#yeah they always specify it’s usually against women because it usually is we live under patriarchy!!

[trans-androgyne]

Misogyny and sexism are not and never have been synonyms. That’s not all of what’s meant by sexism. Literally just take two minutes to look up the term. It’s prejudice or discrimination against people on the basis of their sex (often expanded to include their gender). Plenty of them make sure to specify that it can affect men.

Here’s an example of its use from APA: “We define sexism as individuals' attitudes, beliefs, and behaviors, and organizational, institutional, and cultural practices that either reflect negative evaluations of individuals based on their gender or support unequal status of women and men…it is important to acknowledge all levels of analyses are intertwined and both women and men experience sexism.”

[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!

[muse-oleum]

What did you want to show me?

Kingsman: Harry Hart x fem!reader

Prompt #67: “Let me show you what happens to little brats who don’t follow the rules”

Summary: Another honeypot because it’s Harry Hart. Pulsating sexual tension and rough sex at the other end. Thank me later. 

Word count: 2k

Warnings: smutty af; swearing

When you get to the smut piece, play this, it’s my thot anthem. 

As a new Kingsman recruit, and one out of a grand total of two female recruits, you naturally drew attention to yourself. 

That, and your fiery, feisty and general no-bullshit nature. In fact, if half of Kingsman was enthralled by you, the other half stayed well clear of you. 

You’d been put forward by agent Bedivere, who knew what she was about. She’d been in your shoes only a handful of years before, and was a friend before a mentor. Thanks to her guidance, you made it to the very last round, and passed your last task with flying colors. 

Apart from Bedivere, Eggsy, Roxy and Merlin (even though he professed he “didn’t do favorites”), there was one other agent who was secretly glad of your enrollment. 

Agent Galahad, 6ft2, in his early fifties, with a killer swagger walk, was one handsome package. 

A tall, very English, very sexy package, who also happened to be a good twenty years your senior. 

That only made his occasional touches more thrilling. 

You were convinced nobody else had caught on to your mutual flirtation. Or, at least, you fervently hoped nobody else had because Merlin would definitely kill the both of you. With the amount of times you two had nearly blown up a mission by “accidentally” losing focus, you wondered at having never been told down by the quartermaster. 

Tonight, you could already tell, was just going to be another one of these nights. But this time, there was a twist. This was a honeypot. Your favorite. 

Why favorite? Honeypots were amongst the most entertaining missions on your agenda. There was nothing you enjoyed more than watching all these criminals fawn over you, and get absolutely dragged into the dust two seconds later. Hadn’t found anything more satisfying yet.

Roxy said this violent streak of yours was exactly why half of Kingsman was legitimately terrified at the idea of being left alone with you. 

All except agent Galahad. 

In fact, he was convinced what had originally attracted him to you was your sheer violence. If you had a grueling day, God have mercy on the poor soul who looked at you the wrong way. You could go rogue in a split second, and were never more powerful and sexy than when you were fighting. 

He wasn’t at all sure how he was going to handle tonight’s mission. You were posing as a couple (again) taking interest in a some underhand weapon deal (again) and he was going to need a cold shower as soon as he got back (again). 

The very moment he saw you approach the car, he felt a painful pull in his groin. 

You had opted for an open back red dress, figure hugging but bulletproof and comfortable. You had spent all the evening making plans as to how to successfully steal it from Kingsman’s seemingly never ending stock of fancy clothes. 

The dress hugged your figure in all the right places, leaving very little to the imagination. Agent Galahad had never seen you in such a dress - your gigs were usually more business/formal - and you smiled an almost feline smile when you noticed his reaction. 

If this dress didn’t get him to let go of that annoying self-control of his, than you’d consider yourself beaten. 

He didn’t look so bad himself in his three piece suit, the waistcoat accentuating his lean waist and broad shoulders. 

God he was so sexy. It should be criminal to be this attractive. The man was practically oozing sex appeal, from is slick back hair to the point of his shiny shoes. 

“Ready, Y/N?” he said once he had recovered his voice. 

“As always, Galahad.” 

The smirk you sent his way had his blood boiling in his veins. 

The car pulled up to another one of London’s long list of fancy hotels. This one was a tall penthouse, with tall glass windows reaching all the way to the 10th floor. Roxy would hate this, you thought. Not made for anyone who hates heights. 

“You go in there and gather as much intel as we can, get it?” came a suspicious Scottish voice at the other end of your mic. “No funny business, Y/N. Stick to the rules.”

“That rather depends on the level of stupid in the room.” 

Harry chuckled behind you. He was endeavoring to stare at something else than the motion of your hips under your dress and those intoxicating legs of yours. 

So far, he was miserably failing. 

“Ye, well, just get me what I need to bust those idiots, and if you have to beat up one or two of them, don’t ruin the dress. Stick together, don’t go off on your own.” 

“Would be a true shame, that’s for sure.” 

“Shut up Eggsy.”

“You sure need to learn how to take a compliment baby.”

“Don’t call me “baby,” it makes me want to vomit. Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

“I am working. Looking forward to entertainment provided by yours truly.”

Sighing dramatically, Harry turned his glasses’ feed on, recording the room, people and looking at a 3D plan of the whole building through the lenses. 

You were already in movement, in conversation with one of your targets. The tall American was evidently used to getting his own way with women and was an absolute nitwit. He babbled on and on about his business, how he got hold of the weapons he resold to the mafia for high prices, and how he didn’t care about the countless lives lost in the process. 

Disgust welled inside you but you held your own, watching as Harry successfully seduced another unsuspecting victim. His target was a middle-aged woman, the wife of one of the upstart weapon sellers in the room. Said weapon seller was probably busy in his suite with another woman, so you couldn’t begrudge her interest in such a fine specimen. 

But he was yours first and hers second if you had any say in it. 

Ignoring Merlin’s orders, you abandoned your target here and there, making headway for the staircase, planning to do some snooping around. Merlin had specified not to get in any risky business, but snooping and danger went hand in hand. 

You interrupted what looked like an intense threesome as you hijacked the first door. They didn’t even notice. 

The third door you unlocked looked to be more promising. It was a large room, city view, jacuzzi and all. 

“Where the fuck are you, Y/N? We’re supposed to stay together!” came Galahad’s angry voice in your mic. 

“None of these players stick by the rules, Galahad. “You gotta play their game if you want to find something truly useful. Like this.”

You let your glasses record the document you held, before taking off the gloves you’d put on and placing it back in the briefcase you’d found it in. You took off your glasses and put them in your handbag. Galahad and you had decided only one of you would wear theirs full time, so as not to arouse suspicions. 

You heard the door unlock and ducked behind the bathroom door, gun already drawn, heart beating. 

“It’s me.”

“Jesus Christ, you scared the devil out of me!” you hissed, trying to shake off the rush of adrenaline. 

“Yeah, well, if you’d stayed with me or even just told me where you were going…”

“Oh, shut up, rules don’t apply in honeypots. Got anything from that lovely lady? She certainly seemed interested.” 

Galahad stared you down. Hard. Then he removed his glasses.

(fun under the cut)

“And here I was thinking that old fashioned honeypots still had a future” was the only thing you could think of saying.

His eyes had darkened, his jaw was set. You felt the weight of his stare over your skin. He backed you up against the bed, your calves brushing against the soft sheets. 

“Why won’t you stick by the rules?”

Oh, he wanted to play? Fine.

Putting on your best sultry gaze, you took a step towards him, grateful for your heels as they boosted your height to match his.

“Because rules are boring. And, sometimes, you’ve got to break them.”

“You’re always angry at something.”

“That’s what brats do. We’re angry and we show it.” You edged even closer, your breath tingling his skin. Your voice wasn’t above a whisper when you said, lips ghosting over the older agent’s jaw:

“Too bad life made us that way.” 

Galahad smiled, his teeth gleaming in the dim light. You were defiant, holding your small frame against his. He could feel your chest brush up against his. 

“Well, shall I show you what happens to brats who don’t stick by the rules?”

Your eyes widened. His hands snuck up on your waist, his fingers unzipping the back of your dress as his hands travelled up your back to grab your shoulders. 

He pulled you to him roughly, crashing his lips on yours as a groan escaped him. He felt your hips pressing against his, undulating against the hardened, sensitive part of himself. Your hands held onto his shoulders, ripping his suit jacket off his strong frame. 

You removed his tie next, just as he threw you on top of the bed, parting your legs to move in-between them. He thrust up against you, holding against your heated core for a few seconds. 

He pulled on your hair sharply, drawing a cry of pleasure and pain. You felt his tongue trace the outline of your throat, before he bit down hard on your pulse. 

I’m going to have to cover up that up. 

Galahad kept sucking bruising marks over your neck and chest, hiking your dress up above your waist before diving in between your legs. He didn’t waste time preparing you, sucking and licking up your core before attacking your nub. A sharp cry escaped you, a tug of pleasure ripping across your thighs. He held your hips down as you desperately tried to get closer to him. 

Galahad’s hands enclosed yours overtop of the bedsheets, gripping and pulling at your forearms to anchor himself against you as you shook against him, so close to release you could feel terrible waves of heat coursing through your core. 

Deciding you’d had enough of his torturing you, you pulled him up, forcing him to abandon his very enjoyable task. 

You weren’t about to relinquish control that easily. 

Twisting your legs around him, trapping his body underneath yours, you pressed down hard against his stomach. Biting your lips, you ripped button after button, throwing his waistcoat to the side. As soon as you felt his hands frantically reach for your hips, you dove in, leaving long, hot kisses on his chest. 

He rocked his hips against yours, locking his eyes with yours. God, you were going to orgasm now if he kept that rhythm going. 

He felt your legs squeeze up on him, as your head rolled backwards, the first moans escaping your lips. He surged upwards, meeting you thrust for thrust. He had to let you come first, but he knew he couldn’t hold out for long. Not with the way your heated core felt against his skin. 

“Fuck, Harry…”

Hearing you use his real name sent a jolt of pleasure through his groins. Fused at the core, both your centers felt on fire, feeding off each other in a dance as old as mankind. 

One hand found your breast, playing with your nipple. The other pressed against your throat, caressing your neck as he felt you pick up the pace. He knew you only needed the littlest push before he could enjoy his own release. 

Harry slid his hand down your torso, all the way down to where your bodies were joined. He applied pressure on your nub through the folds of your dress.

Your hands came crashing down on his chest as you bore your entire weight down on him, an exultant shout echoing through the room as your let your orgasm claim you. You rode the waves of pleasure, aware of Harry’s hands digging into your waist as he panted out his need. 

Smirking, you helped him along, drawing patterns against his fevered skin and, at long last, you felt him release inside you. 

His breath came ragged, chest heaving and eyes tightly shut, he was truly a vision.

You had to admit, you were proud of yourself for bringing such a man to such an undoing. You’d wondered what an unhinged Harry Hart would look like and now you had your answer. 

Leaning in, your arms resting on either side of his head, you resumed kissing him, stealing whatever was left of his breath. 

You could feel the last tremors of his pleasure on his lips. 

“What did you want to show me?” you murmured in his ear. 

Taglist: @justawriterinprogress; @tonystrksslut; @emilyyblackkk; the-sea-belt;

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

[yet-another-fan-girl9]

Different Worlds (6)

Summary: You’re the youngest Winchester, a girl who needs to show her big brothers that she doesn’t need help. Then one day, on a totally normal vampire hunt that you had all under control, three meddling Avengers come barging in.

Warnings: language, violence, canon divergence, slow burn, me making stuff up

Word Count: 2342

A/N: I hope you all enjoy reading this chapter as much I enjoyed writing it! Please comment your thoughts and if you want to be added to the taglist! 💗💜💙

~*~

Chapter 6: In Which Dean Is an Annoying Cockblock on Earth and in Hell by Fall Out Boy

“You’re back soon.” The words spilled from Jack’s mouth when he saw Bucky.

“Yeah, I just…” Bucky shifted his feet awkwardly. Why did he come here again? He certainly was curious at everything that was going on, but there was something, someone, else.

“Come in.” The young man stepped aside and Bucky stepped into the bunker. “Did you want to see (Y/N)?”

“That would be great.” The ex-assassin did feel more comfortable around (Y/N) rather than her brothers.

They passed the library where the team had learned about the supernatural. Today, the tables were covered in strange items, bowls, and open books. Nobody was doing anything with them at the moment, though.

Jack led Bucky deeper into the bunker which seemed empty at the moment. Bucky studied the man in front of him. He didn’t look like a great fighter, but after everything that was revealed to him, Jack could totally kick his ass. They walked down a hallway before coming to a stop in front of one of the doors.

“Everyone’s getting ready,” Jack explained. Ready for what, Bucky didn’t know and Jack didn’t specify. “This is (Y/N)’s room. You can wait in here.”

He opened the door for Bucky before heading back in the direction they came from. The first thing he noticed was that (Y/N) wasn’t there. Then he saw the other door and heard the sound of running water. She was probably showering.

(Y/N)’s room was clean enough; Bucky knew that it was sometimes hard to gather enough energy to clean up. Her blankets were pulled over her bed, but it was obvious that the action was done haphazardly. Her drawers weren’t closed all the way; a sign of either laziness or being rushed. A few photographs were displayed on the nearby desk that was cluttered with crumpled balls of paper, hair ties, and a couple of knives.

Bucky smirked at the sight of the knives before turning his attention to the photos. The first one showed a group photo. He recognized (Y/N), her brothers, and Cas, but not the two other women or the man in the wheelchair. Everyone, especially (Y/N), looked much younger.

The second picture was another group picture. This time, Jack was in it so it had been taken in the past… how old was Jack? Seven years? That fact still threw Bucky off. He was used to older people looking younger, like Steve and himself, rather than the opposite.

The last photo was much older than the first one. A woman wearing a  sundress and a large sun hat was smiling widely at the camera while holding the hand of a toddler. Bucky came to the quick conclusion that it was (Y/N) and her mother. 

The sound of the en suite’s door opening caused him to whirl around to face (Y/N). Why didn’t he hear the water turn off? The woman looked up and gasped at the sight of the man in her room.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Bucky,” she scolded and placed a hand over her chest. 

That’s when he noticed that she didn’t have a shirt on. She had on jeans and a sports bra, and he saw a tattoo above her left collar bone. Bucky still wasn’t used to seeing women in just bras. Walking down the streets of New York, there were always advertisements for women’s lingerie. It made him uncomfortable, but for some reason, he didn’t feel the same discomfort around her.

As Bucky’s thoughts ran wild, (Y/N) continued swearing.

“You scared the goddamned fucking shit out of me. Don’t do that again or I’ll use you as a sacrifice,” the woman finished her rant. Then a smile broke out on her face. “What are you doing here?”

“Just—I… uh,” the usually suave supersoldier stuttered. He didn’t know what made his brain stop working. Maybe it was because of (Y/N)’s lack of shirt? Or maybe it was just being in her presence that halted all train of thought.

“What’s wrong?” She followed his gaze and looked down before laughing. “Oh, usually I get dressed in the bathroom in case something like this happens but I forgot a shirt this time. Some people living here don’t understand personal space.” Bucky’s face grew red and (Y/N) narrowed her eyes. “Was it Jack or Cas who let you in because I know my brothers wouldn’t even let you close to my room.”

“Jack,” Bucky laughed and felt himself relax. “I didn’t mean to startle you, by the way.” A moment of silence. “Is that your mother?” He gestured towards the photo.

(Y/N) moved closer until they were standing just over a foot away. She glanced at the photo and nodded in confirmation.

“She’s really pretty,” Bucky continued. “You look like her.”

(Y/N) looked at him with a large grin on her face. “Did you just call me pretty, Sarge?” 

He felt his breath hitch as she inched closer to him. Bucky was sure that she could see all the details on his face because he could see every detail of her’s. He could see a small scar near her hairline and another one above her right eyebrow. He could see into her breathtaking eyes. He followed the slope of her nose which led his eyes to her soft lips. They were beckoning to him, parted slightly as (Y/N) studied his face. When had they gotten so close? If he just bent down slightly… 

“(Y/N)!” Dean’s incessant banging on her bedroom door forced them apart. “What’s takin’ so long? Get your ass moving!” Then they heard his footsteps recede.

“I have to go,” (Y/N) sighed.

She slipped on a shirt, grabbed her knives and leather jacket, and walked out of her room. Bucky followed her out and could tell she felt the same way he did at the moment: disappointed. Why did her brother have to knock then?

They emerged into the library. Everyone looked up at their arrival and everyone but Jack did a double-take when they saw Bucky. Sam and Dean’s mouths became straight lines while Rowena, who was bent over a book, smirked.

“I guess you’re the reason she was taking so long,” Cas said.

“What are you doing?” Bucky asked, mostly to (Y/N).

“We’re going to Hell,” Jack smiled.

“Crowley took the Magicae Libro while we all drank beers the other day,” (Y/N) explained. “So we’re going to Hell to take it back from that son of a bitch.”

“Don’t call me a bitch, darling,” Rowena cooed as she added something to a bowl. “Is everyone ready?”

(Y/N) gasped and turned to face Bucky with her eyes wide. “You’re not busy, right? ‘Course you aren’t, otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.” She paused for a breath. “Do you wanna come to Hell with us?”

“Are you sure that’s wise, (Y/N)?” Sam asked.

“I’ll come,” Bucky said. “I can handle myself, I’m a supersoldier.” (Y/N) smiled at him and he was glad he said yes.

“I’m only saying okay because we don’t have time to argue,” growled Dean.

Rowena motioned for Sam who walked over to the bowl, cut his hand, and let his blood mix with the other ingredients. He stepped back next to Cas. The man in the trenchcoat nodded to Sam. Cas held his hand, that began to glow, above the taller man’s wounded hand and suddenly Sam’s hand was healed. Bucky watched the interaction with awe, but everyone else seemed used to it.

“Everyone who’s going, put your hand on the bowl,” Rowena ordered. They obliged and Cas moved out of the way.

“Remember, Cas,” said Dean. “Don’t let the fire die, or we’ll be stuck in Hell.”

“I know, Dean.” The angel rolled his eyes.

“Initium ad inferna permittatur,” Rowena read from her book. She picked up a nearby candle and lit the bowl’s content on fire.

The items in the bowl sparked and the flame turned purple. Some wind started to blow through the room causing hair to get into eyes and mouths. The library’s lights flickered as a bright white light filled the room and the purple flame jumped higher. Then everything reached its max and the flame almost reached the ceiling.

Bucky closed his eyes against the light and when he opened them again they were in Hell.

~*~

Once everyone got their bearings, you took out your weapons. You and Sam had angel blades and Dean had his demon-killing knife. Jack had his powers and Rowena had her magic.

“Here.” You nudged Bucky and held out a second angel blade. “Regular guns and knives don’t do shit to fuckers like demons.” He took it in his metal arm and examined it. “It’s called an angel blade. ‘Cause they belong to the angels. We kinda took ‘em, we did take them, but they can kill lots of things.”

Bucky smiled at you. “Thanks.”

“So where do you suppose we are?” Dean looked around.

“Somewhere in the castle,” Sam answered. “Hopefully near the throne room.”

“Looks like Fergus redecorated again,” Rowena sighed.

“Rowena is Crowley’s mom and his name was Fergus,” you whispered to Bucky when you saw his confused expression. “Don’t worry, it gave me a bit of a headache too.”

You walked quietly and cautiously down the castle’s hallways in pairs. Your brothers at the head of the line while you and Bucky lingered in the back. There were no encounters yet. Only seemingly endless doors that you knew held souls that were in line for torture. You remembered your time behind one of those doors. In total, you had spent fifteen earth days in Hell which was more like five years downstairs.

“How are you doing?” you whispered to Bucky. You were getting a bit bored sneaking around. And, of course, being in Hell wasn’t a pleasant experience.

“Fine,” he responded.

Wow, you loved his voice. Even in the literal Hell, Bucky and his voice managed to soothe you. Your mind flashed back to the moment in your bedroom. Only Chuck knew how bad you had wanted to punch your older brother for being a cockblock. Honestly, you still wanted to punch him, but now was definitely not the time.

“There’s just a general feeling of unease and despair,” he continued.

You nodded in agreement. “I never like coming here.”

“So you have been to Hell before?”

“Yep,” you said a bit louder than you intended and Rowena looked back at you with a glare. You lowered your voice and continued, “Been here both as a guest and a soul.”

“When you died,” the blue-eyed man said slowly. “You came to Hell and you were tortured?” You nodded. “I-if you don’t mind me asking, how?”

“Well, there were lots of different ways.” You trained your eyes on the ground before you. “The usual strung up on racks and cut open torture. There was some psychological torture, you know. Making you think that you’re saved, only to be brought to some demon who likes to flay people.”

You felt Bucky’s gaze and looked up to meet it. You weren’t met with pity, but rather a look of understanding. You’ve done your research on Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes and you know that he’s been through something like Hell too.

“Apparently, according to Cas, Crowley turned Hell into a giant line that souls had to wait in,” you said trying to lighten the mood.

“Can I ask you another question?”

“You just did,” you smirked at him but told him to ask away.

“You have a tattoo,” he said. “I was just wondering what it was.”

“Not really a question,” you joke. Bucky rolled his eyes, but you couldn’t help yourself. “But it’s an anti-possession tattoo.” You stop in your tracks and pull your shirt collar down to show him. “Kinda puts a damper on things when you have to kill a demon possessing your friend. All hunters get them. If you’re gonna be hangin’ ‘round us, you’re gonna need one too.”

“Can I?” He reached out his right hand and motioned towards the tattoo.

When you gave your nod of approval, he ran his hand over the inked skin, tracing it gently, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You stepped closer and his hand stilled.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“What for?” You bring your empty hand up to his and held it to your chest.

“That you had to be tortured. That you actually went through Hell.”

“You don’t need to apologize for that. Not at all.” You stepped closer. Close enough to feel his body heat. “I’m sorry as well. You basically went through Hell too.”

“You don’t need to apologize for that,” Bucky repeated.

His lips were so close. If you just moved forward…

The sound of someone loudly and obnoxiously clearing their throat forced you apart once more. You closed your eyes and tried to convince yourself that you shouldn’t resort to murder just because you couldn’t kiss someone. Dean continued to clear his throat until Bucky was at least three feet away from you.

While you were gearing up to kiss Bucky, the four other members of the group had made it to the end of the hallway. You made your way to the group, glaring at your oldest brother the entire way.

“About time,” he snarked and you rolled your eyes.

“I think we’re getting close,” Sam said quickly to change the subject. “Can you guys hear that?” He gestured to the ornate door that had escaped your notice.

You all became silent and the sound of music reached your ears. Everyone glanced around at each other in confusion.

“Is-is that,” you listen for a second longer, “Fall Out Boy?”

It was indeed Fall Out Boy. Dean pushed open the door and you all readied your weapons and defenses. You were met with a long table covered in food. Crowley stood at the head of the table with his arms open wide.

“Welcome to Hell.”

~*~

~*~

~*~

~*~

~*~

Tag List (strike though means tag didn’t work):

@grav3dollie-666 @broco8​

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Favored Ones, Part 9. (Joel Miller x reader)

Description: When you spend every evening with someone who’s deeply under your skin, a certain relationship can be developed. So it’s crushing for Joel when Y/N suddenly disappears. But there’s way more to the relationship that one would’ve guessed.

A/N: Ah shit, here we go again. Inspired by Something in the Way (By both Nirvana and At Sea, both versions are great.

Warnings: Some self-starving, cannibalism, hunting people down, etc.

Word count: 1.6 K

Tagging: @missdictatorme @xxgoldenhour @nemodoren​ @gladiosamicitias @jodiereedus22​

If you like this story, please, more parts can be found here! :): H E R E

You were literally nowhere to be found, nowhere to be heard of for the past day. They sent a search party into the woods to search for you - without any success. You were just lost, only God knew where from one hour to another. 

When the third search party came back with their hands empty and extremely pity looks on their faces, Ellie knew that all the chances of finding you on their own were lost just like that. With a snap of a finger and another snowy storm making your tracks disappear in the white night, you were lost.

They had an imortant meeting about what to do next. Nobody was in a mood for joking around. Many survivors wouldn't do that - one hunter more or less in such a big prosperous city? Who would have noticed? But not the men and women from Jackson. You were a friend and a family member to them - and the city had its pride that needed to be shown to other enemies who might have thought that they will be able to take Jackson down. 

Nobody was able to do that. At least not without a strong resistance and attacks coming back on their enemies like a bloody rain. 

“Okay. So, I think it were the weird guys the children saw while we were in the woods.” - Ellie spoke when everyone was quiet for a minute. Ellie was there, she was leading the meeting, as usual, Dina sat next to her in a tailor fashion, Jesse was sitting on a chair, watching Ellie and Joel made his way there was well; more like Ellie told him he has to go even if he was basically drowning in despair. 

So he went there. Still drowning in nothing but self-pity. More of the Jackson youngsters were there, sitting around the table and disgusting the occurrences surrounding your disappearance.

"Weird guys in the woods? Can you specify?" - A girl, whose name Joel didn't know, spoke from the corner of the room, watching their faces. - "Don't be mad at me, but that sounds like... Basically anyone."

"Blair, it was a guy who was wearing furs. They were in furs from head to toe, like some... Savages. Even we aren't wearing so much fur at once." - Dina answered way more aggressive than she originally wanted to. She raised her palm and mouthed a silent sorry, but Blair just leaned deeper into her corner.

"We have no actual chance to find her in that storm that's raging outside. Do you guys realize that?" - Jesse said as the voice of wisdom he always tried to be. Ellie and Dina gave him quiet looks, but there was nothing more to say. Jesse was totally right.

"But to let her die there without at least trying to find her is not an option either, guys. I mean... We all grew up with Y/N. That would be a dishonor on her name from us." - Steve, another boy from the city added. He was worried about you in the most brotherly way possible. He loved you and accepted you as a sister. You two were searching for bugs when you were kids and there was no way he would leave alone in that situation.

"No shit, Sherlock." - Ellie snorted ironically. - "We dragged Sadie back to the town and three search parties were after the tracks. And they could have even maybe found her if there wasn't for the storm. What should we do next?"

There was silence for a long time. Even the few elders who came to the emergency meeting shut up and just stood there in complete silence.

"They will come back." - Joel spoke like the first one.

"Why would they?" - Jesse asked in a teasing tone.

"Because they didn't hunt her down because they don't have anything to eat. It wasn't a hunt for meat." - Joel explained to the young blood at the same tone of voice.

"Old man, you should explain what do you mean." - Ellie sighed through her teeth clenched together. She was fed up with mysterious Joel and his self-pity bullshit at the moment. This was about the life they were trying to save, not about the feelings he was boiling with. Everyone was feeling just the way he was, it wasn't making him special that they... Fucked. It truly wasn't making him extraordinary as he might saw it.

"Was the horse gone when you learned that she disappeared?" - He looked around the room to meet blank stares and a wall of silence. - "No. They weren't hunting because they are hungry."

"Maybe they took her and there was no room for the horse? That literally doesn't mean anything." - Jesse snapped right back at Joel like a boomerang. But Joel only... Chuckled and looked at Jesse again.

"Ellie told me that there were at least four to five horse tracks when the place was still... Examinable. Do you really think that starving it hungry people would have any problem with attaching the dead horse on two other horses just so they could drag it back to the hell hole they came from, boy?" - Joel crossed his arms over his chest, sending his dead stare into the floor without any other word to say. But then he inhaled quietly and continued with his monologue.

"When you were young, maybe not even born, kiddo, the people were so desperate that they hunt down people to join their cause. It didn't mean if it were sects or clans forming outside the city or the rebellion like the Fireflies." - He chuckled ironically. - "If you didn't want to join them, in the better case, they dropped you off in the woods on your own with some weapon to protect yourself. If you weren't that lucky, they killed you and ate you. Some cults were able to eat you alive if you were too persistent."

Everyone, including the elders, looked at Joel with their eyes opened up. Anyone was sure what should they tell. Until Brie spoke again.

“Do you think that they want to eat... Her? Not the horse?” - She shivered with disgust. It was disgusting and everyone knew it, but there was no way they could stop any of that. That was the world they were living in for some time now - it was either to accept and somehow survive, or refuse and be killed. 

“I wouldn't say so.” - Ellie spoke all of a sudden, catching everyone's stare. - “Joel taught me that strength and power is in numbers. When you have four men using normal guns and twenty savages attacking them, the men would probably loose. I don't think that they would desire to eat her. They are trying to raise the numbers of the soldiers they have.”

“That means that we probably haven't seen the last of them. If they managed to abduct one of us, why would you think that they won't try it again? All we can do at this point is to wait. And to hope that Y/N will manage to survive until we catch one of them.” - Joel said and with that, the discussion started. 

After all, democracy still wasn't a thing that would end up completely. 

---

There was a plate being pushed under the bars of the cell into your small room. You just sat there in a small bundle, watching the man. Only the broken leg was straightened in front of you. 

“The meat will be stiff if you won't eat it right now.” - The man told you, looking you in the face. It was still the forehead licker, he was running the business and he was a pastor and he hasn't left your side since the moment they got you into that hell hole. One time, he even put you on a fucking wheelchair, strapped your palms to it and covered your mouth with a cloth. 

He was still covering your mouth so you couldn't speak even though he had to see that you could barely breathe. It was a few days and the storm outside just would not stop. There was already no chance that they would find you - so you decided to starve yourself to death. 

“Yeah. Fuck you.” - You told him and pushed the plate straight back to forehead licker. 

“You should... Change your attitude a bit, my child. Or do you want to visit our lord again, so you could talk to him about your ails?” - He smiled but left that food on a plate so you could still reach the food.

They wanted to make you invested in their cause, to understand their religion and their God. But you were just against it. You didn't listen, you didn't look, you didn't want to understand. But even if you planned to starve yourself to death, you were hungry as hell and even if it was human meat in front of you, you would most probably eat the shit out of it. 

“I will consider eating it. You have some water on you?” - You teased and chuckled. And you were surprised when he seriously gave you an iron cup of water. Of course, he had some water on him. 

“Now just fuck off man, I want to be alone in my misery with my broken leg.” - You told ironically and looked away from him, finally ignoring him completely. 

That situation was beyond fucked. And you were pretty scared that you will maybe even start to believe his delusions locked up in the big concrete hall.

[babsxkean]

jimbabs playlist - teenage edition 

From Day One to Forever

April 14, 1992 

She’s always hated coming to these parties. 

Her parents stuff her into some hideous tulle confection that her mother has the temerity to call a dress, curling Babs’s red hair -- her best feature, according to Mrs. Kean -- and painting her face so that it looked dewy, one of her mother’s favorite words to describe her appearance and therefore one that Babs loathes with particular intensity. They steer her around like a dog at Westminster, and Babs is forced to smile while men old enough to be her father leer at her, and women praise her looks and her figure and her sweet disposition, as if she’s nothing more than a doll, rather than a young woman burning with resentment and with a longing for freedom.

But then again, it’s at one of these parties that she meets Jim Gordon, so in retrospect, she supposes they aren’t so bad after all.

She manages to sneak away for a cigarette, leaning against the balcony railing with the cigarette poised between her fingers, a thin tendril of smoke curling up into the sky. Staring out at the familiar cityscape sprawling far below her, she wonders what it would be like to live anywhere else. L.A., New York, Miami, Seattle...anywhere would be better than Gotham. 

Specifically, anywhere would be better away from her parents. She’s been raised in the lap of luxury, in this beautiful house, but this place has always been cold, more like a museum than a home. And she’s simply one of the exhibits.

Babs hears footsteps behind her, and she sighs, expecting it to be one of her parents come to collect her. When she turns around, though, she sees an unfamiliar face -- and, she can’t help but notice, a rather gorgeous one. A shaggy blonde fringe sets off bright blue eyes, which study her framed by sculpted features and a strong jaw. 

“Who are you?” she says, and her life changes.

April 28, 1992

Two weeks later, and they’re inseparable -- but he still hasn’t kissed her yet.

It’s driving her crazy, and she’s starting to worry that he actually doesn’t like her all that much. Although why else he would be coming to her house, risking the attention of her parents, she can’t even begin to guess. So he must like her, but if he likes her, why won’t he kiss her?

They’re sitting by the Kean family pool, their feet in the water. Jim has chivalrously lent her his jacket, draped around her slender shoulders. She’s listening to him talk, or at least she’s trying to listen -- but all she can focus on is how very much she wants his lips on hers, those warm, broad palms of his settling on her waist as he pulls her closer.

He’s in the middle of saying something about the baseball team, which she frankly has never paid one bit of attention to before now, when she reaches for his face and turns it toward hers. “Jim,” she sighs, her tone a mixture of affection and impatience.

She kisses him, wrapping one arm around his neck and curling her free hand into the material of his t-shirt. As she hoped he would, he grabs her around the waist and tugs her closer, kissing her back with flattering and reassuring enthusiasm. 

It seems that he does like her after all.

June 14, 1992

“I love you,” she says.

If she’s being honest, she’s wanted to say it before tonight. But she kept telling herself that it was too soon, that she would scare him away. And even by the night by the pool, she knew that losing Jim would break her heart.

But it’s been two months, and they’re alone by the bay, Jim holding her from behind and his chin on her shoulder, both of them facing the water. It’s easier to say it when they stand like this, when she can’t see his face. 

She’s forming a vague plan to just throw herself into the water from the bridge when he kisses her cheek and says into her ear: “I love you, too.”

August 22, 1992

Their first time takes place only yards away from their first kiss, on the foldout couch in the pool house. Maybe it’s not the most romantic of places, but it’s theirs; her parents almost never come in here. The doors lock and Babs has the only key. She thinks they’ve mostly furnished this little house because it’s a status symbol -- not only to have a pool house, period, but to have it fully bedecked with elegant furniture, including a TV and a VCR. 

They spend most of their time here when Jim comes over. Usually, they just curl up together on the couch, Jim’s arm around her and her head nestled against his shoulder as they watch TV or a movie. More than once, when they sit like this, Babs thinks that she’s never felt so safe.

Of course, cuddling and watching television isn’t all they do. Every time Jim kisses her makes her feel like she’s burning up in the most wonderful way, and so she’ll often pass an evening or a Saturday afternoon in a state of feverish pleasure, kissing him over and over again. Lingering, sweet kisses; playful pecks between their conversations; deep kisses that have an edge she is entirely unfamiliar with but is more than willing to explore.

It’s these kisses that take them further than they’ve been before. Often when they kiss like this, it’s Jim who pulls away. He doesn’t want to push her, he says. 

But tonight, as he pulls back, she winds her arms around his neck and kisses him again. “I don’t want to stop,” she says, almost pleading. 

He looks at her for a moment, studying her eyes as if trying to ascertain if she’s serious. She bits her lip and looks up at him, nodding. “Jim, please,” she says. “I mean it. I’m ready, I swear.”

Even more than a physical desire, which is undoubtedly there, she wants the world to narrow down to just the two of them. That’s all she ever wants now. To be swept up in this strong, steady boy who loves her, if only for a little while; and maybe when she comes back to herself, she can carry some of his strength and steadiness with her.

Afterward, they curl together under a blanket, like they’ve done hundreds of times before. The difference now is that she is vitally aware that nothing separates them beneath the blanket, that every inch of her skin is exposed and brushing every now and again against his, each time with a thrilling little frisson. 

She hurts, a little, but it’s not bad. Definitely not as bad as some of her friends made it seem like it would. There’s an ache, and she thinks the difference between her and many of the other girls she knows is that, for them, it’s the ache of something taken; whereas for her, it’s the ache of something willingly given that has left behind something new and tender. 

“Are you okay?”

It’s the fourth time he’s asked this. 

She turns her head to kiss his cheek. “Yes, Jim. I would tell you if I wasn’t.”

They fall asleep like that, and she has to wake him up and kiss him goodbye in a rush just after midnight. Even with this small moment of panic, in which Jim dashes out of the house with, somehow, his shirt on backwards, she doesn’t think she’s ever been happier.

January 5, 1993

She can’t stop crying.

“I’m sorry,” she says, over and over. She can’t stop. Her arms are around Jim’s neck and she’s hiding her face against his chest. She can’t look at him. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

She’s ruined his life, she’s ruined hers. At least that’s what her mother says. Mrs. Kean had wanted Babs to get rid of it without even telling Jim, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t get rid of it at all. 

Because it, for worse or for better, was a baby. Hers and Jim’s baby. Her greatest fear, her only fear, is that Jim will leave -- or his parents will make him leave. The Gordons have never been anything less than kind to her, but right now, she can’t think straight. 

In between desperate, hitching sobs, she tells him, because she won’t do what her mother wants her to do, her parents have kicked her out of the house. “I don’t have anywhere else to go,” she whispers.

Jim manages to pry her off his neck, and even though it feels like forcing boulders out of her mouth, together they tell her parents. “She doesn’t have anywhere to go,” Jim says, clasping Babs to his side as if he’s afraid someone will try to take her away from him.

She’s stopped crying, but tears are still trickling intermittently down her cold cheeks. Mrs. Gordon approaches her, tilts her chin up with one finger, and wipes the tears away with another.

“She’ll stay here,” Mrs. Gordon says firmly. 

Babs looks up at her. “What?”

“You’ll stay here,” Mrs. Gordon repeats. “You’re family now. And I can promise you this, dear, we’ll treat you with the love and support you deserve. Your parents clearly never appreciated what they had in you, but we will.”

Babs hiccups, and then manages to find a smile.

September 23, 1993

“I want to name her Barbara.”

“But your--”

“I know what my own name is, Jim. That’s why I want to name her Barbara. If she was a boy, nobody would think twice if we named her James Jr., so why can’t I name her after myself? I’m the one who was just in labor for 49 hours. What did you do?”

Jim laughs, even though she’s being completely serious. “Well, okay,” he says. “We’ll name her Barbara Lee, how does that sound?”

“Barbara Lee Gordon,” she says softly. “Yes, that sounds nice.”

April 14, 2000

She puts the flower basket into Barbara’s hands, kneeling down in her white dress so that she’s on her daughter’s eye level. “So you know what to do, right?”

Barbara, seven years old with the Kean red hair, tosses her head impatiently in such a Babs-like manner that she has to bite her lip to keep from laughing. “Yeah, I know,” she says. “I grab some petals and I throw them.”

“On the floor,” Babs specifies. “In front of you.”

“Yeah.”

“Not at people.”

“I know!”

“Alright, alright,” Babs says, kissing her daughter’s forehead. “I just wanted to be sure. Today is a special day for all of us.”

She and Jim had discussed getting married a few times since they’d had Barbara, but Babs has always been insistent that it be because they loved each other and wanted to spend their lives together, not just because she’d had Jim’s baby. 

It was one thing to say forever when you were sixteen and caught up in the emotional whirlwind that came with a newborn. She had known, almost from the start, that she wanted to be with Jim for the rest of her life; but she had wanted, almost desperately, for them to be as normal of a couple as possible, despite their circumstances. And a normal couple waited, and spent years together, and grew together before they got married. 

Then Jim had joined the army, the longest two years of Babs’s life. Every time there had been an unexpected knock at the door, her heart had jumped into her throat. Of course, now that he’s home, he’s become a cop, which is only an improvement in that he comes home every night -- well, most nights -- and she knows where to reach him. 

But then again, there was never any doubt in her mind that Jim would have gone into some recklessly noble profession, in order to protect the city that he loves; the fact that she sincerely doubts anyone can really save Gotham is something she does her best to keep to herself. 

She had known he was going to propose almost as soon as he returned home. She hadn’t found the ring itself, but she’d found the receipt; and she’d spent days in a feverish anticipation that became more and more panic-stricken as time wore on. What if he’d changed his mind? Was it possible he’d met someone else? She certainly couldn’t ask him about any of this, because she wasn’t even supposed to know!

And then one night, he took her to one of her favorite restaurants, where the dress code was strictly black tie and the wine was served in crystal glasses. She had expected it to hide the ring in the champagne, or the dessert -- although personally she’d never understood that, considering that seemed like such a choking hazard, and an expensive one at that -- but they ordered both, and no dice. 

Or no ring, rather.

Babs was distinctly put out, and increasingly nervous, so when they got home, she almost didn’t notice. Her favorite flowers were set out in a vase on the coffee table, two lit tapers on either side throwing warm, flickering shadows over the petals and a box of the Belgian chocolates that she loved. 

When Jim cleared his throat, Babs turned around to find him on one knee, the ring box open in his hand. “Oh, I hate you,” she said, starting to laugh and cry at the same time.

But of course she said yes.

They hadn’t really wanted a big wedding, which had surprised people when it came to Babs. The only material thing she really cared about was the dress -- she had longed since she was a little girl to look like a princess at her wedding. Everything else, she was more than happy to compromise with Jim about. 

Only three people really matter today -- first is Babs herself, of course. She is the bride, after all.

And then there’s Barbara, who walks ahead of her mother down the aisle, dutifully scattering rose petals before taking a seat next to Jim’s mother, who sat front and center on Jim’s side of the church. The fact that Babs’s side was nearly empty was something she resolutely pushed from her mind. 

The only other person who matters today is standing in front of her at the altar, wearing a finely tailored suit and a smile so wide it makes her chest hurt. God, he was handsome. For eight years, he had been such a rock for her, the first person in her life to ever really show her that she was worthy of love, to love her at all.

Her own parents aren’t here, but she doesn’t care. Jim’s father walks her down the aisle, and she feels like the pace is too slow; she just wants to be married to him already. Suddenly, it seems like she’s been waiting for this particular moment forever, and she realizes she wouldn’t care if it was just her, and Jim, and Barbara here with the minister.

She doesn’t realize her fingers are trembling out of sheer nerves until Jim’s hands are grasping hers, and he steadies her. Just like he always has. 

“I, Barbara, take you, James…”

Has she ever called him James before? Anyway. Focus, Babs.

“...to be my lawfully wedded husband. To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse…”

The vows seem to take forever, especially since she’s terrified of flubbing and coming off like an idiot. Which is so entirely not the point right now, but she is who she is.

Then finally, finally, the minister says, “You may kiss the bride.”

And she kisses her husband. 

[simkaswriting]

I’m in love with my car-(Roger Taylor)

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: swearing, Roger being an all around clueless ass really

Summary: in which Roger finally admits his love for (Y/N) after some soul searching with Brian

A/N- can be read as both irl Roger and BohRap Roger, the story doesn’t specify.

“Please give a warm welcome to her majesty, Queen!” the venue owner shouts into the microphone, a beaming smile present on his lipstick-stained face. He’s rocking a moustache of a true 70s pornstar that he’s no doubt very proud of, and bright red bell-bottoms that could potentially put Freddie to shame. 

As he walks off stage, the people around me erupt into a cacophony of whoops and yeahs. Tonight the venue is packed, not that it usually isn’t filled to the brim with fans. But tonight, it seems like the capacity has more than doubled. 

Brian and John walk on first, smiles on their faces as they adjust their instruments. The crowd goes wild once again, causing John to flash the general crowd a bashful smile. He’s always been the more reserved one when performing live. Brian finds my face in the front of the crown, and I offer him a supportive smile. Roger walks on stage next, and before he even has the chance to wave at the fans and take his seat, the people all start cheering for him, the distinguishable voices of many women ringing out above all else. But that’s not unusual, Roger has always been quite the ladies man, to my annoyance. Though before the crowd has a chance to catch their breath, Freddie strides out onto the stage, his hands high in the air, a shit-eating grin on his face. He’s wearing sparkling silver platforms and a checked leotard, one he made himself. 

Pride washes over me as the guys dive head-first into their first song, ‘Keep Yourself Alive’, and the people immediately start jumping and pumping their fists in the air. 

As the guys play through their songs, the crowd gets more wild and into the moment, until Freddie announces that Roger’s going to be singing ‘I’m In Love With My Car’. I can see the teasing smile on Brian's face, and I can’t help but recall the hilarious conversation the guys had at the farm a little while back. Freddie sits down at the front of the stage, knowing well he won’t have to be singing much for this song, just backing vocals. After all, it’s a song Roger wrote as an ode to his beloved cars, so this is on him. Rog rolls up his sleeves to his elbows and winks at the general audience, an act enough to drop the panties off of 90% of women in the room. An act that annoys me, for no apparent reason, other than my deeply-buried adoration for the blond drummer.

As the song goes on, through the many raw vocals and metaphors for sexual acts, I notice more and more women pushing to the front of the stage, flirty smiles on their lips, no doubt wanting to get noticed by the one and only Roger Taylor. And I honestly can’t blame them, he is a sight for sore eyes. 

The band finish playing the last few songs, and spend a few minutes at the front of the stage, talking to their fans and signing whatever gets passed their way. I use this time to make my way out of the crown and stand at the bar, watching them with admiration in my eyes. If you’d told me a few years ago that the crazy guys who’d sold out pubs in our home town would become my best friends, I’d have laughed in your face. They were, or rather still are, four misfits who don’t fit together yet despite this call themselves family. 

My eyebrows furrow as I see a blonde girl hand Roger a piece of paper, no doubt with her number on it, and press a chaste kiss to his grinning face. The acrid feeling in my stomach worsens when I see him whisper something into her ear before sending a quick wink her way as the guys start heading off stage. I close my eyes for a brief moment, taking some calming breaths. Sure, logically there’s no reason for why I should be acting the way I currently am, all bothered about what I see at almost every gig. Roger is my best friend, an attractive guy who clearly knows it and takes advantage of it. At the end of the day, we aren’t together, despite how much I crave it. 

Opening my eyes, I make my way out of the venue and round the back, where the guys are already packing their gear away. Freddie welcomes me with a grand smile, his platforms making him a lot taller than me to my disdain. “How did you find the show, darling?” He asks, stepping out of Rogers way so he can get his drums in the tour bus as soon as possible.

Ignoring the blond, I grin back at Freddie. “Amazing, even better than the Glasgow gig last Wednesday. You guys really know how to get the crowd going.” 

John nods to himself. “She’s right, this venue was way more packed than Kings Merchant.”

Roger and Brian lock up the instruments and walk over to the three of us. Roger casually slings his arm around my shoulders, smile not leaving his face. “(Y/N) is always right, you should know this by now.” 

Brian and John exchange a look I don’t quite understand, but I dismiss it. Instead, I turn my head to look at the drummer who’s still got his arm around me with a proud smile, and find myself instinctively leaning against his side for support, not that I need it. “You should suck my dick like this more, it suits you.” I tease Roger, looking into his gorgeous eyes with a mischievous gleam in my own ones. 

Just as Brian’s about to say something, I assume along the lines of ‘lets get on the road I’m tired of talking about sucking dicks’, there’s a distinct voice begging for our attention. Or rather, Rogers. 

The blonde girl from the gig is walking towards us, her smile as bright as this bands future. The arm around me slowly slips off, as if he was ashamed to be in such close proximity to me, and I don’t bother looking at Roger before heading into the bus. I really don’t want to deal with my best friend flirting with someone tonight. The man I’m pretty sure my stupid head has decided to fall in love with. I beeline for my bunk and pretty much dive in, not caring that I’m still wearing the dress I wore to the gig. My capacity for dealing with constant unintentional rejection has reached its peak, and I’m over it. It tires me just trying to be around Roger at this point, when all it does is hurt me. And worst of all, I can’t be mad with him. It’s impossible. With a small huff, I burry my head in my pillow and slowly drift off to sleep just as the bus begins to move.

Rogers POV

“What’s gotten into (Y/N) tonight? She never goes to sleep so early. She should be drinking us all to shame right now.” I ask Brian, who’s trying to read one of his books on stars or whatever. Probably something nerdy. He looks up at me from between the pages of the thick book, watching as I light a cigarette and take a slow drag, before shaking his head. John decides to opt out at this stage and go sit with our driver, whereas Freddy walks away to sit at the back of the bus. They’re probably tired of hearing me talking about her so much. 

Did I do something to piss her off? Should I have dedicated my car song so her, like I usually do? Am I not spending enough time with her? Perhaps that’s it. Brian shakes his head, heavy hair shaking like some sort of palm tree amidst a windy day in Hawaii. He sets the book down on the small centre table, before crossing his arms and leaning back against the sofa with one of his signature ‘shits about to get personal’ looks.

“I would really love to take a look inside of your head, just to see what goes on in there. Because by the looks of it, not much.” He sighs, cocking his head to the side. 

I scowl at him, standing up and beginning to pace in the limited space we have. Almost obsessively, I take drags of the cigarette until there’s nothing but the burnt filter left. If he thinks he can just insult me without even minimal help, then he can go fuck himself. 

“You know what? Fuck you and your self-righteous ass.” I growl and brace myself against the kitchen counter. Why are women so difficult? No, let me rephrase. Women aren’t that difficult. But (Y/N)? It’s like she’s her own specimen at this point. I can’t keep up with her mood swings. If I didn’t know better, I'd go blaming the sudden change of attitude on shark week. 

“Roger, calm down. What I’m trying to say is, the answer is as obvious as Freddy’s love for cats. Think about it. When does she get all bothered? What usually happens around that time?” Brian prods further, obviously knowing the answer, but wanting me to figure it out for myself. 

With a small breath, I sit down opposite him and begin to absentmindedly fiddle with my fingers. Is there a tell-tale sign? It’s been getting worse with her recently, she’s more moody and doesn’t let me touch her as much anymore. She’s my best friend, I’d do anything to make her happy. 

“I don’t know, May. I can’t crack that girl.” I sigh in defeat, officially one step away from taking Fred’s white lizard-like jacket and waving it as the white flag of surrender. 

Brian sighs. “Why do you think she gets so hurt the majority of time we play?” It’s quiet for a few minutes, just the humming of the tour bus and the distant sound of John talking with our driver, and his question hanging heavy in the air. 

Something that happens when we perform? I try to think of what I said, or did, tonight. I analyse every single thing that happened that could have upset her. She was fine before the concert, and during it. It was just after that she became-

“Holy shit Brian you genius!” I exclaim, shooting up from the couch so fast I almost trip over my own feet. How did I not realise before? I mean, I know I can be clueless, but to this extent? How have I not noticed that the best girl for me was hiding right under my nose?

Brian’s eyebrows shoot up, but a smirk of dare I say pride takes place on his face. “Feel free to say that again.” He chuckles, before making a ‘shoo’ motion in the direction of the bunks and picking his book back up. 

“In your dreams mate.” I call over my shoulder, before walking with determination to the bed I know has (Y/N) in it. Sleeping or not, I have a lot of apologising to do, and if all goes well, I’ll be dedicating the next performance of ‘Love of My Life’ to my best friend of 5 years.

I quietly pull aside the curtain, a small smile fighting it’s way to my lips when I see how messy her hair is. It’s like Brian’s on a bad day, but times ten. Gently, I brush some of it out of her eyes, the smile now impossible to stop. She’s beautiful.

“Hey, sleeping beauty, wake up.” I whisper, slightly blowing wind at her face in an effort to get her up quicker. It just so happens to be my lucky day by the looks of it, as her eyes flutter open, momentary confusion settling in before an annoyed expression appears on her beautiful features. 

“Would it kill you to brush your teeth every once in a while, Rog?” She hisses, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Always one for snappy comments, no matter the time of day. 

I roll my eyes at her, definitely making a mental note of what she said for later. “Yeah, I get that a lot. Listen, (Y/N). I’m not what one calls a good man. I hurt you, and I will forever be sorry about that. I wish I could take it all back, all of those women, the one night stands. I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you.”

She’s quiet, absentmindedly biting her lip, as if trying to digest what I just said. And I don’t blame her. I seldom voice feelings like these, especially towards women. 

“I didn’t realise that I’d had my Aston Martin here, in front of me all of these years, and I was just a dumbass chasing after some off-season Morris Marina in the colour beige.” I ramble, frowning and gesticulating left, right and centre. She looks at me in confusion. 

“Hold on. Did you just compare me to a car?” She asks, her voice laced with sleepiness and incredulousness. Her eyes scan my face for a few seconds, presumably looking for a hint of amusement or mischief. But when she doesn’t find any trace of it, her demeanour suddenly becomes serious, almost amorous. 

I crack a small, nervous smile. “ Well, yeah I did. ‘Cause I’m in love with my car.”

[porkchop-ao3]

J19Z7 trying pegging?

Wooo boy. At first I didn’t know how to tackle this, I wasn’t sure if Zeta-7 was the kind of Rick to want to try this… But my pegging-loving ass simply couldn’t let this one slip. Lots of embarrassed Doofus Rick in this one, but don’t worry, he enjoys himself in the end ;3

5k+ words! Of course, there’s butt stuff and pegging. Also oral. The reader is the same character who works at a strip club on the citadel, who’s appeared in a couple of my fics with Zeta-7 in the past :)

Enjoy!

-

“Would you mind passing me my red corset? It’s in the middle drawer.” I asked Rick. I was getting ready to go to work, and he was sat at my dressing table having spent the day with me, and was making the most of every minute by sticking around to watch me get ready. I’d done my makeup, and now I was packing tonight’s ‘uniform’ ready to change into at work.

“Of course.” He said cheerily as he walked over to my dresser and pulled open the specified drawer. “Oh!” He gasped in surprise, and I immediately felt guilty.

“Ah, I’m sorry. I should’ve warned you. I didn’t think.” I shook my head and walked over to him, reaching past him to pick up the garment in mind before reaching to shut the drawer. Rick caught my wrist.

“I-i-it’s okay. I was j-just surprised.” He assured me, though his cheeks were pink as he stared down at the contents of the drawer. The knowledge had escaped me at the time, but it was where I kept my sex toys as well as some of my racier underwear; the type I mostly wore at work. I noticed his eyes were homed in on one particular toy, though, and I couldn’t pretend to not know why.

“You’re probably wondering why I have that, huh?” I asked, and Rick looked up at me, a curious frown on his face.

“Well, forgive me, I-I-I don’t have an awful lot of knowledge within this subject. Those straps, it looks as if it’s intended to be worn.” He pointed out, and I nodded my head. I picked it up to show him. It was my strap-on dildo.

“That’s right. I would wear this if I- well, I’ve had a few female partners in the past, and so… you get the idea.” I laughed, flushing.

“Oh! Yes… I-I do.” He laughed too, going even redder than I was. “You, um, you are interested in women?” He asked quietly, looking up at me.

“Yeah… sometimes.” I smiled. “I like both.”

“Wow, I never knew that about you.” He smiled at me, and I was happy to see him so accepting of the new information; though I never once doubted that he would be. He was far too sweet to hold any prejudice.

“Well, you learn something new everyday.” I said, putting the toy away and closing the drawer. “I’m sorry to expose you to all my… phalluses.” I snorted, then wandered back over to where my work bag laid on the bed. Rick laughed at my choice of words and shook his head.

“It’s okay! I think that you and I… well, I like to think we’re very close. W-we can share these things with each other, you know?” He said, sounding almost nervous. When I looked at him, he was chewing on his bottom lip and looking at the ground.

“Close? Yes. I like to think so too.” I chuckled. We’d been together for a number of months, and our sex lives had progressively gotten better and better since the first time we’d slept together and Rick had been extremely nervous. He seemed to be getting more and more comfortable with intimacy, beginning to suggest things more often, expressing curiosity in trying new things. It was an exciting process that only made me fall deeper and deeper for him. “Something on your mind?” I asked, noting his sudden sheepishness.

“Nothing! I-I-I’m just thinking about things. Not to worry, you will be leaving for work soon, I don’t want to make you late.” He smiled, looking up at me. I finished putting my things in my bag and walked back over to him, cupping his cheeks and pulling him in for a soft kiss. His hands found my waist, holding on gently as I led the kiss, tilting my head to deepen it.

“Okay. But, you can talk to me about things on your mind, remember? My shift is a short one tonight, I’ll be back sometime after eleven. If you want to, you can hang out here, stay the night with me. Don’t worry about waiting up, either.” I said to him, and he nodded his head.

“Th-that sounds nice.” He nodded eagerly, and leaned in to kiss me again. It was always nice when he was the one to initiate a kiss. “Y-you’d better get going. I will be here when you get back.”

“Love you.” I whispered as I pulled him into a short embrace. He laughed giddily at my words.

“Love you too!” He said back.

My shift at Spearmint Rick’s dragged. It was mid-week, so it wasn’t as busy as it usually was, and my favourite regulars were nowhere to be seen. It was funny, everyone in the place was a Rick, but I still had my favourites; the ones who made me laugh, that I got along with the most. It was rather dull when they weren’t around, and I found myself going through the motions almost robotically. I usually enjoyed my work, there was a fun social aspect that I missed on quiet evenings. I was glad to reach the end of my shift, hurrying to the dressing rooms as soon as the clock hit eleven to get changed back into my comfy clothes. I realised as I rushed out to my car that one of the reasons why I was so eager to get home, was because I was missing Rick. Even after spending the whole day together, being separated from him for the few hours of my shift had been an unwelcome thing. Perhaps it was because we’d spent the day cuddled up on the sofa binge watching a funny little TV show that he’d picked out, and it’d been so relaxing and comforting. I hadn’t quite been ready to give that up when I had to start getting ready for work, and I was looking forward to climbing back into my nice little bubble with him.

When I let myself into my apartment, I noticed that the TV was on and showing a late night rerun of a nature documentary. Shots of penguins sliding around on their bellies into water lit up the dark room; the lights were all off, and when I approached the sofa, I noticed that Rick was asleep. He was sat upright with his arms crossed, and his head slumped down, telling me he’d unintentionally nodded off. I made my way over to him and reached out to stroke my fingers through his hair, softly repeating his name in a bid to wake him up. He couldn’t sleep like that all night; his neck would be sore in the morning. He slowly lifted his head to look at me, appearing dazed and groggy.

“Ohh, I’m sorry. I-I-I didn’t mean to fall asleep, I wanted to be awake for you when you got back.” He said quietly, rubbing the back of his neck to work out some of the stiffness.

“I said not to worry about waiting up.” I said, smiling at his adorable, tired eyes. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.” I laughed, holding my hand out to him in order to help him up. I led him into my bedroom, dropping my work bag on the floor by the door before I walked into the ensuite to get ready for bed. Eleven generally was an early night for me, and I was looking forward to curling up next to Rick. He joined me as I brushed my teeth; he stayed at my house so often that he had his own toothbrush that lived in the pot next to mine, and we stood side by side as we brushed our teeth.

“How was work?” He asked, his voice muffled by the toothbrush in his mouth.

“A little boring. Middle of the week; always the same.” I admitted, spitting out some excess toothpaste froth. “It’s nice to be home.” I smiled at him.

I rinsed my mouth out then turned and changed into my pyjamas, and was pleased to see that Rick no longer awkwardly averted his eyes when I undressed in front of him. By now he knew that I didn’t mind him seeing my body, and he was close enough to me that he was comfortable watching.

“That documentary on TV was very in-interesting, I wish you could’ve watched it with me. It was all about Antarctica, i-it showed you a momma polar bear and her babies. I think you’d have liked it.” He said after rinsing his mouth and turning to look at me. “Perhaps they’ll show it again s-soon.”

“That does sound like something I’d like.” I agreed, pulling my top over my head and unhooking my bra. Rick didn’t look down right away, focusing on my eyes for a moment before the urge got the better of him. “If they do show it again, I’ll gladly watch it with you.”

“Th-they- um, they also had seals and things, they were… they were very sweet.” He added distractedly, watching as I bent down to grab the oversized t-shirt that I wore to bed from where I’d left it on the floor that morning. I pulled it on and shuffled out of my pants. Rick’s cheeks were pink, and I closed the gap between us and cupped his cheeks. I was going in for a kiss when he spoke. “I would like to- uhh, I would v-very much like to make love to you, tonight. I-i-if you would like that.” He said, surprising me. Rick didn’t often ask for these kinds of things so straightforwardly.

My answer was non-verbal; I kissed him, entering my tongue into his mouth and playfully flicking the tip of his own. He moaned softly, wrapping his arms around me, his hands soon slipping under my shirt to touch my skin. I reached for his lab coat, pushing it off of his shoulders and leaving it to lay across the counter he was leaning against, then moved to his belt next, not breaking the kiss as I deftly unbuckled it and pulled open his pants. He made a sound, and I broke the kiss to look at him, to make sure he was okay. He was a little out of breath, looking down at me with need in his eyes. I continued to look at those eyes as I pushed my hand under the waistband of his underwear, my fingertips brushing over his hardening cock. I took him in my hand and stroked him, feeling him grow and stiffen at my touch.

“What would you like to do? How… how do you wanna do this, baby?” I asked him as I jerked his length, hearing soft little sighs surface as he became fully erect.

“I-I-I don’t mind. Any- any way you like.” Came his answer, and I let go of him and led him through to my bedroom. I pushed him down onto my bed and climbed on after him, pulling his sweater over his head and feeling the smooth planes of his chest.  

“I want to please you, Rick. We always do what I want. Please, you can tell me; I’ll try anything.” I said, scooting further up his body to grind against his crotch, readjusting him so his cock emerged from within his pants, and I could trap it between my pussy and his belly as I rocked back and forth.

“I-I-I couldn’t say… I like what we normally do, a lot.” He said, though his eyes wandered across the room with purpose. I followed his gaze, finding my dresser at the end of it; specifically, the middle drawer.

“Something in there? You want me to, umm, dress up in something nice for you?” I assumed, and Rick looked back up at me and shook his head, an expression on his face like he’d been caught out.

“No. I-I mean, n-not that that would be bad. I think I would like that… but that’s not what I’m thinking about.” He said, closing his eyes and rolling his head back as I increased my pace. He groaned pretty loudly, and I giggled at how vocal he could be when I worked him up just right.

“One of my toys then? You wanna see me use one of them?” I asked, getting ready to get up. He grabbed my thighs to keep me in place, opening his eyes to look at me.

“Y-you don’t have to do that. I… it’s okay, I want to do what we normally do, w-w-we can both enjoy that, right?” He said, laughing a little uncomfortably.

“There’s something on your mind. I can tell.” I said, stilling my hips and thinking back to before I’d left for work, and how it’d seemed like he was holding something back then. “If you want to ask me something, ask me. I won’t bite.”

“I won’t- I can’t say it.” He admitted after a fair amount of lip chewing.

“Why not, sweetie?”

“It’s something that's… I don’t know if you’ll like it. It’s not- it’s a little s-strange.” He sighed, covering his face with his hands. I didn’t try to pull them away, I’d let him hide himself if it would bring him comfort.

“I’m all for trying something strange.” I giggled, running my fingertips over his nipples. “What if I guess; will you tell me if I get it right?” I asked.

“O-okay.” He nodded.

“Hmm, alright. It’s definitely something to do with what’s in that drawer, right?” I asked, and he nodded again. “Okay. You want me to… dress up in one of my work things and give you a dance?” I asked.

“N-no.” He shook his head. I pursed my lips in thought.

“You want to dress up in my work clothes and give me a da-”

“No!” He said more harshly, pulling his hands away from his face and staring at me with wide eyes. “I-I-I don’t think they’d fit me, anyway…” He added. I laughed, shaking my head.

“Stab in the dark. You said it was strange…” I trailed off with a shrug. “Hmm, you wanna play with my toys then, surely.” I shrugged, and he gave me an expression that indicated that I was kind of right.

“You aren’t wr-wrong.”

“Okay. Wanna borrow one, try it for yourself?” I guessed, and Rick pressed his lips together, not saying anything. “You do. Which one? Oh, wait. I think I’ve got it.” I said, my eyes widening slightly. Rick groaned a little in embarrassment, covering his face again.

“I don’t wanna play this game anymore. N-nevermind.” He said, is voice thick with shame. I bent down and kissed the backs of his hands until he parted them, and then I kissed his lips.

“Do you want me to use my strap-on, is that it?” I asked, and Rick didn’t respond at all. “It’s okay. You can be honest. If that’s what you would like, I’m more than happy to oblige. It sounds like a lot of fun.” I smiled widely.

“Y-y-you’d actually enjoy that?” He asked me, and I nodded.

“Yeah. Trying new things in the bedroom is almost always fun.” I told him, rocking my hips a little again. “And I love making you feel good. I’m down to discover new ways of doing that, baby.”

“I-I-I’m just very curious, that’s all… I’ve never seen one and I- I’m just curious.” He shook his head at himself, looking down through the gap between our bodies.

“Of course. You’re a man of science, curiosity is in your nature. I’m sure it’d be very interesting for you to, ahh, experiment a little bit. Yes?” I asked, and Rick nodded eagerly.

“Oh, yes. Y-you know me very well.”

“Alright. In the name of science, then…” I grinned cheekily at him before getting up and running over to the drawer. I pulled out the object in question as well as my bottle of lube and made my way back over to him; the toy attached to the harness was fairly small, I felt confident that it would be suitable for a beginner so Rick would be able to handle it.

He looked between me and the toy nervously, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed hard. I tossed it onto the bed before climbing back on top of him, leaning down to cup his face. I kissed him once, twice, before stroking my thumbs over his cheeks.

“You okay?” I asked, and he nodded his head; though he was hesitant to do so. “We can stop any time. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

“I-I-I’m not uncomfortable! I’m just… I’m nervous. Don’t worry about me.” He shook his head, and I offered him a smile.

“It’s okay. No need to be nervous, we’re gonna go nice and slow.” I whispered, then crawled down his body, climbing off of him so I could pull his pants down and off, so he was completely naked before me. I was quick to pull my t-shirt off, exposing my breasts so he wouldn’t feel so alone in his vulnerability. I reached for his cock again, jerking him back to hardness since lack of stimulation and nervousness had him flagging. It didn’t take long, and I was soon taking him into my mouth, eliciting a shaky sigh from him.

“Ughhh, yeah, th-that always feels so incredible.” He breathed, sitting up on his elbow and reaching down to stroke my hair. I slowly glided my lips up and down his length, rolling my tongue around the head when I pulled back, humming around him when I pushed down. I worked on him with my mouth for a while before pulling off and replacing my mouth with my hand. I looked up at him, licking my lips.

“I’m gonna use my fingers on you, okay? Can you keep relaxed for me?” I said softly, and his eyes widened. He looked mortified by what I was saying, and began to protest.

“N-no, it’s okay. I can do that to myself s-so that I'm… ready. You don’t have to put your fingers there.” He assured me, and I stroked my hand up and down his inner thigh, coaxing his legs open wider.

“Are you suggesting that for your sake, or mine?” I asked, and when he didn’t respond, I sighed softly, pressing kisses to his hip bone. “I’m not forcing myself to do this, Rick. You aren’t putting me out. I’m into this, don’t you see that?”

“It’s not… it can’t be pleasant for you, touching me there. Can it? It's… well, you know what it’s for. Doesn’t that m-make you feel uncomfortable?” He asked, looking away from me in embarrassment.

“Relax. This doesn’t have to be a big deal, if I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t have agreed. Trust me, Rick. Open your legs for me baby, if you wanna do this I gotta make sure you’re ready.” I said, and he did what I said with a little whine. “Would you enjoy fingering my asshole, if it made me feel good?” I asked him, and he covered his face with his hands again, leaning his head back into the mattress.

“Oh, um… yes.” He admitted bashfully.

“See? I wanna make you feel good. That’s all I want.” I told him, then reached for the lube and squirted some out onto my fingers. I rubbed the lube between my fingers to warm it up a little, before gently pressing my index and middle finger to his back passage, feeling him flinch. I stroked the two digits over the pucker, circling it and coating it in the lube. Rick’s breath was shaky, and he pulled his hands away from his face so he could look down at me.

“Th-that’s nice.” He whispered, biting on his bottom lip.

“Yeah? You ever do this to yourself, Rick?” I asked him, then gently pressed my middle finger to his entrance, breaching slowly. Rick’s breath caught, and he rolled his head back against the bed again.

“S-sometimes.” He admitted, to my surprise. I pushed in to the second knuckle, and gently massaged his inner walls, hearing him whimper as I did.

“Mm, that’s a mental image to commit to memory.” I giggled, and Rick moaned softly. I took his cock in my free hand, giving him slow, loose strokes, just to keep him going.

“You can, uhh, y-y-you can add another.” He said quietly, and I bit my lip hard, a rush of arousal flooding my loins at the way he was warming up to me. I gave him what he needed, pushing my index finger in to join the other. Rick moaned, getting louder when I started pumping my fingers in and out, feeling him loosen up as he relaxed into the sensations. “D-deeper.” He breathed, wriggling on my bed. I complied, sinking in as deep as I could, rocking my fingertips against a spot that had Rick groaning louder than he had been all evening.

“Is that nice, Rick?” I asked him, shuffling on the bed to get closer to him, focusing my finger on the spot that got such a strong reaction.

“Y-yes!” He gasped, rocking his hips a little. “Oh, gosh. That feels so good! I need- I want-” he was panting, groaning between words.

“What do you want, baby?” I asked him, rubbing my thumb over the head of his cock, a guttural grunt came from him, and I pulled my thumb away to watch a string of precum stretch between us. I felt myself becoming increasingly damp, it wouldn’t belong before there was a wet spot on my underwear.

“Another; I-I-I’m ready.” He told me, and I smiled as I pulled my fingers out almost all the way, pushing back in with three this time. “F-fuh- oh gosh.” He whined, rolling his hips up into my hand, effectively fucking my fist as I thrust my fingers in and out of him.

“God, you look hot like this.” I breathed, the words coming out without my permission. Rick opened his eyes to look at me at this, licking his lips and lowering his eyelids; I didn’t doubt that it was unintentional, but the expression only made him look sexier.

“I feel… oh God. I feel so good.” He whispered, his eyes glazing over a little with pleasure. I studied his face, making sure to lock that image away in my mind for later. His cock oozed precum onto my knuckles at an impressive rate, and I couldn’t resist bending down to lick it away, tasting him with a groan. “P-please, we can- I need you to…” he trailed off, reaching his hand out and patting the bed next to him until he found the strap-on. He picked it up, looking it over once and inspecting its size before thrusting it at me.

I gently removed my fingers and let go of him, taking the toy from him. I watched him with an excited smile as I put it on, fastening the straps snugly around my hips. I still had my panties on, and with a flash of inspiration I quickly darted over to the dresser again, pulling a small bullet vibrator out before making my way back to him. I crawled onto the bed between his legs, pushing them wide for me as I nudged closer to him. Rick watched me with interest as I turned on the vibrator and pressed it between my legs, rubbing it up and down over my slit through my panties, moaning at the sensations. Not wanting to keep Rick waiting, I slipped the vibrator into my underwear, nestling it between my folds and pulling my panties up tight to hold it in place. I shuddered at the constant stimulation at my clit, clenching and twitching as it slid around in my wetness with my every move.

“Ready baby?” I asked, and Rick nodded his head with certainty. I picked up the lube, smothering a generous amount onto my strap-on, stroking it from base to tip as Rick watched with pink cheeks and parted lips. The remaining lube, I swiped over his cock, jacking him nice and slow as I lined up with his ass. I stroked the tip of the toy against his entrance for a while, feeling the resistance melt away by the time I pushed forwards. The toy was very slim, not much more of a stretch than three fingers, but I still went slowly, pausing every inch or so giving Rick time to adjust. When I was buried so far, the base of the strap on pressed against the tip of my vibrator and I whined at the added pressure.

“So good. Oh God, b-beautiful. F-” he hesitated, squeezing his eyes shut and grabbing hold of the sheets below him for dear life. “Fuck me, p-please.” He whispered, his words contributing to the ever growing wet spot on my panties. I thrusting out and back into him immediately, starting off slow, and quickly noticing the way Rick was trying to rock back against me much faster than I was going.

“You want me to go faster, baby?” I asked, voice shaky and breathless; not yet with exertion, just pure arousal.

“Yes! Please, I-I-I need it… it feels better when it’s faster.” He told me, and I grinned. I wondered just how much he’d experimented on his own… and I couldn’t help but also wonder if he’d experimented with someone else. Perhaps this wasn’t the first time he’d experienced this kind of intercourse. The thought spurred me on, and suddenly I was more eager than ever to please him. I tightened my grip on his cock, pumping him in time with my thrusts, he was bouncing back and forth on the bed, mouth hanging open. Moans rolled from him in waves, increasing in intensity when I angled my hips just so.

“Ughh, this is so fucking fun.” I said, laughing with something close to joy radiating from every huff. An amused grin formed on Rick’s face.

“Y-you’re telling m-me.” He stammered, his back arching as he tilted his hips, grunting loudly as he chased an angle that obviously worked for him.

“Mmh, my pussy’s so wet because of you, Rick. I’m gonna cum in my panties from fucking you. How’d you like that?” I asked, clenching my teeth as my vibrator bumped against my clit with each thrust. It felt incredible.

“Ohh, p-please. I like to w-watch your face when you climax.” He admitted, looking down at where we were joined at the pelvis, his eyes slowly tracing up my body; over my breasts before finally settling on my face again. “I feel like- like I won’t be able to control m-myself much longer.”

“Don’t even try, baby. I wanna push you over the edge. Watch you cum all over yourself.” I growled, feeling less and less in control of my words as I tiptoed closer to my climax. Rick whined and squeezed his eyes shut, flushing at my vulgar language. I stroked my free hand up to his chest, rolling his nipples under my fingers one by one. I wanted to surround him with stimulation, completely overwhelm him so he couldn’t help but let go, I wanted him to feel better than he ever had before. I buried myself deep inside Rick, rubbing my hips in an upward motion so the strap-on pressed firmly against his prostate; grinding and supplying unrelenting stimulation. Rick gasped, throwing his head back, and in seconds he was shooting his load over his stomach and my hand. I groaned lewdly as I watched him spurt, his cum shooting high with an impressive arch while his body shook beneath me.

“Ohh fuck! Fuck yeah, ughh.” He groaned, pushing his hips down on me, pressing the vibrator firmly against my clit. I continued to grind against him as my pleasure crested, tumbling over a precipice and having me panting and drenching my underwear.

The two of us took a while to recover from our climaxes, but soon enough I was whimpering and fumbling to pull the vibrator out of my underwear, eager to get it away from my painfully engorged clit. The slick thing slipped out of my grip, but I managed to hold it long enough to turn it off before I let it drop onto the mattress. I pulled out of Rick carefully, not bothering to detangle myself from the strap-on before I threw myself down on the bed next to Rick. He had his eyes closed, panting heavily beside me. I waited patiently for some sort of reaction from him, perhaps reassurance that he was okay. After a few long moments, I realised he wasn’t speaking any time soon.

“Are you… are you okay?” I asked, still embarrassingly out of breath.

“Y-yes.” He replied, slowly sitting upright. I watched him as he glanced down at himself; at the white streaks he’d painted across his chest. “That, um, that was… I’ve never experienced anything like that before.” He told me, looking at me over his shoulder.

“Did you like it?” I asked, unable to keep the concern from etching itself into my features. Rick smiled, breathing a quiet laugh.

“V-very much.” He nodded. I smiled in relief, sitting up and crawling up behind him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders; apologising when I accidentally poked him in the back with my strap-on. We shared a laugh and I removed it before going back to him.

“So did I. I’ve never done anything like that with a man. It was different, exciting.” I whispered, pressing a number of kisses into his shoulder. “Thank you for being honest with me about wanting to try something new. I know it’s not always easy.”

“Th-thank you for being so nice.” He laughed sheepishly. I looked over his shoulder down at his front, humming out a pleased little sound when I looked at his chest. I didn’t know what possessed me to do it, but I found myself reaching down, dragging my hand over his ejaculate, a little moan escaping me. Rick turned his head to look at me; well, as much as he could with our proximity. “I-I know that it’s late, and you probably want to go to sleep… but I need to c-clean myself up. I, um, I don’t suppose you’d l-like to take a bath with me?”

“I’d love to.” I grinned at him, kissing his cheek before releasing him and getting up; heading off to run us a nice hot bath. I couldn’t think of a better reason to stay up late.