#rain working his perky little ass off on this ship

[wuxian-vs-wangji]

Didn't do-

DIDN'T DO ANYTHING???

RECEIPTS! WHERE ARE MY RECEIPTS?!

YOU DESERVE THE HELLFIRE RAIN IS GOING TO BRING DOWN ON YOU FROM HERE ON OUT, PRAPAI. YOU DISREGARDED HIS <clumsy and mostly accidental> ASSISTANCE!

[honestsycrets]

No Thieves Welcome XVI: Exhale

❛ pairing | hvitserk x reader

❛ type | multi

❛ summary | hvitserk decides to ask his girlfriend out to prom. margrethe isn’t fond of that. death-- on the horizon.

❛  warnings | potentially offensive character death, teen pregnancy (18 years old), physical illnesses, hopelessness, eating pussy, murder, violence.

❛ sy’s notes | I’m really sorry.

It was a slippery slope.

On one hand, he could have gotten rid of Magnus. On the other hand, shitcanning his baby mama’s best friend when he already fucked her OTHER best friend? Not the best option. But whatever, he could work around this like he always had.

“He’s fuckin’ wit’ me and I’m gonna bust his teeth in. If I had proof that he beat Thora, I’d fuckin’ stick a weight on his ankle and chuck him in the fuckin’ sea.” Hvitserk hisses, ambling backward on his sneakers down the street. The main gates of the school was a stone’s toss away. “Bucked-toothed fucker.”

“If he makes a fuss, we’ll get rid of him. He’s not our brother.”

“We fuckin’ better. ’m tired of his bitch ass.” Hvitserk growls. “Bjorn can’t know.”

Ubbe grunts, a noise that signals he’s done with the conversation. “Are you working tonight?”

“At the docks with uncle. More shipping.”

“Like always.” Ubbe stops. Hvit stops along with him, looking at Ubbe curiously.

“What?”

Hvitserk turns over his shoulder, spotting a long, lithe blonde strutting in heels or-- no, boots, he realizes. Her hair is tight in a ponytail on top of her head, barely tinged. It swishes along her slight back, accentuating the perky ass he had been staring at for some time now. Couldn’t blame him. Torvi is one hot teacher.

“Who? Torvi?” Hvitserk laughs, punching his older brother on his upper arm. “Man, if Margrethe catches you doing that with a teacher,”

“Not my problem,” Ubbe says, checking his watch. Hvitserk has the sudden feeling that he already had done “that” with the teacher. “I broke up with her. Enginnsaðóttir!”

Well, at least he doesn’t have to worry about Bjorn’s reaction to his ex-wife porking his half-brother. Torvi would put him in his place. Hvitserk sighs, left out to deal with the thoughts buzzing around his head until you got there. He leans against the rod iron fence, hands shoved in a pair of rarely worn jeans, a size too fat for the slight pudge he’d gotten since spending nights at your house. Pebernødder cookies were not on his side.

“--just don’t talk to me! Go away!”

Hvitserk hears around the corner.

It’s your voice, clearly upset. He shoves himself off the wall, stomping to a stop in front of the sidewalk you were coming from. With this hands in his pockets, he stands with his feet slightly apart.

“The twins aren’t--” From behind you, he spots Magnus’s wily curls. “--safe.”

You spot Hvitserk, rushing forward to set your hand on his bicep. Hvitserk’s hand comes atop of it, nodding.

“I’d say she’s plenty safe. From you, of course.” Hvitserk drops his hand down to his twins in your stomach, bobbing his head as he considers his children. “But thanks, kid.”

Then swiveling on his foot, Hvitserk shows you inside school grounds. Usually, before class, he’d be taking you to get something at that cute little cafe. He’d buy himself some chocolates to idly snack on, pretending he was half interested in the class.

“C’mon babe,” Hvitserk opens the door for you, pressing on the middle of your back to usher you the ground level and up the stairs. It’s private enough that he corrals you into the corner, near a large window. “What was he talking to you about?”

Leaving.

“He was… he was just, just being stupid,” your eyes focus upon your hands. You find the astral rings that Hvitserk bought you for your first sonogram more interesting. A small buildup of tears is forced back. Hvitserk leans in, his hand at the side of your head.

A girl walks in, paying no attention as she hops up the steps toward class prior to time. Hvit runs his hand down the build-up of stubble. Not that he’s a man that grows much facial hair easily, compared to his chest, but he’s let it go just a bit.

“Don’t lie to me, huh?” Hvitserk lifts your chin, pinning you with force against the wall. “Bet he was telling you to leave me.”

You don’t speak. Knowing he was right, Hvitserk leans down to your stomach. He cradles your belly with two hands, placing a small kiss over the swell. A small puff of air slides out of his mouth before he stands up, caressing his hand over your skirt.

Hvitserk shifts to block any interlopers from looking in on what he was doing. You shift, pushing the leg closest to him out just so. Hvitserk runs his tongue over the top of his teeth, caressing the jagged surface. He seizes the opportunity to run his hand around your thigh, sinking between two thick thighs. Then, jerking upwards, he runs his hand over your soft panties, dipping between them and your precious skin.

“You’re not gonna fuckin’ leave me, righ’?” He asks, grinding his palm as he curves his hand within your panties. A soft sigh slips off your lips, tightening your cunt when you hear steps pitter patter closer. Hvitserk covers you from the eyes of others.

“No, never,” you hum.

Never. Never meant never. Never meant that what he had now— it would last. It had to. For him. For his little man or pretty princess. Hvitserk rewards you by gliding his fingers over your lips, rocking back and forth between soaked folds. The steps pivot up the stairs.

“Say you love me.”

You cling onto his arm, bunching up his dark grey t-shirt. Hvitserk glides his fingers around your cunt, poking inside once he knew he had you good and ready. It should be getting close to class time. Though, it was just a pep rally. It shouldn’t have mattered that much, right?

“Hvit…”

A smooth thrust of his finger leaves you breathless, grasping at his arm. Hvitserk seizes the moment to swivel around, dropping to his knees between your legs that graciously spread for him. Spreading you apart with his fingers, Hvitserk glides his tongue between your folds.

Underneath your skirt, you can hear his sloppy slurps only rivaled by his pleasured grunts. If there’s one thing you know he loves, it’s eating you out. Especially in public places, knowing no one will tell. His family? They didn’t have the best reputation. So as a few stray dumbasses stray in, he has no worries. You grip his bun, guiding him.

“Right… right there,” you whisper, placing your boyfriend just where you wanted for a quick fuck. He curls his fingers, nudging your clit with his nose while noisily slurping across your lips. Your soft moans hasten, lifting and dropping with desperation. With a flick of your hips, Hvitserk drifts back, patiently blowing cold air against your throbbing heat. He delves his tongue down to join his fingers, eating what juices came for him. His fingers slip out, allowing him to eat you with tongue alone.

“I love you…” you comb his hair down, running your thumb over his cheek. His eyes pop open, then soften, bringing his thumb to your pounding clit. He rewards you by rolling your clit between his thumb and index finger over and over, drinking up your pleasure until he hears your cry break into your orgasm. Thankfully, no one was there. Likely because the bells had begun to sound.

After riding out the pleasure with you, Hvitserk stands up, bringing your panties back up with you. Your hands are on his shoulders as you lean up to his lips, a hand behind his neck. You drag him down to kiss you, tasting yourself on his tongue in his closed mouth kisses. His smile against your lips breaks the kiss.

“You even taste pregnant.”

Of course, it would be Hvitserk to say that. “You don’t even know what pregnant tastes like.”

“Like you,” he grabs your hand, starting up the stairs to homeroom.

“You’re gross.”

“Yep!”

Magnus and you weren’t on speaking terms. Mostly due to your preference. After all, you couldn’t believe what he said. He almost killed Thora, he asserted. If there was one thing you were sure about, it was that Hvitserk loved Thora. More than himself. So it made this prep rally very lonely despite the fact that Magnus sat next to you.

The sun peeks behind pillows of fluffy clouds. For once, the rain let up. You sat with Hvitserk’s jacket lightly down your shoulders. Even though it was June, it was still cool. The last thing you wanted to do was get sick with your twins. You stomach sat in your lap, visibly round. It wasn’t as if you were that… pregnant, but you would be soon. Everyone knew that it was his. Perhaps that was why people mostly left you alone.

Two twirly cheerleaders leap one over another, twisting and turning into a playful flip one on top of another. Your hand, curves over your stomach, scanning for Hvitserk. It wasn’t as if there was assigned seating. You were… so sure that Hvitserk would have come to sit by you.

“Oh, hi (Y/N)!”

Margrethe plops beside you on the busy, metal bleachers. Her pretty in pink nails curl along the bleacher as she plops down, skirt swaying. She was in uniform for cheerleading, but you question why she isn’t down there cheering on the team. You unconsciously tighten up, anxious to see her beside you after tumbling down the bleachers last time. If she pushed you down this time…

“I had to see them up close!” she reaches out to set a hand to your stomach. “How cute are you all knocked up! I didn't believe it at first. I thought that Hvitserk was just spitting lies but, you’re getting all round and fat! Is it his? Or Ivar’s?”

Abject horror wears your features. That was one lie you did not want to get out. As naturally jealous as Hvitserk could get, he might believe such a terrible lie. You push the hand on your stomach off.

“They’re his,” you say.

“Leave her alone, Margrethe,” Magnus says beside you. “She’s got enough shit to deal with.”

Please welcome your football team! The intercom says. You make out Ubbe jogging across the field to Hvitserk, who you finally make out as handing a few sashes for the graduating portion of the team. They recently won their region. Ubbe was that all-star student. His grades? Perfect. Sports? Always training. His love life though, you wonder about when he shoots Mrs. Torvi that perfect smile. Wasn’t she Bjorn’s ex?

Hvitserk used to be right there with him which was why as Hvitserk swiped the microphone from his big brother’s hand after a speech on how gracious they were to have won. You begin a shake of your head, expecting him to drone on about how he had the perfect big brother.

“Baby mama!” The microphone whizzes in a metallic screech. Oh god, no. You form a cup around the sides of your eyes, pretending like no one was looking at the pregnant chick that so happened to wear Hvitserk’s old soccer jacket, slinking down your arms and framing your small skirt. “Come to prom with me!”

He was so fucking proud. The bleachers light up into whispers. Some saying, oh come on. You are almost too stunned to speak when some random fucker shouts, go baby mama! Beside you, you could practically feel the stinging heat from Margrethe. It was embarrassing. More embarrassing though was staying with someone like Margrethe. You pull the jacket on, zipping past her and anyone else for that matter down the stairs. The barrier between the stairs and ground level stops you.

“I’ll go to prom with you,” God help what you were about to say. “Baby Daddy!”

He laughs, something loud that echoes through the field. Hvitserk chucks the microphone at his big brother, sprinting across the field to where you were. On the bleachers, Margrethe is left gaping.

“He’s taking her?!” She bellows. “She’s fat!”

“She’s the mother of his children.” Magnus points out. “Who did you think he would take? You?”

Margrethe watches Hvitserk take a couple of long steps up the stairs in those cute skinny jeans that made his ass look just right. Her arms fold over when he embraces you, setting a kiss on your lips before the monitors make hissing whistles.

“He’s supposed to take me! He promised! He’s supposed to be mine!”

When a prime opportunity presents itself, Magnus had to take it. What kind of Ragnarsson would he be not to? Hvitserk deserved this. You deserved someone better. Anyone better than that man that kicked his face in and then thought he could intimidate him into submission. Although he could never do the dirty work himself, he was no chicken with his tongue.

“You should show him that then,” Magnus says.

“I will!”

The bleachers erupt as the pep rally is dismissed.

Night fell on the city. Hvitserk stood on the docks, receiving packages of illicit drugs mixed in with legal packages was just a part of the deal in working for his uncle and father. Rollo gave him the tablet with projected imports.

“Finished early, huh kid?” Rollo asks his nephew. Hvitserk nods in response, tapping the last checkbox labeled ( live arrivals: India. ) Hvitserk hands the packaging back to his uncle, shoving his hands into his warm black hoodie.

“That means I can go?”

“Yeah, your lady must be waiting for you,” Rollo informs, punching him on the shoulder. “Siggy is at home for me but I’ll clear down.”

“I’m goin’ to see a friend.”

For important reasons, Hvitserk leaves his car but walks down to the residential streets with his hoodie drawn up tight. A beautiful lily peeks from his pocket. At three in the morning, there was no one in the streets. A car here or there sputters along the abandoned, none noticing the stranger in black.

With gloved hands, he pops the window latch, pushing up the glass. His stomach tightens and yet, nothing came of it. A part of him wishes something had. Her father never set an alarm. He had one, but no, he never set it. Who would break in? The fluffy white cat in the window sill is jarred by his entrance but recognizes him when he draws down his hoodie.

“‘ey Janik,” he calls to the dog, whose head is raised. It settles down. Hvitserk pulls the lily free from his pocket, joining it with the bundle of lilies each a day older than another. Some yellow and dry, some pressed in a book marking ‘Month I, Month II’.

“Prinsesse…” he approaches the bed, not expecting a response.

There is none. Not that he expected any from his precious Thora, who lays in her bed helpless. Her eyes are open but nothing comes of it. Nothing but one stray tear, dripping down the corner of her beautiful skin when he kneels. It’s his.

And he wishes it was hers. Why can’t the tears dribble down her cheeks? Why she can’t move? To show him. He can’t reason why she’s the one stuck in her mind in this bed, the one place where she always…

“That would be my nightmare,” he recalled her saying. She laid beside him in the bed, glowing after sex. They watched stupid documentaries together. Vegetation vs Brain Death. “For my mind to go along with my body.”

“That bad?” Hvitserk brought her against his chest, letting her twirl her fingers through his sparse chest hair.

“To exist and not even know? It must be awful. I’d never like to be like that. So if I ever go like that, put me down.”

Hvitserk laughed, fifteen and stupid. “Don’t say that. You’re young and pretty. That won’t happen to you.”

“Just promise me,” Thora begged.

“Okay, okay. I promise.”

Hvitserk works his jaw, his teeth running over and over. He wasn’t going to wait. He… he couldn’t. If he waited, he would be breaking his promise to her. Hvitserk was anything but an oathbreaker. She wasn’t brain dead, but sure, he wasn’t going to wait for that to happen.

“I promised.” Hvitserk looks to the pillow they once shared. He’d slide it under her beautiful hips, take her from behind. Or sometimes, they used that fluffy white pillow to eat snacks on in bed and watch cheesy rom-com movies that he didn’t feel like watching. He picks it up, doing just as Ragnar told him to do. A flick here, another there with her machines and Hvitserk ambled toward her slowly, praying her father didn’t hear.

It had been long enough, he told himself. She was supposed to get more function. She didn’t have any more than she did then. He held out those first two weeks hoping she would get better. That if… if the doctor said, he didn’t have to do this.  

Hvitserk bends his head down into his arm, a sob catching. This was pathetic. This was— this was her choice. But he caught himself hoping. Maybe years from now, maybe two, maybe six, maybe even twenty: she’d be alive. But she wasn’t, Ragnar told him. She would likely never be.

And, after all, this was her choice.

“Fuck…” he whispers, taking one last look at her. He longed to kiss her— just, just one last time. Her plush lips seemed so far away now. But Ragnar told him not to, and for his twins, he’d suffer without it. Hvitserk exhales a puff of air from his nose, rolling his wet cheek into his hoodie.

“It won’ be long, it won’ be— fuck I can’t.”

If you can’t do it, I can.

He knows it has to be him. He looks down to the pillow, then looks to the clock. 4:31am, the clock reads. Do it, he settles. Without looking back he settles the pillow over her face, pressing with enough force on his forearm that he knows will not allow her to get air. He’s not sure what happens next. If she was moving, or fighting, or not. He’s not seeing much of anything either, only sucking in his breath and praying to the gods that Thora’s father isn’t here to see.

They didn’t need to see this. The burden he had been carrying as of late… its too much. Now, knowing that he’ll discover her body, causes him to roll his cheek into his shoulder. 4:36am, Janik lifts his head. Hvitserk shushes him, turning his face down to Thora’s chest in what was her favourite white jammies, like a princess, his once was princess. 4:38am, he sobs when her chest stills. But he keeps that pillow close-- he, has to finish. 4:41am. Hvitserk slips the pillow under his hoodie and gazes over her beautiful waving hair. A lock of her hair sticks to her lips. Hvitserk takes it with him.

On weekends, you stay with Hvitserk.

You sleep on your side, your pillow between your legs in place of where Hvitserk’s should have been. Most nights were like this. Most nights, Hvitserk worked hard at night to support his family and with a nap between two and six when he got out of school. The bed bows underneath you. You would have turned, half asleep, but find that strong arms encircle your waist. His cologne, strong and comforting. The woody undertones soothe you.

“Mmmm, Hvit…” your eyes spread, looking to your phone that you’ve forgotten on the bed. 5:51am, it reads. Hvitserk hides his head between the junction of your shoulder and neck. It’s wet. “Hvit? Are you okay?”

“Yeah babe. I’m-- I’m okay. Jus’ stay there for me. I need you.”

In a few minutes, he’s not so soundly asleep. He missed her already.

Sy’s Notes II: I hope I wrote that death scene adequately. It was hard to find information on her state and what physical reactions would come of it. 

@igetcarriedawaywithyou, @kylobien, @titty-teetee, @breathlessouls, @nejijjeoroo, @bcat1291, @readsalot73, @mslothbrok, @captstefanbrandt, @ailucascen, @michaeliskindahot, @cbouvier23, @naaladareia, @cbouvier23, @the-geeky-engineer, @lisinfleur,  @tephi101, @akamaiden, @ethereallysimple, @venusloviing, @happylittlepuppydog, @beyond-the-ashes, @slutforrpg, @sparklemichele, @alicedopey, @lif3snotouttogetyou, @noregretsandyeteveryregret, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @deathbyarabbit, @unacceptabletatertots, @beyond-the-ashes (no sig), @babypink224221, @ivarandersen, @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @icarus-fell-in-spring, @end-of-night, @gruffle1, @lol-haha-joke @arses21434,  @smileyparrots, @miss-artemis-wild, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @wonderwoman292, @wish-i-was-a-mermaid, @killerb00sdeath, @heartbeats-wildly, @boo20017, @acacheofstrange, @shaelyn102,  @smokealone, @shaelyn102 @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly--canthrope @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @two-unbeatable-beaters, @igetcarriedawaywithyou, @kylobien, @titty-teetee, @breathlessouls, @nejijjeoroo, @bcat1291, @readsalot73, @mslothbrok (no mix), @romanchronicles, @captstefanbrandt, @ailucascen, @michaeliskindahot, @naaladareia, @cbouvier23, @the-geeky-engineer, @dorned, @lisinfleur, @tephi101, @akamaiden, @ethereallysimple, @venusloviing, @happylittlepuppydog, @beyond-the-ashes, @slutforrpg, @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns, @mixedwiththemoon, @sparklemichele, @alicedopey, @lif3snotouttogetyou, @rubyquartzshades, @noregretsandyeteveryregret, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @deathbyarabbit, @unacceptabletatertots, @beyond-the-ashes (no sig), @babypink224221, @titty-teetee, @ivarandersen, @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @icarus-fell-in-spring, @piebytheocean, @strangunddurm, @rekdreams247, @justacrush, @ivarswonderlust, @peachesnpisces, @elenawrit, @equalstrashflavoredtrash, @roxxck, @dylanowhyyien, @ilvebeenabad, @vikingsmania, @huntingbears, @my-little-wolfe, @seize-the-droid, @moondustmemories, @colourmeinblue, @ilvebeenabad, @queenmissfit,  @hallowed-heathen, @neeadinghugs, @mblaqgi, , @triumphantreturnofpies, @dmv49, @attorneyl, @iconicvaleria-blog, @lovelynerdytraveler, @tierneygonzalez, @zabee113, @meganjudee, @sdcyumyum, @ms-allenbrown, @pancake-blonde, @ivarswickedqueen, @starkiddreamer, @austenkingmylady,@pinkrockstar19, @jeowjungkook, @end-of-night, @yaminax-kuss-a , @gruffle1, @arses21434@natalie-rdr, @tempt-ress, @thevikingsheaux, @poisonedjoinery, @smokealone, @chewythecatus, @laughinglikenialler, @lefrenchfrye, @mybarnesmyhero, @vengefulflange, @imcreepininyourheartbabe, @therealmrshale, @that-goodgirl, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @athroatfullofglass, @x-valhalla @dreaming-of-never-neverland

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Fallout 5

A/n: Smut. RPF

Link to Chapter 4

Words: 2,979

Pairings: Richard Speight Jr x Reader

_______

The first few weeks in Germany was beyond busy for everyone! Other then sleeping at night, it seemed like you were lucky to pencil in a kiss with Richard. Night time was the closest the two of you got to have alone time was at night. Being so tired from jet lag and everything else, falling asleep happened before anything else.

For you, it was running between multiple panels and trying to get Rob on the phone. You had spoken to cuntzilla Crystal a few times. So far all that you would get was Crystal saying that Rob was fine. What made it more annoying was the fact that Rob wouldn’t take a moment to talk to you. Even if it was you doing the talking, you would have been happy! 

One morning, you woke up to Richard kissing your neck. You smiled feeling his fingers rub down your thighs.

“That feels nice.”

You sighed yawning as Richard began to rock his hips into your behind. 

“We haven’t had sex in days, sugar.”

You turned, locking your lips to his. 

“You’re spoiled.”

Richard groaned as your lips moved over his collarbone.

“Yeah. That may be true. Have you talked to your brother?”

You sighed, sitting up while Richard mentally kicked himself for ruining the mood.

“No, have you?”

You asked obviously frustrated. Richard shook his head.

“No, he won’t answer for me. Think he’s pissed we are dating again?”

You shrugged,

“I don’t see why he would be. When we were apart he was whining at me to talk to you. I think he ships us harder than anyone.”

Richard rolled his eyes.

“The fact your brother ships us is awkward to me.”

You fought back a laugh as you stood up fighting the wave of dizziness that went through you..

“Are you ok, sugar?”

Richard asked watching. You nodded.

“Think I got up too fast. I called Rob before you woke up and Cuntzilla answered the phone. You know how much I love her.”

Richard rolled his eyes and he pulled you into his arms.

“I’ll get ahold of him today. Don’t stress over it.”

You gave your boyfriend a dark look.

“Rich, that is like stabbing me with a knife and telling me not to bleed.”

Richard knew that you were right. Telling you to not worry about your brother was pointless. He reached out cupping your cheeks before pulling you into a kiss.

“I have something special planned for tonight.”

He whispered between kisses. You smiled.

“What is it?”

You asked softly. Rich groaned.

“Baby, that ruins the whole idea of a surprise.”

You sighed against his lips.

“We haven’t had a full day together in weeks. We need more than sleeping time.” 

Richard looked at you with guilty eyes.

“I know sugar. What I have planned will be worth it, I promise.”

Richard said looking down at his watch. As usual, it was time to go. He sighed looking back to you.

“I’ll see you soon.”

You nodded as he turned walking from the room without another word. Fighting off another wave of dizziness, you walked to the bathroom to get dressed. You didn’t have time to be getting sick! Whatever was trying to mess with you would have to go harass someone else! Being sick and doing conventions did not mix well and it wasn’t about to happen!

The next few hours passed without much excitement. You did a few interviews with Misha who was his normal perky self. Misha was eagerly smiling when he looked over to you seeing you fanning yourself..

“You straight?”

You nodded, taking a sip of the water that Misha handed you.

“Just sick to my stomach and dizzy the past few days. I think I am trying to catch something.”

“Want to go get some orange juice or smoothie?”

You shook your head looking disgusted.

“Ugh no! That sounds disgusting!”

Misha raised an eyebrow before  looking around to make sure there was no one watching them.

“Y/n, we have been BFF’s for a while now and I know you but are you sure you are not pregnant?”

You laughed.

“Misha, are you serious? You know I can’t get knocked up.”

Misha sighed.

“Well I also know that I have two kids and you are acting the same way Vicki did when she was pregnant both times. For shits and giggles let’s go see the hotel doctor. We can make sure you and Richard aren’t going to be having any fun additions.”

You rolled your eyes clearly not liking Misha’s idea.

“Fine, if it puts your mind at ease. After that, we will go buy us a little pony to name Cuddles.”

Misha smiled.

“I still, want that pony.”

30 minutes later, you sat on the hotel doctor’s exam table after he did a routine blood test. Misha sat in the corner looking at a brochure on STD’s. He looked over at you, giving you a smirk.

“I wonder if the good ole doc here sees a lot of this? He must with all these brochures. Yuck! I never want to get that.”

You chuckled. Misha always knew how to make you smile.

“I hope you wouldn’t.”

Both of you looked up as the doctor walked in with a smile on his face.

“Ms. Benedict,  you are definitely pregnant. I would say around 6 weeks. I would be considering making an appointment with your normal OBGYN when you get back to America.”

Misha’s mouth dropped as he considered a great way to rib Richard on this one later. His giddy thoughts were interrupted when you started laughing. 

“You’re funny! But I can’t get pregnant. I have been told that for years.”

The doctor looked down at the blood work and the pregnancy test he had you take before holding them out sheepishly. Your heart pounded as you read the word pregnant on both the test and the piece of paperwork. Swallowing, you were unsure what to think or say as the doctor looked at Misha.

“Are you the father?”

Misha blinked a few times counting backward on his hands to the time that the two of you had slept together.

“Unless she is five months along then no I am not. However, I know where I can find the father. Be right back!”

Misha stood prancing out of the room. He wandered through the hotel lobby realizing that Richard was about to do a panel. Making a b-line for the backstage area, Misha was relieved when he saw Richard talking to Mark Pellegrino.

“RICHARD!”

Misha yell/whispered. Richard looked up seeing Misha pointing to the door wildly. He said something that sounded like “hold on” to Mark before walking over.

“Yeah?”

Misha took a breath, feeling exhausted from running.

“I need you to come with me.”

Richard pointed to the stage.

“Uh kinda busy.”

Misha shook his head.

“Y/n needs you. She’s at the hotel dr. You need to come quick.”

Richard’s face immediately went worried as he motioned to Mark who nodded.

“What’s wrong?”

Richard asked as he and Misha quickly walked down the hall back to the hotel clinic.

“Uh I can’t say. She will have to tell you.”

Richard rolled his eyes.

“This better be something. If this is one of your little tricks I will throw something at you.”

You looked up the moment Misha walked in with Richard behind him.

“Y/n, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Misha is being a shit and wouldn’t tell me what’s happening?”

You glanced at Misha, who did his wide smile, before looking back to Richard and sliding off of the table. You smiled walking to him and placing the pregnancy test in his hand.

“Congratulations daddy.”

Richard looked at the test before looking back to you then back at the test. Right away he facial expression made you nervous. He ran a hand through his hair before finally speaking.

“Are you sure?”

You felt the happiness beginning to drain.

“Well…yeah. How hard is it to pee on a stick?”

Richard put the test down before muttering wow under his breath.

“I thought you couldn’t get pregnant?! I am a little old for this!”

Your mouth had dropped by this point and Misha looked completely floored too.

“I’m sorry to rain on your parade there asshole but yeah I’m pregnant and by you! Furthermore, you helped! I can’t believe this!”

You turned to walk from the room as Richard reached out to grab your arm.

“Back the fuck off!”

You growled before storming past Misha leaving the two men alone in the room. Misha looked to Richard with wide eyes.

“You sure handled that well.”

Richard gave his friend a glare before walking out in the opposite direction. 

An hour later, Richard had calmed down enough to talk to you. He stood outside of the hotel room for a moment before walking inside where you stood angrily packing your suitcases. Richard watched you a moment before finally speaking.

“What are you doing?”

You didn’t even look in his direction.

“What the hell does it look like? I’m done! I’m gone. I’m going back to Missouri where I should have fucking stayed. I should have never taken you back. This just proves it.”

Richard quickly shut the door crossing his arms over his chest.

“So you’re pregnant and you’re just going to get on a plane and go home alone?”

You nodded still not meeting Richard’s gaze.

“Mary rode a fucking donkey to Bethlehem I think I can handle an airplane. I’m not that delicate.”

Richard sighed making a mental note to calm his ass down too. Both of you getting in a screaming match wouldn’t really help at the moment.

“Sugar, first off that was in the bible and this isn’t the second coming. I never said you were delicate and couldn’t handle it. Can we talk about what happened?”

You shook your head finally looking up. Your face was tear streaked and that made Richard freeze where he stood. In all the time that the two of you had been together, Richard never once seen you cry. Now here you stood with tears running down your face that was caused by him.

“There is nothing to talk about Richard.”

You said coldly. Richard nodded.

“Uh yeah, there is a lot to talk about. For one, you are having my baby and are talking about leaving me. I have a problem with that.”

You wiped the tears off of your face. He was lucky that you weren’t throwing something at him. 

“Now you have a problem...after you treat me like shit.”

Richard quickly walked to you wrapping his arms around you.He was thankful when you didn’t fight back. He pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“I’m sorry, Y/n. That was a douche move. I was just shocked ...floored is more like it. You didn’t deserve that.”

You sniffed and snuggled your face against his chest.

“No I didn’t. I was actually happy there for a minute, Richard. All of my life…well since I was 12 I’ve been told that I would never be able to have a baby. When that doctor told me I was pregnant and it being with you I had never been happier. Now I don’t know what I’m feeling.”

Richard sighed titling your face to his.

“I want you to be happy. I’m still in shock but I will be happy. You just have to give me some time to get over being thrown for a shock like that. I promise you, Y/n. I am not unhappy about it. I don’t want you to leave. This kind of ruined what I had planned.”

He slowly pulled away from you and went to his bag before coming back to you. Richard looked at you a moment before holding out a diamond ring.

“I was going to propose to you ...and no I am not doing this because you are pregnant. I’m doing it because I love you and I don’t want to be without you again. I had this whole grand romantic thing planned out. If you don’t believe me, you can ask Misha. He has known about the whole thing.”

You blinked, totally taken off guard! Richard slid the ring on your hand.

“Is that why Misha has been trying to measure my fingers and asking what kind of diamonds I like?”

Richard nodded.

“I thought he would have been a tad more discreet. Guess that’s what I get for asking Misha to do it.”

You smiled, looking down at your new engagement ring.

“He actually said it was for Vicky. Apparently, we have the same size of fingers and he needed to find her a new ring.”

Richard rolled his eyes.

“Ok, so maybe he didn’t do that badly. So sugar…will you marry me and not kill me tonight in my sleep?”

You nodded.

“Yes.”

Richard quickly pulling you into a kiss. He wished his plan had worked out a little bit better than what this was but it was still pretty damn perfect.

“How far did the doctor think you are?”

Richard asked as he gently laid you back onto the bed. You lifted your hips as he tugged off your jeans.

“6 weeks at the most. So you had to knock me up right after we got back together.”

Richard looked a little surprised.

“We have been fucking like bunnies for the past few weeks. Y/n,I want you to believe me when I say that I am happy okay?”

You nodded, feeling a little bit better when you looked into his eyes. Typically if Richard was bending the truth about something he wouldn’t be able to look you in the eyes. Tonight he was looking right at you.

“I believe you.”

You whispered as he stood and undressed.

“Come here, sugar.”

Richard pulled you into his arms and into a long passion driven kiss. This was the kind of kiss you had craved when you told him that she was having his child. Now Richard was finally giving you what you wanted. 

“I guess I am going to have to calm my ass down and won’t be able to fuck you until you can’t walk again for a while.”

Richard said with a smirk. You groaned as he slipped two fingers inside of you. You rocked your body against his hand as two fingers became three.

“It’s going to be a long nine months. I rather like that kind of fucking.”

Richard chuckled. Your sex drive was just as wild as his. Now both of you would both have to turn it down now.

“We’ll make it, sugar. There is a lot of other fun things I can do to you besides fucking you silly. You really liked it when I fucked you on the dryer that one-night …we can always do that a little more gently or I can eat you out on the couch again. You seem to enjoy what I can do with my hands.”

Richard half whispered before moving his index and middle finger scissoring you. You cried out against his mouth.

“Richard, stop being a tease and fuck me.”

“If that is what you want, princess.”

Richard said with a smirk before moving to get inside of you. He took extra care to not put too much weight on you as he pushed in. You dug your fingers into the bedding to cling to the sheets. After not making love for a few days, your body was aching for your fiance. You smiled at the thought of the word. Now you were going to marry the man that you loved and no one would have a word to say about it.

As Richard made love to you slowly, your mind, unfortunately, went from the thought of marrying Richard to your brother. Would Rob even care? You had tried to call him again after finding out that you were pregnant but as usual he didn’t answer.

“Are you okay?”

Richard asked pulling you from your thoughts. He quickly placed his thumb on your clit, applying enough pressure to keep any thoughts than that of his cock inside of you out..

“Yeah, I just didn’t want to come too fast.”

Richard shivered, feeling his orgasm building.

“We can always go again, sugar. I can’t…”

You tightened your body as he came undone. Richard shivered as he came hard. He dropped to your side before returning his thumb to your clit and pressing his lips back to yours. Richard returned his fingers inside of you; fingering you as hard as possible.

“That’s it, baby…come for me. I want to feel you get tight on my fingers.”

Richard growled as his free hand went to your breasts. He cupped them greedily. When your walls began to clench around his fingers, Richard knew that he had you exactly where he wanted.

“Now, sugar.”

You didn’t know if it was his southern accent slipping in or the way he knew seemed to exactly what to do but you came hard on his hand. Richard pulled away long enough to gather you into his.

“That was beautiful, baby. I love you.”

You smiled returning his lazy kiss.

“I love you. Guess we have to face our friends tomorrow with everything.” 

Richard smiled. 

“We are really about to rock their worlds.”

_________

@supernaturalways

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@emiwrites3reads

@summer-novak

@shaylybaby2032

@authoressskr

@marichromatic

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@marichromatic

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[bifuriouswaterbender]

A Sense of Identity--Yukonic Fanfic

Read on AO3 here. This was inspired by the motto “If no one else will write fanfic for your ship, write it yourself.”

Fandom: Deadpool (2 technically)

Characters: Negasonic Teenage Warhead, Yukio, Colossus (briefly), Deadpool (mentioned)

Pairing: Negasonic/Yukio

Rating: G

Summary:  Negasonic reflects on her own name as she deals with the gay panic of a teenager lesbian facing her first major crush.

She had never liked her name.

Ellie was so plain, so simple. It was a common name that had never really fit her. Now if her parents had been forward-thinking enough to name her Elliot, she may have felt differently. But Eleanor had never suited her, and Ellie barely worked. But it was the only name she had.

The first time she accidentally exploded into a ball of fire had been terrifying for everyone around her. For Ellie, it was a relief.

She loved her parents, but they’d never really understood what made her tick as a regular human. As a mutant? They were happy to send her off to a fancy school where she could harness her powers and maybe learn some manners.

She hadn’t exactly gained the manners, but Negasonic Teenage Warhead was a miracle of a name. When she was struggling to come up with something that felt like enough, one of the older kids had suggested listening to old songs. Some of the coolest names came from the lyrics. Taking their word for it, Ellie had flipped through old records, pausing when she saw a song title she liked. Negasonic Teenage Warhead had frozen her, an exciting sense of cold running down her center to cut the heat she always knew was there. It was over the top, strong, and just anarchistic enough to feel like an identifier. Once she listened to the record, she decided the song itself was fine. But the name couldn’t be beat.

Most of the other kids found her name to be too much of a mouthful, and she became Negasonic to most of them. Occasionally someone dug up the name Ellie Phimister. It wasn’t exactly a secret, but Negasonic did everything in her power not to answer to it and to get people to stop using it.

Most of the time it worked. Even when she wasn’t actively using her powers for anything, just channeling them was enough to intimidate most people. She infrequently got asked what she would do about her name once she wasn’t a teenager anymore.

She would shoot whoever asked a scorching look complete with one raised eyebrow and say, “The name is more than just Teenage. I think I’ve got other parts to keep.”

Secretly she liked the ring of Negasonic Warhead. It sounded even more badass in her mind than the full moniker, but twelve-year-old Ellie had been too excited by the idea of literally identifying as a teen. Until she turned nineteen, though, she could handle the middle, especially since no one ever used the full name anyway.

Except occasionally Wade, but he alternated that with so many insults and (often outdated) pop culture references that she didn’t really care.

“Negasonic,” Colossus called up the stairs. As usual, his voice carried without him actually raising his voice above typical speaking level. “Come down here. There is friend I want you to meet.”

Friend was not a typical word thrown her way. Negasonic knew Colossus had been trying to find her a nice friend ever since she’d buzzed her hair. It had been the same chin-length bob since before discovering her powers, and Negasonic had needed a change when she hit fifteen. She thought it made her look edgy. One of the more obnoxious preteens had said it made her look ready to beat someone up. She’d only somewhat threatened to beat him up for it.

Even now that she was letting it grow, Negasonic was more than happy to lean into that reputation whenever possible. She imagined this supposed friend would be easily intimidated with a scowl or two and that Negasonic could escape after a quick tour and a little awkward small talk.

She wasn’t expecting a perky pink-haired girl with gorgeous eyes to be waiting at Colossus’s side.

“Negasonic!” Colossus said enthusiastically, clamping a hand on her shoulder that was obviously oblivious to her gay panic. “This is Yukio. She will be joining X-Men.”

“Hello,” said the girl. She bounced forward--literally bounced--and stuck out her hand for Negasonic to shake. “It’s nice to meet you.”

She reacted on autopilot and shook the girl’s hand, trying not to focus on its soft warmth. “You too,” Negasonic said. Was her voice faint? Damn it! She’d gone through all this work to build a reputation, and it was all about to be undone by a single pretty girl.

“Colossus said we might have a lot in common.” Yukio’s eyes actually sparkled as she looked up at the metal man.

Negasonic looked up too, mostly to determine if he was having heat stroke from baking in his metal body all day. Aside from an affinity for nontraditional aesthetics, Negasonic couldn’t imagine what she and Princess Bubblegum had in common.

God, she needed to spend less time around Wade.

“Indeed,” Colossus said, giving Negasonic a firm thump on the back that almost sent her flying. “You two are same age, both sassy, both independent. I expect the two of you to be fast friends.”

As two pairs of eyes looked at her expectantly, Negasonic felt a bit of sweat building at the back of her neck. But gay panic or no, she couldn’t afford to be weird. If she screwed up this girl’s first day, Colossus might not forgive her. Plus, bangs that perfect and that pink couldn’t belong to a straight girl, right?

“We’ll see,” she said, trying to remain neutral outwardly. “Would you like a tour, Yukio?”

As Yukio beamed at her, Colossus gave Negasonic another affirming pat on the back. This one did force her to stumble a bit because she’d been so focused on not letting herself be blinded by the literal sunshine on Yukio’s face.

“Wonderful!” Colossus moved a couple steps down the hall. “I have paperwork to do—finalizing Yukio’s transfer to the team and figuring out her class schedule. I think she would like some of the same classes as you, Negasonic. You two have fun!”

Negasonic watched him gently thunder down the hall, her panic slowly rising toward the surface as she was left alone with the most beautiful girl she’d ever seen.

There was a twinkle in Yukio’s eye that made Negasonic wonder if the girl was onto her. Before she could process that idea, Yukio took a few bouncing steps up the stairs.

“So where do we start?” she asked, offering Negasonic a knee-weakening grin.

Negasonic swallowed hard. Time to hit the reset on her feelings because she’d never be able to function if this kept up. Pretending to become her usual moody self, Negasonic jerked her head in the direction of the grounds.

“It might rain. We would probably check out the training areas first.”

The smile Yukio sent back at her was more reserved than the ones from earlier, and Negasonic tried to pretend the smaller smile gave her a smaller reaction. Being a girl had its advantages for hiding such things.

…

As Negasonic thought back on the last hour, she wasn’t quite sure how Yukio had ended up on her bed.

They’d barely made it inside as the rain started up outside. Yukio had scrambled back toward the door with such zeal that Negasonic hadn’t been able to help running alongside her. They’d stumbled back inside laughing loud enough to prompt Colossus to stick his head out of his office. When he’d seen who it was, he simply smiled and let them be.

The downstairs hadn’t taken very long since many of the spaces were ones that they weren’t supposed to go in or had classes in progress. Negasonic was technically missing Latin, but she both hated it and was pretty sure Colossus would vouch for her. He seemed to be in that kind of mood today.

Upstairs was mostly dorms, and when Negasonic had pointed out her own bed, Yukio had collapsed onto it dramatically.

“I hope we’re roommates,” she said with a kind of dreamy earnestness that smacked Negasonic on her ass.

She sat down at the end of her bed, trying not to think about the fact that she’d never had another girl on it before. She didn’t have any female friends who did things like sit on each other’s beds to gossip. The closest she’d come was an offer to visit someone else’s bed when she’d snuck out to a local gay bar. She suspect the other woman had also lied her way in with a fake ID, but even with that suspicion, Negasonic hadn’t been able to justify to herself sleeping with someone she didn’t know, especially if that person thought she was over eighteen and named Alex instead of Ellie.

“We probably will be.” Negasonic shrugged and tried to look like she didn’t care one way or another. “They try to room people age alike. Since most of the other girls are under fourteen or at least eighteen, we’re pretty secluded. There were two other girls in the middle bracket. Both roomed with her, but neither of them talked to her much.

“Lots of guys though,” she added as an afterthought. Without meaning to, Negasonic watched for Yukio’s reaction.

There wasn’t one. Instead she leaned forward and looked expectantly back at Negasonic. “You have a really cool name.”

She didn’t know how to handle that. “Um, that’s the idea,” she said, annoyed by how easy she had been to fluster. “What about you? Is Yukio based on something?” Negasonic didn’t really know anything about Japanese culture, so she hoped it wasn’t something obvious.

“No,” the pink-haired girl replied. “It’s actually my real name.”

Negasonic furrowed her brows together. “Do you not have a name yet?”

She hadn’t when she’d first arrived, but Negasonic had still been relatively young. And Ellie had shed her name as quickly as she could.

Yukio shook her head, ponytail whipping around her face as she did so. “No, and I don’t want one.”

“But you have to have one.”

Yukio smiled, like she knew something Negasonic didn’t. “Actually I don’t. We have them for safety, but it’s not like any of us do anything to protect our identities.”

That was true. Some superheroes were ridiculous about keeping their identities secret, and while Negasonic could understand that perspective, it wasn’t true for a lot of mutants. Often their powers outed them, like hers had. Regardless the big players had their strong we shouldn’t have to hide agenda that they frequently pushed. Many mutants who could have otherwise kept their powers a secret, as she could now that she had much better control of them, readily revealed their identities. Masks weren’t exactly big around here.

It was easy for her, though. She didn’t have a secret identity because Negasonic felt much more like a name than Ellie ever had.

“Still,” Negasonic said. She didn’t know what she was trying to argue, but an argument felt like it needed to be made.

“I’m okay only have one identity,” she insisted. “Besides, my family call me Yuki anyway. Yukio is starting over in a way.”

“A new identity isn’t the same as starting over.”

Yukio simply looked at her, the playful indulgence easy to read. “No? Then why did Colossus call you Negasonic? Why do we all call him Colossus? There may be mutants who go by both readily, but for most of us, the new one is the only thing that matters.”

Maybe that’s why she’d always called Deadpool Wade. As near as she could tell, his alias was purely for professional purposes and because he thought it sounded cool. But to everyone who actually knew him, he was Wade. But despite basically dying multiple times without actually dying, Wade wasn’t a Before and After. It was weird because he literally looked nothing like he had before. (She’d seen the pictures. He was tolerable if you were into clean cut white men, which Negasonic wasn’t.) His personality hadn’t shifted at all, and he’d really just used his After as an extension of the same kind of personality and shit he’d done before. He was just more deadly because he couldn’t die.

Yukio angled her head as she studied Negasonic. In turn, Negasonic wanted to crawl under the bed.

“What’s your birth name?”

Negasonic bit her lip. That was the million dollar question, wasn’t it? “I don’t actually like it,” she admitted, hoping that would be enough.

That unfortunately didn’t seem to satisfy Yukio’s curiosity. “What not?”

Shrugging in an I-don’t-care way, Negasonic stared down at her bedspread. “I guess it never really fit.”

Yukio didn’t respond. The silence filled the space between them before expanding into the room as a whole. It left Negasonic ready to suffocate, and she couldn’t stop herself from willingly sharing her name for the first since taking on her superhero identity.

“I’m Ellie.”

“That’s a nice name,” Yukio said, “but you’re right. It doesn’t really fit you.”

Negasonic swallowed, glancing back up at Yukio. The seriousness she found on the other girl’s face transfixed her. They stared not uncomfortably at each other for longer than Negasonic cared to admit.

“What about El?” Yukio asked suddenly.

“It’s a nice letter,” Negasonic responded, not understanding where she was going with this.

As Yukio shook her head again, Negasonic let her eyes track the pink swinging hair again.

“Not the letter L. El as a shorthand for your name. It suits you.”

Negasonic paused as she thought about it. It felt less childish than Ellie and less girly too. “I like it,” she said. Without meaning to, she added, “I like you.”

Instantly Negasonic froze, ready to bolt form her own room of embarrassment. Yukio, to her credit, just grinned with all that sunshine Negasonic had noticed earlier.

“I like you too.”

[rosemariethb-blog]

bigass milf - 8 Ways Mature Footjobs Can Drive You Bankrupt - Fast!

The rain had been falling for three days. Captain Storwick and his men knew better than to risk voyage during a storm like this. They had landed in port that morning before the worst of it hit and he had spent the day drinking at the tavern. The roast fowl hit the spot but now he had an itch that good food and strong drink couldn't fix. "Dalvin! Go out and find Mama Lou and bring in the whores." a raucous cheer went up from the crew as the first mate brought in the barkeep. Mama Lou had been a bar whore in the port city of Lampos since Captain Storwick was a cabin boy. She had killed the previous owner of the bar when he tried to fuck her in the arse instead of the cunt. Everyone knew Mama Lou didn't take it up the stinker like most whores. She had grown fat in her old age and now she would give you a yanker if the coin was right. She usually kept a few girls around the place though and usually they were clean enough. Mama Lou had skin the color of good coffee - deep dark brown - and her eyes danced with delight at the sight of Captain Storwick. "Good Captain it's been a long time. Come to let Mama jerk your mast like she did when you were with the Phantom?" The Captain's cock twitched beneath his trousers but it wasn't the old woman he wanted. Back then she had been a smooth skinned island girl and he a hard bodied cabin boy but now they were old and gray and he yearned for the smooth skin of youth. "Your girls&... bring them to me." She nodded and without another word she left only to return with three girls. The first was too fat and he sent her over to the crew with a small purse of coin. The 2nd smelled as if she hadn't bathed in days - just the way his First Mate liked it so she went to him. Number three had seen her fair share of winters. She probably used to be pretty - blonde hair and blue eyes - but the seasons and sea had worn her down. Another one for the crew. "Is there no one else? Some one&... younger?" He fingered his mustache and looked into the eyes of his once lover. "A hairless cunt for the Captain, aye, I have a girl that fits your fancy. Came to us with the last shipment of spice - scared and wet and alone. She's never been touched by man or beast. She will cost you extra." His eyes shown with excitement, "How much extra" "10,000 quid for her mouth 20 more for her cunt 20 more for her stinker." The Captain sat up in his chair and the crew stopped their fun to see how he would answer, "50,000 for a single girl!? What is she an Elf!?" The crew laughed out loud and went back to their whores. "Half actually&..." You could have heard a pin drop. The Captain stared with his mouth agape, "You find a half-elf and you turn her into a whore? Fuck Lou you have some balls you nasty old slut. The council?" "The council doesn't know and they won't if you keep your rotten mouth shut. Now&... shall I fetch her or no?" Captain Storwick had his cock out before she finished ,"Bloody hell you better fetch her. Dalvin stop fucking that stinking whore and fetch 50,000 quid from me chest in the room. I'm fucking an elf boys!" The crew let out a loud cheer and went back to the whores the captain had paid for. Mama Lou lead her into the room&... a tiny thing of a girl wrapped in a pink silk gown with white cherry blossoms embroidered on it. Her white gold hair hung just below her shoulders and her skin was naturally tan. Mama Lou lead her past the crew and over to the Captain. "Dara this is Captain Storwick. He Captains the "Eleanor" - the big ship harbored at our port." Her eyes shown for a brief second and she looked up at Mama Lou with a childish glee, "The one you promise to take me to see?" "Yes child, see how good Mama is to you? I brought you their Captain. Go with him now child and do what he asks. Just like we talked about okay?" When the Captain stood and took Dara by the hand she stared at his exposed cock. The Captain smiled and lead her to his room. He sat her on the bed and walked over to the chair in the corner of the room. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. "Are you cold girl?" She nodded and looked at the floor. The Captain stood and walked over and lit the corner fire place. He stood and drew the curtains to the lone window in the room letting the light in. The rain beat against the pane and outside a beggar in a tattered hood stood huddled against the side of the building. Captain Storwick turned to face Dara then sat back down in the chair. "Stand up for me girl." She timidly stood still looking down at the floor. He stroked his cock and let his thumb rub against the tip a few times. "Take off your clothes for me." She let the gown fall to the floor. Her skin was milky white and smooth. Puffy light pink nipples stood at attention on small perky tits. Her cunt was almost hairless save for a small patch of golden hair. The Captain had never seen something so beautiful as her. She looked up from the floor for the first time since they entered and let her hands dangle by her side giving him a better look at her nubile body. She slowly walked over to the chair and knelt in front of him. "Mama told me how to do it&.... should I?" The Captain took his hands off his cock and caressed her soft cheek. She took him into her mouth - just the head at first then the whole shaft down her throat before bobbing back up for air. I'll have to tip Mama Lou extra for being such a good teacher he thought as she took him down her throat again. Her tiny hand wrapped around his balls and the other stroked his shaft as she licked up and down the head of his cock. He reached out for her tits and fondled her pink nipples. He pulled her to her feet and pushed her toward the bed. She knew what was next and bent over the cold mattress in anticipation. Captain Storwick ripped his shirt off revealing the bronze key on a silver chain he kept hung around his neck. Her pussy was glistening wet and he nearly came when she reached back and rubbed her waiting slit. "Please be gentle sir&... I've never&... " The Captain had never been one for mercy. You don't get the moniker "Stone Heart Storwick" for caring about the feelings of whores - no matter how young and beautiful. He shoved his manhood as hard and deep as he could as she cried out in pain. He grabbed her hair and yanked her head back. His other hand wrapped around her throat to use as a handle as he fucked her harder and harder. Tears streamed down her face and onto the bare mattress. Her little cunny clinched tight around his cock and he could feel her burst into orgasm. He had to pull out as the feeling of her cumming nearly sent him over the edge. He wanted to enjoy every bit of this that he could and at his age once you pull the trigger it's hard to reload the old cannon. He knelt behind her and licked her sopping wet love hole. He spread her cheeks and she jumped in surprise as he slid the tip of his finger in her bum. He had to taste it too. He shoved his tongue up her ass hole as far as he could causing her knees to tremble and her to moan. He stood and laid on the mattress. "Ride my cock girl&..." She straddled him, guiding his cock toward her waiting pussy. She rubbed the head against her waiting pussy lips before sliding down on it completely. She moaned as she bounced up and down on his pink mast. Then she reached behind her and cupped his balls. She gave them a little tug and lifted them enough to get her fingers below. She rubbed her middle finger against his asshole and a moan escaped the Captain's dry lips. She plunged her finger inside him and could feel him thrust deeper inside him. He was on the verge of bursting and was trying to hold back. He wanted more. A second finger joined the first and sent him over the edge. She could feel the head of his cock throbbing inside her as he filled her up with hot cum. She slid off and finished him with her mouth. He pumped two more spurts in her warm mouth before he finished and she let it dribble down her chin for him to see. She crawled up beside him and for the first time since they met she placed a kiss on his dry lips. He didn't feel the blade she had slipped from under the pillow until the blood was pouring out of his gaping neck. His gurgled cries for help were muffled by a pillow. He tried to fight back but when your throat has been cut from ear to ear and you have a pillow shoved against your face. His death throws were quick and his bowels emptying on the mattress were indicative that the dear Captain was no more. Dara took the key from his neck and draped it over hers. Should you have any kind of concerns relating to where as well as tips on how to work with black milf pounded, you are able to call us on our own web site. Only one thing missing now. The razor sharp blade sliced through his cock like hot butter. She turned and walked over to the window where she opened the shutters and imitated the call of a bird of paradise. The bum huddled in the corner through back his hood and a deeply scarred face smiled up at her. He positioned himself directly under the window and she fell gracefully into his arms. His massive arms were so warm and as he wrapped her in the cloak and raised the hood over her silky blonde hair to hide her from the rain. She stuffed the severed cock in the pocket of the hood as they trotted down the road to the harbor. Mama Lou would be in to check the room in less than 20 minutes. Just enough time to reach the Mantis and make sail. Part 2 coming soon! MyAssYourFace2

[sensitivefern]

MEMORIAL SERVICE

Where is the grave-yard of dead gods? What lingering mourner waters their mounds? There was a day when Jupiter was the king of the gods, and any man who doubted his puissance was ipso facto a barbarian... But where in all the world is there a man who worships Jupiter to-day? And what of Huitzilopochtli? In one year – and it is no more than five hundred years ago – 50,000 youths and maidens were slain in sacrifice to him... Huitzilopochtli, like many other gods, had no human father; his mother was a virtuous widow; he was born of an apparently innocent flirtation that she carried on with the sun. When he frowned, his father, the sun, stood still. When he roared with rage, earthquakes engulfed whole cities. When he thirsted he was watered with 10,000 gallons of human blood. But to-day Huitzilopochtli is as magnificently forgotten as Allen G. Thurman. Once the peer of Allah, Buddha and Wotan, he is now the peer of General Coxey, Richmond P. Hobson, Nan Patterson, Alton B. Parker, Adelina Patti, General Weyler and Tom Sharkey.

Speaking of Huitzilopochtli recalls his brother, Tezcatilpoca. Tezcatilpoca was almost as powerful: he consumed 25,000 virgins a year. Lead me to his tomb: I would weep, and hang a couronne des perles. But who knows where it is? Or where the grave of Quitzalcoatl is? Or Tialoc? Or Chalchihuitlicue? Or Xiehtecutli? Or Centeotl, that sweet one? Or Tlazolteotl, the goddess of love? Or Mictlan? Or Ixtlilton? Or Omacatl? Or Yacatecutli? Or Mixcoatl? Or Xipe? Or all the host of Tzitzimitles? Where are their bones? Where is the willow on which they hung their harps? In what forlorn and unheard-of hell do they await the resurrection morn? Who enjoys their residuary estates? Or that of Dis, whom Caesar found to be the chief god of the Celts? Or that of Tarves, the bull? Or that of Moccos, the pig? Or that of Epona, the mare? Or that of Mullo, the celestial jack-ass? There was a time when the Irish revered all these gods as violently as they now hate the English. But to-day even the drunkest Irishman laughs at them. [...] You may think I spoof. That I invent the names. I do not. Ask the rector to lend you any good treatise on comparative religion: you will find them all listed. They were gods of the highest standing and dignity – gods of civilized peoples – worshipped and believed in by millions. All were theoretically omnipotent, omniscient and immortal. And all are dead.

[H. L. Mencken, Prejudices, Third Series]

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EDITOR’S NOTE

‘Do you know Bartram’s “Travels”? Treats of Florida chiefly, has a wonderful kind of floundering eloquence in it; and has grown immeasurably old. All American libraries ought to provide themselves with that kind of book; and keep them as a future biblical article’. So wrote Carlyle to Emerson of the volume which is here reprinted. It was first published in Philadelphia in 1791, and the next year appeared in London, where Coleridge read it as early... as 1794. Coleridge was indebted to it... Later in his life he called it the last book ‘written in the spirit of the old travellers’. It was also an important source for Wordsworth...

[Travels of William Bartram]

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In 1872... Charles Abbott, a New Jersey physician... found some arrowheads, scrapers, and axheads on his farm in the Delaware Valley. Because the artifacts were crudely made, Abbott believed that they must have been fashioned not by historical Indians but by some earlier, ‘ruder’ group, modern Indians’ long-ago ancestors. He consulted a Harvard geologist, who told him that the gravel around the finds was ten thousand years old, which Abbott regarded as proof that Pleistocene Man had lived in New Jersey at least that far in the past. Indeed, he argued, Pleistocene Man had lived in New Jersey for so many millennia that he had probably evolved there. If modern Indians had migrated from Asia, Abbott said, they must have ‘driven away’ these original inhabitants. Egged on by his proselytizing, other weekend bone hunters soon found similar sites with similar crude artifacts. By 1890 amateur scientists claimed to have found traces of Pleistocene Americans in new Jersey, Indiana, Ohio, and the suburbs of Philadelphia and Washington, D.C.

Unsurprisingly, Christian leaders rejected Abbott’s claims, which... contradicted both Ussher’s chronology and the theologically convenient Lost Tribes theory. More puzzling, at least to contemporary eyes, was the equally vehement objections voiced by professional archaeologists and anthropologists, especially those at The Smithsonian Institution...

[1491]

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Ezra Pound, as I had heard in New York, had been visiting here without publicity. They had dressed him in a gown at the Hamilton commencement, and he had received a tremendous ovation. His policy now is not to speak but to maintain a polite silence... except to say, when asked whether he would have light meat or dark meat, ‘Just as it comes’... [...] 4th of July. Hardly a firecracker, no celebration. Tamest, blankest 4th I’ve ever known. Rosalind and I tried to find some excitement by driving to Cape Vincent. No traffic to speak of, the town itself dull... Movies: Funny Girl, Love Bug – both pretty terrible, but I had the interest of watching their reactions, which are exactly what the Hollywood people count on.

[Edmund Wilson]

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timothy | Phleum pratense Distinctive to timothy are its bulbous corms (sometimes called haplocorms) – swollen, thickened areas of the subsurface stem that store carbohydrates, enabling the plants to survive winter. [...] Timothy leaves, flat, about 1/4 inch wide and 4 to 12 inches long, taper to a fine point. Cilia... fringe the leaf margins. The topmost or flag leaf, beneath the flower spike and shorter than the others, extends upward alongside the stem. [...] Found growing by one John Herd near Portsmouth, New Hampshire, about 1711... timothy probably first arrived from England as a contaminant in hay, litter, and ship’s ballast. The grass... was early promoted as a good hay and pasture resource by farmer Timothy Hanson. (Benjamin Franklin was the first recorded user of the name timothy in a 1747 letter, recognizing a herd grass sample sent to him as ‘mere timothy’...) [...] Timothy provides a frequently used cover for land rehabilitation and erosion control after clear-cutting, burning, overgrazing, or construction of highways, railroads, and canals.

[The Book of Field and Roadside]

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Alchemilla conjuncta ‘This neat, clump-forming perennial bears frothy clusters of tiny yellow-green flowers from early summer to early autumn’... it obligingly sows itself into paving cracks and in that area beneath your antique ‘garden seat’... produces fertile seed by asexual reproduction – ‘a useful characteristic if the \viral threat to the world’s honeybee population continues to grow apace’... sun-shade; tolerates some droughtiness... keeps long as a cut flower... zones 3-9... particularly perky after a rain shower...

[Green Flowers]

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Groundcovers look good when their natural habit is emphasized and they are encouraged to spill down the sides of a berm and onto the flat ground below, tying the mound to its site. I have done this with ophiopogon, a grasslike perennial that likes shade, with bugleweed, and with succulents... The groundcover flows as though it is being poured over the berm – running down in rivulets or wide streams, while not completely covering the area. If they contrast well enough, mix streams of groundcovers; the bright yellow-green licorice plant (helichrysum petiolatum ‘Limelight’) and the dark green Irish moss (Sagina subulata), for instance, work well.

[Jeff Cox]

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May 25 [1855]. Critchicrotches in prime. Heard the first regular bullfrog’s trump on the 18th; none since. [One in the evening.] [...] The golden robin keeps whistling something like *Eat it, Potter, eat it!’

[Thoreau, Journal]

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