God and makes a face of disgust, pulling God toward her before yanking up his pants with rough movements as she started to berate him--

"Oh for fucks sake John, really? This room is nasty, you couldn't atleast drag them back to a bunk room? Can you please stop finding cocks to shove up your bum everytime I turn my back for more than a --" God and His Saint marched out of my sight as the door rumbled shut less quietly than it had before. You'll have to submit a repair ticket for it later.

You slump against the wall as you stare at the glittering drops of Gods expulsion. Without thought you fall to your knees and shuffle close enough that you can lean forward and clean it from the wall with your tongue. Salty and bitter with a touch of dusty paint, smears of grease add an additional note as you wrap your tongue around a pipe trying to clean every drop of His sacrament. You lick the grates and the walls and the pipes clean of Him and your eyes are caught by the shine of your dick, still wet with the moisture of His mouth. And with trembling hand you skim the fluid off your limp cock and bring it to your mouth to savour. You can taste your cum but next to that is the scent/taste of God. Fuck. You can never wash your penis ever again.

[nolanhollogay]

hickey ] a kiss that's supposed to leave a mark on the partner's skin

shenanigans time!!!

+

"What the hell is that?" Pope exclaimed as Edgar walked over to the group, JJ trailing behind him.

"What's what?" he asked.

Pope waved him off, pointing to JJ. "Not you. Him. There's a massive hickey on his neck!"

John B gasped, his head flying up so quickly that his sunglasses fell out of his head and onto the bridge of his nose. He pushed them back to the crown of his head as he got to his feet. Not even bothering to acknowledge Edgar, he grabbed JJ's jaw, tilting his head to stare intensely at his neck.

"What is this, young man?" he asked, poking the mark with his finger.

JJ slapped his hands away. "Well, old timer, the kids these days call 'em hickeys."

The mark was about the size of a nickel, a splotch of redpurple skin. It was noticeable, sure, but definitely not the spectacle they were making it out to be.

Kie stood beside Pope, arms crossed over her chest. "We know he's a slut. I don't understand what the big deal is."

Edgar nodded. "I don't agree with the first part 'cause that ain't nice, but, yeah, I ain't sure what all the hollerin's about."

That was the only reason he'd left the stupid mark in the first place. Cause he was kissdrunk, loopy with affection and buzzing with desire, and JJ told him that "they wouldn't ask any questions cause they thought he was a slut anyways."

Nova shoved John B out of the way to poke the mark as well, stabbing it with her long acrylic nail.

JJ jumped away from her. "Fuck, Nova! Ow!"

"Don't be a baby!" she said, rolling her eyes. She turned to Kie, a familiar unimpressed look on her face. "He may be a whore, but he's usually classy about it. He doesn't usually let girls mark him up."

John B pressed a hand to his heart, wiping away a fake tear. "Oh, JJ, is she special? Your one true love?"

"Y'know," Pope said, with his thinking face on, "He has been very secretive lately. Sneaking around a lot."

"Oh my God," Kie exclaimed, "JJ, do you have a secret girlfriend? What girl could possibly be stupid enough to date you?"

JJ sent her a sarcastic smile.

"That would make sense.." Pope said. His thoughtful expression was making Edgar nervous. If he thought about it for long enough, connected some dots, their cover would be blown.

"Can we talk 'bout somethin' else?" he asked, putting on his poutiest face, "You're all makin' me uncomfortable. Offending my delicate sensibilities 'n all."

Nova rolled her eyes. "You literally made out with Beau underneath the bleachers. You're not some saint."

"No, but I am named after one," he said, sending her a smile. JJ laughed even though it wasn't that funny. "And I never claimed to be. But I'd rather cut the conversation at the roots before we start talkin' 'bout JJ's intimate life 'n things go cattywampus."

"You just made that word up!" John B said at the same time Kie gagged at the idea of JJ's sex life.

Without much fanfare, they all started towards the Chateau, leaving JJ and Edgar straggling behind.

JJ threw an arm over his shoulders. "You're so fucking smart, doing your whole Southern gentleman thing."

"Someone had to stop it before Pope started to make some realizations."

JJ snorted before sliding his hand down his back to reach his hip. He gave it a squeeze, fingertips digging into the matching hickey he'd given Edgar the night before. Thankfully, that one would stay their little secret.

Without another word, he walked ahead of him and inside the Chateau.

[nijjhar]

Allah, our Supernatural Father of our souls is Light, His Word, Logo, th... Allah, our Supernatural Father of our souls is Light, NOOR, His Word, Logo, the Bottomline Primordial Gospel Truth that has no roots. So, Allah has no roots like us having our parents. https://youtu.be/gyRnMfA98tw Full description:- http://www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/AllahPrim.htm We are approaching the end of the Age through the Atomic War which is expected soon after 14/11/2023. Tribulations started 6 months of Yahweh on 14/05/2023 when Israel proclaimed that Jerusalem belongs to Israel. The Chosen People are special people of Yahweh made up of Yah = to fuck and Weh = of him, the primordial Lord of Nature. Jesus' Hebrew name "YAHSHUA" is made up of two words; Yah = Yahweh and Shua = Shiva = Primordial Adam. Thus, Mary was “sired” by Yahweh in Hebrew, Brahma in Hindi and Khudah in Arabic, the Lord of the visible creation and our demiurge father in heaven, whom you see in his creation with two naked eyes, and Angel John, the Baptist, Prophet Elijah (My god is Yahweh, Brahma, Khuda, etc., the heavenly father of Jesus) baptized Jesus in the name of his heavenly father “Yahweh,” and the Jews in the name of their tribal forefather Abraham. Thus, Mary was a surrogate mother and Joseph from the tribe of Judah through the line of King David, his adoptive father. This is the First Proof of the Virgin Birth of Jesus. To learn more about this Gospel Truth and the expositions of the Parables, please watch my OVER 8500 Youtube videos; on channel One God One Faith. Please pass this article on to our Brethren in God. Please translate this into different languages to help me Preach the Gospel Truth called “Oral Torah”, the BOTTOMLINE TRUTH. There are no Copyrights and you can send it to your friends in the name of our Supernatural Father Elohim, Allah, Parbrahm, etc. of our supernatural “soul”, the “son” making us the Fishers of spiritual solitary men of the order of Sadhu Melchizedek capable of entering the Royal Vineyard of our Father where the True Vine Christ Jesus/Nanak is planted by our Father and that has low (for humble) and Narrow (for the solitary like the born blind person of John 9) Gate. So, that is the regime of the demiurge heavenly father Yahweh, the creator of male and female for reproduction. This visible creation is seen by the two natural naked eyes and it is perishable born and dies in reincarnation. But those who are blessed with the third eye of logical reasoning can perceive the invisible God Father of our supernatural soul. This Supernatural Father of our souls. The above is well presented in the Menorah. The six candles are the six types of people represented by the David's Cross; three holy and three evil works; social, economic and political secular affairs called Karma that was performed under the Rabbi and led to reincarnation whilst those who know the Absolute Rock-Bottom Gospel Truth called Logo = His Word = Our Supernatural Father's Word called the Gospel Truth, they Perceive Him and by Preaching the Gospel Truth called Drinking the Blood of Christ, the Eternal like our Father, have become His Sons eternal like the Father and it is called "Resurrection" which Jesus demonstrated in Lazarus who was dead for 4 Days. Perfection in the moral laws makes you a Prophet as John, the Baptist was Prophet Elijah, my god is Yahweh, the Corner Stone of the Temple of Yahweh whilst the Christ of Elohim makes you Son of Elohim, Allah, Parbrahm, etc., the Saint. There are Prophet, Devta and Prophetess, Devi - Male and Female Holy Spirit, Shakti whilst in God Elohim, Allah, Parbrahm, etc. our Supernatural Father, we have Both Father of our souls and Mother, the Holy Spirit, in One called Saints or Christs that Represent our Father. In short, Nature, KUDHRATT, SARISHTI, or Pots created by Yahweh, Brahma, Khuda, etc., the father of Nature Jesus is Lorded by Christ, the Very Son of our Supernatural Father Elohim within Jesus and that explains all His Miraculous Powers. That is the Christ = Son of our Supernatural Father Elohim Lords over the creation of the Lord of Nature Yahweh, Brahma, Khuda, etc. Thus, with the Power of the Holy Spirit that dispels His Will Yahweh sired Mary to produce the Second Adam Yahshua (Yah = Yahweh and Shua = Shiva = Primordial Adam). Thus, Nature is the Perfect, Primordial creation of Yahweh. That is why Saint Thomas said, "If the circumcision was essential, then our heavenly Father Yahweh would have created us all circumcised". But it is the tribal mark of Abraham to Isaac that only the sons of Isaac can have it and no one else. In the Temple, the Priests were making them Jews outwardly by circumcising them so that they could join the proud and arrogant sons of Abraham sitting in the Front Court whilst the other Pilgrims were sitting behind the partition. That was the business that Angel Stephen exposed and they were grinding their teeth to kill him. Thus, the Disciples of the Rabbis obeyed their orders and killed him. Today, the fake sons of Isaac will kill them. So, you cannot ....

[murderousginger]

Don't Wait For Me

Angel on Fire epilogue

Word count: 1004

Warnings: They're criminals guys, they do bad things. Blood. Wounds.

Note: Did you really think I could end it like that? This is my COMFORT FIC. I'm here to fix SK's mistakes. Fuck Tommy and fuck SK.

Little over a year later

You smiled, watching Charlie wobble around in the pasture of wildflowers. The children were scattered around the flat open land chasing each other or playing with toys.

You leaned back over to scrub the shirt in your hand, tossing it into the bucket to soak longer before trying to get the stains out again. The children were always getting into something messy.

"Dada," Charlie giggled as he wobbled to you. "Dada."

You smiled thinly. Despite your best efforts, that was his first word.

You spent every waking minute with the children, and they screeched for their father instead of you. Isn't that how it always goes?

You picked Charlie up and placed him on your knee before giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"No," you said. "I'm mama. Mama. Daddy isn't here."

Charlie giggled, leaning in and giving you a wet kiss back before patting your shoulder.

"Dada."

You sighed, holding him and looking out across the pasture. You flinched when a hand rested on your shoulder.

"Hello, love."

"Dada!" Charlie screeched gleefully, his hands flying up to the man behind you.

You felt Charlie's weight lift from you as John picked him up, limping into your view.

"Did we have any mail in town from Polly?" You asked him as he leaned down to give you a kiss.

"Yes," Katie said as she appeared from behind your shoulder. "She sends love and Uncle Tommy's newest check."

"You'll have to thank her for that tincture recipe she sent," you smiled. "Have the littles draw her a nice picture to send as well."

Katie nodded with a grin, extending her arms out to Charlie.

"Come 'ere, you rascal," she said. "Let's give our parents a moment of peace."

You beamed. Sometimes you still weren't ready for the older children to claim you, but they did happily. Clinging to you and calling you mom as if you bore them. It warmed your heart.

John frowned but handed Charlie over, watching Katie try to wrangle the others to form a game for all of them to play.

You looked up at your husband and noticed his uneasiness, his wince as he shuffled in step.

"Looks like you need to get in the caravan," you said. "Let me rub this last shirt and I'll follow."

John grunted his annoyance but did what you said as you finished scrubbing the last stained shirt. You threw it in the bucket to soak, knowing that some stains couldn't be fixed.

You climbed into the back of the caravan and saw that John had already taken his shirt off and laid on his stomach waiting for you.

You grabbed the metal tin from the nearby shelf and opened it. You looked at his scarred back, the wounds still pink from healing.

You knelt down over him and watched his back tighten in anticipation, muscles popping up under his smooth skin.

Your fingers danced along his scars before you dipped them in the tincture to smooth it over his back.

Tears streamed down your face as you rode far away from the funeral site, occasionally looking back to make sure Tommy hadn't sent anyone after you. You prayed Polly talked him out of it. You prayed a lot, to anyone and anything that would listen, since that morning John was shot. If this worked, you would even pray to Polly, your new patron saint of fuckery.

You kept going, taking random turns and twisting along the roads until the sun started to set. You turned onto an empty pasture and made your way to the top of a hill before stopping.

"Okay," you exhaled before looking at Katie beside you, who had the children circled around her, all red-rimmed eyes and red noses. "Let them stretch their legs. There's a nice pond down there, go for a nice walk and I'm going to–"

Your voice caught, but you swallowed your fear.

"I'm going to see if the spirits are on our side," you said closer to a whisper as your voice broke.

Katie nodded knowingly before she wrangled her siblings together and took off for the pond. You took a long deep breath before climbing down and making your way to the back of the caravan.

You climbed inside, new tears falling as you looked at John. Your heart stopped as you made your way beside him, kneeling down and taking one last wavering breath before hooking your finger into his mouth and retrieving the herbal ball hidden there.

You tossed it out of the caravan and opened his shirt, revealing stitched and healing wounds. You grabbed a small vial and a metal tin from under John's bed, first uncorking and pouring the liquid into his mouth before twisting the tin and dipping your fingers into the tincture, spreading it along his wounds.

The light dimmed in the caravan and you squinted in the light, trying to see anything. Any movement. A breath. A shudder.

Once the wounds were covered in the earthy goo, you closed the tin and placed it back under the mattress. You cried, watching him closely as you heard the children returning to you.

He was still lifeless. You had failed, somehow.

You doubled over slowly, weeping as you rested your head on his chest for the last time.

And beneath you, faintly, was a heartbeat.

"Are you lost in your head again, love?" John asked softly as you focused on him again.

He had sat up and faced you, waiting for you to place the tincture on his chest. Your hand was stalled, covered in goo, above the tin.

You smiled shyly as a tear fell down your cheek.

"Sorry darling," you answered. "Sometimes ghosts haunt me."

"We are safe and free," John said as he pulled you into a hug. "I've died twice now. Tommy has no hold on this family. We're our own now."

"No one deserves a happy ending more," you smile into his neck. "We're free, my love."

[happys-crazy-queen22]

Judgement

Gif credit @lemonjustice.

Requested by @kaymudd. ( not letting me tag you, sorry) Thanks for the request. I hope you like it. Thanks for the request.

Taglist @ackles-nhl. @mysty-psycho. @cbouvier23.

18+

"John, is this your granddaughter". A older lady asked John Dutton. Your eyes went wide.

John awkwardly chuckled. "No, Ms. Benedict, this is Y/N, my girlfriend". John squeezed your hand as he introduced you to one of the council members.

"Oh my, you are a young one". She gasped, then let out a nervous chuckle as she looked at John.

"I'm (age), that's not to young".  

"Young enough. Excuse me". She said judging as she walked away. Leaving a bad taste in John's mouth.

"Rude much". You scoffed.

"We should leave". John said rather coldly, letting go of your hand.

"Don't do that".

"What"? John put his hands in his pockets when you tried to hold it.

"That. Freeze me out. All because some jealous bitch said something about my age. It's doesnt effect us or anyone and its no ones business. So hold my hand and have a good time". You held out your hand, with a snap to your fingers.

John chuckled with a grin. He placed his hand in yours. "You're right".

"I know I am. Now, let's have a good time. We got all dressed up and looking so good". You played with his bow tie with your free hand. "We should show off and be happy. Not let her or anyone else bring us down". You cupped his face, leaned in and kissed his lips.

"Let's get a drink before you go showing me off like a show horse". John teased, wrapping his arm around your waist. You giggled, laying your head on his chest as you walked.

Meanwhile, Ms. Benedict couldnt stop with the gossip. Everyone she talked to she mentioned John and his young girlfriend. She was really stuck on your age.

"Hi, John". A man came up to John. He was a well known lawyer, that John used time to time when needed.

"Oh, Hi Burt. This is Y/N".

"Ah yes, the young girl". Burt rolled his eyes. "I've been hearing about her non stop from Benedict over there". He nodded to the woman surrounded by a group of people, slowly giving you glances once every five seconds.

"What is it with this lady"? You ask, with your hands on your hips.

"I dont know why she's making a big fuss about it. She has no room to talk. Last year, I had to pay off one of her boy toys cause he was going to spill the beans about ther summer affair with him. She's no saint". Burt confessed.

"Oh really"? A idea popped up in that head of yours. "Excuse us, Burt". You politely said, dragging John away.

"Where are we going"? John laughed.

"Bathroom".

"What do you want me to do, guard the door"? John asked before you pushed him in.

"You'll see". You turned and locked the door. "Unbutton your pants". You order John, as you hiked up your dress.

"What? No". John giggled, like a schoolboy.

"Have you never done this before"? You pushed him into a stall, backing him up against the stall door.

"Not with half of the town in the next room". John grunted as you unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down.

"Well, let me be your first cowboy". You wrapped your arms around John's neck and kissed his deeply. John picked you up, his hands resting on your ass as he backed you against the stall wall.

Your legs wrapped around John's waist. His hand slid between your bodies and guided his cock to your entrance and thrusted in.

"Aah fuck". You gasped, tangling your hand into John's hair.

John thrusts were fast and rough, his hands gripped your hips as he pounded into you. You held on to the stall wall for balance.

"Fuck, daddy"! You screamed as the tip of John's cock grazed your gspot, sending your nerves into over drive.

"My dirty little girl". John growled, his head rested on your breast. You tugged at his hair. You felt a orgasm build inside of you, John always knew how to make you cum first.

"I'm cumming! I'm cumming"! Your walls clenched around John's cock, he slowed down his thrusts as he felt your legs shake around him.

"Oh god". You panted, laying your forehead on his. The aftershock of your orgasm made you shudder.

John chuckled. "You okay"? He gently kissed around your face.

"I need a moment". You blew out a puff of air.

John held you tight against him, softly rubbing your hips with his thumbs. "You're so beautiful". He whispered in your ear.

A blush came upon your cheeks. "And you get more handsome everyday". You pecked his lips. "I love you".

"I love you too,  baby girl". John gently lifted you up and slowly put you on the ground. His pulled up his pants and you fixed your dress. "You go out first and then I'll go". John kissed your temple before opening the stall.

You unlocked the door and opened it. Making sure your dress was down you didnt see all the eyes in the room were on you and John as he came out behind you.

John bumped into which made you look up. "Was I that loud"? You mumbled to John.

"We better go". John snickered, taking your hand and walked threw the crowd of eyes staring at the both of you.

Ms. Benedict shook her head as you walked past her. You had to say something, it was your right as John's girlfriend to say something.

Letting go of John's hand, he stopped and turned to see you walk over to her.

"Betcha boy toy couldn't do that". You proudly say with a smirk on your lips.

She gasped, covering her mouth, embarrassed. You giggled, swaying your hips over to John, taking his hand and walking out of the building. Teach her to judge.

[wizzdot]

The Patron Saint of One Way Trips

Ch23

Description: Smut smut smut smut. Gaz is the goodest of good boys and gets his reward.. finally! In all seriousness though - this is my first time writing smut. Once I’ve finished this series I’ll go back and edit it sooo please ignore any lil mistakes you see! I’m not sure what I think if this but oh well! 🤷🏼‍♀️

*John's POV*

I watch over my pack for a a couple of hours. This is how it should be.. Perfect.

A pack of four Alphas is unusual, typically, either Betas or Omegas are needed to maintain the peace. My pack had always been loyal to one another but tensions run high at times. I have had to break up a few scraps. Hell - been in a couple with Simon, myself.

I slowly remove myself from the bed that we had all crammed ourselves on. Laswell is waiting on an update, and had news for me. I close the door gently on my way out.

*Johnny's POV*

Mmmm smells nice. Soft, smooth skin.. Tastes like heaven too, could die happy here, perfect..

*Laika's POV*

I slowly wake to a strange feeling. I am so warm, and I have hands all over me. But that isn't what stirs me. It's Johnny's tongue on my neck and his slow, gentle rocking, grinding himself against me. He is fast asleep.. He must be dreaming...

I reach over the top of Johnny, who has somehow squeezed himself between Simon and myself. I tap Simon, so gently, on his shoulder. His eyes snap open immediately and he goes into a semi-defensive position before realising where he is.

"What's the matter, little one..?" He asks, with a gravelly morning voice that sends the butterflies in my stomach absolutely crazy.

"It's Johnny.." I glance down to the sleeping Alpha. Simon chuckles. He fucking laughs at me..

"I thought you'd been warned that Johnny's a randy bastard, love.. he'd hump a pillow if it smelt nice.." I blush and whimper as Johnny actually gained some friction through my pyjama shorts.

"Do you want him to stop..?" Simon asks with a gruff voice. I look up at him with big eyes.

"I - I.." - "Tell me sweetheart, I can make him stop, just say the word.."

He's teasing me.. Toying with me.. He knows that I like it..

I suddenly feel all hot and bothered. I can feel the cramps threatening to start up again..

"Alpha, please.." - "Please, what, love?"

"Say it again, Lass" Johnny growls into my neck. Both of our eyes snap down to see if Johnny had woken up.

"Looks like he can hear ya, Love.. you can tell him to stop yourself.." he teases.

Fine, prick. I'll give you a show. Teach you not to tease me like this when I need something.. s'unfair...

"Mmmm, Johnny.. feel s'good Alpha" I whisper into Johnny's ear, making full eye contact with Simon as I say it. He narrows his eyes at me, clearly surprised by my boldness.

Johnny's eyes snap open and he frantically grabs around me, tighter, then pulls me closer to his crotch. The movement wakes Kyle, who immediately questions the scene in front of him.

"Soap! John told us to behave!!" He smacks Johnny on the ass a couple of times, trying to call him off the hunt.

"Lass says she wants it, isn't that right, Lass..?" Johnny groans desperately into my neck as he rolls over so he is now leaning on top of me. I whimper, the new position helping his thrusts hit the sweet spot between my legs.

I turn my head and lock eyes with Kyle. He looks entranced. His hand rests lazily over his crotch and his mouth is parted, deliciously.

Christ, what's happening to me..?

"Kyle..?" I whimper.

His eyes travel slowly up my figure, eventually meeting my gaze. "Love..?" he purrs.

"Want this.. feel funny.. hot and itchy.. s'helping the cramps.."

"Cramps.. you didn't mention cramps, love.."

"S'cause Simon cuddled me when they got bad over night.. Helps.."

"What do you need, tell me and I'll help.." -

"Want - Want.."

"Want what, sweet girl?"

"B-but you're not my Alphas.." I whimper, suddenly aware that I couldn't possibly ask this of them..

I hear Johnny growl from above me, "I'll be your fuckin' Alpha, lass. Say the fuckin' word. You'd be claimed and plugged up in minutes.. I promise ya', Bonnie"

The door clicks open and I gasp, but it doesn't seem to phase Johnny who continues to hump me like an untrained street dog.

"GET OFF 'ER, MACTAVISH" - John's voice bellows from the doorway. Johnny whines, he fucking whines.

"Please, Alpha.. m'so close" he pleads, rolling off of me with his hips still rutting into thin air.

As soon as the weight from above has gone, the cramp that had been held off, hits me full force. I roll towards Kyle and pull him as close to me as possible, trying to find some relief.

Kyle's hands find my lower back, I can feel that he desperately wants to move them to cup my ass but John's growl cuts in again.

"LAIKA!" I snap away from Kyle and sit up, shuffling backwards, whimpering.

"S-sorry, Alph- John - I don't know what's happening.. I - I can't control.. urghhh" I wince as a particularly strong pain spreads through my gut.

"Alpha.. please.. help me.." I whimper, curling into a tight ball, trembling.

*John's POV*

Good god. She's in heat. She is in fucking heat. And Johnny has been humpin' her like a fuckin' dog for fuck knows how long.

"What do you want.. we didn't have chance to discu.." - "YOU.. I WANT ALL OF YOU" she cries, interrupting me.

"Darling" I crack my neck, feeling my control slipping. "If you accept this, I might not be able to stop.. do you know what I mean...?"

"Please Alpha.." Fuck, I'll fuckin' claim her right now. Bite a fuckin' pretty little mark right into her neck for everyone to see. The boys can mark her up afterwords too, our Pack Omega.. but it's the heat talkin'. She doesn't know what she's sayin'

"Captain.. If you don't want me.. I'll go.." she sniffles. That's what does it. The straw that breaks the camels back...

*Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

Self-doubt suddenly clouds my mind. I am literally in heat and begging and none of them want me. I'd been rejected..

"Captain.. If you don't want me.. I'll go.." I offer, knowing that I'd already done enough damage.

I curl tighter in on myself and start crying as more cramps roll through my body.

Within seconds I feel strong arms around me, scooping me from the bed, pulling my legs either side of a broad torso, my arms wrapped around his neck.

"Don't you ever fuckin' say, or think, that again, Love.. Boys, follow me" John marches me out of my room.

I whimper, each stride he takes, his thigh hits me just perfectly.

"Makin' a fuckin' wet patch on my trousers.." John grumbles into my ear.

"S-sorry Alpha" I whimper. He comes to an abrupt halt. He holds me against the wall and roughly slots his thigh between my legs, pulling me back and forward, rubbing my core on his soaked trouser leg. I whine and moan.

"Don't ever fuckin' apologise for pleasin' your Alpha.." He leans forward then, and somehow, with such softness, given our current heated situation, takes my chin in his calloused, rough hands and makes me look at him.

"Understood..?" - "mmmhmmm" I whimper, nodding.

"Good girl.." he tilts my chin upwards and leans in. Our noses are touching, but he pauses. We are breathing the same air for a few seconds. I'm desperate.. I'm fucking desp- KISS HIM.

I lurch forward, clashing our teeth and noses together. But my lips are on his, and he is devouring me. He pulls away, a string of spit connecting our lips, "Clever girl. I needed you to take the first step.. prove that you want this as much as me.." he growls, lifting me and finishing the journey to their room.

I feel hands on my lower back, from behind, and turn to see Kyle, looking as if he is worshiping the scene in front of him.

"Fancy sharing her, Alpha..? I'll be nice.. so nice to her.. I swear.." - "Go on then, Kyle.. kiss her.."

They talk as if I'm not there.. why do I find that so fucking hot..?

Kyle's kiss is soft, and gentle.. it's perfect. I find myself pulling away from John's hold and jumping into Kyle's arms instead.

"Fuck, love - been waitin' - for this since - since you arrived - always trusted me - didn't you - sweet sweet girl.." he moans into my ear between kisses.

"Gonna take care of you, we all are.. treat you so good - make you ours.." His words make me melt.

I feel my back meet the mattress softly, Kyle's hands roaming to my ass, and squeezing softly. "So perfect, so fuckin' perfect.."

I'm overwhelmed.. I glance around and see John watching with his hand on his cock. My eyes travel up and down his solid body. He was fucking huge, everywhere. A true Alpha in every sense of the word.

I then see Johnny and Simon making out against the wall. My eyes roll back at the scene in front of me. Simon's hand fisted in Johnny's mohawk, as he attacks his neck. Johnny suddenly all submissive - nothing like I'd ever seen the confident, randy Alpha like before.

"Hey, love.. eyes on me.." Kyle moves my gaze back to his gorgeous face.

"Can I take this off..?" He asks, lifting the waistband of my shorts slightly.

"Please, Alpha.." I moan..

"Good girl, such a good girl" Kyle coos- "Good boy, Kyle - bein' such a good boy" John grumbles from beside us.

Kyle's cock jumps in his boxers at the sound of his Alpha's praise. I feel it against my leg.

"Gonna touch you, gorgeous.. is that ok..?" - "Kyle.. need it.. please.." - "Fuck princess, you're gonna be the death of me.."

His hands run up my legs, from my calves all the way to my hip bones, where he gently strokes. "Is this ok..?"

"Yes.. please.. need more.." I whine desperately.

"Need to get you ready first.. trust me.." - "M'ready.. please" Kyle is about to reply when John cuts in.

"Trust me, love.. you're not ready for us yet.. I'll tell you when you're ready.." I whimper, frustrated.

Kyle runs a gentle hand through my folds, softly circling my clit. I moan and feel slick rushing downwards.

"More, Alpha.. need more.." I beg.

"Soon, sweet girl. I promise.. It'll hurt if we don't get you ready.."

I reach down and palm Kyle through his boxers. His pushes into my hand, clearly desperate for friction as much as I am.

I push at his chest and roll him onto his back. His eyes flash to John's as if to ask 'what do I do..?'

I giggle at his reaction, John just shrugs.. leaving me to my own devices. I pull his boxers down and stare at his beautiful knot. He was the prettiest, by far.. He was big, smaller than John's.. but still big. Much bigger than average. There's a perfect vein running along the underside, ugh, so pretty. I practically drool at the sight.

I swing a leg over his hips, so that I'm straddling him.

"No - no love.. you're not-"

I sink down on him and he suddenly ruts up into me, unleashing the loudest moan I've heard from him yet.

"Fuck, love.. so impatient.. so perfect and tight.. slowly though.. don't want to hurt ya' -" he gently rubs my clit as I just sit on him, cockwarming him without moving.

"Mmm Kyle... so nice" I whisper, nipping and biting gently at his neck.

*Kyle's POV*

Fuck she is driving me mad. I don't know how long I can keep this up. And then she starts biting at my neck..

Within milliseconds, I've got her flipped onto her back, and I'm deep inside her, starting to get some much needed movement.

"This ok, love..? tell me if I hurt you.." - "Won't hurt me - trust you, Ky ..."

She trusts me.. I can die a happy Alpha.

I can feel my knot swelling, just from her sweet words.

"Alpha.. I'm close.. what do I do..?" I grit out through my clenched teeth, asking John for instruction.

"Thought I should be the first one to knot her, seeing as I'm pack Alpha - but you've been such a good boy.. I'll let you decide.."

FUCK..

"Love, tell me what you want.. quickly.. won't last much longer inside ya'.."

*Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

"Want your knot, Kyle.. Please, Alpha.." I whimper.. I make eye contact with John then, and he nods, as if to allow Kyle to knot me.

"Fuck, it might hurt, Love.. ever had a knot before..?" - "No, Alpha.. just you.." I whisper, nervously.

"Hey, hey, sweet girl. I can stop if you're not sure..?" - "NO, don't stop" I cry.

"Okay - okay" he grunts, swelling inside of me. I feel spurts of hot spend hit my inner walls before I feel his knot plugging me up, his hips slow and he eventually halts completely with his hips held flush against mine.

"We'll be stuck like this for a few minutes, Love.. is it sore..?" he asks, kissing my shoulder, gently.

"No.. not sore.. feels nice.." I roll my hips, feeling his knot pull where we are held together and he whines into my shoulder.

"Love, s'too sensitive.. stay still" he laughs.

"We've not knotted anythin' for years.. not since we became a pack.." John explains, sitting quietly beside us on the bed, stroking my hair.

"Alpha's can't knot each other properly.. not the right anatomy.. bet it feels nice, eh Kyle..?" he asks, patting Kyle's thigh.

"Feels perfect, sir.. like Heaven.. so lucky.."

My heart jumps at the praise.

The bed dips as a sweaty Johnny and Simon slip in from the other side. Johnny immediately runs his hand down my stomach and between my legs, where Kyle and I are still knotted, I yelp from the sensitivity.

He scoops as much slick up as he can and sucks it from his fingers.

"Mmmm, fuckin' beautiful, Lass"

[oskarwing]

I really wanna talk about the parent child relationships in Midnight Mass

I’m not sure if I’m good at writing this sorta Meta but here goes nothing. Very many spoilers follow.

Let’s start with the adults: 

First we have Erin who suffered so much at the hands of her mother and later because of her mother’s abuse. We don’t get much detailed info on Peggy Greene but from what we can gather she was a lot like Beverly Keane, who seemed to idolize her (though that probably got easier for her after Peggy was gone), in her self-righteous over-pious manner. She just happened to be Beverly with an alcohol problem and a daughter who she could take all her anger at life for not working out her way for God loving her just the same as everybody else out. The dove scene is really such a good scene. But Erin was stronger than her mother, stronger than the abuse that was about to repeat itself and when she found out that she would have a child of her own she left and tried her best to give her kid a better life than the one she had. And she found the strength I think with the help of the same God her mother most likely used as legitimation for her abuse (don’t get me wrong I believe it was Erin’s own strength but she also clearly found something in religion that helped her gather it) and it helped her to carve out a path for herself and her unborn child.  

Sarah’s relationship to her parents is such an interesting one because we get to see the end of it. The man who she believed to be her father has been dead for a long while and her mother is suffering through the late stages of dementia. And Sarah showed up for it. As a doctor she most likely knew what would be happening as soon as Mildred started to show the first symptombs but she wasn’t going to leave her mother. That kind of care for an elderly parent shows something that is proven in Mildred’s character time and time again: She is a very devoted parent and the love between mother and daughter flows both ways in every scene they are in together, after the birth of her daughter her world turned around Sarah and she loved her with all she had. There are a few scenes that show that Mildred’s understanding of the duty she felt towards her family came from the old values of her time. She wouldn’t have taken off with John and their child not for a lack of love but because in those times, in catholism still at least where I’m from, you can’t just marry a priest. You can’t just have a child with a priest eventhough you’re married and then fuck off with him. As a woman, as a wife and mother you have to stand with your husband, stand with your child and you have to stop running after fantasies I’m sure Mildred had. I’m saying this all from her perspective btw, I don’t necessarily think running away with John, in the way he wished to, would have been good for Sarah but honesty might have been and her old fashioned values were also what kept her from being truly honest with her daughter.  To John on the other hand Sarah is a fantasy, a dream he couldn’t reach. His daughter, his baby, so close and yet so far away getting to watch her grow into an adult but never being able to really be her father as in her Dad instead of her priest. And it’s painful to him, he clearly loved Mildred, loved Sarah but he was also kinda selfish in his love that in the end took Sarah away. At first he isolated his child by starring at her giving her the creeps and the feeling that she had done something wrong that he knew she was gay and dissaproved and then he took it upon himself to ‘cure’ Mildred in the same way he was. Sarah wanted to take care of her mother wanted to be there for her in those final months and John decided it was up to him to give Mildred a youth potion to make it so she’d never die. And with that he took away from Sarah what is without doubt a hard but for many people a very important last part of the relationship between child and parent. John was a complicated man and would maybe have been a great Dad he certainly showed a lot of fatherly love for his altar boys but he couldn’t have the family in the way he fantasized about and in the end it was that fantasy that made him act the way he did.   

Riley Flynn causes his parents a lot of pain. Him killing that girl in the beginning, his alcoholism, him simply not liking the place, the home they build for themselves through hard work causes the Annie and Ed so much pain and financial loss and you can see how tired they are, how much guilt they feel for failing their son. Ed calls out his own guilt and says that he doesn’t belive it could be Annie’s fault because ‘your mother’s a saint’ but what I truly love about Annie and Ed Flynn is that they both aren’t saints. As a mother Annie is very much overprotective and suffocating, wanting to keep her children on crocket island and hating the notion that they might leave her, even though she is kind and sweet and loving. And while Ed seems rather checked out as a father but he is the more honest parent, never talking down to Riley and telling him as it is, telling him about the pain he caused him while also admitting to the guilt he feels. The Flynns are flawed people even in their religious practice (I think the way Annie speaks about Ali showing up at church when Hassan seemed to be nothing but nice to her spoke very loudly to the fact that Annie is rather misguided sometimes) but they are good people at the core of it and their parenting might have been part of Riley’s way into alcoholism but it wasn’t only them. There were things they couldn’t change and things they had no influence over like his heart being broken by Erin running away, the sort of people he went out on parties with and so many other things...  Yes, they may have shaped their son in a way that made him vulnerable to addiction and the party scene of the stock and tech market and brought him to the point where he killed a child but it doesn’t happen through parenting alone and they also shaped him in the good ways. Him not losing himself when Pruitt changes him, him being brave enough to warn Erin, him standing up for what he believes in those things were also shaped by Ed and Annie. They are one of the best example of flawed but good hearted Christians I have seen in recent media and their portrayal was one of the most heartbreaking ones. 

Now the kids: 

Let’s start with Leeza. Little Leeza Scarborough who before it comes to her wonder gets treated with pity and overprotectiveness from her parents and the island community at large. Leeza was injured by Joe Collie transforming him into the island’s villain and her into the ever present victim.  What happened to her is without a doubt horrible and I understand why Wade and Dolly started to become these overprotective parents, why they were so easily sucked in to John’s and Bev’s scheme. Their little girl was almost taken from them eventhough Wade is the mayor, one of the most powerful people on the island he had no influence over what happened to Leeza even was the one who took her out that day and what followed the accident was as we can gather from their conversation with Sarah a lot of pain and financial burden though they say they would have done it all over for Leeza. In fact a lot of places in crockett island are wheelchair accesible and I am sure that Wade as mayor made it so (I can’t really imagine that a small place like the island was very inclusive though I may be wrong).  After Leeza is healed they don’t want to question in don’t want to think about what might have been the cause for it. In fact they stop questioning anything after that point, after Leeza walks again they are completely vulnerable to Bev’s manipulation and them letting that happen, them just going along with everything, Wade protecting John after he kills Joe long after Leeza forgave him and with her forgiveness send Joe on a better path is what in the end makes them lose her. Because Leeza isn’t that little victim who needs pity and help, she is a strong minded, strong willed young woman with a lot of wit who similar to Erin finds strength in her faith but in a way that isn’t devotion without question and when the Easter vigil is held she doesn’t follow her parents eventhough she loves them deeply. She forgives them I think, because that’s what Leeza’s character is about in it’s core but her parents were two of the instigators behind what happened on the island, without Wade’s protection John and Bev couldn’t have come as far as they did and they put their trust in them because they loved their daughter so much they didn’t stop to question if maybe what made Leeza walk again was also a bad thing. 

Ali and Hassan don’t have it easy and I as a white person really can’t speak much on the racism and religious discrimination they face.  I can say this I think: The first line spoken about Ali before we even really get to look at him is “You didn’t invite Aladin” and already sets us up for what both of them know: They are the outsiders. Not only because they just moved to the island but also because in their faith they are different from their peers and religion can often be a community building event for people before it is anything else. Ali starts balming his father a little for that, for not trying to fit in more with the community, for moving after his mother’s death and then not trying to be closer to the people around them and for the pain all the pain the two of them went through before Crockett island. It isn’t oly peer pressure though of course that brings Ali to St Patrick’s. Sure, Ali wanted to be part of the community but also desperately wanted to believe that there was a devine power who could if he just did it (it meaning faith) the right way he might find a way to avoid the pain of his parents. Hassan knew that and he warned him that that wasn’t how it worked. Hassan was a protective Dad and maybe he overdid it from time to time but his worries were never without reason, his need to keep his son safe from a world that hated him for a crime that happened when he wasn’t even born yet never unfounded and him wanting to make sure his kid kept the memory of his mother alive never anything but the wish of a griefing man and loving father. In the end when they pray together there is peace in them. They face their ends with the dignity Ali’s mother would have wished for and they face it as father and son. While Beverly the true religious terrorist of the story burns away without it. 

Warren is the youngest Flynn and it is never directly stated yet omnipresent that his coming of age happens in the shadow of his older brother’s mistake.  Annie warns him away from drinking when he goes out he in fact doesn’t drink. He never drinks because of what his brother did.  Warren would have been 12 when Riley killed that girl and so he would have seen and felt what his brother’s actions did to his parents fully without being yet old enough to maybe see the nuance.  Annie and Ed probably try to right the wrong they believe to have done in parenting Riley with Warren and that’s a lot for a kid. I do think it’s pretty usual that parents of multiple children especially when there’s a larger age gap try to do better with the younger children, but that isn’t fair is it?  Warren is his own person not a second chance to do it over.  And yet seemingly he does what is asked of him. He’s alter boy, he’s charming and helpful and sweet, he doesn’t drink (even when he does smoke pot) and he helps his father where he can with his work.  But in the end he feels guilty because he thinks he wasn’t enough and says at that last dinner he would have been different if he had known he wouldn’t see his family again. But Leeza is right they know and they love him and Warren deserved to not be perfect all the time. 

Littlefoot saved Erin and Erin payed her back with all the love she had. She was never born but she gave her mother the strength and willpower to leave.  In her speech to Joe Leeza said he reached through time and took things from her she didn’t even know she had yet.When Erin left her husband she reached through time and saved Littlefoot from a childhood like hers and when John gave Erin the angel’s vampire’s blood he reached through time and took away her child, a child who would have been loved and cared for. A child with an amazing mother and probably a great step-dad.  Littlefoot’s story is tragic because she never got one. 

[lavandulacosmos]

MAZARINE Ch.7: Vespertine excerpt

First Heist // First Tattoo

The evening sky was electric with the flashing lightning of a thunderstorm, and they watched the violent swaying dance of the trees and the ocean in the downpour from the couch, cosy in the dark. Martín rested his head on his chest and he ran his fingers through his hair as the storm raved outside with howling laughter.

‘So what did you decide to do with your scars?’ Martín asked quietly, his voice barely disturbing the mad symphony of the outside world. ‘You’ve been teasing me with it for ages.’

Andrés just chuckled because he enjoyed having a secret, and Martín pinched him in retaliation.

‘So you caved in the end? I thought you would never ask.’ he grinned, catching Martín’s hand to stop his campaign against the continued good health of his waist.

‘I thought you were procrastinating, and it was painful to watch.’ Martín drawled, turning his head to send him an unimpressed look, only to soften it with a kiss pressed to his chest.

‘Vile slander.’

‘Hmm, sure it is.’

‘Do you remember our first heist together?’ Andrés asked instead of responding to such blatant use of sarcasm as another flash across the sky threw sharp shadows through the teasing smile of his husband.

‘Of course.’ Martín nodded. ‘I was so fucking green back then that we nearly got arrested even before we stole anything.’

‘I thought you were quite magnificent, my spitfire engineer.’ Andrés said, twining their fingers together with a fond roll of his eyes. ‘Even if you did nearly get us arrested.’

‘You were so furious, I thought you would never want to work with me again.’

That was not true, because Andrés’d known from the first second Valeria introduced him they could be the best partners - and it only became surer when they planned their first heist. But nearly getting caught in the stolen getaway car, before they could do anything to get away from, was a tad too much even for him.

‘We nearly missed out on a Salvador Dalí study of Christ of Saint John of the Cross. Naturally, I was a bit annoyed.’

‘A bit annoyed, yes, let’s call it that. But very kissable.’ Martín chuckled, leaning up to do just that before pulling back with a suspicious frown. ‘Wait a minute. Whose idea was using Dalí masks again?’

‘I do not know what you mean, mi amor.’

Martín just gazed at him in the storm’s unearthly light, blue eyes alight with a quiet adoration that said more than any words could. So he pulled him in for an equally quiet confession of warm lips.

‘We are getting off track here.’ Martín murmured against his mouth. ’What about our first heist?’

‘It was in Seville, and since Dalí already belongs to the team, I thought the city at least could be the inspiration for a tattoo.’ Andrés said, and Martín pulled back a bit in surprise.

‘A tattoo, mi alma?’ he asked, his fingers splaying out on his chest.

Andrés covered his hands and guided them to the exact place he envisioned the ink. ‘I want to make the scars mine, and our first heist together seemed like the perfect idea.’

‘Tell me.’ Martín requested, eyes searching his own with an intensity that left no doubt in his mind that his husband would approve, no matter what he chose to do.

‘Remember what we did after the heist?’ Andrés asked with a half-smile.

‘It rained so heavily that we took refuge in the cathedral and gazed at the magnitude of the building while you told me the history of every artwork worth mentioning.’ Martín answered with a nostalgic smile of his own and in the storm, instead of their home, Seville cathedral’s rain battered stones rose around them in awe-inspiring grace.

‘Close your eyes, mi amor. Hear the rain.’ Andrés said quietly, and Martin did just that, resting his forehead against his sternum. ‘Picture the vaulted ceiling high above the main chapel and us mortal souls, stretching towards the sky in graceful arcs and stone laces. That’s what I want on my skin to compliment my scars, that timeless beauty...’

‘Very fitting, Andrés.’ Martín whispered, pressing another kiss to his chest. ‘I always said that you were the magnificent one, ethereal and intricate like a gothic cathedral.’

‘I thought I was horrible.’ Andrés chuckled, hugging him closer.

‘That too.’ Martín said as another lightning crossed the sky in a pattern Andrés traced on his back.

[navegandoaciegas]

Sunday Sinday

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader [Priest AU]

Warnings: priest!Bucky, explicit language, smut, very desecrating and blasphemous thoughts and actions, masturbation, corruption kink, sex in a public place, hair pulling. Both parties are consenting adults. 

Summary: Father James preaches at Mass, and you think there’s no better time to sin than Sundays. 

A/N: Yesterday (9/9) was my 21st birthday and I’m posting filth to celebrate it. @whateveriwant​ and I share one horny braincell and we had the same idea, so here it is bb. 

Wide shoulders straining his black cassock, long chestnut hair pulled back, errant strands framing his chiselled face, thick rimmed glasses perched on top of his nose, Father James should be the depiction of all that’s holy, image and likeness of God himself, and instead he’s temptation in the flesh, and all you can think about as you do the sign of the cross and sit in the back pew is how much you want to do wrong with him.

“I confess to Almighty God and to you, my brothers and sisters, that I have sinned through my own fault in my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done and what I have failed to do.”

His soft voice fills the room, subtle blush on his cheeks, the memory of all your shared sins in the fleeting looks he sends your way. His impure fantasies of you on your knees, your pretty lips around his cock, you taking his virginity of the altar, fucking under the cross, in the confessional, the filthy whispers in your ears, words he never imagined would come out of his mouth, the taste of you lingering on his tongue. He never stood a chance against temptation, not if you’re the one luring him straight to Hell.   

You tune out of his sermon, merely standing, sitting, and kneeling as you see the others do: there’s the column he stood against as you sucked him off, the bench he bent you over and spanked you for the first time, the backdoor where the cleaning lady almost caught you.

“We listen to a reading from the New Testament.” he announces, clears his throat, adjusts his glasses, and opens the Holy Bible, fingers scanning over the verses he knows by heart.

There’s guilt in preaching what he doesn’t practice, but there’s also that exhilarating feeling of omnipotence that comes with being in love, that rush of adrenaline of loving in secret and doing the impossible to not get caught whilst wishing you would be.

The devoted churchgoers sitting in the front rows are too absorbed to notice you, hanging onto every word he recites, and the rest of the benches are empty, the saints and cherubs on the walls and Jesus on the cross your only witnesses as you quickly slip out of your panties and spread your legs, waiting for him to notice you, a teasing smile finding its way on your lips. 

“If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we-”

He looks up from the pages, and his eyes meet you, or more likely what’s between your legs. He stutters, John or Matthew’s verses escaping his mind, “If we- we, uh, confess, we confess, yes, our sins- uh.” 

Silence. Awkward, tense silence.

The white collar around his neck is suddenly too stiff and suffocating. Father James is like a deer caught in the headlights, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as his eyes flit around the room. The blush on his cheeks betrays his sinful thoughts, and he can only hope, as he gapes in front of his audience, that they won’t notice the tent in his cassock, the sweat on his forehead, his heaving chest and the light fog forming in his glasses.

Whispers arise, ‘is Father James alright?’, the good, righteous churchgoers ask among themselves, concerned about their beloved priest. 

“As I was saying.” he clears his throat after a strangled apology, his fingertips finding the verse he was reading again, “If we say we have not sinned-”

His voice is a low buzz as he resumes his sermon, tension clear in his taut muscles and dry mouth; memories of all the times he’s taken you on these wooden benches invade your minds. All the times you’ve choked him with the cross around his neck, all those he’s spent on his knees, worshipping you like a goddess.

His pure soul you’ve tarnished with yours, the filthy words that sound so right on his holy mouth, his heady taste on your tongue when you swallow him whole, your wish to ruin him.

Your walls throb, arousal pooling at your entrance and rubbing on the fabric of your skirt as you grind your core on the bench, desperate for some sort of release.

He raises the chalice. “...It will be shed for you and for all so that sins may be forgiven. Do this in memory of me.” 

You were never one for good decisions, especially not when your brain is as fogged as his glasses. And there’s no better day to sin than Sunday, afterall.

You slip a finger inside your glistening folds, looking at him through lidded eyes, wishing he would be fucking you against the altar instead. Father James’ eyes go wide as saucers when he catches sight of you playing with your dripping pussy under your skirt, and he chokes on his wine, sputtering and coughing. 

You close your legs and bite your lips when someone walks up to him and pats his back to help him through his fit. He glares at you, and you stifle a laugh, the scene too comical to keep quiet.

“Forgive me.” he stutters to the small crowd, worry evident in their eyes, “It went down the wrong way.” he tries to ease the tension , “We can begin the communion rite now, if I don’t choke before.” and earns himself a collective chuckle.

The walk from the back to the front of the church seems endless. Thighs rubbing together and against your folds, a light breeze from an open door blows up your skirt just slightly, but enough that if someone were to pay attention, they’d see you’re not wearing any panties. 

You’re the last of the line, and by the time you get to him, the rest of the people are kneeling, their head bowed, oblivious to the tension between their good priest and the new girl in town.

“The Body of Christ.”

It’s a whisper, soft and intimate, meant for you and only you, the blue of his eyes swallowed by darkness when you part you lips wide open and stick your tongue out, a sight he’s seen countless times before, when you’re on your knees begging him to fuck your mouth. Air stills when your tongue brushes against his trembling fingertips, a shiver running down his spine, a groan almost escaping him because of what that damn tongue is capable of. Eyes locked together as you slowly chew, his gaze following the lump of your throat as you swallow.

“Amen.”

It’s lust, it’s sin, it’s wrong but it sure feels right. 

He watches your hips sway as you walk back to your seat, knowing your pussy is bare and wet for him beneath your skirt, and he can’t wait for mass to be over soon.

-

Incense is thick in the air, and a shiver runs down your spine when you feel his presence. A hand pulls your shirt and shoves you behind one of the columns to the sides where you usually wait for your sweet boy after mass. The marble is cold against your back, his hold like a vice on your flesh, and it stirs up something inside you. He’s never touched you like this, not your shy, doe eyed James, with his tentative kisses and trembling hands.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he whispers harshly, lips hovering over yours.

A gasp, you feign surprise. “Since when do you use that language? You kiss the cross with those lips?” 

“You're a bad influence.” he chuckles, “Anyone could have seen.”

“But no one did.” you retort “And that’s the fun part, baby boy.”

His fingers will leave bruises behind, you muse, as you take in the fire in his eyes and his body towering over yours. Your recklessness, your attitude, your pretty face, his lack of restraint, the way he can never resist you, his body that acts on its own, the animal instinct that snaps inside him when his hips thrust against yours and his hard cock presses on your stomach.

“You wanted to get caught, didn’t you?” 

Your tongue finds its way from his neck to the shell of his ears, leaving goosebumps behind, “Can you imagine the scandal?”

“You’re such a brat.” is his strangled response as his hips roll against you, pinning you to the wall. His breathing is ragged, his jaw clenched.

“I am a brat Father, do you think you can forgive me for that?” you purr, a hand sneaking between you and palming his aching cock through his cassock.

“I don’t know, angel.” he mumbles in your hair, a thick thigh coming between yours. “You need to repent, and then atone.”

“How can I do that, Father? I want it so, so bad.” 

Your skin is scorching hot, your head dizzy as his smell clings to you and intoxicates you. 

In a blur you find yourself spun around, the marble digging painfully in your cheeks, his hand groping your ass and kneading the flesh to the point that it hurts. A whimper escapes your mouth when he slowly grazes your things up to your aching core, and he cups your pussy with a possessive hold.

“You’re so wet, all for me?”

It’s a soft whisper, a stupid question maybe. 

“Only for you.”

He peppers your neck with small kisses, nipping your delicate skin. Your walls flutter around nothing, you’re desperate to feel him inside you, his thick cock filling you like no else’s can.

Father James is not a patient man.

His fingers swirl around your swollen clit, and you’re pretty sure there’s slick running down your thighs. The pressure in your cunt is almost painful as you wait for him to lift his cassock and free himself.

“Tell me you’re mine.” 

It’s a low vibration grunted in your ear as he strokes his length and lines himself with your entrance, his tip smearing your arousal around.

“I’m yours.”

He slams his cock inside you, and you mewl when he fully sheathes himself. He sets a low pace, taking his time to slide in and out of your, revelling in the way your walls grip him so tight. 

“More.” 

You’re not begging, you swear. You’re merely requesting. A command, really.

“You must say your penance first, sweetheart.” he taunts you, his wicked self coming out the more time he spends between your legs, and you find out you’re not so different after all. “An Act of Contrition, princess.”

You feel your pussy clench down on his cock, the coil getting tighter with each gentle stroke. Your mind is swirling, and you desperately cling onto the last rationality you’ve got left to remember your prayer. 

“My God.” you snarl when his hand pulls your hair, and you arch your back, this new position allowing his tip to reach the sweet spot inside you, “My God, I’m sorry for my- my sins” you moan, “with all my heart.”

He fastens his pace, the depravity of this all edging him closer to his release with each sweet sound you make. “Are you really?”

“Yes, yes, oh my God. I’m sorry, in choosing to do wrong and failing to do good,” you pant, tears streaming down your face, your breaths ragged, “I have sinned against you, whom I should-.” You’re sobbing, your hands clutching his shoulders for dear life, the sound of his balls slapping against your pussy so lewd as it resonates in the empty walls.

“Just like that, don’t stop, please.” you mewl, feeling the knot in your core about to unravel, your vision getting spotty around the edges.

You pull on his collar and tug him down, biting his lips, your tongue tasting his, his plush lips against yours, his hand around your neck. A harsh snap of his hips, one last look at the crying angel above you, and you come on his cock, your pussy so tight around him that he follows shortly after, his cock swelling inside you and filling you to the brim with his cum. Your limbs jerk uncontrollably, your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

His hot breath fans over your neck, strong arms holding you flush against his chest. A soft kiss on your forehead, a gentle smile on his lips, your heartbeat frantic, and not because of the orgasm that just wrecked you.

“Am I forgiven, Father?”

The rumble in his chest as he snickers warms your heart more than it should.

“You didn’t finish your prayers, princess. Looks like we’re gonna have to do this all over again.”

God, you love Sundays.

-

If you’re interested in more Father James, check this out. This one shot is part of Innocent! priest Bucky x Reader. I hope you all enjoyed it, and if you did, please leave some feedback, I love reading your comments. 

[lacrimosathedark]

Hamilton Inaccuracies/Corrections (because why not?)

Okay so, I saw a post on reddit that was like, “what’s some inaccuracies in Hamilton off the top of your head?” and I got a whole bunch...and then I had to double check to make sure if I was right...and I’m pretty long-winded...and  now I have this 5,000ish word monstrosity. And apparently you can only post 1000 characters at a time on reddit. Laaaaame. So here’s some Hamilton facts I’ve gathered in my brain. Since it was kinda off the top of my head despite being so long, it’s kinda vague in some places, so if anyone wants to expand on anything (or correct me if I oopsed somewhere) please do! Though nicely please.

Also I am also awful at citing things, but I know I learned some of this from @john-laurens and @ciceroprofacto so thank you.

LET’S BEGIN!

Act 1

Rachel Faucette was not a prostitute, but she was a “whore” in the sense that she did what she fucking wanted with her body. During her first marriage she may or may not have been sleeping around, but she refused to stay with John Lavien, her husband, anymore. So he had her arrested. And he could do that. Because patriarchy and theocracy. And she was essentially put in solitary confinement. You can see why she tried to leave, right? She tried to get their marriage annulled or get a divorce. I forget what the issue was but she couldn’t and eventually she just moved to another island where she met James Hamilton.

The intro song makes it seem like Alexander was an only child. He actually had an older brother, James Jr., but he kinda fucked off after their mother died, working and taking care of himself. They also had an older half-brother Peter Lavien, but I don’t think they really knew him other than as the son of their mother’s abusive ex who took everything from them when she died. John Lavien was able to do that because when Rachel was with James Hamilton, she had not been able to get legally divorced from him so she wasn’t really married to James Hamilton, so James Jr. and Alexander were illegitimate ie bastards. He was an asshole. I don't think Peter had anything against the Hamiltons, but I think he grew up to be a Loyalist so. He actually made some trouble in South Carolina for Henry Laurens, John's dad! But I think I read somewhere he also left money for Alex and James Jr. In his will, which is sweet.

This is more visual since it’s not specified in the song, but in the show, Hamilton’s cousin mimes hanging himself. Peter Lytton’s cause of death if I recall was inconclusive, but he was in his bed and there was a lot of blood. So, yeah, he didn’t hang himself.

Alexander did not punch the bursar. However he did return to Princeton later during the war and blew a canon through the school and apparently decapitated a painting of King George lololol. He was under orders, but yknow. Probably felt pretty good after he was rejected for accelerated courses. He wasn’t the only bastard rejected, though! Ben Franklin’s bastard son was too. The guy in charge of admissions, Witherspoon, hated bastards as a concept and Princeton was a very religious school at the time I believe.

It may have been the plan by Aaron and Esther Burr for Aaron Jr to graduate Princeton, but like, he couldn’t really be sure of that? He was like 2 years old when they died, and his older sister Sally was 4 I believe, maybe 5.

Hercules Mulligan met Alex in 1772. His older brother Hugh knew Alex’s old employer in St. Croix and helped him get to mainland America. Alex and Hercules lived together for a long while, and Hercules is actually who got him interested in the revolution.

John Laurens was in England in 1776. He wouldn’t meet Hamilton and Lafayette until he accepted his post as Washington’s aide-de-camp upon his return in August of 1777.

Lafayette couldn’t have met Hamilton before August 1777 because that’s when he met Washington, and he was appointed as a volunteer to the Continental Army only a week prior, and before that he had been in France. But Lafayette later declared their relationship to be like that of brothers, Alexander his closest connection in the states besides Washington.

Lafayette admired and absolutely adored Laurens and they were besties, but neither of them knew Mulligan. They may have met in passing, or heard about him from Hamilton, but nothing more.

“Lafayette” was actually a nickname based on his title of “Marquis de la Fayette”. In his autobiography, he wrote: “It’s not my fault I was baptized like a Spaniard, with the name of every conceivable saint who might offer me more protection in battle.” I’m glad he thought it was funny at least. His name is Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de la Fayette.

Hercules Mulligan is not known to fuck horses.

The Revolution had already sorta started. Actually, Hercules and Alexander had been part of local militias before 1776.

This is more of a miscommunication since the actors are close in age, though the lyrics try to get it across. There’s a reason Mulligan says he’s got the others “in loco parentis”. In 1776 Hamilton and Lafayette would have been 19, Laurens would have been 22, and Mulligan would have been 36.

I think we all know “Laurens, I like you a lot” does not cover the scope of their relationship but that’s rather self explanatory so unless someone asks I’ll leave it at that. And for other clarifications. But at the very least I’ll share this: Anyone who saw them knew they were like attached at the hip (without knowing how attached *winkwonk*) and you could almost always contact one through the other. Laurens was notoriously bad at answering letters, to Hamilton too (and Alex did bitch about it because he is insecure and needs love), but it became quickly known he got back to Hamilton fastest so people would be like “Tell Laurens I said hi!” or “Hey, I need to get these to Laurens, you send them to him.” Which is hilarious. I just imagine Alexander going, “Why me?”

While all of them are Revolutionaries, Laurens is the only one you could solidly call an abolitionist, and Mulligan’s even shaky on the manumission part. He was supposedly part of the Manumission Society Hamilton helped start, but Mulligan also personally owned slaves and was never known to have freed them (One helped him with spy shit. His name was Cato!). In fairness, Hamilton and Lafayette wholeheartedly agreed with Laurens, and Hamilton was the biggest supporter of his battalion plan, and both of them did try to continue working towards equality after the war, but it was never the top priority for either of them and their lives kinda went to hell, so it fell to the wayside. Lafayette actually did some nifty stuff worth looking at, and Hamilton might have tried to keep one of John Lauren’s freed men from Henry Laurens! But as slavery stuck around for a while, it clearly wasn’t anything significant.

Angelica would meet and befriend Thomas Jefferson in Europe, but she would never manage to convince him to put women in a sequel because he’s a huge misogynist and told her in multiple letters that politics isn’t for women and I think he deserves a shoe up his southern backside. Side note, it always bothered me that Lin played up the misogyny in the musical. I mean, yeah, all of them would be misogynists compared to us, but for their time, Hamilton wasn’t so bad. If there was anyone to play up misogyny with, it was Jefferson, because he would tell Angelica for years and years that politics could never make women happy, and that the women in France were foolish for trying etc.. Hamilton would actually discuss politics with Angelica frequently and openly. And there’s a proto-feminist in the cast that was never recognized—Aaron Burr! He respected Theodosia Sr. as an equal and she was his most valuable political ally, and he made sure Theodosia Jr. got the same education any boy of her time would have. He actually respected women to a decent degree. Not to say he wasn't as much of a ho as Hamilton cuz yeah that's accurate (but they were both disaster bisexuals more on Burr's sexuality later)

Farmer Refuted was an essay Hamilton wrote arguing against Samuel Seabury's posts. They weren't shouting in the public square(but Lin got the sass right. I love his face when Hamilton and Seabury are fighting over the podium). Seabury was also really really old, not young and cute like Thayne, hence the line about "mange". Blech.

General Montgomery didn’t take a bullet in the neck, it was a grapeshot from a canon in his head (and his thighs), but close enough I guess. Side note: Burr actually served a short interim on Washington’s staff, but only for like 10 days because they hated each other lolol.

Alexander didn’t bring Laurens, Mulligan, or Lafayette to Washington. Lafayette joined up with the Continental Army in 1777 and quickly convinced them he wasn’t like the other French nobles; he was a glory-seeking kid with a boner for America (for some reason???). Laurens was requested by Washington to join his military family and he arrived also in August 1777 just after Lafayette. Like previously stated, Mulligan was doing shit even before Hamilton did.

Alexander would not have been in charge of spy shit (though may have been somewhat involved). Washington had people like Mulligan for that, who actually saved Washington a few times. But also, the "King’s men who might let some things slide" was the tactic Mulligan used. He was actually very charming, and his wife was very high in British society and he was a skilled tailor, so they were thought of well among the redcoats, and he got a lot of information through chatting with his customers. He also could usually smooth-talk his way out of trouble. Actually, Mulligan blended in so well, when the war was over, people in the city wanted him out cuz they thought he was a Loyalist. So George fucking Washington paid him a visit and commissioned I think a coat from him, and that cleared that up. He got a LOT of business after that.

Alexander would not be Washington’s right hand man, or at least, not his only one if Lin was using that to mean aide-de-camp. In that case, Laurens would also be Washington’s right hand man, along with many men not named in the musical.

John Laurens may have been reliable with the ladies (comes with the territory of being hot, rich, and a perfect gentleman), but he most certainly didn’t want to be. His father noted, rather proudly at the time, that as a young teenager he expressed no interest in girls. John was also married by 1780, and at least Alexander knew. (he told John he'd found out in the well-known April 1779 letter. You know... “Cold in my professions...find me a wife...the length of my nose...” That one.) Because John apparently didn't tell people he was married. Laurens. Sweetheart. Get. Your. Shit. Together.

John also would not be at this ball. February 1779 to March 1780 he is fighting down south, and this ball was early 1780.

The tomcat thing may be half true. Martha Washington did supposedly name a cat Hamilton, but it was an affectionate thing. The slang tomcat meaning ho wasn’t a thing at that time, so it couldn’t be named to tease Alex for his promiscuity. I believe this was one of the many things John Adams made up to slander Hamilton.

Hamilton and Eliza had met before 1780. They had met once two years prior at a dinner her father had hosted. Also, Hamilton had been courting her friend Kitty Livingston, and his friend and fellow aide Tench Tilghman had been attempting to court Eliza, and they’d actually done at least one sort-of double date (which is adorable). So this shouldn’t have been the first time they’d seen each other. Could still be when they fell in love, though, since they started courting after this. Which is cute to think about.

Speaking of Tench and Eliza! I don't remember when this took place but Tilghman journaled it, he went out on something of a hike with a few ladies and they got to a cliff. Of course, he had to help the girls climb up. Except Eliza who started climbing by herself like a natural to the bewilderment and likely horror of the other ladies. Elizabeth Schuyler was a bamf okay?

Of course everyone knows by now, Angelica was married before Eliza. During the Winter’s Ball, she’d already eloped with Jack Carter aka John Barker Church and run away to Boston.

Their courtship was not that fast. Not like, weeks. More like months. Fun fact, Eliza is the only of the five (yes FIVE) Schuyler sisters who didn’t elope and actually got her parents permission! But here’s a heartbreaking fun fact: while Alex was courting Eliza, Laurens was taken prisoner and then on probation. He wasn’t allowed to leave the state of Pennsylvania. He was mentally in a very dark place. Alex kind of procrastinated telling Laurens about Eliza, didn’t say he was courting anyone until they were already engaged.

I can't leave this alone if I'm sad you have to be too. Alex was hella depressed during this time too. Of course he was a soldier so he couldn't see Eliza as much as he'd have liked. On top of that, he kept pushing for an exchange for John and kept getting rejected because they couldn't show preference for him. And then Laurens was sending him very few letters, of course, and the ones he did send were very depressed, even suicidal sounding. He had to work while dealing with that. He had to keep begging Eliza to write to him to be reassured that she still liked him.

No one could show up for Hamilton for the wedding. Some sources say fellow aide James McHenry showed up, but he’s the only one. Alexander even invited his deadbeat dad, offered to pay all his travel expenses and everything, guess how that turned out. So Eliza’s side of the hall was packed and his was empty. God, can you imagine how sad that is?

Another heartbreaking fun fact! John Laurens was out of probation and could have made it to the wedding, was invited (Hamilton, I kid you not, jokingly invited him to a threesome with his new wife in a letter: “I wish you were at liberty to transgress the bounds of Pensylvania. I would invite you after the fall to Albany to be witness to the final consummation.” (emphasis is original to Hamilton. As is the misspelling of Pennsylvania. Yes, seriously.)) and John did not go. Instead he went back to work trying to talk his way out of getting sent as an envoy to France and suggesting Alexander to take his place. You know. His boyfriend who just got married. Sure, he was right that Hamilton was better equipped for the job, but yknow. Another fun fact, one of the guys who voted for John to be the one to go to France was John’s ex-boyfriend Francis Kinloch. Who was a turncoat, and had been a royalist when he and Laurens split. How’s that for some twisty bullshit.

Sorry, this one isn’t about the musical, it’s a tangent, I just got excited about that quote. Both that style of innuendo and the misspelling of Pennsylvania are consistent in Hamilton’s writing. Listening to john-lauren’s podcast about the April 1779 letter can really help you understand how Hammy uses innuendo but also I just love listening to it it’s insightful and hilarious and I love John Laurens but y u do this and my heart hurts for Hamilton but he is also a ho but aNYWAY. As for Pensylvania...well, he kinda made that mistake on an important document. ...It’s The Constitution. He misspelled Pennsylvania on The Constitution. No big deal. Not like something that could haunt his legacy forever. Oh my god I’m so sorry.

Philip Schuyler did have sons. Five in fact. Two of them died pretty young though I think, considering there are three kids in a row named John Bradstreet Schuyler. The other two were named Philip Jeremiah and Rensselaer.

Laurens, Lafayette, and Mulligan were all married before Hamilton. Hercules Mulligan married Elizabeth Sanders in 1773. Lafayette married his beloved Adrienne in 1774. John Laurens was regretfully obliged to marry Martha Manning in 1776.

Sigh. Again with the misogyny. Anyway, I wanted to comment on the marriage as a loss of freedom. From what I can tell, Elizabeth helped Hercules with his spy work at home. John was literally fighting a war across the ocean from his wife, and probably having an illegal affair with Alexander (though to be fair to him, he was kind of running away from Martha because he didn't marry her for love, gosh, there are no winners here). Lafayette absolutely adored his wife but still was also fighting a war an ocean away, and had multiple affairs, at least one with his wife’s blessing. So yeah, losing your freedom with marriage? Bullshit.

Despite where it is in the musical and Eliza singing the beginning, Stay Alive is roughly about Valley Forge, which would be December of 1777 through June of 78. So before the ball and wedding. (Fun fact! A lot of people theorize Valley Forge as when Hamilton and Laurens’ relationship may have escalated into romantic and/or sexual territory. They may have had more privacy, as small temporary buildings were being made to better withstand the cold, and Hamilton was sick a lot during that time and did need tending a lot. West Indian boi did not like Northern winter.) But yeah, Congress being stupid and the army resorting to eating their horses sometimes and not being able to buy food and equipment? All true. It was a real bad winter.

Mulligan wouldn’t have to go back to New York, he never would have left. He remained there as a tailor and a spy throughout the war. He wouldn’t have been traveling with Washington.

Hamilton and Laurens didn't write essays so much as start working out John's battalion plan and writing letters trying to push for it.

This duel happened in 1778, so like. This timeline is so fucky.

Stay Alive makes it seem like Hamilton was the one who wanted to duel Lee, but it was 100% Laurens from the start. The off-Broadway version demonstrates it a bit better. Hamilton was Lauren's second to save his ass. Hamilton had a rough relationship with Washington, but Laurens admired him greatly and would have willingly defended his commander’s honor. John was a Good Boy who always bowed his head to his asshole father, even at first for his battalion plan, but John wouldn’t let even his father talk shit about Washington. Fun fact about this duel, Alex and John were late to the duel because they “got lost in the woods”. Oooookay. Suuuuuuure. And Baron von Steuben was straight. (Fact: Steuben was very gay and pretty much pushed out of Europe for it. And he actually also had challenged Lee! They talked things out before this.)

Aaron Burr was not Charles Lee’s second. His second was a Major Evan Edwards. Lin wanted a parallel with the final duel. To be fair, that was a really cool way to do it and I like it better that way.

Alexander Hamilton could NOT agree that duels are dumb and immature. He was in 10 duel challenges as a participant in his lifetime, 9 of which he was the challenger. One time he challenged two people at once. One time he challenged an entire politcal party apparently. No, I am not kidding. He had a bad day. And I think you know the one time he wasn’t the challenger.

Lee did not yield on the first shot, nor was Laurens satisfied. Lee was pretty much like, “It’s just a flesh wound!” and wanted to go another round and Laurens agreed, but Hamilton and Edwards managed to talk them down. Yes he was shot in the side. But that wasn’t all because Laurens absolutely roasted Lee at his court martial. 

Lee: Were you ever in an action before?

Laurens: I have been in several actions; I did not call that an action, as there was no action previous to the retreat. 

I love this man. So much. The sass of this man.

We don’t know if Washington was angry about the duel with Lee. We do know that Laurens, and probably Hamilton, had Christmas dinner with him two days later. When Hamilton left, it was because Washington had snapped over a misunderstanding (caused by Lafayette actually, and he really tried to make it better because Lafayette is a sweetheart), and then continued to deny Hamilton the command he requested, and he resigned. It was entirely unrelated to the duel and Laurens. However, the daddy issues are real.

I don’t know if Lafayette went to France for more funds and came back with more guns, but Laurens certainly did! Ben Franklin told him to chill, but he actually got super impatient and ended up supposedly disrespecting and maybe kinda threatening the court, demanding what he needed, and walking out. They were were kind of shocked and impressed into giving more than had been requested. Any existing deities bless John Laurens. I love him.

Lafayette actually nominated his own aide to lead the charge and Hamilton appealed for himself and Washington finally gave in to Hamilton.

Laurens was not in South Carolina. When he finally got back from France, he was sent to Yorktown. He actually was commanding the group Alexander led. (Power couple lol) He also helped with negotiations after the battle. Also, supposedly making the British play ‘The World Turned Upside Down’ on their way out was Laurens’ idea because boy is made of sass and spite.

Henry Laurens would not have sent a letter to Hamilton about John’s death. Even if he would have, he couldn’t. At that time, he’d been locked up in the Tower of London as a prisoner. We have no idea when or how Alexander found out, or who might have told him. We know he wrote to Nathanael Greene on October 25 and Lafayette on November 3 (literally 2 months after Laurens' death), and the mentions of Laurens were very short. It’s thought that he really couldn’t talk about Laurens. People have compared it to the stories of how Benjamin Tallmadge apparently couldn’t hear Nathan Hale’s name without crying.

After Yorktown Alexander resigned and John went down south to flush British troops out of the southern states. His group was ambushed at Combahee River and he decided to charge instead of wait for backup and he died. Many people think it was a combination of his usual recklessness, suicidality, and glory-seeking mixed with a desperation with the war coming to an end. It was such a small skirmish. He deserved better. He left his daughter, Frances, whom he had never met, orphaned, as her mother had died months earlier from sickness. She was adopted by John’s oldest younger sister, also coincidentally Martha Laurens (though married was Martha Laurens Ramsay).

The Levi Weeks case was years later than that, in 1800, though it was alongside Burr. Hamilton actually lost his first trial as a defense lawyer and was not with Burr.

The whole conversation where Hamilton proposes Burr help him write the Federalist Papers is fake. Lin made that up entirely.

John Church’s wealth kinda...varies. He was a gambler. At first, he was actually in quite a bit of debt. He did make it big eventually and he and Angelica moved to Europe. He really didn’t seem to be a lot of fun to most people, but Angelica eloped with him. She chose him against her father’s wishes. I don’t get why Lin kept writing lines saying she didn’t love him, at least at first. He also does this in the cut song Congratulations where she says “I languished in a loveless marriage” bish you eloped wat She also lived as a socialite and was adored by anyone who met her apparently, so like???? da fuq Lin. Didja really do Laurens dirty for these lies or at the very least uncertanties? Could you not prop up that romance without making her say she hates her husband?

Act 2

More of a personality miscommunication. Irl Thomas Jefferson was shy, quiet, and hypersensitive, nothing like how Daveed plays him. If you knew a guy like the real Jefferson in real life you might be endeared to him out of pity or because he seems sweet, but in the short time of a musical that would immediately be read as cold and unlikable. So the best way to portray “this guy is a likable asshole” is to make him loud and made of sass which is what Daveed does magnificently. So, not at all accurate to real Jefferson, but gets the concept of him across.

Thomas was not off getting high with the French. Probably. He was making negotiations for the Revolution. And abusing Sally Hemings (his, at the time, 14 year old slave, who was also his sister-in-law, and 30 years his junior, and was brought along to entertain his daughter). And actually probably chatting up with Angelica!

By the time Philip was 9, he had two sisters, Angelica (7) and his foster/adopted sister Frances Antill (6), but he also had two brothers already, Alexander Jr. (5) and James Alexander (3), with maybe another one on the way since William Stephen would be born next year.

The whole comma thing is backwards. It was Angelica who made the initial mistake. Hamilton pointedly and flirtatiously teased her about it before closing it with “Adieu ma chere, soeur” French for “Goodbye my dear, sister”. So it’s more playful and less lovey dovey in context, so the tone is all wrong. It’s not romantic, it’s teasing and snarky.

Say No To This feels like it’s over quick. The affair lasted a year, not just the summer Eliza was away.

Clermont Street wasn’t renamed until many years later.

I don’t know that Alex has always considered Burr a friend. Irl they weren’t as close, and Hamilton was keenly aware of how slimy Burr could be.

Lafayette was NOT fine. He was imprisoned a lot during the French Revolution, the poor man, and many members of his wife’s family were killed. HOWEVER! Hamilton was not just sitting by. Angelica and her husband did make an attempt to rescue Lafayette, and the Hamiltons fostered Lafayette’s son Georges Washington Lafayette (yes that was his actual name). So Hamilton also did not forget Lafayette.

Not all his defendants got acquitted, obviously. Stop being cocky, Ham.

People comment on how Jefferson whines about Hamilton’s fashion sense while literally dressed in violet velvet. The original plan was to have him in browns, but Daveed is just such a friggin star that they just had to give him something brighter and decided to go with a Prince-inspired look. Originally the browns were going to be representative of his supposed representation of farmers. Though note here: Jefferson’s agricultural representation is much the same as modern Republicans’ rural representation. More for show.

Actually, let's get political for a sec. I've done some research in my hyperfixation and in searches for Hamilton shiz I've ended up stumbling into far-right nonsense and I know how to recognize the degrees of nonsense from years of actually paying attention to it now because this is what I do apparently. Which is weird, right? Lin kinda portrays him like a lefty. Well, here's the thing. Any proud historically educated Republican will tell you that their roots are in the Federalist Party. Which is technically true. What they will neglect to mention is the flip between parties that happened when the Republicans decided to use southerners racism to their advantage in elections. Being subtly racist can get the racists and the non-racists on your side! Yeah, it's gross. Federalists are more like Democrats. The corporatists. They clearly care more about companies and Wall Street, but they put actual action into social progress on rare occasion. Democratic-Republicans are like Republicans, conservatives who don't want social change and rail against it and pretend they aren't for corporate interests while being just as bad as the other guys. But Republicans have a tendency to rewrite history to paint themselves as the good guys, or reclaim things that aren't theirs as their own. Just look at the Civil War! Or...literally just...America I guess. Yikes. But yeah, here's your warning. Don't just go looking at and trusting things labelled Federalist. It likely won't be friendly.

John Adams didn’t fire Hamilton, Hamilton left. Eventually. And this is not the only time this kind of verbal confrontation happens, and not the one that destroys the Federalist Party. That actually happens after the Reynolds Pamphlet. But John Adams hates Alexander Hamilton with the burning passion of a thousand suns and really kinda earns this.

I’m not sure if he specifically called Alex a Creole bastard but I wouldn’t be surprised, there were other similar racist and bastard-related insults. You know the tomcat thing mentioned above. He started the rumor of the affair with Angelica. He accused him of being a rake (male version of whore at the time). He also may have behind closed doors accused him of being a sodomite. His (probably gay) son Charles helped with that one, bringing back rumors from a dinner he had with Hamilton (who he was working for) and John Church because Church joked about Alex being fond of a guy. Adams probably thought working for Hamilton was what made his son gay and alcoholic (Charles was an alcoholic and may have died in part because of that; Hamilton was not an alcoholic, but he supposedly could not hold his drink. He was smol).

Jefferson, Madison, and Burr didn’t accuse Hamilton of speculation. It was James Monroe, Abraham Venable, and Frederick Muhlenberg. Lin wanted to keep consistent representation of the Democratic-Republican party. But anyway, the whole thing went to hell because Monroe sent the letters to Jefferson (or I’ve also heard Monroe gave them to Madison who sent them to Jefferson) who, the spiteful gangly fucker, started spreading rumors because fuck Hamilton, amirite? Hamilton challenged Monroe to a duel over that. And who stopped this duel? Aaron Burr. He gets to be the good guy now and then.

It wasn’t just total strangers that got Alex off the island. He was sponsored by his cousin Ann Lytton and his teacher Reverend Hugh Knox. Also, he was kind of expected to get an education and come back and help out the island...guess what he never did. Oops.

This one I may be wrong, but I’m pretty sure. I think Eliza was upstate with her family when the Reynolds Pamphlet was released, away from Alex. I also know she had recently given birth to their son, William Stephen. A lot of people think Alexander had been keeping that in mind. Eliza had had a miscarriage once before, when she was under a lot of stress and alone and with the kids and he had to be away (Whiskey Rebellion), so some people think he made sure she was surrounded by her family and waited until the child was born to drop this on her, and gave her distance from him if she needed it. At least he knew he fucked up, and he really did love her.

Those weren’t Alexander’s guns. They belonged to John Church.

It was quite some time between Philip’s challenge and the actual duel.

Another age miscommunication; Eacker was 27ish and Philip was 19 when the duel happened. There was a whole 8 years between them! 

Eacker didn’t shoot early. Actually, both of them stood staring at each other for a really long time doing nothing. But Philip went to make a move and Eacker shot him.

Alex and Eliza had made up from the Reynolds Pamphlet bullshit before Philip died. When he passed, Eliza was already pregnant with the son they would also name Philip in honor of his older brother.

Hamilton wasn’t really the deciding factor in the election of 1800. But he did say that about Burr and it did help swing the vote somewhat. But also, this was before Philip died. Philip died in 1801.

If a vote is that close, you can’t win in a landslide??? That’s not how words work???? Mister Miranda????? You are a writer??????? Sir???????

Burr actually held a term as Jefferson’s Vice President.

The Burr vs Hamilton Duel was in 1804 and was actually about another election and other things Hamilton was saying about him. Burr was running to be governor of New York and lost but heard about Alexander telling people the things he listed Alexander saying in Your Obedient Servant.

Thayne should not have played Alexander’s doctor. Sydney should have played Alexander’s doctor. Do you know why? Philip and Alexander had the same doctor when they died. Alexander took that doctor with him to the duel. His name was David Hosack.

While there’s evidence to suggest Burr experienced immediate regret (he stepped forward as if wanting to see if Hamilton was okay and supposedly asked after him and wished him well before Alexander passed) in the years that followed, until he was on his death bed, he expressed nothing but neutrality or even pride for having shot Hamilton. The ‘the world was wide enough’ comment could plausibly be entirely made up, and even if it were true, it was supposedly said toward the end of Burr’s life. Burr's life was quite a ride after Alex. He tried to make like his own empire out of Texas, and then of course was tried for treason, but he got out of that, but then everyone hated him for that ON TOP OF already hating him for killing Hamilton, so he had some crazy journey around Europe for a while. He kept a journal, writing entries like letters to Theo. The most notable things I think he writes he'd "been amused for an hour with a very handsome young Dane. Don't smile. It is a male!" which implies maybe Theodosia knew her dad was bi and was at least amused by it? And he spent a while living with Jeremy Bentham, who is generally accepted to have been gay (if you want more Burr gayness look into Jonathan Bellamy and Robert Troup. Troup knew Hamilton too!). Unrelated to his sexuality but I find it important, Burr spent, in modern cash, $40 on a coconut, in his own words, "like an ass." He returned to America eventually. I dont remember if it was before or after his foreign adventures, but his beloved grandson (also named Aaron Burr) died, and then not long after, Theodosia was lost at sea on her way to visit her dad. No one knows what happened to her. It's so sad. Anyway he married a wealthy widow named Eliza, spent all her money on charity, and died the day their divorce was finalized. And Eliza Jumel's divorce lawyer was Alexander Hamilton Jr..

Poor Eliza couldn’t go through all of her husband’s papers. Her son, John Church Hamilton, finished the work for her when she no longer could and put together the biography that inspired Chernow’s that inspired Lin’s musical. (He named a son Alexander and a daughter Elizabeth. He even named one of his sons Laurens! Aw.) And we have come full circle.

The End :33

There’s probably more but that’s what I’ve got. Thanks for reading!

[shadowglens]

— an infodump about alma’s involvement in the endgame and epilogue of rdr2, as so humbly requested by @villainthirst. i know you asked for this saskia, but just a warning: it’s really fucking long. like, so long. also grace does get mentioned a tiny bit at the very end, but i’m still trying to finalise her endgame, so this is mostly about alma.

alma took what happened in saint denis hard, with both arthur and dutch (among others) lost to god knows where, john carted off to prison to face a likely hanging, and hosea and lenny six feet under. she’d been doubting dutch and his motives for a while but would have never voiced it to anyone, since he was a mentor to her and she didn’t want to seem disloyal to the gang. those few months of her, charles and sadie trying desperately to hold the gang together while the others are gone is incredibly hard for alma. she (and abigail) definitely try to convince sadie to go and break john out, but alma is all anger and high-strung emotion by that point and sadie manages to make her see reason. john is the closest thing alma has ever had to a brother, with the two of them being the same age and having known each other for 6 or 7 years, so leaving him to rot in jail is incredibly hard for alma.

by the time everyone’s reunited and the gang relocates to beaver hollow, alma is barely managing to keep her anger in check. charles helps and often goes with her on longer-than-necessary hunting trips - it’s some of the only times she’s able to truly air her grievances with dutch and the path he’s taking the gang down, since she knows charles would never rat her out for being disloyal. they almost kiss a few times but charles can never quite convince himself to take that first step, and alma is so emotionally all over the place and doesn’t know what to do with his affection. also, she helps sadie and arthur break john out of jail.

alma stays loyal to arthur until the end, and she often talks with him in private about helping the marston’s and the rest of the women get free. alma refuses to admit that arthur is ill, and doesn’t talk to him about his obvious deterioration. she spends a lot of time with arthur and charles helping rains fall and the rest of the reservation, because it’s the right thing to do but also because she knows how much it means to charles. she has a few quiet chats with rains fall and takes much of his advice to heart. alma and sadie also spend a lot of time together.

she and charles part ways when he insists on helping rains fall move the reservation north. it pains charles to not go with alma back to the gang, but he knows he has to help these people and she knows she can’t abandon her family even if its a lost cause. in my headcanon, charles travels with the reservation for months, and helps them relocate to canada, somewhere in the manitoba area - the whole trip is slow going and takes months. by the time charles helps them get settled and makes the return trip south, it’s been almost a year.

towards the end of the game, alma accompanies sadie and arthur to rescue abigail. her anger by that point is not in control at all, and she’s all flames and fury (about dutch, about micah being the rat, about john being dead even if she doesn’t want to believe it, about charles being gone even if she knows he had to go, about everything). when arthur tries to send her away with sadie and abigail she outright refuses, fighting the urge to slap him and just taking off towards beaver hollow instead so he has no choice but to follow her. she remains on the outskirts of camp when arthur once again tries to get alma to see reason, using the excuse that she can be his second and watch his back if things go south (he loves her like a sister and knows he’s walking into a storm, and doesn’t want to see her hurt anymore). she’s the one to raise the alarm when the pinkertons show up - she’s grazed by a bullet and chased from the camp as john and arthur make their escape through the caves.

in canon where arthur dies, alma circles back around the mountain once she’s shaken the pinkertons on her tail and finds john stumbling through the woods, bloodied and barely on his feet with arthur’s hat on his head. she drags him onto gaia with tears in her eyes and starts to ride back to the mountain, but john just grabs her hands on the reins and tugs her away. the two of them then reunite with sadie, abigail and the others at copperhead landing, and alma stays with them until john is back on his feet and things have quietened down a bit with the law. she also goes back to beaver hollow to bury grimshaw and arthur - she offers for the others to come with her, but none of them want to remember either of them (particularly arthur) like that.

alma offers to stay with the marstons to keep them safe, but john insists they’ll be better off if they seperate, so alma goes with sadie instead. the two initially try and seek out the remaining gang members, both to make sure they’re okay (in the case of charles) and micah (to kill him), but find no trace of anyone. eventually, they become bounty hunters, but alma grows tired of the business after about a year and leaves sadie to go on her own path. she picks up work as a stablehand and works her way through a few different ranches out west until eventually leaving the job in the middle of the night, because she’s not that little girl anymore and can’t bring herself to work under sexist ranchers anymore.

it’s just over three years after the gang fell apart before alma and charles reunite. by the time charles returned to america the gang it had been almost a year since things fell apart, and the gang had disappeared to the wind - all he finds at beaver hollow is a small group of squatters. he eventually stumbles upon arthur’s grave, which tells him the others are alive. all his efforts to find alma or john or sadie prove fruitless though, and in frustration he lets himself disappear as well. he takes up street fighting to make a living, and travels through various towns and cities making money before disappearing for months at a time to live off the land and recover before his funds run low again and he’s forced back to fighting. it’s during this time that he spies a familiar silhouette on the outskirts of a town in the middle of nowhere out west. he and alma reunite after three years, and in the (very sad and dramatic) aftermath of their reunion, decide to make things official between them. alma had been in the process of trying to track down the marstons when she and charles found each other, and so he accompanies her until they find uncle drinking himself stupid in the blackwater saloon. (and then the epilogue happens as normal, but only like 4 years after arthur dies rather than 7 because you cant tell me these people didn’t try to contact each other in like seven years, and also rdr1 never happens because i will give the marstons happiness dear GOD).

after micah is killed, charles heals from his wounds, and john and abigail get married, alma slowly travels back north with charles to canada. they eventually settle down somewhere in either british columbia or alberta, and start a family.

in the au where arthur survives, he and john stumble off the mountain together until alma eventually runs into the two of them in the woods bleeding out and half dead. she lets both men ride on gaia despite their protests, because “i’m not the one dying here, you idiots, just get on the damned horse”, and then leads gaia out of the woods until she finds a pinkerton horse running in panicked circles with its rider dangling dead from the saddle. the three of them reunite at copperhead landing, and the same thing essentially happens as i described in the ‘canon’ route except arthur is alive (but still sick with TB). i imagine grace is there somehow too, and she’s the one to take arthur and nurse him back to health (because after watching her father slowly die and waste away from sickness, grace was not going to let the same thing happen to arthur and had researched cures or something, i don’t know. idk how tuberculosis works ahjfdsgfj). in this au, grace and arthur stay with the marstons while arthur is recovering, but everything else stays the same. grace and arthur eventually move out to the pacific north west to start a family away from the ghosts of the gang. they visit alma and charles every so often, who are living just over the border, and the marstons write to them regularly.

GOD THIS GOT SO LONG IM SO SORRY ADHJSFASDHSH I NEED TO LEARN TO RESTRAIN MYSELF