#all that’s left of this site is just us and the naked ladies isn’t it

[hide-the-moonlight]

Is anyone else following this tag currently suffering from the amount of spam bot posts that render my feed completely nsfw? ;-; im suffering

[1kook]

espn & bdsm

this is part 6 of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills.  warnings; smut (18+) in the forms of brief femdom, handcuffs, nipple clamps, blindfolding, flogging/use of a riding crop, soft dom kook, cunnilingus, spitting, unprotected but passionate, degradation, as always it starts horny n then turns into I love u kink miscellaneous; kook has a swollen ankle so idk how he did all this, jk abuses the fuck outta pet names part 7, revenge gone wrong tbh, this was honestly a beginner’s intro to vanilla bdsm word count; 12.7k

notes; this is like… a healing fic… for the part before lol. also i did not know what was going to happen next as I was writing. anyway entire smut scene was based off THIS bad boy ur welcome fellas and the Jungkook described here is from in the soop episode 2... cutie... yes every single 1 of those words is a link

lmk what you think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

You're at the nail salon with Doyeon when she first mentions it.

“Have you ever, like,” she pauses, making a vague, swivel gesture with her head. You furrow your brows and she sighs. “Topped him. Have you ever been the one to take control?”

Your nail artist blushes, furiously filing away at your nails until the most perfect stiletto shape stares you back in the face. “Oh. Not really,” you admit, wiggling your wet toe nails around in the styrofoam flip flops issued by the salon. “I mean, sometimes I talk him through it.”

Doyeon snorts. “Babe, talking him through it and being the boss are two completely different things,” she says rather dryly, seemingly unbothered by the fact your two nail techs are being subjected to this more than intimate conversation. But you’ve had weirder talks with Doyeon in public; this doesn’t phase you. “Listen,” she says suddenly, dropping her voice down to a whisper that has you leaning closer to hear her. “You know how I’m a member of that site, right?”

You nod. “Oh yeah— Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide!, right?” She kicks your shin, but the jab is muted by the bottom of her own styrofoam flip flop.

“Yeah, just tell everyone here my credit card number while you’re at it,” she hisses. Her anger fades soon enough. “Well, they’re always sending me all sorts of freebies for my devoted patronage,” she explains. She quirks her lips to the side, throwing one brief glance at the blushing nail artists in front of you. Eventually she seems to come to a conclusion. “Long story short they sent me some cuffs and I’m gonna give you them.”

Your jaw drops. “Woah, really? I don’t know… Don’t those usually run kinda pricey?” you ask tentatively. You’re trying to play it off, act like this isn’t something you want, but the reality is so much worse.

The minute the word cuffs had slipped through her lips it’s like a door opened before your eyes. A big, wooden door with chains strapped across it and a padlock you swore you’d never open.

Somewhere in your mind, you had always convinced yourself handcuffs in bed was something you’d like to have done to you. But, because she was your best friend and by extension a personified version of all your freakiest, often filtered, thoughts, it was like Doyeon had reached straight into your cranium and extracted your most secret fantasy— and that was Jungkook in handcuffs.

Your nail artist pats your hand, motioning you to head over to the drying station. Before you can be separated from Doyeon, you whip around to throw her one desperate look. “I have never wanted anything so bad in my life.”

She cackles loudly, easily garnering the attention of every employee and nail enthusiast in the salon with the evil witch vibes she exudes.

Truth be told, your argument with Jungkook had brought upon a newfound appreciation for him. Weird to say, considering you had wanted to kill the dude when it had originally happened. But the great thing about you and Jungkook was that you were flexible people— both in bed and out. A few long conversations later and you had reached the root of the problem.

And that root was your apparent lack of communicating when something was wrong. It was weird to think that anything could ever be wrong when Jungkook was involved. He was your honeybun, sugar plum, pumpy-umpy-umpkin. Your sweetie pie, for lack of better wording, and he could do no wrong—

—is what you’d like to say. But if there’s anything you’ve learned in the past year of dating Jungkook, it’s that perfection was a made up belief that revolved around the idea that someone’s flaws couldn’t possibly be a good thing. And as you’ve come to realize, Jungkook wasn’t the perfect gentleman you’d initially chalked him up to be. He was human, just like you, with his own list of worries and thoughts, and sometimes those thoughts manifested into flaws. They could be ugly or they could be beautiful, but at the end of the day, they all made Jungkook into the person he was— and you loved that person. Disgustingly so.

You had your moments, and he had his. Everything would not always be sunshine and rainbows for the two of you, but it was fine so long as you learned to play in the rain and stomp in the puddles.

Still.

You were you.

A slightly mean, slightly conniving, petty ass human who had been plotting his revenge since the day the two of you made up. I mean, you weren’t actually just going to let him get off the hook like that, were you? He had saved himself last time with a gooey, heartfelt apology and confession, followed by some extraordinary dicking down that had left you Naked and Afraid for three days after.

But you weren’t that easy! No, ma’am. You had to let him know that some gorgeous demon dick was not enough to satisfy you after a fight like that.

Jungkook was in for a desperately needed reality check, one that jingles in your purse when you step out of the Uber that drops you off at his place. You know he’s home because his front light is on, and also because he’d texted you that he was watching some soccer match on tv tonight. He’s a pretty big fan, especially of the club playing tonight, so you decide it’s a perfect night to strike.

Your copy of his key slips right into the keyhole. Your slippers are in the same place they always are, neatly set off to the side right by the stairs. He’s not in his living room, undoubtedly the most perfect place to watch any type of sporting event with that huge Jumbotron of his. The damn thing made it feel like you were in the stadium itself.

There’s a quiet hum coming from upstairs. You creep up the steps, carefully rounding the corner at the landing until you’re staring right into his dimly lit bedroom.

The way Jungkook’s got his bedroom set up is so that you can look directly at his door from the bed, terribly inconvenient for when that sleep paralysis demon hits in the middle of the night and you’re left staring into the dark hallway. He’s snuggled comfortably over his sheets, about three pillows supporting his back. The light of the tinier, more acceptable television he keeps in his room is dancing across his features in bright shades of green. You almost throw yourself onto his mattress like a starfish until you spot the carefully placed foot on the bed.

“What the hell did you do?” you blurt. A wrong move, considering he hadn’t seen you yet and your sudden appearance makes him jump nearly ten feet into the air, almost knocking down the bag of ice that sits on his ankle. “Oh my god, it was that damned Pilates class, wasn’t it?” you fret, rounding the bed until you’re on his side.

“Oh hey,” he says as if you’re not currently pulling the first eight seasons of Grey’s Anatomy to the forefront of your head to treat him. “When’d you get here?”

“Cut the crap, who did this to you?” you ask, sitting beside him with the utmost care. You drop your bag off to the side, the loud clatter of the inside contents vaguely registering in your head. The ice pack comes off easily, revealing a relatively okay looking ankle save for the slight swell towards the more medial aspect of it.

Jungkook takes the moment to sit up, joining you in your inspection of his injury. “No one,” he answers, using his new position to drop a kiss against the side of your head. “I fell off the ladder helping Mrs. Jung across the street.”

You choke. “You fell off a ladder?” you squawk, eyes wide as your gaze shifts from his ankle to his entire body.

He places a hand on your shoulder, “babe, I was on like the third step. It was one of those old wooden ones,” he explains with a nonchalant shrug. “The step just happened to snap on my way down.”

You scoff. “That old lady is out to get you,” you warn him. “Remember the time she almost had you plug in those burnt out Christmas lights for her? The ones that would have electrocuted you to death.”

Jungkook laughs, settling back into his stack of pillows. “In her defense, she’s old,” he offers. He’s wrapped up in a black hoodie, fluffy bangs parted down the middle. He’s got on some blue shorts, a huge difference from his usual dark-toned clothing. He looks so good and warm, and you’re suddenly hit with the fact you can’t possibly handcuff this poor, injured angel to his bedpost and ride his cock into the sunset. “You didn’t tell me you were coming over.”

You deflate, wild fantasies thrown out the window. “Yeah, well,” you sigh, ditching your pants and climbing over him until you’re snuggled into his side. “Wanted to show you my nails.”

It’s a lame excuse. But he buys it, so.

“They’re cute,” he says, taking your hand in his. He turns your hand over, inspects your pretty new acrylics like he actually has any idea how much they cost or how sexy they look. He raises your hand to his face, pressing a smooch against your knuckles that has you heart thumping embarrassingly loud in your chest. God, you hated this fool.

You turn your nose up at him, like you’re some snooty rich girl who couldn’t give him the time of day. Except it’s not like that, and Jungkook knows.

“What’re you watching?” you ask instead.

He’s got that stupid dopey smile on you, the one that takes one nudge against his side to snap him out of. “Ah, just the game.”

You squint at the screen. “Is this Fox Sports?” you ask in disgust.

He pinches your side. “This is ESPN,” he corrects. “And you don’t know shit about sports channels,” he points out. “So sit this one out.” You give in with a huff, cuddling closer into his side while trying to jostle him as little as possible. Jungkook seems to have no deeply rooted concerns about his injured ankle if the way he hauls you into his arms is any indicator. “How did nails with Doyeon go?”

“You know, the usual,” you respond, idly toying with one of the strings on his hoodie as your eyes focus on the little figures running across the screen. He hums, gesturing for you to elaborate. “Talked about sex, how much better than you at life she is, some more sex.”

He scoffs at that. “Doyeon is not better than me, and I have a whole trophy case to prove it.”

“Okay, but have you singlehandedly Twitter beefed with an entire sorority in your freshman year of university and won?”

He frowns. “No.”

You give him a look, one that says stand down now unless you want to lose to my best friend and get your feelings hurt. Jungkook understands. “Anyway,” he announces, turning his attention back to the screen with you. You think his team might be winning—you vaguely remember seeing him wear a similar jersey once—so he’s pretty relaxed for now. “They’re doing pretty good considering they just lost their main striker.”

You have no idea what that means. “Who? Messi?”

Jungkook knows you don’t know. “He doesn’t even play in this league,” he explains anyway.

“Oh, I saw him trending on Twitter last week. Thought he died or something. Whole time it was just a bunch of soccer nerds crying about him leaving his team.”

He laughs. “You should be a sportscaster,” Jungkook decides after your ever-so-eloquent recap, tucking his head cutely against your shoulder. There was a study once that claimed the incessant need to squeeze a baby’s cheeks or hug puppies tightly was actually the innate human response to kill something they felt threatened by. Oddly enough, you find yourself thinking of that as Jungkook’s citrusy shampoo floods your nostrils.

“Oh, speaking of Doyeon,” he says suddenly. “Did you give her my address? I got a weird package from that store she likes that I genuinely don’t remember ever ordering.” You frown, sitting up slightly until you can look at the side of his face, the cute mole on his cheek calling your name.

“What?” you ask. “Was it in her name?” Jungkook nods. You’re about to tear the roof off his house and go hunt that evil wench down when realization dawns on you. “Oh, no, yeah I gave her your address. My mom stayed over last weekend and Doyeon needed to order something nasty. Guess it got delayed until now.”

Jungkook nods and then doesn’t say much else, which is weird considering the circumstances. You expected him to gently scold you for carelessly giving the psycho that was Kim Doyeon his address, but she’s been here a few times to pick you up, even came over for beer night once. She probably knew it anyway, but you still expected some type of reaction of disapproval from him.

Something’s off, and you know better than to leave it at that. You poke his cheek, right where that mole you’d been eyeing was. “Did you open her package?” you ask, grin slowly consuming your features at the fact Jungkook was apparently a mail snooper.

He looks away. You laugh. “Oh my god, you did,” you cackle, sitting up beside him to get a good look at the blush growing on his cheeks. “What did you see?”

“Nothing,” he huffs, pretending to be overly invested in his soccer match again, but that ship died the moment you stepped into his room. “Babe, I can't see the match.”

You roll your eyes, purposefully shifting in front of him so he’s forced to look at the maniac look in your eyes. “What did you see, Jeon Jungkook, and are we going to steal it from her again?”

His cheeks bloom impossibly darker at that. “No!” he coughs, pointedly avoiding your gaze.

But your curiosity is at its peak now, his reactions only exacerbating it. You grab him by the shoulders, hands balling the material of his hoodie as you give him one firm shake. “What did you see,” you demand.

“Oh my god,” he gives in. You release him and he flops back onto his pillow mountain. “They were things,” he explains slowly, cheeks rosy. “For your, y’know,” a vague gesture over his chest.

You frown. “A bra?” you guess. “I’m not gonna lie, Kook, think I just lost a little respect for you.”

“No!” he huffs. “They were… little clamps. For your nipples.”

If this was a cartoon, you’re almost certain you’d be that character with the object in question in their eyes, heart fluttering in your chest at the words that leave his mouth.

Immediately, two things become obvious to you.

One, Kim Doyeon was a bigger freak than you’d expected who obviously dabbled in an assortment of trades. Clamps, your brain screams, overwhelmed with the image that appears in your head, the one that has a shiver running straight to your core. You would have to thank her for this gracious, unintentional gift she’s bestowed upon you.

Two, you’re gonna have to write her the best, most plausible apology letter tomorrow when you inform her those clamps have been lost in the mail, never to be seen again. Or you could just straight up tell her you snatched them up the moment you found out what they were, but you doubt that’ll go over well.

Jungkook groans. “You have that look in your eye,” he points out. You snap your attention back to him. “And I just wanna say in advance that I don’t think i can give you the fun night you deserve, baby,” he apologizes, motioning towards his still swollen ankle.

Something distinctly mean switches on inside of you.

You flash him a sweet smile that has him letting down his guard. You lean forward, pressing a soft peck to his cheek as you climb down the bed towards your forgotten purse that’d been resting on the floor until that point. “Who said I needed you to have fun?” you throw over your shoulder, carefully slipping Doyeon’s first gift close to your body so he won’t see.

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed look. “Really,” he says dryly, “you think you can have fun without me?” He almost sounds cocky, as if the idea of you even enjoying yourself the teensiest bit without his help seems unfathomable.

You grin, padding over to his bedside, where you carefully pick up his hand. You mirror his actions from before, pressing a sweet kiss against his knuckles that makes that conceited look slip off his features for a second, eyes soft.

Click.

Jungkook frowns. “What the—“ before the sentence can leave his mouth you’re lunging forward, wrestling his hands above his head, until they’re both secured at his headboard by the soft cuffs Doyeon had given you that afternoon at the salon. Jungkook’s wide eyes stare back at you, briefly leaving to glance up at the silver chain that wraps behind one of the rungs of his headboard. “Babe,” he says slowly. “What the fuck.”

You beam at him, leaning down to snatch a pillow from beneath him so he’s better positioned, leaning back more. “So cute,” you gush, taking in the way his raised arms have the hem of his hoodie lifting at the waist. There’s a faint trail of hairs around his belly button that disappear beneath the elastic of his shorts. “Do you like them?”

Jungkook blinks. “Baby,” he says a second time, much slower and a little too calm for your liking. It almost gets swallowed by the roar of the fans on TV. “What is this?”

You ignore him, scampering around his room until you find the hot pink Sexuality Unleashed packaging peeking out from beneath his bed. Sure enough, it’s in Doyeon’s name but his address. A whole complicated mess just for some nipple clamps she’ll never see again. It’s what’s inside anyway, not that you thought Jungkook was lying, but there’s something about the actual, carefully wrapped packaging that makes your heart and pussy flutter.

“Oh! Aren’t these the prettiest things?” you exclaim, whirling around to where Jungkook is shaking up a storm with his cuffs, pout growing on his features the longer you leave him there. The ice pack slips off his ankle, falling onto the comforter beside him from all his movement.

Jungkook doesn’t seem the least bit interested in the silver nipple clamps in your hands, too busy trying to free himself from the sudden trap you sprung on him. “Sweetheart, we can play with those tomorrow, alright?” he tries, relaxing his arms and finally looking your way. There’s a frustrated furrow to his brows, one you rarely see but adore very much. “Just undo these cuffs for me, yeah?”

You tilt your head to the side, placing a hand on the inside of his calf that you trail all the way up as you move to stand beside his hip. His thighs flinch at your touch, tensing when you stop just before the crotch of his pants. “Mmm, don’t think so,” you smile, dropping the thin chain beside him.

Your shirt goes first, peeled over your body until you’re left standing in your bra. It’s nothing too special this time, just your average run of the mill comfort bra hugging your chest. But that doesn’t really matter, especially not with the way you’re hoping things play out tonight. You’d discarded your jeans a few moments prior, so the shirt joins them on a pile on his floor.

As much as he tries to act irritated by your refusal to release him, there’s a slow stirring beneath his shorts. It’s emphasized by that bright blue material, cock swelling as he watches you take off your clothes. “Baby,” he warns, possibly for the last time. But you won’t know unless you push some more, you tell yourself, placing one knee on the edge of the bed, the other thrown across his lap.

“Wow,” you marvel, picking the chain up once more. Jungkook shifts beneath you, half hard cock brushing against the cleft of your cheeks. “Don’t you wanna see what it’s like, Jungkookie?”

He says nothing, watching you with solemn eyes that leave no room for reading him. Behind you, the game commentator is chattering up a storm.

Doesn’t matter, especially not when this flimsy metal had you so completely hypnotized. You reach behind yourself, unsnapping your bra with one fluid motion that has the cups falling onto your lap, soft chest on display for the man before you. Your breasts spill out slowly from their cage, pretty hardened buds slowly coming into his view. They make him pause his fussing, half-lidded gaze falling to the swell of your chest hungrily. His hands jerk, the cuffs doing their job of keeping them there.

You grin, placing a hand on his chest, over his hammering heart. “Do you wanna see me wear them?” you croon, tugging the material of his hoodie up his stomach, until your thighs are sitting directly on his tiny waist, thin thong just over his belly button. You trail your hand up, letting it brush up the side of his neck and bury into his scalp. You give an experimental tug that has his eyes squeezing shut. “Yes or no, Jungkookie?”

He’s being a huge brat for you, eyes scrunched up together like the sight of you enjoying yourself sans his touch is unimaginable. Another tug of his hair and he’s exhaling shakily, a quiet, “yes,” slipping past his lips.

The chain drops onto his chest with a quiet thud, shocking him enough to blink his eyes back open. Releasing your hold on his hair, you sit back on his lap, towering over his fidgety body like a goddess at a temple, him the lowly worshipper beneath you.

Your hands crawl over your body, starting somewhere around your waist. The glide up over your tummy, caress the underside of your breasts teasingly. Sure Jungkook knew your body well, but you knew your body best. One hand rubs teasingly over your breast, palm pressing down slightly against where your nipple lies, while the other drops down between your thighs, slowly grinding against your mound.

“Look, Jungkookie,” you gasp, body twitching at your own hands. You take a hardened nub between your fingers, rolling it back and forth until it’s standing at its peak. “I can do it without you,” you tease, rolling your hips against him slowly. The thin material of your thong does nothing to save you from the delicious swell of his cock against you. “F-Fuck,” you whimper, circling a finger over your clit. “It’s, it’s even better.”

His restraints jiggle against the bed frame, an obvious look of distress crossing his features. “No,” he huffs out a whine, tugging at the cuffs as you slowly unravel on his lap. They don’t give, no matter how much he pulls. You know he’s holding back, afraid of damaging his headboard, and you take advantage of the fact as you move to roll both nipples between your fingers. He groans harshly, jaw tight. “Hate you,” he hisses, hips wiggling beneath you. “Hate you, hate you.”

You breathe out an airy chuckle. “R-Really?” you ask, trembling hands finally reaching back for that second gift of the day. Your breath is shallow, so thoroughly wound up from your own playful hands, and you tremble at the mere brush of the cool metal. “Oh fuck,” you whimper, bringing them up to your chest, “I’ve never done this before,” you confess.

There’s a sense of amazement that consumes you at the thin chain you hold in your hands, the pretty gold painted clamps on each end. It makes you shiver, body unconsciously grinding down against Jungkook’s lap where his engorged cock was fighting against the material of his shorts.

“Then let me help you,” he tries, the childish tone from before melting into his usual silky smooth baritone. Jungkook even softens his gaze at you, let’s his tongue peek out to wet his lips as you almost seriously consider his request.

Had it not been for the sudden loud shout from the sports commentator behind you, a long obnoxious gooooooaaal, you probably would have fallen victim to that honey-eyed gaze. You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills.

Without a second thought, you bring one of the little camps close to your chest, giving it a few experimental squeezes until the nerves are replaced with an overwhelming wave of horniness that even Jungkook can sense. “Fuck,” he groans, shaking his restraints back and forth like a wild animal as you slowly get to clamping your left nipple.

You’re not sure what you expected; part of you had thought it was going to be an excruciating pain, one that would make you want to scream and shout in sheer agony. The other part had reduced it to a barely there pinch that would never live up to your fantasies. As it stands, the sensation of the clamp around your swollen nipple sits right in between, drawing in a choked gasp that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Baby, sweetheart,” Jungkook gasps alongside you, eyes zeroed in on the pinched off bundle of nerves. There’s a sudden grinding sound that fills the air, like the sawing off of wood that definitely doesn’t sound good, and it’s a direct result of the fight he puts up against his headboard. “Please, please,” he begs, muscled arms tugging back and forth. “I have to touch—“

The second clamp goes on, making your entire back arch as if you were possessed. You're not, just extremely overwhelmed by the prickle of pain on your tits that makes you grind down against his cock, hands fisting the front of his hoodie like it’s the only thing grounding you right now. “Oh,” you shudder, thighs quivering at the heightened stimulation you receive from the clamps sitting on your nipples. “Kook, I-I can’t.”

He growls, hips bucking beneath you in a crazed effort to better situate you on his lap. “You gotta take these off me,” he rasps out. The next buck of his hips makes the chain dangling between your breast brush dangerously close to his face. He’s unintentionally goaded on by the TV in the room, the annoying drone of the commentator shouting something about never giving up. “Can make you feel so much better, sweet girl,” he cooes, jutting his head out like he needs a kiss.

Your head feels woozy, pussy throbbing at the sensations being channeled down into your core. Your eyes flutter shut, and before you can think it through, you're blindly reaching for the chain, giving it one light tug that has you mewling like a kitten. “O-oh, fuck,” you sob, looping your finger around the thin chain carefully. Another tug that pulls against your nipples sends a gush of wetness down between your thighs. “Cock,” you slur dazedly, “need your cock.”

Jungkook shudders out a long breath. “Le-Let me go then, sweetheart,” he chokes out, “let me fuck that pretty little pussy for you.”

“Uh uh,” you disagree, bringing another angry buck out of him, metal cuffs rattling loudly. “Want you to watch,” you pant, reaching behind you for his shorts. “Watch me, Jungkookie.” It takes three tries for you to get a grip, the elastic material slipping from your fingers before you finally gain some semblance of control and paw them down . The shorts and the boxers came off together, his engorged cock springing up to tap against your ass. “W-Watch,” you repeat dazedly, leaning forward with one hand on his shoulder to line him up with your dripping hole. Behind you, the commentator is droning on about core balance or something of the sort. It takes two tries as you blindly have to tug your panties to the side as well, and just as you have his fiery red tip against your entrance, something else happens.

He catches you, pearly teeth biting down on the chain that connects your clamps in a motion you can only liken to a bloodthirsty shark jumping out of the water, jaws snapping to catch its prey. It dangles in his face, the same way his own necklaces have done to you so many times before. But the difference between you and Jungkook was that while you let his assortment of necklaces hypnotize you, drag across your face painfully, he doesn’t. He snaps forward, catches it between his teeth.

You mewl loudly, foggy vision turning onto him. Jungkook’s got this unreadable look on his face, likes he’s pissed off and turned on all at once. “You’re not in charge,” he murmurs around the chain, the s and c sounds all slurred together. “You will never be in charge, silly girl, you got that?” he spits, yanking his head back like an animal, pulling your upper body with him by the two golden clamps on your nipples.

There’s tears in your eyes, lining your waterline and threatening to fall with each tug his mouth gives against the chain of your nipple clamps. He’s got his neck craned back as far as he possibly can with a pillow beneath him, chain links digging into his bottom lip. “Y-Yes,” you sob, your entire body quivering at the way he so easily manages to overthrow you, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, solemn eyes flickering across your twisted features once more. He gives another purposeful tug, head snapping back just the tiniest bit, but it’s enough to tug you forward again, a loud whimper torn from your throat. “Undo these cuffs for me, sweet girl,” he commands softly, jiggling the same restraints he’d spent the better part of fifteen minutes fighting against.

“Y-Yes,” you whimper, hands wildly slapping down on his bedside table. You had had half the mind to leave the key there when you had retrieved the cuffs, telling yourself it would be easy access afterwards. It’s not, apparently, the silver pick falling just out of reach. For some reason— it’s probably the sensitivity and horninesss, the pinpricks of pain that originate from your nipples —this fact frustrates you to the point of tears.

“Easy, doll,” Jungkook talks you through, voice low and soft beneath you, “relax and grab it for me, okay?” You nod, angrily blinking away a tear that drips down your face. It splatters on Jungkook’s cheek, bringing a soft huff of amusement from him.

Finally the key brushes your hand, and you sigh in relief, shakily leaning forward to undo the lock above his head. He releases his killer chomp/grip on your chain just as you release his cuffs. “I-I’m sorry,” you sniffle, a sudden need to apologize as you watch him rub at the raw skin around his wrists. “I didn’t—“

“Shhh,” he says, cuddling you into his chest. “It’s alright,” he says simply and you believe him.

Which ends up being a terrible mistake exactly ten seconds later when he’s shoving your face into the sheets, your cries and whimpers muffled by the sounds of the game on TV as he winds your arms behind your back. You struggle for all of five seconds before a soft click resounds from behind you.

“Did you think I’d just let that slide, sweet girl?” he growls against your ear, hot breath fanning across your skin. “I'm not your dog, __,” he spits, suddenly yanking you up by your cuffed wrists. Your chest is heaving, arms aching from the way he’s got you on your knees, blind to whatever he’s doing behind you. “Don’t lock me up, because I’ll always come back to bite.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you stammer, flinching when a hand snakes around your waist, an experimental tug to the chain of your clamps. It sends a shudder down your spine, amplified by the hot press of his body behind you. “I won’t do it again!”

“I know you fucking won’t,” he laughs meanly, trailing his hand down over your mound. One finger circles your clit through your underwear, a shaky sigh exiting your lips at the jarringly light touch. “Because I’m gonna fuck you until you’ve learned your lesson, silly girl.”

“I said sorry,” you whimper, thighs quivering. His cock brushes up against you, the same cock you were about to ride until the sunset. Oh how the tables have turned.

A hand slips beneath your underwear, pad of a finger rubbing against your swollen clit. “Oh,” you exhale, surprised with the suddenly gentle touch following his words. “Th-That’s nice,” you murmur, head lolling forward at the slow rhythm he sets, playing with you like you were a toy that needed warming up.

“Yeah?” he husks out. There’s a yank to your clamps that makes you gasp, chest following the motion as if it’ll reduce the shock. “You think this is about making you feel nice?” he murmurs. Another tug, followed by another, until he’s raining down a series of rhythmic shocks onto your tits that make you shiver and twitch, tongue heavy in your mouth to the point you feel like you’re drooling.

“Wait,” you whimper, arms twisting behind you. “Hurts, hurts” you cry, arching your back like it’ll save you from the steady stimulation against your rock-hard nipples.

“Does it?” Jungkook hums, one hand working away at your clit. He swirls it around his finger, pressing down on the nub in an attempt to distract you. But it only heightens the sting coming from your breasts, the blossom of pain that grows over each mound the longer he plays with you. “Good. Want your pretty little body to hurt for me, baby.”

Right after saying that he releases the grip on your chain, letting it swing back and forth until it eventually rests on your stomach, throbbing nipples spared for now. A breath of relief washes over you now that you only have to worry about the hand playing along your folds. The TV is still flickering to your right, but the commentator's voice sounds fuzzy and so far away, like he’s in a whole different dimension while you and Jungkook are here.

Your reprieve lasts shorter than you expected, as his free hand slowly begins creeping up your waist, fluttering over the little gold clamps pinching your nipples. “Pretty girl,” he compliments, nudging one tender nub with a playful finger. “Pretty, pretty baby,” Jungkook murmurs as he begins massaging the scorching hot skin around your nipples gently. There’s a warm kiss pressed to your shoulder, followed by a trail up the side of your neck. You shudder, trying to focus on the hand that creeps down your folds, teases itself against your entrance.

“Jungkook,” you whine softly, rolling your head to the side so he can suck bruise after bruise onto your skin. You’re definitely drooling, the saliva thick and heavy in your mouth. “T-Too much.”

“Thought you wanted that,” he mumbles, kissing up and up until he’s at your jaw and then he’s at your mouth, languidly kissing you. He’s doing that thing again where he’s hellbent on drowning you in his spit, and if you didn’t know better you’d think he was preparing you for something. “Wanted me to watch you bounce that tight little cunt on me while your tits were like this,” he says, punctuating his statement with a light slap against the side of one breast. It makes you jump, a moan catching in your throat.

The finger that had been playing meanly along your wet folds eases itself past your lips, plunges head first into the aching heat inside of you. He works it against your walls, thumb over your clit as he curls his finger inside of you. You moan loudly, shaking in your restraints. The hand over your chest squeezes, pushes the clamp deeper against your breast until your entire body is short-circuiting.

Your first orgasm comes over you with all the grace of a lightning bolt; it’s sudden and jerky, has every nerve ending wildly spasming as you whimper his name. “No more, no more,” you beg, head lolling back against his shoulder. He shows you no mercy, simply rubs furiously over your clit, until you’re jerking into his maniac hand.

When it’s over, he places a kiss against your jaw, curling his finger inside once more “Play with yourself,” he whispers.

“H-Huh?” you stutter, the rattle of your cuffs loud in both your ears, but not as loud as the breath you were trying to catch post-orgasm. You wonder if maybe he got ahead of himself again—he occasionally did that, thinking ahead to a point you hadn’t reached in your normal progression of sex —but suddenly he’s shoving you back down again, the finger that was slowly driving you insane rudely exiting your cunt.

You flop down against the mattress with a squeal, wiggling around like you actually had a chance of doing anything with him watching you like he is. You struggle for a few beats, every shift against the mattress rubbing harshly against your breasts until you nearly want to cry.

Just as you reach that point, he’s rolling you into your back, hands uncomfortably bent beneath you. It leaves you unwillingly arching to accommodate them, tits practically presented for him to see. “Pretty girl,” Jungkook groans, reaching down for the first time that day to touch himself.

His self restraint was truly unmatched, you realize, watching him squeeze the base of his cock. He runs a palm over his abdomen, up his chest. He drags the material of his hoodie along with it, eventually shucking it off somewhere to the side. His hair, so fluffy and soft, flops over his forehead, a few defined strands tickling his eyebrow.

The mere sight of him alone made you shiver, pussy clenching at the wet dream before you. He’s not an idiot either, obviously aware of what the sight of his body does to you, the tattoos littering his entire right arm that hypnotize you. The faint glow of the TV screen against his side makes him look like the cover star of every middle-aged wife’s erotic romance novel. He reaches said arm down, runs a hand along your thigh until you’re spreading them wide for him.

He doesn’t touch you like you want, only slides over your body until he’s toying with the chain of the nipple clamps that were slowly becoming the bane of your existence. “Open,” he says suddenly, and you do. Your mouth drops open, tongue stuck out slightly even if you don’t know why. He’s ingrained the response into you by now, made you into a desperate slut always ready for anything in your mouth.

This time it’s the stupid, stupid chain connecting your nipple clamps. He tugs it until it’s pulled up, the pull against your nipples making you whimper and writhe. The metal is cool when it touches your lips, but his fingertips are warm. “Good girl,” he praises once you bite down; even this sends a shock of nerves down your spine and to your pussy. “Just like that.”  

A muffled whimper escapes your lips, tears clouding your vision at the stimulation that was quickly overwhelming you again. Part of you thinks no more, please, I can’t. But the other has you spreading your legs for him, quivering pussy desperate to be filled.

The distress must be obvious in your face if the way Jungkook kisses your neck is any indication. He’s got one hand massaging against the underside of one breast, like he’s soothing the striking pain of your pinched nipples for you. If anything, it only strings you along more. “Stupid baby,” he chuckles meanly, a soft puff of laughter against your jaw, “thinking she could push me down.”

He leans back onto his knees, that same careful brush against the inside of your thigh bringing about an embarrassing whimper as he peels your thong away. “But you didn’t really want that, did you?” he eggs on, slowly shifting down against the bed, until his mouth is hovering over your exposed lower lips. His breath is warm, makes you yearn for him to be closer. “You like when I shove my cock into your little pussy, right? Like how it feels when I turn you into my little slut like this,” he sighs, pressing one chaste kiss against your thigh that makes you pull at the cuffs behind your back.

Soon, his mouth is on your clit, the same clit he had previously pampered with his hands but chooses to play with again. He licks an obscenely wet stripe from your throbbing hole to your clit, tongue curling devilishly towards the end. You whimper, though the sound is distorted around the chain in your mouth. Jungkook groans, dives mouth first into your cunt until he’s suffocating himself. His cute nose is pressed against your clit, and he takes advantage of the fact by taking one, dramatic sniff with his eyes rolled back. A soft moan escapes him.

“Fuck,” he shudders, “smell like heaven for me.” You moan at his sweet words, eyes squeezed shut as if that’ll stop the buckets of overwhelmed tears that you’ve been fighting off since the moment the clamps came on. “Wanna give you the world, angel,” he breathes, licking languidly against your folds, tongue occasionally peeking inside.

You mewl and writhe, every movement sending a tug of pain over your nipples. You want that gorgeous cock deep in your cunt, want to feel him in your womb, but you can’t voice any of this with the chain of the clamps between your lips.

Jungkook sits up suddenly, and you’re thinking yes, finally, before the look on his face has you screeching to a halt. There’s something distinctly different about him, a look you don’t think you’ve ever seen in bed before. Your thoughts are only confirmed when his foot slides onto the floor, as if he’s about to leave.

The panic must be evident on your face, because Jungkook is quick to swoop in and reassure you he’s not done with you yet. “Wanna fuck your little pussy,” he admits, carding a hand through your hair. “But the truth is I don’t think you deserve that just yet.”

With that he slinks off the bed, leaving you writhing in confusion as he heads off for the closet behind you. You can’t see what he’s doing, can only hear the shuffling of something back and forth. The TV is still on, the loud cheering of the fans muffling his clattering. You’re suddenly reminded of his swollen ankle, craning your neck to tell him to not overdo it, when something dark covers your eyes.

He’s standing just beside the edge of the bed, his signature teddy bear heat emanating off in waves so thick you could touch them. “Do you trust me?” he murmurs, voice close but not close to your ear.

Something swells in your chest, an emotion so intense your entire pelvis tightens up at the realization that Jungkook was asking for permission to blindfold you. You’re almost certain it’s one of his ties, a silky black thing that covers your vision for the most part, save for a little crack by where your nose juts out. A shuffle to your side, and then he’s gently prying the chain he had pushed past your lips earlier out. “Need an answer, ___,” he says quietly, almost nervously.

“Yes,” you gasp, your entire body set aflame at the sudden turn of events.

If you were being honest you would have never predicted your night would end like this. Maybe you came in a little too cocky, a little too optimistic for the night. It was supposed to be Jungkook handcuffed and powerless, you remind yourself— how on earth did you get here?

“Good girl,” he praises, giving you a little encouraging nudge to raise your head for him to actually tie the knot behind your head. It’s definitely one of his suit ties, you realize, because there’s a distinct cross-stitch pattern that you can feel only when it’s tightened against your skin, pressing against your fluttering eyelids. When he releases you, you’re suddenly all too aware of the sense he’s deprived you of.

“K-Kook?” you call out with a tremble in your voice. The rhythmic pattern of his footsteps rounds the bed again, and then there’s a soft touch against your leg.

“Right here, sweet girl,” he reassures you. The bed dips by your legs as he closes in on you, still tied up and on the verge of a second orgasm that he snatched away before your very eyes; not that you can see it anymore. His hand slides over your stomach, tugs playfully at the clamps. You moan, the sensation magnified tenfold by the fact you can’t see nor anticipate his actions now.

His hands glide like two sailing boats over the broad expanse of sea that is your body, molding against your curves like waves as they go. He hums appreciatively, and you find yourself glad you can’t see him. You can’t possibly imagine with what eyes he’s looking at you now.

You bask in the glory of his attention for another beat before he retracts his touch.

And then, suddenly, something distinctly not hand-like, and weirdly soft traces over the inside of your thighs. “Kook?” you ask tentatively.

No response.

It runs over your skin in the same way his hands just did, a unique shape your brain scrambles to put a name too. It’s soft, so soft. But cold to the touch. Inanimate for sure. It’s a toy, your brain supplies belatedly, but that much you already know.

It’s heart-shaped, you realize, just as it thwacks down against your pussy.

You shriek at the suddenness of it all, thighs clamping shut. Your heart is thundering at a pace of a rabbit’s, chest rising and falling as you blindly piece together what just happened.  “Kook?” you whimper a second time, head craning back and forth in a desperate attempt to track his next move.

He’s not touching you anymore, but the bed is still dipping by your feet, so you deduce he must be there. You test your theory by sliding your foot against the sheets, lower lip trembling at the idea of him not being there.

Jungkook catches your ankle with one warm palm, slightly calloused from years of weightlifting. He raises it up, the cold air of his room hitting your exposed pussy. “You liked it,” he says, not a question but an observation. Your pussy throbs, the phantom strike against it lingering. A kiss to your ankle.

“Wh-What is it?” you cry, unconsciously pressing your leg closer to him now that you have his location. (You don’t see the soft smile on his face at your action.) Ever so slowly you let your thighs open again, now anticipating the next touch of that thing— that riding crop, you realize.

Jungkook confirms. “It’s a riding crop,” he explains, excitement curling around his words. Suddenly, it returns, this time against your stomach. He doesn’t strike you like he did before, simply lets it run across your tummy. “Heart-shaped. It’s so pretty,” he sighs dreamily. “Reminds me of you.”

You nod anxiously, stomach muscles tensed the longer it stays there. Jungkook obviously sees this, lifting it to give you the lightest of taps that still manages to make you gasp. “Cute,” he laughs, trailing it back to where it first touched down.

“Oh,” you tremble, thighs twitching as it pats tenderly over your clit. “Wai-Wait,” you warn, body arching as he runs it down, down your swollen folds. “No,” you weep, going to close your legs. But Jungkook predicts your moves, pressing your thigh down harshly against the bed.

“Shh,” he soothes, tracing the heart down your folds, pressing it flat against you. There’s a distinct lining over it that makes your hips jump, a faux-velvet covering the tip that tickles your skin. “Sit still for me.”

“No!” you gasp. Your back arches, body betraying you as it pushes your pussy against the toy. “I can’t, I can’t, Kook,” you sob, lips contracting around the gaping nothingness in your hole.

He condemns your attitude with a harsh swat of the riding crop against your cunt, tearing another high-pitched squeal from your lips. It’s followed by another against your clit that makes your body spasm. “Bad,” he chides. “Supposed to be my perfect girl.”

“I c-can’t,” you whine, the darkness over your eyes making the sensations ten times more intense. You don’t know where he or the riding crop are if they’re not directly touching you. Even then, the image is fuzzy in your head. “Need you,” you pant.

You try to reach for him, try to pull him into your arms. But you’re reminded of the cuffs holding you back, the metal digging into your skin behind you. You sob at the realization, angrily shaking your hands back and forth like maybe acting like a tantrum-throwing child will save you. It doesn’t.

Instead there’s a tug at the chain resting on your stomach, one that makes you cry out in pain when it pulls at your terribly sensitive nipples again. Jungkook uses it to pull you close, just a small inch off the bed that has you gasping for breath nonetheless.

“N-No,” you wail, nipples throbbing from all the sensations you’ve put them through tonight.

A chaste peck against your trembling lips. “Tell me how it feels,” he purrs, nose brushing against yours. Even with the tie obstructing your vision, the latest version of your boyfriend burns itself into your eyelids, force feeding you his sweaty skin and damp hair until even his breath against your face is enough to bring you to the edge.

“I-It’s scary, Kook,” you sniffle, listening for any signs of a reaction. But even if he did show one, your breathing is too loud and the ESPN channel is still blaring on screen. “Scary,” you whimper, lunging forward in a desperate move to feel the familiar brush of his tongue against yours. You miss.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks carefully, like he’s afraid he’s pushed too far.

He has. But fuck, do you love it.

“No,” you wail, lips smushed somewhere along his cheek, near his jaw and not his mouth like you wanted to. “Feels good, feels so fucking amazing,” you babble, cut off halfway through by a hiccup from your sad cries. “Wanna cum, wanna cum for you like this.”

Jungkook chuckles in relief, tilting his head until you can catch his lips with yours. It’s probably an awkward angle you assume, him adjusting for your vision-less whims, but it feels so good. It sends a shock to your pussy, his plush lips against yours. Without him telling you, you’re opening your mouth for him. “Spit on me,” you beg pitifully.

Jungkook groans, and you can almost visualize the look on his face perfectly— the tensing of his jaw, the push of his Adam’s apple, the pucker of his lips. “God, you’re disgusting,” he sighs, a fat glob of spit hitting the back of your tongue. Without your vision, you don’t see it coming, recoiling with a whiny mewl. The thin trail of saliva that follows trails across your chin when he finally reels back. You swallow greedily, wondering how soon is too soon to ask him to do it again.

With your full permission to move forward, Jungkook wastes no time trailing the riding crop over your wet folds, collecting your oozing pre-cum on the tiny heart as he roves it over your cunt. “Fuck, you can probably cum like this too, can’t you?”

You can’t answer, too caught up in the featherlight brushes. Even if you wanted to say something, one sudden strike against your pussy renders you speechless. “Mmh!” you hiss, biting down on your lip.

“Come on,” Jungkook encourages, resting a hand on your thigh. He presses the crop against you again, pushes down until the flat apex of the heart where it meets the flexible stem of the toy is pressing against your cunt hotly. He grinds it down against you, takes a sick pleasure in the pathetic way you arch up into it, rut against the little heart like it can provide even half the pleasure his hands usually would. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

Your body is on fire, every nerve, every sensation shooting straight to your most erogenous areas— your cunt and your nipples. Talking seems like the farthest thing from your mind right now, too caught up in the way he roughly pushes the crop against your clit. A whimper rips itself from your throat, shuddering at the sensation. Unconsciously you jerk away from him, only to be scolded with another thwack against your quivering pussy lips. “A-Ahh,” you wail, squirming beneath him like a worm that can’t sit still. “Good— it feels good, Jungkookie,” you weep.

The soft mushy pet name has him raining down two snacks against you in quick succession. “No baby names,” he warns, frown evident in his voice.

Even with you completely under him like this, shackled and blinded with your love, something unmistakably childish and obnoxious curls around your throat, has you biting down on a grin as the coil in your stomach tightens. “D-Don’t like that, Jungkookie,” you choke out hoarsely, wildly bold for someone in your position. “D-Don't like being m-my baby?”

The crop loses its position over your folds, and for a minute you’re left anxiously anticipating its next touch. 

It’s on the side of your breast, harder than the rest, combining with the already powerful pinch of the clamps. It makes you cry out painfully, stomach tightening at what is probably the most unexpected orgasm you’ve ever had. It isn’t like your usual ones that overpower you and make cum trickle out between your folds.

No, it comes in waves— literally. Your pussy spasms, pushes one splurt of cum out between your thighs, almost likes your lower lips are spitting it out. And then again, more the second time, against his mattress. He pushes your legs up to your chest to marvel at the cum coating your lips and thighs. “You’re my baby, stupid,” he hisses. He grabs at your clamps then, twisting the little chain in his hand harshly. You sob at the yank, at the way your nipples feel two seconds away from being ripped off. But you can’t even complain, because the sudden touch has your pussy clenching, before a final trickle of cum oozes out of you.

Even still, your mind babbles on. “N-No,” you choke, shaking back and forth. Despite the tie covering your eyes, they flicker like a mad man beneath it, like you’ll somehow get lucky and develop Seeing Through Fabric Ability if you try hard enough. “My, my baby,” you fight weakly, pelvis trembling from aftershocks of that orgasm. “My idiot b-boy,” you smile dazedly, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the sting you’ve become familiar with by now. “T-Tell me, Jungkookie,” you croon, biting down on your lip to keep a moan from spilling out mid-syllable. “Still the same, r-right?” you stutter, “still think you’re better than me, don’t you?”

He scoffs. “No,” he vehemently denies, brashly landing an unexpected smack against your hip, no warning in sight. “That’s not true,” he defends. You can hear his pout, the little push of his lips when he grows defensive. 

You laugh, every bit the insane lunatic, fueled by your two orgasms and slipping sense of reality. “Ffffuck,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into nothing. “S-Say it again, baby,” you plead, tongue licking across your lips. “Tell me, tell me you don’t care about my problems, Kook-ah,” you whimper.

There’s a hesitant pause on his end, an unexpected lull in your play as he’s torn apart between doing what you want or playing it safe.

You know you’re confusing him, because you’re certainly confusing yourself. You don’t even bother trying to dissect your emotions— you’ve long since accepted your mind was a dangerous place when horny and presented with Jungkook’s sole attention. Well, you knew you were into the whole degradation bit, but this whole having-your-boyfriend-throw-the-words-that-made-you-question-your-entire-worth bit was certainly new and unexpected.

But there’s something in your heart (and in your libido) that needs this, needs him to fix this memory for you that maybe, kinda sorta, has haunted you for days, weeks now, as much as you hate to admit it. Needed him to fix the booboo he gave you with a bandaid, only leave a scar you could look back at and laugh off, not a gaping wound that opened at the slightest mention of it. Because while you forgave, you certainly never forgot*.

(*Unless forgetting meant having your boyfriend overwrite said memory that couldn’t be forgotten with the sheer power of his monster demon cock and wicked tongue. Only then could you forget.)

“Don’t be a fucking pussy, Jungkook,” you spit, feeling the hesitancy in the riding crop that brushes against your skin. It fades away quickly. “S-Say I’ve a dead-end office job; just holding you back,” you beg, trying to pretend the entirety of his little outburst hasn’t been ingrained into your mind for the last couple of weeks. Something flashes in your chest, throat closing off when the toy finally leaves your skin. “Tell me, tell me—“

He looms over you, teddy bear warmth covering the entirety of your body. “Is this what you want?” he asks seriously, lowly, breath fanning across your lips. Your makeshift blindfold feels distinctly damp over your eyes, chest heaving with an exertion that can only be emotional when he speaks so softly to you after routinely raining down brutal thwacks on you for the past half hour. “__,” he says sternly, “is this what you want?”

You gasp on a sob, unsure when these emotions had time to manifest outside your heart like this. You nod your head like a bobble head doll sitting on someone’s dashboard, lower lip trembling on a shameful cry that is not sex-induced like all the other ones until now. “I-I need this, Jungkook,” you admit, voice so tiny and soft, it almost gets drowned out by your shaky exhales and the crowd roaring on screen. “Need to overwrite it.”

He presses a soft kiss to your quivering lips, slow and so devastatingly loving. It’s nothing like the one from before where he’d spit down your throat per your request, and the unbridled adoration he packs into one simple kiss makes you crumble in his arms, sniffles piling on by the dozens.

He leans back after a moment, pulls your thigh over his forearm and finally lets you feel the hard ridges of his cock against your folds. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, trying to sound angry and annoyed, but there’s a lilting tone to his words, a love and trust you wouldn’t have been able to see with or without your blindfold, but can feel nonetheless. He pulls it off you anyway, the warm glow of the TV illuminating his face for you for the first time in about half an hour. Eyes soft, sweat trailing down his body. His body lines up against yours, but so does his heart. You feel it in the way he holds you in his arms, the way he’s careful about sinking into your folds. He slips an arm beneath your waist, uses it to hold you up so you’re not uncomfortably squishing your arms anymore. But if you ask, he’ll pretend he’s doing this for convenience sake only.

“T-Terrible fucking job,” he starts out, the stammer eluding the obvious discomfort he has saying those words, but he does it for you anyway. “Big fucking baby,” he tries again, slowly pushing past your tight walls with a shudder. “C-Can’t look away from you for two seconds because you’re such a fucking kid.”

“Worse,” you choke out. “Meaner. Please, Kook.”

He nods, holds your waist carefully when he finally bottoms out inside of you. “Dead-end office job,” he says, repeating the words that had made you want to crawl into a whole and never come out from. “Got some stupid fucking problems,” he tacks on, slowly withdrawing his hips from your heat. “Always complaining about the stupidest shit,” he hisses, fingers digging into your waist when it’s only the tip of his cock inside of you. “I don’t fucking care about it,” he seethes, forcefully snapping his hips into you.

They’re scrambled fragments of what he’d really said to you that night. Line after line that don’t carry a quarter of hurt or even make coherent sense for that matter. And still. 

You whimper, mind fuzzy from the thrusting pace he picks up, body fluttering at the glide of his cock against your walls. But your heart is thundering in your throat, his willingness to help fix this memory for you tightening around your every being until you can’t breathe. “I-I love you,” you cry, clenching down around him.

Jungkook groans, pulls you flush against his cock until the thin hairs around the base of his cock are tickling your skin. “Stupid, fucking child,” he groans, “immature ass nobody,” he grunts, bucking into you like your words don’t mean a thing.

“I am, I am,” you wail, suddenly hit with the cold hard truth that your body was desperately on edge. From the stimulation your nipples had gotten all night, to the ghost of the riding crop that lingered across your skin; your body was tired, so ready for a final orgasm that you’re certain Jungkook will provide. “T-Tell me y-you—“

“Shut up,” he barks, sweaty skin gliding against yours. “D-Don't tell me what to do,” he huffs, nailing you into the bed. He’s pushing you hard into the mattress, like he wants to brand you into it. “Need to fix this— alone.”

You nod numbly, the crowd behind him cheering loudly. It’s like they’re rooting for him— for the two of you —as silly as it sounds, and as bothersome as it would be any other day, today the obnoxious sounds of the ESPN soccer match only serve to fix a bad memory from before. It’s loud and cringey as all hell, but you’ll look back to this moment and laugh.

And that’s what you want most of all. You want that memory from before, that nasty fight, to go away, to disappear forever and be replaced with this one. Of him, pounding you into the sheets as his TV blares beside you, just another day, another round of sex filled with your usual kinks. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Ffffuck,” you whine when the tip of his hard cock prods against your cervix. He’s going deep, he’s going all out, because he wants to fix this too. Wants to do anything to make it right, and he’ll never know how much you appreciate him for it. “S-So deep,” you whimper, hips jumping when he rams back inside.

“Stupid slut,” Jungkook snarls, tucking his head against your neck the same way he always does. “Making me do stupid shit like this,” he bites, but you know he doesn’t mean it, know he never will again. He rocks his hips into you, no longer concerned with holding you up from uncomfortably laying on your cuffed arms anymore as he pistons into your squelching heat. He’s pressed so close over you, lips brushing against your collarbone with each snap of his hips.

All the pushing and jostling about has the chain of your clamps wildly jumping about, sprawling across the planes of your chest, above your breasts, where he snatches it up between his lips again. “Stupid, fucking—“ he slurs, jutting his head to the side like a wild stallion. You sob at the tenderness of your nipples, at the way he pays them no mercy as he continues rutting into you like a mad dog in heat. “Slut,” he spits. “S-So fuckin’ pretty.”

Your mind is in another universe, and when that last word, that devastatingly familiar term, slips from his lips mindlessly, something inside you snaps. “N-No,” you sob, legs fidgeting around his waist at the orgasm that wracks through your body against your will. “No,” you cry in frustration, “didn’t, didn’t want—“

“Stupid, stupid angel,” he babbles, seemingly unaware of your orgasm as he continues fucking into your leaking cunt, ignorant of the cum that dribbles out, creams his cock as he carries on. “Fuck,” he pants, gnaws against the chain of the stupid clamps like he can’t bare this any longer. “Love you,” he says, though he’s still stuck in that mindset from before and his sweet confession sounds more like a threat. “L-Love that childish side of you,” he confesses, finally dropping the chain— much to your relief —and surging forward to kiss you on the mouth. He tastes weirdly metallic, a thought you can’t ponder too long as he continues ramming himself past your clenched lips and into your pussy. “Your fffucking dr-drive to succeed,” he grunts, mouth smushed uncomfortably against your cheek.

“Kook, sweetheart,” you shudder, sensitive pussy spent as he drills on. His cock is still so achingly hard, and he doesn’t seem anywhere near completion. “Take it easy,” you gently remind him, can’t brush your fingers through his hair like you usually would, so you settle for pressing your lips to his cheek.

“Fuck, fuck,” he heaves, pushing so deep you practically feel him in your womb, swollen mushroom head begging for entry. “Give me it all,” he stammers, “want you—want this forever.”

“I know you do, baby,” you coo, nuzzling your nose against his when he sloppily surges forward, panting and gasping over you like a crazed caveman. “I’m yours,” you gently remind him.

“No,” he chokes out hoarsely, eyes screwed shut. “Need more, all of it,” he mumbles. “Give me yourself, ___, need you for the rest of my life—“ he cuts himself off with a shuddered whine, so airy and wispy it makes you shiver. “Ffffuck, shit,” he howls, each thrust into your walls only unraveling him more and more. “Give me, give me—“

“Anything,” you whimper, body trembling from his excessivity. “What do you want, Kook-ah?”

He says nothing, losing himself in the warmth of your pussy as his orgasm rounds the corner. He’s in the final stretch, the final straight until achieving nirvana alongside you at the finish line. And, as you’ve long since come to understand, a true Jungkook Danger Zone. He loses all sense of self, random syllables and phrases slipping through his lips.

“Fuck, fuck, marry me— marry me,” he moans, snapping his hips into you with a ferocious speed that has you bouncing against the sheets, and that’s despite the tight grip his has on you. “Let me— fuck— let me fuck a baby into you, sweetheart,” he purrs, eyes shining like an absolute psycho, but you’re apparently into that because the idea squeezes around your chest and burrows it’s way in. “A baby,” he marvels like an idiot, eyes big and sparkly, “f-fuck.”

“Wh-What?” you choke, flinching when he bites down against your lower lip. He’s got you trapped beneath him, stuffing your brain with these ideas that make your heart enter cardiac arrest, body tingling like in Mario Kart when you’ve got the star power up. “Kook—“

“Sh,” he groans, digging his fingers into your sides as he rolls his hips against you. “Almost,” he informs you, but the blood rushes to your ears. “Oh, fuck,” he pants, jaw clenching, “oh, baby.”

Jungkook cums with a shivered cry, body hunching over you like some entity has just exited out of his spine. Maybe something did, because afterwards he manages to hold himself above you for exactly three seconds before dropping the entirety of his hefty muscles onto you. “Ouch,” you whine, wrists twisted uncomfortably beneath you.

“Sorry,” he huffs, completely out of breath and dazed as he rolls away from you. He ends up spread out like a starfish beside you, completely fucked out and definitely zooming through the fifth, sixth, and seventh dimensions.

He doesn’t say anything for a hot minute, chest rising and falling like he’s just run a marathon, until you butt in. “Kook. Undo me,” you remind him.

He looks over at you, dark hair falling over his eyes and sprawling around his head like a halo. Oh, he was going to be the death of you. “Oh,” he says, like his brain has just processed the information. “Right.” He sits up, tucking himself back into the shorts he never fully took off. That was his character flaw; never bothers to get completely naked during sex. Anyway, his straight male-equivalent of booty shorts come up around his thighs again, stretching sinfully across the thick muscles.

The five sonnet poem that was gearing up in your head comes to a halt when he touches your breast. “No, no more,” you cry, instinctively withering away.

Jungkook snorts. “I’m just taking them off, baby,” he says, reaching forward again with the same practiced ease you’d use on an animal. The clamps come off, all the nerves suddenly coming back to life. It’s a weird sensation, not having your tits subject to that prickling pain anymore, and it makes you moan softly. Jungkook soothes you with his wannabe masseuse hands, but you think it’s just an excuse for him to fondle your breasts.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks gently, hovering over you like a damned surgeon or something. His voice is so silky and smooth, hands soft against your chest. He’s so careful in the way he turns you over, somehow magically producing the tiny key pick you swore was lost between the sheets after its first use.

Being on your chest makes you tremble like a leaf, the faintest brush of the cotton against your tits enough to make your pussy clench weakly. “ I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, carefully detailing his actions like you’re not watching him with your very own eyes. But it’s oddly comforting, having him walk you through the process of rolling your sore wrists. The inside of the cuffs had a plush lining, but it was a pretty cheap thing. After he’s done massaging the skin, he pads over to his dresser and returns with a shirt and undies for you. “Shirt,” he says, helping you into the clothing.

When you’re all snuggled under the sheets again, the television still loud as hell, he mumbles, “wanna talk about it?”

You exhale against his chest, feeling so light and fluttery from your orgasms and the way he runs his fingers through your scalp and the way his heart thunders by your ear. “Hm,” you hum pensively. “Nah. Think I’m fine now,” you admit.

Jungkook chuckles. “A full miracle recovery?” he teases. You nod, taking in the comforting scent of his fabric softener and just him in his entirety.

“Yep.” A beat of silence, the commentator is back to filling the space between you two. He talks about a mile minute, spewing stats and plays you could never understand in a thousand years. But you know Jungkook will get sucked in soon enough, so you strike while the pot is hot. “Do you wanna talk?”

He cranes his neck a little to look at you. “What do you mean?”

You roll your eyes, pushing yourself up to look at him straight on. “Oh, my mistake,” you drawl. “I seem to have missed the part where we were going to act like you didn’t just ask for my hand in marriage and then offered to get me pregnant—,” you pause, the realization suddenly hitting you like a trash can whipping down a hill on a rainy day at a thousand miles per hour. “Pregnant!” you exclaim, cheeks warm at the fact he really just said that to you.

Jungkook’s cheeks fare no better, a Flaming Hot Cheeto shade dusting his skin. “I, it was just…” he tries, poor tiny monkey brain working overtime to offer an excuse. “It-it doesn’t have to be a thing,” he blushes, big Bambi eyes flickering from you to the television to the heart-tipped riding crop by the foot of the bed. “I was just…”

You raise your brows. “Consumed by the spirit of King Henry IV to have fourteen kids?”

He blinks. “Wait, you actually paid attention to that film?”

“That’s not the point!” you exclaim, shifting onto your knees in front of him. “What,” you inhale sharply, heart beating wildly in your chest, “what was that?”

Jungkook can only play the shocked angel card for so long before he’s sinking back into his pillow stack with the sigh of a man who’s worked in construction for the last sixty-four years. “I just,” he mumbles, “I think about it sometimes.” His admission makes your heart lodge itself into your throat, wide eyes watching him spill out his heart to you.

He misreads the expression on your face. “I-Not now!” he hurries to explain. “Like,” he stammers, rosy hue slowly crawling down his neck, over his ears. “Maybe, y’know? In the future…”

You blink, brain reduced to a series of beeps and clicks like that of an old computer trying to compute information that is simply not processing. “Yeah…” you murmur, unsure of what to do with the film reel that suddenly flashes before your eyes, a look into a doorway you had never considered before. “I— me too.”

Jungkook chokes on his own saliva. “Really?” he yelps, has those sparkly anime girl eyes you always tease him about.

The gulp you do sounds loud in your ears. “Yeah,” you breathe, throat drier than the desert, but more confident than the first peabrain response. “I-I’d like that.”

There’s a bright beam of light that shines right in your face, so vibrant and dazzling it makes you flinch and by the time you’ve recovered you realize it’s his smile. “Yeah?” Jungkook mumbles back, pearly teeth framed by his pretty smile, brows raised at your stuttery confirmation. You nod. His lips twist into a smaller grin, a condensed version of the superstar one he gave you just moments before. Before you can brush it off with a joke, he’s snatching your hand up in his, a soft smooch pressed to your knuckles. “Okay,” he says quietly, dark eyes meeting yours. “One day?”

Your heart constricts in your chest, and all you can do is nod. “One da—“

“Goooooaaaaallllll!” the announcer on screen shrieks, the loud sounds of the TV killing your mood instantly.

Any dumbstruck, love struck, idiotic, ditzy expression on your face is wiped clean, replaced with an unimpressed glare you narrow on him. His nose is scrunched up like he wants to laugh, lips pressed into a thin line at your annoyance. He swipes the TV remote off the side table, arms spread open for you to crawl back into. You do so with a huff, pout smushed against the front of his hoodie.

“That’s enough ESPN for today,” he chuckles, switching the channel about a thousand times until Rick and Morty is playing on screen. “I’ll just watch the highlights later.”

“ESPN,” you scoff like an evil villain in a movie who’s just been presented with their mortal enemy, fisting the front of his hoodie.

Jungkook nods. “ESPN,” he repeats. A beat passes. “Kinda like BDS—“

“Go get your ice pack.”

epilogue

Because Jungkook couldn’t sit still for that one eventful night following his ladder injury, he ends up in a medical boot for one week, loudly clunking around the place like a reverse pirate. You snap a picture of him that you post on Twitter for your twelve followers to see, just him pouting at the doctor’s office with his new boot and club jersey on to celebrate last night’s victory.

It’s just a cute pic for you and your friends to laugh at.

Until it’s not, and his handsome face is circulating around the entire internet.

He’s being called the Face of FC Seoul, with desperate women messaging you left and right for his information. Other fans are bragging about the beauty that is an FC Seoul fanboy. It gets to the point where his face appears on the next night’s ESPN Nightly Recap, a special on social media stars posting about the game. Except Jungkook is neither a social media star nor did he even post about the game— you did.

But there he is, all five feet and ten inches of him smiling brightly at you from the ESPN Sports channel, wearing the boot he got from hand cuffing and whipping you to completion. 

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[bucky-hues]

stucky fic recs

here are some stucky fic recs! as always, be sure to read the warnings for each fic <3

one shots

finding home | @thedamageofherdays

cap steve x modern bucky

After he is caught in a terrible rainstorm while hiking, Bucky is glad to find shelter at the cottage Steve shares with his daughter and his dog. Bucky ends up finding so much more than just a safe place to spend the night.

x | @dreadlockholiday

steve x bucky

Request: Bucky looking through a glossy magazine and saying something like "God, can you imagine being paid for just looking cute?" And without thought Steve replies, "you'd be a millionaire" and Bucky just blushes furiously while Steve's all like 😳 *oh no, I just said that out loud*

x | @dreadlockholiday (18+)

steve x bucky

Bucky finds his BFF Steve's sketchbook... and it's full of nothing but sketches of Bucky... naked.

sweethearts | @musette22

steve x bucky

Steve confesses his feelings to Bucky using sweethearts

my moon, my man | @musette22 (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

AU meet-cute. Strangers on a Train, but with less murder and more sexual tension.

make it till you fake it | AggressiveWhenStartled (AO3)

steve x bucky

“Ned,” Peter said, like a drowning man sighting land. “Ned. Captain America and the Winter Soldier are fake dating right now and it is the most painfully awkward and obvious thing I have ever seen, all of us want to die, Ned.”

things my heart used to know | Nightwing11 (AO3)

steve x bucky

In a world where soulmates can communicate telepathically with their partners, Steve Rogers has always had Bucky Barnes with him, a calming voice in a sea of turmoil. And, when Bucky falls off the train during World War II, Steve experiences deafening silence for the first time.

Now, after crashing a plane in the Arctic to save the world and being frozen for 70 years, Steve’s still trying to figure out how to live without Bucky there. His new friends are trying to help him adjust, to move on. And he thought he was doing better, he really did.

So, why is he suddenly hearing Bucky’s voice again?

catfish | @buckmebxrnes (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve Rogers is a famous movie star, known for his role as Captain America. Bucky Barnes is a bored law student who drinks too much wine. Bucky gets on match.com to boost his confidence. What he doesn't expect is a guy using Steve Rogers' pictures on a dating profile. Bucky decides to mess with the guy. After all, what idiot uses Steve Rogers' pictures on a dating site?

Not like it's really him, right? Bucky may need more wine.

let's go have fun | @sebastanbucky

steve x bucky

“Nat wanted me to-” Nat clears her throat and he rolls his eyes. “I wanted to tell you something.” He looks at Steve with a look he hopes says ‘play along’. “Okay. What did you want to tell me?” Bucky has to take a deep breath to keep from laughing again, it helps with his performance as Nat nods encouragingly at him. “I’m gay.” He says, making his voice sound shaky and weak.

the way you came around | sokaless (AO3)

steve x bucky

After a while, Bucky says, “You know, this song sounds like it was written for you.” “That's funny,” Steve remarks. “I chose it because it reminded me of you.” Steve gives Bucky an iPod full of his favourite songs from the 21st century to help him deal with his nightmares. Bucky has a new mission- to find out who Steve is in love with, because there are a few too many unrequited love songs on that iPod.

stuck on you | wearing_tearing (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

“Bucky? You don’t look so hot.”

Bucky makes a tiny little sound in the back of his throat, only to start coughing. Of course he doesn’t look hot. He’s sick and he’s dying and Steve obviously isn’t attracted to him.

you have the place next to my place | justanotherStonyfan (AO3)

cap steve x modern bucky

prompt: “We live in adjacent apartments and our bedrooms are on opposite sides of a very thin wall and one night I heard you crying and talked to you through the wall” AU

Captain America helps the Vet next door.

you’ve got (30) new matches | williamkaplans (AO3)

steve x bucky

When everyone finds out Steve's bi thanks to Bucky's recovering memories, Natasha kicks up her match-making into high gear. Steve has zero luck, but Natasha won't give up, especially when Sam (jokingly) suggests online dating. It isn't long before Steve finds someone, a someone who seems eerily familiar.

perfectly right wrong number | melonbutterfly (AO3)

cap steve x modern bucky

It all starts because Steve is too dumb to handle his smartphone.

A wrong number AU in which Bucky Barnes doesn't enter Steve's life (meaning: Bucky wasn't born until the eighties, but Steve is still Captain America) until Steve accidentally dials the wrong number. Wherein there is a lot of texting, some advice via Natasha and Darcy, a bit of pining, and a first date in an amusement park. Oh, and on top of being a disabled veteran, Bucky is a professional catwalker. Literally.

put your number in my phone | MacksDramaticShenanigans (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve tucks his phone back into his pocket and turns back to the computer. He only has to click a few times before he finds the link to the questionnaire and opens it, inputting the participant number before hitting next. The beginnings of the consent form fills the page, and all Steve has left to do now is wait for the participant— one James Barnes, according to the website— to show up.

Thankfully, Steve doesn’t end up having to wait very long. James Barnes shows up ten minutes early and knocks on the door before cracking it open and peeking in.

“Oh, hi,” he says, when he spots Steve sitting at the desk. He pushes the door open all the way and steps into the room just as Steve spins in the chair to face him.

“Um, I’m, uh, a bit early, but I’m here for the decision making study,” James continues, clear blue eyes flickering around the room before landing on Steve again. The skin between his eyebrows crinkles up a little, and god, Steve probably shouldn’t find his uncertainty as cute as he does. “Am I in the right place?”

wouldn’t it be nice | MacksDramaticShenanigans (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

"You are never going to believe what just happened," Bucky bemoans, shaking his head. He's at Steve's side in a moment and doesn't bother to give any warning before he dramatically falls into Steve's lap. Steve just barely manages to save his book from getting squashed.

"What is it?" Steve asks, matching Bucky's dramatic tone. "What am I not going to believe?"

"I just got off the phone with Natasha," he starts. "She cancelled on me!" Bucky throws his arms up, nearly smacking Steve in the face in the process.

Steve carefully places his hand on Bucky's forearm and lowers it away from his face.

"You're kidding," he says, a frown curving onto his lips at the news.

"I wish I was," he sighs. Bucky presses his lips together into a disappointed line and deflates against the back of the couch, slinking down Steve's thighs a little. "Who goes to Coney Island alone? How pathetic is that?"

Steve snorts, earning a glare from Bucky, and pats Bucky's thigh. "Aw, don't be such a sourpuss, Buck," he says. "Who said anything about going alone?"

all jokes aside | darksknight (AO3)

steve x bucky

"Before we know it Banner’s gonna be makin’ insinuations.” (Everyone "jokes" about Steve and Bucky being in a relationship until, eventually, they admit that they are.)

barnes & rogers and the goddamn truth

steve x bucky (teacher au)

There are three well-known facts at Shield High:

1. The history teacher Mr. Barnes is a stone-cold terror, and it’s not even because he only has one arm. 2. The other history teacher, Mr. Rogers, is a mysterious enigma, and it’s something to do with the body of a Greek God and contradicting stories of his past. (They’re all rumours, anyway.) 3. Mr Barnes and Mr Rogers hate each other.

Bucky wouldn’t have it any other way.

in the shadows | DragonWannabe (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky

Five times they thought they were almost caught, one time someone found out, and one time they didn't have to hide.

OR:

Bucky and Steve grew up in a time when people like them went to jail.

single and looking | Jaiden_S (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky

"Bucky held his place with his index finger and turned the magazine over to check the date on the cover. It was brand new, just out this month. An unexpected cord of anxiety tightened in Bucky’s chest. Single and looking? Frantically, he flipped back to the article. What exactly was Steve looking for? According to the article, Steve’s dream girl should be intelligent, altruistic, well-versed in current events and have a wicked sense of humor. Oh, and he had a thing for high heels and red lipstick. Bucky’s stomach churned as he re-read the article. Was that really what Steve wanted? Make-up and stilettos?"

A slightly sappy tale of two utterly besotted super-soldiers who excel at miscommunication.

these american dreams (ain’t no white picket fences left for me) | kariye (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky

In which Bucky has a house, a dog, an herb garden, and a serious case of insomnia. Welcome to Havensport, Indiana (population 8,294), where Tom’s Neighborhood Grocer stays open all night, little old ladies call the car shop to get their refrigerators repaired, and the heat of summer days and the length of summer nights can make you think that this perfect world will last forever.

i’ve been careless with a delicate man | paraxdisepink (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky

Steve lets SHIELD think he and Bucky were boyfriends so they’ll let him see the Winter Soldier in medical.

knock on wood | 74days (AO3) 

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve Rogers lives a quiet, steady life, until his next door neighbour moves in and starts having incredibly energetic sex every night. All Steve wants is for him to move his bed away from the wall so the damn headboard doesn't knock a hole through his wall.

progressively bigger keys | spinawren (AO3)

steve x bucky

“A very little key will open a very heavy door.” ― Charles Dickens, Hunted Down

Steve and Bucky, it appears, have less need for a key and more use for a battering ram in trying to come out of the closet.

(The one where Steve tries to do one thing (one thing!) without causing a national ruckus, but the press are determined to see Bucky as Steve's best friend. And nothing more.)

stucky discover gay rights | Alicia_Borealis (AO3)

steve x bucky

“Then, why-” Steve stopped himself and looked at Bucky, who had tears rolling freely down his cheeks. “We’re- we’re not sick?”

“Wait, what?” Tony asked.

“Being a homosexual, it isn’t… wrong?”

-

The story of how Steve Roger's loved and lost Bucky, then how he got him back and then how he realised he was allowed to love him after all.

thursday nights with bucky barnes | Ellessey (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve has a comfortable, well-worn routine for his Thursday nights, until the old man who runs the laundromat breaks his hip.

Then Steve has Bucky instead.

to seek a nood-er world | jehans (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky

Send noodz

Steve has been staring at his phone for the last six minutes, eyes narrowed so much they’re almost closed at this point, trying to figure out what the hell Bucky means. Noodz? What the fuck are noodz?

Listen, Steve is at least marginally aware of modern pop culture. He’s heard of nudes — not that nudes are exactly a modern invention; artists have been creating them for millennia — and he does know that people tend to misspell words to be cute or funny. They did that when he was young, too. Because time is a flat circle, apparently.

But, wait—does that mean…?

No. Not possible. Bucky isn’t asking Steve to send him…nudes.

Right?

tied ‘round your throat | sleepypercy (AO3) (18+)

police officer steve x serial killer bucky

Steve's a small-town police officer trying to track a serial killer who's been in Steve's bed the whole time.

much tattoo about nothing | Deisderium (AO3) (18+)

cap steve x modern bucky

Steve Rogers gets a lot of email requests, but never one like this: James Barnes wants to use his healing factor to practice tattoos.

Turns out tattoos give Steve boners.

the perfect man | Ellessey (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Setting up a dating profile is decidedly not in Bucky's skill-set, but against all odds he manages to connect with someone who makes the one-night stand he thought he wanted feel like not nearly enough.

kiss me and take off your clothes | steveandbucky (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve Rogers is dared to send a dick pic to a blog which critiques dick pics (run by none other than Bucky Barnes). Hilarity ensues.

i can’t dare to dream about you anymore | steveandbucky (AO3) 

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve considers himself to be a pretty open-minded guy, which is why he can't quite understand why he feels so uncomfortable whenever he sees his gay roommate kissing guys. He's not homophobic, but how else can he explain the way his stomach twists at the sight?

It takes him a while to catch on.

exam room b | steveandbucky (AO3)

modern steve x nurse bucky

“Wait, what do you mean he asked for me?”

“He asked if the cute male nurse with the ponytail was working today. I assume he meant you.”

kickstart my heart | Kalee60 (AO3) (18+)

doctor steve x modern bucky

Bucky’s Wednesday wasn’t off to a great start. Not only did he wake up in a hospital with his annoyed best friend staring down at him, his treating Doctor just happened to be way too familiar, and the reason for that was slightly mortifying.

With misunderstandings in the air, a snarky nurse who is a pain in his butt and the ugliest neck brace known to man attached to his body. There was no way his Wednesday was ever going to improve. Could it?

you make me feel.. | kalika_999 (AO3) (18+)

cap steve x modern bucky

All Steve wanted was to take a breather, decompress after a mission and go out for a jog in the rain. He wasn't expecting to hide out in a bookstore filled with new and used books or that the employee that worked there thought he was an absolute loser and didn't even realize he was insulting Captain America.

nothing in the world that could stop it | rainbow_nerds (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Bucky just wanted to send his best friend a picture of his cat being an idiot while he was taking a bath. Was it really his fault for forgetting the full length mirror right opposite the tub?

rescue me and hold me in your arms | 74days (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Bucky is on the worst date of his life, and what he really needs of for this waitress to get the message he's sending her with his mind to rescue him. She doesn't, but she does send someone to extract him from a night of torture...

odd ways | peterbparker (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

“And it would have been an amazing night with my son if he wasn’t distracted by the hot guy on the other side of the room,” Sarah sighed, shaking her head. “He’s been looking over at you for the past fifteen minutes.”

Bucky choked on the mouthful of beer he had just taken.

“What?” he croaked. Things were starting to make a little more sense now.

“Right?” Sarah said, waving her hand towards her son. “He completely ignored my garden stories because he’s been making eyes at you so I decided to come over and introduce myself.”

series

rare is this love (keep it covered) | @musette22 (18+)

cap steve x modern bucky

It’s 2014. Captain America has been out of the ice for three years and is trudging along, saving the world and trying to get used to living in the future. Steve thinks he knows how the rest of his life is going to pan out – a life of duty, which he chose when he signed up to be Erskine’s science experiment. But then, he meets Bucky Barnes: the out-of-this-world-gorgeous mechanic and war vet, who turns Steve’s life upside down and makes him question everything he thought he knew. Slowly, Steve comes to realize there is more to life than duty and punching Nazis. Just one problem though: how on earth does a 96-year-old virgin who only just realized he may not be entirely straight make the transition from crush to relationship? Cue healthy amounts of self-doubt, awkward flirting, pretty blushing, existential crises, emotional growth, and maybe, possibly, a sexual awakening.

coming up easy | @musette22 (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

“Listen, I was just thinking,” Steve says, his face open, eyebrows raised in a tentatively hopeful expression. “Why don’t you come stay at my place for a while? I’ve got an office that I barely use, and a change of scenery might do you good, right? Help you beat that writer’s block?” With a crooked smile, he adds, “I promise I’m not a serial killer.”

While Bucky would normally crack a joke about how that’s exactly what a serial killer would say, right now, all he can do is blink at Steve in surprise, heart tripping over itself in his chest. Steve wants him to come and stay at his place. In Massachusetts. Just the two of them.

"Oh," Bucky croaks. "I- Wow."

“I mean, no pressure,” Steve says hastily. “Totally fine if you don’t wanna. I just thought I’d offer, in case it might help, y’know?”

“Yeah.” Bucky ignores the little voice in his head that sounds an awful lot Nat and Becca, telling him he’s setting himself up for heartbreak. “I mean, if you’re sure, that would be amazing.”

4 minute window | @cesperanza

steve x bucky

"Look, if they catch me," Bucky muttered, "they're either going to kill me or they're going to put me in a box with a little window and—Steve, I can't."

swapped | writeonclara (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

if u wanted my number u couldve just asked

u didnt have to steal my whole phone ;)

Steve stared down at his phone, confused. He didn't recognize the number – except, oh wait, he really did. That was his number. On his phone.

He flipped the phone over, then slid one hand down his face. Not his phone.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

[stupid fucking] brooklyn hipster bros | relenaflanel (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Bucky's mother gives him an ultimatum. Bucky doesn't respond well.

All Barneses are stubborn assholes, Steve observes, as though he doesn't see the irony of calling someone else stubborn. Or an asshole.

And Bucky can't even deny he is a total asshole for lying to his mother about dating Steve just so he doesn't have to bring someone else to her wedding, but damn if he's not going to give the lie everything he has.

brought to brightness | eyres (AO3)

cap steve x modern bucky

Army veteran Bucky Barnes has fallen in love with Steve, a guy he met online a few months after he returned from Afghanistan. Only problem is, he doesn't know Steve's last name or even what he looks like.

When his sister helps him send his story into MTV's Catfish, he's hoping they can help him meet Steve or, at least, let him move on with his life if Steve isn't real. Little does he know, Steve and Captain America have more in common than just a first name.

slide to answer | relenaflanel (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

"What do I do?” Steve appealed into the phone. “I’m freaking out.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. It lasted so long that Steve pulled the receiver away from his ear and frowned at it. Pay phones were old. Maybe this one wasn’t working despite the obvious dial tone when he picked up.

“Ok,” a stranger’s voice said over the phone. “First acknowledge the fact that you dialed the wrong number, but be quick about it because my cab is a few blocks away from my own plans and I’m about to drop some truth bombs on you.”

how to woo the winter soldier | writeonclara (AO3)

steve x bucky

“I think I’m ready to date again,” Steve said.

“What,” Natasha said.

“What?” Clint said, lowering his binoculars. He blinked at the dumbstruck look on the Captain’s face, then followed his gaze to where he was staring dopily at—at the Winter fucking Soldier.

“Steve, no,” Clint groaned.

Or: Steve courts the Winter Soldier.

all these things that i’ve done | @not-withoutyou 

steve x bucky

Steve was the patron saint of waiting too long. Bucky was atoning for his sins. Maybe they’d both been forsaken, abandoned by the light. Maybe they’d find a way back to each other again.

Post civil war, if things had gone differently.

find a way (to make it back home) | belwrites (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky (college au)

Fresh off a year abroad, Head Resident Assistant Steve Rogers finds his senior year of college to be full of changes, and he's not just talking about the growth spurt. He's more concerned with the fact that his best friend...isn't talking to him? Is dating his ex? May or may not be missing an arm?

In which Steve has no fucking clue what's going on, but he's trying, Bucky learns how to communicate with his best friend again, and everyone quietly panics about the future.

is it pretending if i already want you? | OhCaptainMyCaptain (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Based on prompt: Pretend Boyfriends AU where one of their families is always wondering why they're never in a relationship, so the other offers to pretend to be their boyfriend for some family event

the roommate | layersofart, Niitza (AO3)

cap steve x modern bucky

In which Steven G. Rogers, a.k.a. Captain America, gets a roommate. Who rapidly turns into his "roommate"—in the euphemistic sense of the word.

It takes SHIELD and the rest of the Avengers an absurd amount of time to notice.

dear mr. postman | odetteandodile (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve and Bucky revive an old friendship, get married (but totally just as friends, for reasons), and navigate a few of the many trials of the heart that come with falling in love with your best friend.

fate will play us out | steveandbucky (AO3) (18+)

cap steve x modern bucky

Bucky has landed himself a job with Stark Industries. He doesn't know yet that the job is actually being the PR manager for the Avengers.

Bucky has also started dating Steve Rogers. He also doesn't know yet that Steve is Captain America.

Bucky's life is about to get a whole lot more exciting.

the avengers hate club | notebooksandlaptops (AO3)

pop star steve x modern bucky

Bucky falls hopelessly for Steve and starts an Avengers hate club with the lead singer of the Avengers.

songbird | chicklette (AO3) (18+)

modern steve x musician bucky

At 43, James Barnes is a washed up old man. He’s got a dozen Grammys in the hall closet, an agent that can’t get him a deal, a decade-old case of writer’s block, a moody teen-aged daughter, and the gorgeous actress Natasha Romanova for an ex-wife. Well, one of them anyway. He’s a man who’s given up on finding joy in his life, and if it wasn’t for his kid, he’d have probably found a way to quit the world a long time ago.

Enter Steven Grant Rogers, struggling twenty-something, orphan, and someone who has no idea who Barnes is, other than some musician his mom liked a lot. The two men meet by accident, doing nothing more than passing the time in a quiet bar. But when a pap gets a shot of the two men embracing, Bucky takes it as a chance to finally come out as bisexual, and his agent makes him a proposition: Ten new songs and one very sweet boyfriend will get him a new record deal that will maybe, just maybe put him back on top.

Now all he has to do is write the songs, convince the kid, and not fall in love. Should be easy, right?

the right partner | LeeHan (AO3) (18+)

cap steve x ws bucky

Steve meets a beautiful man with a bright laugh on a sunny day in Italy. Captain America meets the elusive Winter Soldier moments later.

Date Bucky Barnes. Defeat the Winter Soldier. Bring down Hydra. How hard could it be?

[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

Flower: Zabuza x OC fem reader

!This fic is 18+!

Warnings: Swearing, big ole meanie Gato, mentions of abuse towards OC, petnames, kidnapping, mentions of beatings, unwanted touch (not by Zabuza), virginity loss, mentions of blood, breading kink, zero protection, big softy Zabs, basically porn with a plot

Word count: 3,300

Remaining silent, Hana looked down as she was dragged in chains into a large room. The room was dimly lite with wall lights, the floor was cold below her bare feet. She was dressed in basically a sheet after she was stripped of her clothes.

She knew of her fathers gambling debt with a underground drug dealer, Gato, however he assured her and her mother that it was taken care of.

Unfortunately, “taken care of" meant it came in the form of repayment with Hana's life. At 19, she was dragged from her mother, screaming as her father was ferociously beat within an inch of his life.

That’s all she remembers from that day, a mere 3 weeks ago. The look of despair in her mother’s face as she was dragged from her home, never to see her family again.

Now she stood, next to Gato as he prepared to bargain for her life.

He had informed her that she would be used as payment to a Ninja from the land of the Waves. She was expected to serve him however he desired.

Looking down, she stood next to Gato as he talked with the large, stoic man sitting on a throne.

“What is this" the large man replies looking at Hana’s small meek form as Gato smiled widely, pushing Hana forward towards the man.

“Oh this? This is part of your payment. Consider it a gift from me to you" Gato smiled smugly as the large man stood at attention.

Walking down towards Hana, she continued to look at the ground as she was too afraid to meet the eyes of the large, built man.

He gently lifted her chin up to meet his eyes as her looked into her gorgeous light golden eyes.

She was stunning. Long chestnut hair flowed freely to her back. She had a small, beautiful face and a gorgeous lush body. She was a site to behold to the rough looking demon of the mist.

“She is pure, yes?” the man said, still looking down at Hana’s beautiful face.

“As pure as snow Zabuza” Gato said smugly as he watched the man observed Hana's face more intently.

He could tell she had been beat by Gato and his men. The look of fear in her eyes told him she had seen her fair share of horrors.

He could see the tears forming in her eyes as he gently wiped them away. That one act of kindness was more than she had been shown in her weeks of capture with Gato.

“Haku" Zabuza shouted as a young, beautiful boy approached from the shadows.

“Yes Zabuza" he said softly as he observed Hana.

“Take this girl to my room” he instructed as Haku bowed to the man and walked up to the young lady.

Looking back to the floor, she followed the young boy to a large room deeper in the cavern. On one side, a large bed sat while on the other, a bath and changing area.

“He won’t hurt you" Haku said as she nodded slightly making his exit.

Sitting on the bed, Hana waits. She isn’t sure what she is waiting for but she knows the large man will come soon. She just hoped whatever he had planned wouldn’t hurt.

The door opens slowly as Hana stand, looking once again at the floor.

Zabuza looks at Hana as he approaches her. She looks up at him slowly, noticing his face covered with a wrap, and his eyes boring holes into her head.

He had a beautiful face, at least from what she could see. His hair was dark as night and his body built like a stone statue.

He stares at her for a few minutes, as if she is an illusion, one that will disappear if he blinks.

“You will stay with me" he says harshly as he looks down at her small form.

“o-ok" she squeaks out softly as the man watches her intently.

“Call me Zabuza” he says looking at you “what is your name pretty one?”

He lifts her chin softly as he stares directly into her eyes.

The name made her heart flutter as she looked to him.

“Hana" she said softly as he maintained eye contact with the large man.

“You will be safe with me my flower. Nobody will harm you" he says as he turns, walking out of the room as she sank to the bed.

She wasn’t 100% sure of the large man but for some reason, she trusted him.

The weeks go by as Hana adjusts to her new life as Zabuza's servant. He treats her kindly as she goes about tending to his every need.

She spends her days preparing meals and tending to cleaning. He doesn’t pay much mind to her as he rarely acknowledges her, preferring to remain silent in her presence.

She rarely sees the stoic man and only hears him when he is instructing Haku and his followers in combat training.

He is very loud and harsh to his men. He doesn’t hold back on their training. He knows what they need to do to be strong. He pushes them to their limits in order for them to get better fighters.

However, his strong attitude doesn’t extend to Hana. He treats her as his flower, precious and fragile. He sleeps with her nightly but has yet to touch her. His desire to claim her is primal, however he despite his rough appearance, he’s nervous to scare her.

He watches her from afar as she picks flowers and harvests vegetables. She looks so angelic in his eyes. He’s sworn his life to protect her. He doesn’t know why he feels this attachment to her but whatever the reason, he will not waiver from his path of being her guardian.

The weeks pass as Hana finds herself growing accustomed to her new life. She enjoys the freedoms Zabuza has given her. She spends most of her free time in the flower fields, picking and gathering flowers.

The flowers remind Hana of her life with her mother and father. Her parents owned a small floral stand that she would help tend in the summer and fall. She loved the smell of the fresh flowers on a warm , sunny afternoon. Nothing beat the feeling of the being surrounded by pure beauty.

One afternoon, she retreats the fields to finish making her floral crown she had been working on. She enjoyed the fresh scent of the flowers as she hummed happily, unaware of prying eyes upon her body.

“What a gorgeous creature sitting out here all alone" a voice sounds from behind her as she startles suddenly.

She stares at the two men watching her intently as she weaves flowers into her crown.

Feeling frightened, she stands up, gathering her items as she begins to retreat from the two men.

“Where are you going Angel" one of the men says grabbing onto Hana's arm harshly.

Wincing, Hana stares up to the man as she tries to pull her arm away.

“I have to go now, my-" she says before she is cut off.

“Why are you leaving so soon sweetheart? We just want to have a little fun. Maybe get to know you a little more?” the other man chimes in as they both grip her arms tightly as her eyes well up with tears. They pull her towards them as she drops her basket, trying to fight her way from the men’s hold.

“Tell us sweetheart” the one man chuckles “are you pure?”

She gulps harshly as she struggles to speak, afraid of what the men might do to her.

Tears fall from her eyes as she cries, hoping this nightmare will end quickly. She prays to whatever God’s will hear her that someone will come to her rescue.

“Let her go" a voice says from behind her as she continues to cry, thankful for her savior.

“Zabuza" one of the men says as they both push her away from them, causing her to crash go the ground.

Zabuza approaches quickly as he picks her up quickly. Grabbing onto him, she nuzzles her face into his hardened chest as her tears continue to fall.

Zabuza stares at the men as he rubs her shoulder softly. Never once breaking eye contact with the men, he asks her “Did these thugs hurt you my flower?”

Nodding fiercely, she pushed her head further into his strong figure.

Zabuza is furious at the thugs for hurting his precious flower. For soiling her with their filthy hands. Gripping her tightly and laying a soft kiss upon the top of her head, he summons Haku. Haku appears out of nowhere as he approaches them swiftly.

“Take Hana to my room" he said harshly as Haku grabbed her hand and pulled her away from Zabuza.

Walking back to the home, you heard screams sounding from the forest where she had left Zabuza and the men. Haku holds your hand tighter as he consoles you on your walk back to the home.

Guiding her to the room, Haku left Hana alone as he returned to Zabuza. He assured her that no further harm would come to her as she nodded softly.

She sat for what felt like hours waiting for the man to return. The door opened slowly as his gaze met hers. She stood from the bed as he walked swiftly towards her, grabbing her small waist and pulling her into him.

Leaning down, he laid a swift harsh kiss upon her soft lips as she hummed into his mouth. She reached her arms around his neck as he groped her soft waist.

He deepened the kiss, pressing his tongue into her small mouth as he groaned against her body. She was so small in his arms but she felt so good. She allowed him to easily dominate the kiss as she ached for more.

Pulling back, he lifted his arm to caress her soft cheek. She smiled softly as she leaned into his large hand.

“No one will harm you ever again my flower" he says as he holds her close to his large body, shielding her from any danger.

It was the first time in her life that she felt truly safe and secure. The first time since she had been forced away from her mother that she felt true love.

After the field incident, Zabuza restricted Hana's movements in order to protect her. He accompanied her everywhere she went and kept her within his grasp.

He kept a tight grasp on her waist or thigh as he sat next to her. He held her nightly as they slept. He had yet to take her purity and she was anxious. She was ready to give it to the man she had come to care deeply for.

Taking a bath in the room, Hana emerged from the warm water. She wrapped a light robe around her naked body as she untied her hair and began to lightly brush through the strands.

The door opened as she set her brush down and turned to see the face of her lover. He crossed the room in two strides as he grabbed her waist, pulling her into him swiftly.

He kissed her as her hands roamed up his shoulders to his neck. He pulled her in harder as he began to feel his erection growing in his pants as they kissed. His tongue danced on her lips as he asked for entrance to which she graciously granted.

Pulling away softly, he looked at her, placing his forehead on hers.

“I need you flower” he said softly as Hana pulled back from the large man. She turned around as she loosened the strings of her robe. She knew it was time.

Zabuza looked at Hana as she dropped the floral robe from her body revealing a perfect naked form below. She stood, with her back facing him as his eyes drank in her gorgeous nude body. Her ass was so plush and supple. Her thighs so lush and full. She was perfection to him.

He could feel his pants tighten as she looked over her shoulder toward the tall, strong warrior. She knew exactly what she wanted.

He slowly approached her as she turned her head to look forward and catch her breath. She was nervous to say the least but she was ready. She was ready to be claimed by the demon of the mist.

He reached for her soft skin as he touched her lightly. He was almost afraid she wasn’t real, that the imagine in front of him was a mirage on a hot summer day. That is mind was playing tricks on him.

Touching her shoulder lightly, he traced her upper back as she covered her breast and soaking cunt with her bare hands.

“Don’t be shy pretty one" he whispered as he kissed her shoulders, grabbing her hips as his hands trailed to massage her firm, lush ass.

She moaned as he growled in her ear, his lips tracing her skin as she kept her eyes forward, focusing solely on the pleasure radiating from behind her.

“You are so pure my love" he whispers as he bites softly into her neck, causing her to throw her head back in bliss as she moans loudly “tell me, my love, tell me you want me to take your virtue. Tell me you want me to be the only man to ever have you.”

She moans as she nods frantically. His grip tightens on her hip and his hand begins to snake down to her soaking wet core.

“Tell me pretty one. Tell me who owns you" he says as she moans, feeling his hand right above your hardened clit.

“You Zabuza, it’s always been you" she chokes out as he smiles into the crook of her neck as she rolls her head to the side.

“Let me make you feel good pretty one" he smirks as he places his large, rough finger on her hardened bud and begins to rub slowly.

She has never felt such pleasure. The sensation is so new, so different. She begins to feel a weird knot form in her stomach as she moans loudly.

Lost in bliss, her head falls back to his chest as she can feel his hardened cock straining against his pants.

He rubs small, quick circles on her clit as she moans his name louder and louder with each asking minute.

“Zabuza, it feels so good" she cries as her mouth falls open with pleasure.

He smiles as he bites down on her neck, rubbing faster as she feels her core tighten, aching for release.

“come for me pretty one, let go" he says softly into her ear as she nods frantically chasing her release. She has never felt this amazing.

She feels her breath hitching as her legs shake slightly from the overwhelming feeling of her orgasm ripping thought her fiercely.

Removing his hand from her clit, he grabs her hips as he lightly grinds his hardened member into her soft ass. He growls possessively in her ear as she feels his large member growing harder more

“turn around my love" he says sweetly as she turns to face him.

His breath stops as he gazes at the gorgeous sight before him. Her body is so perfect. Her breasts full and cunt soaking. He swears he must be in paradise.

Walling slowly up to him, Hana pushes him back to the bed as she slowly gets to her knees.

“My pretty one" he says as he brushes her hair from her face as she smiles up at him.

She grabs his pants, slowly pulling them down as he leans back on the bed.

His large hardened member springs free as she gasps at its size. She is unsure of how it will even fit in her small body.

He chuckles at your reaction as you blush “don’t worry pretty one, I won’t go too hard on you"

She smiles softly as she licks her palm and gently place it on his hardened cock. He groans as she moves her small hand up and down his cock, watching him as he groans. His groans making her cunt spasm and clench with anticipation as she thinks about his cock sinking deep inside of her.

He watches her as she continues to stroke him gently. He can see her squirming, waiting to be fucked senseless by him.

He smiles as he grips her small arm, pulling her up towards him as he lays her down on the bed.

Kissing her neck softly, he trails his lips down to her hardened nipples as he lightly sucks them.

Meanwhile, she fists his hair as he groans, rubbing his cock on the bed as he gets closer and closer to her heated core.

Looking up at her, he adjusts to put one hand beside her head as he rubs his cock between her wet folds.

Groaning as he feels her wetness seep onto his tip, he lines up with her soaking entrance as he slowly pushes into her tight cavern.

He groans as she cry lightly, tears falling from her eyes as you feel the pressure and tightness of his massive cock. She feels the sweet stretch of her cunt molding to his large cock. The feeling is new and overwhelming. It feels like she’s being ripped in half.

“you are doing so well pretty one, I’m almost in my love" he says groaning as he pushes himself past her maiden barrier and deep into her wet cunt. He kisses her tears away as he gives her a moment to adjust to his large size. He places his other hand firmly on her hip as be looks down at her beautiful figure.

“so beautiful, so wet" he growls as he slowly pulls out, pushing back in “and all mine!”

He slowly thrusts into her as the pain begins to fade and pleasure overtakes. His cock is so big, he fills her up to the fullest.

“Oh fuck Zabuza-" she moan as she arches her back, helping him to reach her magical spot. The feeling is unreal as her stomach begins to tighten with that familiar feeling.

Quickening his pace, he fucks her faster as he growls into your neck. She can barely speak. All the emerges is tiny squeaks and moans from the sheer amount of pleasure radiating from their bodies.

“Fuck pretty one, I’m going to claim this cunt. Fill it up with my seed. Make you mine" he growls as his pace picks up faster as she sobs holding onto her release.

“Fuck, please breed me Zabuza. Please I want to come so badly" she cries as he looks down at her with a growl.

“You want me to put a baby in your belly pretty one. You want to be the mother of the demon of the mists offspring" he growls as he rams into her harder and faster. His mind clouded an a lust filled haze as he thinks about impregnating his gorgeous flower.

“Yes Zabuza please, please give it to me" she screams as the cord in her stomach finally snaps and her cunt squeezes his cock deliciously.

“Oh fuck, Hana I’m going to come-" he groans as he presses his pelvis hard into her making her scream from the pressure. She can feel the ropes of cum spurting into her fertile womb as her mind begins to clear.

Breathing heavily and looking down at her he sees her soft, beautiful smile as he kisses her deeply.

“Be my wife Hana" he says as he budges her nose softly as he kisses down her jaw.  Smiling widely, she nods as he lays his forehead against hers.

Pulling out of her, she winces at the pain as he sees his member covered in her maiden blood.

Proud of his accomplishments, he pulls her closer to him as he kisses her on the forehead.

“Rest my flower" he says as he covers her, helping her drift softly to sleep.

taglist: @axoxtxhxh​

[natromanxoff]

Queen live at Bingley Hall in Stafford, UK - May 6, 1978 (Part -2)

Photos were taken by Anthony Mallan.

Fan Stories

“As I write this I can't believe it is over 24 years since my first ever Queen gig. I was 15 years old and had looked forward to this day ever since I had first heard Bohemian Rhapsody 3 years earlier. Before that song Queen had just been another pop/rock group but BoRhap was the song which for me would set them apart from all others, the song that began my addiction for this band's music - an addiction which continues to this day. I had an hour long bus ride to Stafford and then had to walk to the Bingley Hall which was about 2 miles out of town. I remember while walking a couple of stretched limos passed I couldn't see inside because the windows were blacked out but I knew that it was the members of Queen in those cars and that added to the excitement. I arrived at the venue and joined the queue to get in. I was quite early but there were still a few hundred people in front of me. I bought a Black T shirt with the News of The World robot on the front and the words Spring Tour '78 and a program, both of which I still have although the T shirt is well worn. I was also treated to a young lady a bit drunk I think, taking her T Shirt off and running around half naked, quite sensational for a 15 year old lad. We were let into the hall at about 7pm and I found myself fairly near the front it was all standing and I was quite small so I was pleased to see the stage was set quite high which meant I would have an excellent view. The stage set for this tour was the famous crown and as I looked in awe at its size. I can remember wondering how they would get it to lift off the stage? I can't remember the time but probably an hour or so after I had got into the hall the lights went out and a mechanical whining noise started this was followed very quickly by white lights from the stage, smoke and then the drum beat of We Will Rock You with the song breaking straight into the chorus. Suddenly on a platform in the middle of the front row of the crowd Brian May appeared playing the "Rock You" guitar riff. I remember the feeling of joy and awe, I am sure I must have pinched myself to make sure this was really happening. After an explosion they burst into the fast version of "Rock You" and I saw Freddie for the first time. He was wearing shiney leather trousers, jacket & cap and running around the stage like a madman. It's far too long ago for me to remember every detail of the show but I do remember Freddie toasting us with champagne and at the end of '39 Roger threw his tamborine into the crowd and I had it for a split second before dropping it, I stood no chance really. The songs which I remember most from this gig were the ones which after this tour they were never to play live again: "White Man" & "Prophets Song" both were played either side of Brian's guitar solo and I can clearly remember Freddie performing vocal gymnastics during the middle section of "Prophets Song". The concert ended with a Rock n Roll medley. I remember right at the end of God Save The Queen we all started singing "You'll Never Walk Alone", then the lights were on and it was over. In a lot of respects it seems so long ago but as I am thinking of it now, parts of it are as clear as yesterday.”  - Kevin Ruscoe

“It was fun reading Kevin's story about going to see Queen at Stafford Bingley Hall in 1978. This was the first concert I had ever been to (talk about starting at the top). When the lights went down and Brian started with the dynamic We Will Rock You strumming, I was captured. A couple of years ealier I had purchased Night At The Opera for a girl I fancied at work. I took it to give her and before I could present her with it she showed me that she had just brought the album herself. So much for my Night At The Opera with her! So, I had to go home, take a cold shower, and listen to music. Because it was the only album I had, I played it and played it and I discovered a world I never knew existed. Music up to that point was something that was on the radio. That night seemed to open a new and exciting world me. Not as exciting as I had been planning with her but exciting none the less. My biggest memory of the Stafford concert was when Freddie gets us to sing along with him. Whenever I heard the Live Killers album, it would take me back to that moment at Stafford when I found out what I wanted to do with my life. I write now, plays and musicals, some successful, some not. Thanks Queen for my reason to live.”  - Robert

“Memory's a funny thing... and I wish to heck that I had a better one. How come I can remember useless things I don't want to know, like the winner of the first Big Brother programme, but can't remember stuff which would be far more useful... like how to order beer in any language, my bank account number... or the exact setlist of my first ever rock concert, Queen at Stafford's Bingley Hall in May 1978? Sitting down to type up this review I did a quick search on the net but only came up with a partial setlist which ends about two thirds of the way through. Very frustrating. So really this isn't a review, it can't be, but it's more a hazy recollection of just what it felt like to be a 15-year-old boy at his very first rock show. First off I remember getting the ticket. "Harvey Goldsmith presents A Night With Queen" printed in green (tickets for the Sunday night gig were printed in blue) and the price, L3.50 - laughably cheap now. I can't remember how long it was before the gig that I got the ticket but I do know that the waiting for the day of the gig was unbearable. But eventually that day arrived. Another reason it sticks in my mind is that it was the day of the FA Cup final (Arsenal beat Ipswich Town) and it was the first time I'd not sat glued to the TV from 12pm for all the build-up and the big match itself. If it had been my team, Manchester City, it might have been a different story, but I went up to Bingley Hall mid-afternoon, with a friend called Mark Butters, to join the queue and get as good a standing spot as possible. For those of you who don't know, Bingley Hall is a 10,000-plus capacity shed (a giant cowshed, really), at the County Showground just outside Stafford, and owned by the Staffordshire Agricultural Society. Before the NEC and other purpose-built venues came along, gigs at this venue (which on other occasions were filled with agricultural displays or animal pens) were a big deal, on a par with Wembley Arena and the like. Others to have played there include Abba, Black Sabbath, Genesis, Thin Lizzy, Saxon, Yes and Rush. I remember my Mum being worried sick about me going to the gig. Worried about the size of the crowd. Worried about the music volume. Worried about drugs. She was particularly worried that I was wearing a Thin Lizzy badge on my denim jacket and might get beaten up by some aggressive Queen fan who took exception to any other band. I had to persuade her that rock fans were not quite so tribal as football fans. I also remember standing fairly close to the glass-fronted doors in the queue and the physical, painful ache of anticipation. What came next is a blur - the doors finally being opened, the crush as we made our way through and our tickets were examined, the further crush by the merchandise stall (I got myself a big, square programme, which I've still got). Then I made my way into the crowd, jockeying for a position as near to the front as possible. The gig was all-standing and as showtime got closer the build-up of pressure was astonishing. I was pretty central, but there was constant swaying from left to right, if you lifted your legs you wouldn't fall, just be carried along with this sea of rock fans. Finally the wait is over (yes, I know I've changed tense, it just suits my recollections better). The lights go down. The roar of the crowd is unbelievably loud. But what comes next is even louder. As we strain to see what's going on the air is filled with a mechanical sound, the giant lighting rig (Queen's famed crown set-up) is lifting into the air in a sea of smoke. We Will Rock You explodes into the air. It's all light and smoke and noise... and suddenly there's Brian May, playing that guitar, just feet away from me. The spotlights fall on John Deacon and Roger Taylor behind his gigantic drumkit. Just one thing left now. Freddie. And he appears out of nowhere, Freddie Mercury, prancing and preening around the stage, soaking up the adulation, singing his guts out, clad in shiny black PVC. Call me innocent or naive, but back then I didn't really know about the whole gay/camp fetish thing... he just looked like the superstar he was. For the next two hours or so I am transported to a whole new place. We get the rockers (Brighton Rock, We Are The Champions, Now I'm Here, a pre-release It's Late, I'm In Love With My Car), the pop-orientated stuff (Killer Queen, Spread Your Wings, Somebody To Love, You're My Best Friend) and a superb acoustic section, featuring Love Of My Life and its amazing crowd singalong and '39, during which a string breaks on Brian May's guitar but he carries on regardless, note perfect to my ears. Oh, and we get Bohemian Rhapsody too. It's still only a couple of years old at this point, and although obviously something incredibly special is still making it's way up the ladder to immortality to stand alongside the likes of Stairway To Heaven. Anyway, it's bloody brilliant. Queen leave the stage for the opera section, enabling them to make another grand entrance in lights, smoke and pyrotechnics for the rock-out - a masterstroke! According to Kevin Ruscoe's review of this gig at the superb www.queenconcerts.com site we also got White Man and The Prophet's Song, but I have no recollection of that at all. Nonetheless it still sticks in my mind as one of the greatest gigs I have even seen over the past 28 years, and as one of the greatest events of my life. Like Kevin, I remember singing You'll Never Walk Alone at the end of God Save The Queen, a football terrace salute to a rock phenomenon. What a night!”  - Ian Harvey (April 28, 2006)

Part-1

[princess-of-riviaa]

Meet Me, Love Me chapter 2: daddys_pr1ncess

Chapter 1: The Lieutenant

Pairing: Walter Marshall x OFC (Erin)

Series Summary: After meeting a woman on the dating site Meet Me, Love Me, Walter finds himself falling into a messy web of lies, deceit, and heartbreak.

Chapter Summary: Erin does her best to stay professional around Lieutenant Marshall, which doesn’t last for very long.

Warning(s): masturbating, spanking, slight angst

Word Count: 2,488

“Valdez, you’re with Lieutenant Marshall today,” Officer Romero says before continuing down her list of every intern’s daily task.

Erin’s eyes pop. Today is her first day of field training. She’ll get to be front and center to all the action, which is the entire reason she signed up to be an intern in the first place. She’s been looking forward to this day for weeks. But why are they sending her out with a lieutenant instead of a cop with a lower position and less important things to do? And why, of all people, did it have to Walter she’s paired up with?

“You’re the guy I’ve been sexting for the last month,” she’d said that day in the restaurant as she realized that Lieutenant Walter Marshall was the.lieutenant, AKA the man she’d been calling daddy for the last three weeks. She’d never wished to be swallowed up by the earth more than she had in that moment. “Wait--you’re the guy who’s been sexting me!”

Holy shit.

She spent her mornings taking this guy’s coffee order and her nights making videos for him to jerk off to. How the hell was she supposed to show her face at work now that she knew what his dick looked like, had practically memorized every detail of it after all the pictures he’d sent her of his hard-on?

“What the hell do we do now?” she had asked, not necessarily to him, but to anyone who was listening and had the slightest bit of an answer.

“The only thing we can do.” There’s a reluctance in Lieutenant Marshall’s--Walter’s voice that she’d never heard before.

For some stupid reason, she let herself hope. Hope that he would say something along the lines of I know this is probably breaking twenty HR rules but let’s keep talking anyways, now do you wanna go to my place and fuck? Call her a hopeless romantic, or a stupid idiot. She’s not sure there’s much difference. But her chest had tightened and her heart had fluttered in those few seconds between his sentences.

And then he said: “We can’t do this anymore. We have to stop talking right now. Neither one of us knew who the other was when we started this… this… whatever this was. But it’s over. It has to be.”

Of course, she understood why he did it. Not only was it wrong to keep doing it while they worked together, but he was about ten positions above her, and that made it even worse. He had to save his job and his reputation.

She understood the logic behind it. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Now, a week later, she’s being assigned to him for the day. The wound is still fresh. She still finds herself reaching for her phone to text him, only to stop herself when she opens the app and sees his username. She still reads their texts as she's lying in bed at night, feeling like a clingy idiot. They no longer riled her up now, they only make her start to cry. It’s stupid, she knows that. It wasn’t a real relationship. But she misses having him there, misses talking to someone at all hours of the day. So how the hell is she supposed to act professional around him today?

Once Officer Romero has given her instructions, Erin walks up to her and says, “Sorry, but I thought--”

The older lady holds up a hand, silencing Erin. “First, don’t ever start a sentence with ‘sorry, but..’. If you’re going to say something, you gotta mean it. I expect that kind of confidence in you before you pass your training.”

Erin nods. “Yeah, okay. Sorry. I mean… uh, I was just…”

Someone calls Officer Romero’s name and she excuses herself. Just as she starts to walk down the hall she passes Walter on his way in. She tells him that Erin is going to be under him today and--god, what is wrong with her for finding something dirty in that?--Walter stops in his tracks. He looks around the room until he spots Erin. She tries to give an apologetic smile but it feels more like a grimace.

This is going to be a long day.

An hour later, Walter has settled in, scanned through paperwork, had his three cups of black coffee, and Erin decides it’s time to head down to his unmarked Ford Explorer and wait for him. She’s in an actual police uniform today--normally she’s in sweats and a police t-shirt--and though it’s something that would make her giddy with excitement, the thought of spending her first day out in the field with Walter is killing her buzz.

Walter doesn’t say anything as he makes his way to his car and hits the unlock button on his keys. Erin slides into the passenger seat. Walter turns on the car and adjusts the AC and the police radio without even acknowledging her presence.

“So, I want you to know that I didn’t do anything,” Erin explains. “I didn’t say anything to anyone, Officer Romero just randomly assigned me to you--”

He silences her with a look.

She hesitates before adding, “I just… don’t want you to think that I’m not respecting your wishes. I’m not trying to make your job harder for you.”

His expression slightly softens. Slightly. 

Erin doesn’t let her mouth get away from her this time. The car is tense and silent as Walter switches into drive and heads off down the highway. Erin doesn’t know where they’re going but he looks like a man on a mission so she doesn’t question it.

They spend the first two hours in silence. No calls come in. They just sit on a part of the highway directly between the two biggest cities in the area and wait for a call on the radio that never comes. Neither one of them speaks. Walter finally speeds off down the highway around eleven. Erin thinks he’s been notified of a crime that she isn’t aware of, and is slightly disappointed when they pull into a McDonald’s drive-thru.

“What are we doing here?” she asks.

He ignores her as he pulls up to the window and orders half the menu. He doesn’t even ask if she wants anything before finishing the order.

“Walter?” she asks, then quickly corrects herself. “Er, Lieutenant Marshall?”

He still ignores her. Once he’s paid and gotten the three bags of food, he drives back to their waiting point along the highway. Erin can only stay quiet for a few more minutes.

“I’m putting in a complaint when we get back to the station,” she tells him.

He finally looks at her, giving her a look that says, why the hell are you going to do that?

She just stares at him with a look of her own. If you want me to explain myself, you’ll have to talk.

“Why are you putting in a complaint?” he sighs.

“You’re being completely unprofessional.” Normally she’d be too shy to speak to an officer like this, but she’s had enough of the stupid chip on his shoulder. Plus, he’s seen her naked, so there’s nothing left to be shy about with him.

“I’m not doing anything,” Walter protests.

“Exactly!” Erin agrees. “The point of taking me with you is to teach me stuff. We’ve already wasted half our shift and you’ve taught me nothing, except that you eat enough for a family of four!”

“I only eat once a day,” Walter argues, like that changes anything.

Erin rolls her eyes. “That’s not the point.”

“And what is your point? Do you actually have one or do you just feel like yelling?”

“My point is that you’re discriminating against me,” she says. “You’re letting the whole ‘Meet Me, Love Me’ thing get in your head and you’re using it as a wall between us. You can ignore me for the rest of your life. Fine. But not today. You don’t get to not teach me just because you regret our relationship. So act professional and teach me, Walter!”

He doesn’t say anything. Erin opens her mouth to yell at him some more, when she recognizes the strange new look on his face. His eyes are glazed over and his mouth slightly parted as he stares at Erin’s mouth like he’s under a spell. Erin’s face burns as she realizes what he’s no doubt thinking about: she likes to be a brat sometimes just to get a reaction out of him. He punishes her accordingly every time, but it’s the hottest thing to both of them. Walter loves laying down the law--his law--and Erin loves being punished. Intense heat wets her panties and she squeezes her legs together. He notices. His gaze jumps to her legs immediately and he fucking licks his lips. Is he trying to kill her?

“Walter--” she says, her voice shaking, but Walter’s phone goes off before she can say anything else.

He answers the call and, just like that, the moment is over.

“I’m needed back at the station,” he explains as he hangs up the phone. That’s all he says for the rest of the drive.

…

That night, after enjoying a couple glasses of wine, Erin locks herself in her room, away from her roommates, and decides to watch Pornhub on her laptop. She hasn’t needed to do this in a while; usually sexting with Walter is enough to make her satisfied. So having to look up adult videos is just another bitter reminder that whatever they had--a fling? A relationship?--is done. She may or may not have pulled up her Meet Me, Love Me messages with Walter beforehand, reading through their own conversations as a strange form of roleplay.

What she does do, however, is hit the record button on her phone without realizing. Once she shuts her phone off for the night, it automatically stops recording. And somehow, either through her tipsiness or her fatigue, she hits send. The video of her masturbating--and moaning Walter’s name as she cums--goes straight to the lieutenant himself.

…

The next morning, Walter drags her into a windowless janitor’s closet, his nails digging into her arm. He’s never been rough with her before--occasionally he’ll use harsh words when she’s been acting like a brat, but they’ve never been in physical contact for this to happen, and she has a strange and possibly psychotic gratefulness that his touch will leave bruises on her arm, a reminder that he’s not just some figment of her imagination.

“What kind of game are you playing?” he growls in a whisper-shout, cautious of the people on the other side of the door.

She has no idea what he’s talking about. She says as much.

“Don’t play dumb with me, you dirty little brat,” he spits.

Erin’s going straight to hell for the way those words--and his angry growl--sends heat straight to her core.

Walter continues, “That cute little speech you gave yesterday about wanting to stay professional… you don’t get to say shit like that and then send me videos like the one from last night.”

“What video are you…?” And then it hits her. She has no memory of sending him anything, no memory of even making a video. “Walter, I didn’t mean--”

He takes a step towards her, his shoes now flush with hers. Their chests brush against each other with every inhale. Erin has to crane her neck all the way back to look him in the eye. Dominance radiates off of him, as strong as his cologne, and fuck does it make her wet. She tries to keep her breathing steady, to not make it obvious that her heart is racing, but it gets harder the longer he looks at her with that anger in his eyes. It’s as terrifying as it is arousing.

Walter puts his hands on either side of her head, trapping her. His face is so close to hers that she can feel his breath against her cheeks. “You moaned my goddamn name when you came. You said my name--and you’re really trying to stand here and convince me that you hadn’t meant that video for me?”

“Walter--” Erin begins, her voice shaking, but she can’t get anything more than his name out before his hands are on her hips and he’s spinning her to face the wall. He presses his body against hers. His warmth envelopes her but it makes her shiver. She wants him. God, does she want him. She’d willingly let him fuck her right here and now, damn whoever might walk in on them.

“My name,” he growls in her ear, “is Lieutenant, got it?”

“Yes,” she whimpers. It’s taking every ounce of self-control to not beg him to fuck her. She can feel his erection against her ass; this is just as exciting to him. She wants that cock inside of her, moving between her walls and teasing her pussy, splitting her open as he enters her, fucking her so hard that she can’t walk after.

“Yes, what?” he spits.

“Yes, Lieutenant.” Her arousal is already soaking her panties. She wonders if he can smell it, the way she can smell his arousal.

“Good girl.” He’s really trying to kill her, isn’t he? He knows exactly what that praise does to her, how it makes her weak in the knees. “Now be good and don’t scream.”

Erin pauses, but before she can ask what he’s doing he yanks her pants down. She gasps, her cheeks burning with embarrassment as the cool air hits her asscheeks. And then she gasps again--for an entirely different reason--when Walter begins to knead her cheeks in his hands.

Her Latina heritage blessed her with curves, which includes a big butt. She used to be embarrassed of it her entire life. And then she started dating guys and realized they like touching her big butt as much as she likes it being touched. But Walter’s hands are big enough to make her feel small, even as he touches the biggest part on her body, and that does something to her that she’s never experienced. Something she can’t explain but she knows she likes.

And then he spanks her. His hands come down roughly on both of her cheeks and she gasps, more at the sound than the pain. But when the sting finally registers, it’s not completely unbearable. In fact, there’s something about the way her skin burns that makes it… addicting. She wants him to spank her again.

And he does.

Three more times, on each cheek. He doesn’t bother to be gentle with her. The masochist in her loves it.

And later, as she feels the ghost of his hands with every passing second, she smiles to herself. That video had been sent on accident, but she’d do it over again in a heartbeat.

***

Tag Squad:

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Let me know if you want to be added/removed from my taglist

[madllamamomma]

32) Summarize a Radom fic of yours in 10 words or less.

From Mud & Thieves~: Muriel and a half naked Rhemi chaseafter a fox.

34) Copy and paste an excerpt you’re your particular fond of.

From An Apprentice and A Doctor Walk Into a Bar~ (Asra x Julian fic, their events of Lightweight~his is one of the funniest scenes I wrote with Julian, and I still chuckle at it (I’m a loser 😅)

(Julian is about to embark on his journey on the high seas a few months after defeating Lucio)

....Hasilty, Asra packs up his things and takes the long journey back to Vesuvia. He gets back home to the shop and is surprised to find it empty. Usually Rhemi is making dinner by now with Muriel, but there isn’t a soul in site. As he approaches the glass counter, he notices a note addressed to him. Hmmmm…. Weird. He lazily drapes his bag over the counter and picks up the note reading;

Dear Asra,

In case you have forgotten, our Ilya is setting sail tomorrow. He came back and was apparently lonely, so I decided to take him out for a drink. Muriel didn’t want to come—you know how he is. So if you happen to come home tonight, you should head to the Rowdy Raven with Julian, Portia, and I to properly send him off!

—Rhemi ❤️

After reading the slightly passive aggressive note, Asra got a very bad feeling in his stomach. Rhemi and Julian were like fire and gunpowder. Separate they were fine, somewhat containable. But together?? —KABOOM! ….A perfect recipe for disaster. Swiftly, without even checking on the Rowdy Raven Asra dashes to Muriel’s hut and drags him out to the tavern leaving Faust to rest at the shop.

——————————

Reluctantly, Muriel follows Asra out of the forest towards town only with his scarf and traveling cloak on his chest. “...This even necessary?... I—I don’t want Rhemi to think I don’t trust her…” Muriel grumbles as he trails behind a very fast walking Asra.

Asra turns his neck slightly so he can hear him. “It’s not that Rhemi shouldn’t be trusted….it’s the Rhemi and Ilya part you shouldn’t trust.”

Muriel scoffs. “....Rem can take care of herself. She’s not as helpless as she looks.”

“I know that, but you’ve seen how Ilya easily ruffles her feathers—”

Muriel scoffs a little. “...So?”

“Okay… So now add alcohol to that.”

Muriel thinks about that for a moment, feeling his eyes widen and his face turning a bit white. He coughs then begins to walk just as fast as Asra. “.....M-maybe not a bad idea to check on them… I guess.” His sudden rapid pace makes Asra chuckle a bit. He’s got it bad for that girl…

The two of them can already hear glass shattering and people yelling on the inside. Mostly Julian’s….

“....Ssssshhhhhhiit....” They both utter in unison. Warily, Asra opens the door to the tavern.

The tavern is in utter chaos. Portia is nearly screaming at Julian who is entangled in the rafters. Quite a few tables and chairs are broken, and shattered bottles litter the floor, some still with liquor in it and the other drunken pedestrians are shaking their fists at the doctor. Muriel and Asra just stand there at the door, taking a moment to digest the scene.

“Ilya! GET YOUR STUPID DRUNK ASS OFF THE CEILING!!! Gods!! Com’on! You are embarrassing me!!!” Portia barks at her brother.

Julian just continues to swing from the rafters loudly and terribly singing off key, hiccuping every other line. “—OOOOO, My dear fair lass, *hiccup* oh why do you leave me on the shores? Don’t you know my heart is broken? *hiccup* Fffffffollow me on the waves of the open seas! In exchange I will give ye a sweet— *BURP*—token!! OOO! HOOOO!!!—*hiccup* oooooooooo.....”

Portia growls angrily up at him, hands on her hips, shaking her head. Asra and Muriel make their way over to Portia and blankly stares at the drunken doctor swinging upside down. She’s startled a little until she realizes who they are. “Oh! Asra!” She glances up. “—And Muriel! Good to see you! Rhemi told us you weren’t coming!”

“..I was planning on that....” He mumbles with a small sneer.

The three of them just keep staring up at Julian who is still carrying on, singing and swinging. Asra pitches the bridge of his nose, “What…. What the hell happened here?”

Portia sighs deeply again. “So, according to the bartender: Julian called Rhemi a lightweight, she got mad—things got heated—blah, blah, blah—she challenged him to a drinking competition and now we are here.” Muriel has no idea with that answer, he just groans to himself and scratches his head furrowing his brow.

“And now…. your brother is on the ceiling?!” Asra inquires, but she just shrugs, unable to really answer that question. “Portia, why didn’t you stop them?”

She flutters her eyes at him giving him a pointed look, then shakes her head slightly. “First off, I just got here. Those two rudely started without me. Secondly, have you met those two, Asra?”

Asra opens his mouth, about to argue, then he shuts it, nodding to himself, scratching behind his head. “....Point taken.”

Muriel sheepishly looks down to Portia. “Where’s Rhemi?”

She frowns and shrugs her shoulders again. “Like I said, I just got here.” She turns her head left and right, and starts to look all around. “...But she's bound to be around here somewhere though!”

Julian just continues to swing back and forwarth, trying to drown his troubles, but still didn’t feel any less lonely. A very muscular pair of long arms suddenly rips him down and slings him over their large shoulder. “—Hey!! Keep your paws off of me you damn dirty—“ Julian glances his eye up to a tall scowling familiar figure’s face. “Oh!! Muriel! Hello my...errrrr…. tall *belch*—f-fellow!!” Muriel winces as he burps in his face then continues to just glare at him irritatedly. “How is—how’s it going?! Rhemi-Dear said you weren’t—were…ahhh, n-n-not coming!”

“Ilya… Where’s Rhemi?” Muriel finally asks.

Julian sputters. “You don’t know?! You—you really shouldn’t lose your lady like that! That’s not good! Very….errr…. un-gentleman like!!”

“.....W-what?!” Muriel’s brow narrows, “—She was with you, ya’ fucking idiot!!!” He snaps quickly back at him.

Julian waves his hand dismissing Muriel. “—Pfft!!! Noooo, we’re not together! I know she’s taken!.. I mean—Don’t get me wrong! She’s cute…. and… and ...ha-ha.. curvy, but… *belch* ….N-not my type.” Julian boops Muriel's nose, making him twist his face, tempting him to just drop his drunk ass on the floor. “I—I thought you two were together! Didn’t you both confess your love to one another a few months ago after the b-.... *hiccup*.... battle?!”

Muriel tenses and starts to panic, floundering for his words, “W-w-what?! N-No!!... I mean—yes— I mean...t-t-that’s none of your business—”

“Wait…..” Julian then gasps hard and clasps his hands over his cheeks, scrunching up his face. “—DID YOU TWO BREAK UP?!”

“HUH?!” Muriel blinks rapidly, very confused with Julain’s drunken train of thought. Asra just slaps his hand against his forehead. “What the hell are you—”

“—NOOOOOO!! You two are so cute together! Rhemi, the happy go luckily, spunky, f-f-fiery….*burp*... L-little magician— and Muriel, the tall, shy, muscley, grumpy, yet gentle, hooded forest man! *hiccup* It was so adorable to watch you two awkward messes!!!” Julian just starts to lose his shit and begins to drunkenly sob.

Muriel huffs and stops trying to talk to him, sneering and grumbling irritatedly at his drunkenness; he is clearly useless at the moment. Portia tugs lightly on Muriel’s cloak, he peers down at her, she has a wide smile. “Don’t worry, short stuff. Just found ‘er. She's right over there, snoozin’ away!” She points to a table towards the back. Rhemi is still holding a pint in her right hand, completely out cold, and snoring a little.

Muriel seems to relax as soon as he sees her and grin a little back to Portia. “Thanks… at least someone is useful tonight.”

He glares back up at her brother who is still dramatically sobbing on his shoulder. “—WHYYYY???? TRUE LOVE IS DEAAAAAAD!!!!! WAAAAAAHHH!!!!”

Muriel then quickly pulls Julian out of the tavern, Asra follows as Portia keeps an eye on Rhemi. Muriel places him down on his wobbly feet next to Asra, then goes back in and collects Rhemi after telling the bartender to put everything on Julian’s tab....

*Read more here-> My Master Hot Trash List~

Thanks for the asks, @taendy707 😘

[boggirlsummer]

Wet Hot American Summer

August 18 Zoey and I thought we fixed the leak in my tent but we were wrong. I spent the early morning inching away from a puddle that finally pushed me out around 8 am - time to get up anyway. Too rainy to cook or make coffee and I left camp aimlessly. I could barely see anything through the smoke and clouds which threw a wrench in my non-plan to drive around and take photos out the car window. Grand Tetons and Montana and Wyoming were up there on my teenage bucket list (lmao, dream big!), mostly for the landscapes and western vibes and maybe a few cathartic renditions of Wide Open Spaces. I just hiked all summer so I feel like I earned a few days of all-american automobile tourism.

Cozy

Decision fatigue is a ball buster on solo trips (and in life) and sometimes I refuse to change course even when it’s clear that a plan isn’t going to work out. I drove around Tetons alternately listening to the directions and making random navigational decisions, so Google kept yelling at me to make a u-turn. Eventually I got annoyed with both of us and stopped for snacks at the general store. I’ve been making my way through all the kettle chip flavors and so far honey dijon is the best and korean bbq is the worst.

Drove straight through to Yellowstone hoping the storm would let up, but by the time I got there it was 50 degrees with rain expected all afternoon. I thought it would be SUMMER once I left the Bay Area, so all my sweaters and warm jackets are in vacuum sealed bags that I don’t have the space in my car to open. I wasn’t loving the idea of being wet and cold in Yellowstone all night so I talked the campground lady into refunding my site reservation and headed for Big Sky, Montana.

I felt bad leaving without seeing any of the Yellowstone sights so I stopped at Old Faithful on my way out. I knew laughably little about what I was looking at and when a bunch of people started gathering I thought to myself, is this thing gonna explode or something?? And ya turns out that’s the entire point, it shoots a bunch of water and steam into the air every few minutes. I bought a cup of coffee and watched halfheartedly. The only other attraction I know about is the rainbow glory hole and there was so much traffic to park in the lot I said screw it and went on to Montana.

No LTE between Yellowstone and Big Sky and I was without a place to sleep - luckily my sister was available to do some emergency concierge work for me. I eventually found a nice campground near town but the obscene number of bear country warning signs freaked me out. I backtracked to Big Sky to buy a $50 can of bear spray, what a rip. Feeling beat today so I made it up to myself with a bowl of chicken curry ramen and a Sapporo. It was no nugget curry, but it did the job ☺️

Reading the bear spray instructions before bed - you’re supposed to use it once a charging bear is two to three seconds from reaching you. Wtf. I can’t do anything in two seconds. Finished Year of the Monkey at last. Almost fell asleep with a candy wrapper in my pocket, instant death. Also I got my period and I’m worried this is going to attract the bears.

August 19 I broke my own rule. I drove to Bozeman this morning and had a chicken fried steak at the Western Cafe, “The Last Best Cafe.” I had a nice chat with two old guys at the bar, initiated by ME! We talked about my trip so far and books (I was reading Walden Two and one of the guys had Woman in the Window with him, and we agreed that both authors are pretty nuts). Good time all around and then one of them secretly bought my breakfast 🥰 I’ve only ever had creepy men buy me drinks at bars so free CFS with no strings attached was a revelation. My smile lit up the cold dark streets of Bozeman.

Too early for hostel check-in so I killed some time hanging out in a coffee shop and wandering around Main Street. When I’m alone in a new city I usually get on the apps, it’s fun to hang out with a real LOCAL and have an AUTHENTIC experience. I did this on my first night in Sydney last year and my date won $7,000 at a bar raffle he’d been going to every week for three years and then bought us a night’s worth of top shelf shots, bad coke, and dumplings. Obviously I was his good luck charm so I should’ve gotten a cut of that $$$ but whatever… Eventually we went back to his depressing loft outside of the city. It was barely furnished and full of his shitty art and luckily he didn’t have any condoms so I was able to decline sex without feeling guilty (I had condoms of course but didn’t disclose). He tried to fuck me again around 4 am and I was so confused I thought he must have found a condom while I was briefly sleeping. He had not. I snuck out at 6 am and caught the bus back to the city. Not the most restful night but nice to get away from the hostel for a little while. But ya I updated my Hinge location to Bozeman and got hella conservative men swiping on me 🥴 My profile isn’t anything crazy but I don’t think I’m giving off Megyn Kelly vibes. Are they playing some sort of sexual bingo? Are they out to stealth me? Seems sus.

If you are a man on Hinge with a naked photo on your profile I WILL screenshot it and I WILL make a collage of my collection once I have enough material and I WILL sell it as a NFT and I WILL make $0 cuz y’all are freaks. This is the tamest one I’ve got, text me if you want a photo of a naked man covering his junk with a pineapple.

Ooooieee hostel is grungy and subterranean and not the kinda place you want to spend many conscious hours in. I took myself to the movies to escape - another thing I really missed last year. I saw The Night House, which I would describe as an architectural horror? I’ve been thinking about architecture a lot lately, this cool site Zoey sent me has some interesting interviews and stuff. In the movies I ate an entire bag of sour gummy worms and a box of junior mints.

Had a freaky bookstore experience earlier today, not the first time this summer. I originally wrote a longgg paragraph about synchronicity here but I got self conscious and started wondering if hearing other people’s stories about synchronicity is like listening to them talk about their dreams. I personally love talking about dreams (call me and tell me about your crazy dreams!!) but things definitely get lost in translation and sometimes they’re straight boring (like when my old coworkers and I used to dream in Excel, fucckkk). So I get why people find it annoying and here at Bog Girl Summer we can’t afford to alienate any of our readers. All I will say is that I walked into a bookstore today with synchronicity very much on my mind, went to the psychology section to buy a baby Jung text, and there saw a literal sign that said “Staff Pick, Introductory Jung: Synchronicity.” So yes, I bought it. Don’t forget y’all - I have a psychology degree so please don’t come after me about confirmation bias and all that lol. It’s very possible that in this summer of upheaval I’m desperate for some kinda sign that I’m on the right path. Let me have this one 😘

I also bought this postcard which spoke to me because most days I feel like I’m trying to drink out of a firehose

[imacrowcawcaw]

Ch. 3 of Skin on Skin, Hearts Laid Bare: Sign Here For A Lifetime Supply of Love (Sanny)

Summary (of Whole Series): They started off cuddling as a necessity in chilly tents and cramped car rides, but it eventually became something much, much more Sam finds that there isn't a safer place in the world, no where else he'd rather be, than when he's wrapped up in his best friend's strong, caring arms. And Danny, he just can't get enough of the feeling of Sam's silky smooth skin spread out underneath his hands. A chronicle of Samuel Kiszka and Daniel Wagner's budding love.

Author (As known on Various sites): Lady Lover- Rockfic, Luluthechoosingcrow - AO3, theladylovingcrow - Deviantart and Wattpad, @sammy_bluebells - Instagram, @imacrowcawcaw - main Tumblr, @theladylovingcrow - writing/art Tumblr, @insannywestan - Sanny shipping Tumblr

Fandom: Greta Van Fleet

Pairing: Sam Kiszka/Danny Wagner

------------------

Summary of Chapter 3: "A bird whistled, and Danny mimicked the sound, making Sam look at him with what could only be described as dripping affection. It ran down their bodies, flowing over the knot of their hands and falling in small splashes along the path as they walked, leaving a trail of love like Hansel and Gretel. They came to the waterfall, and Danny turned his head to face Sam, love clear in his eyes. His lids fluttered shut and his lips puckered as he leaned in for a kiss, gathering Sam closer to him."

Length: about 3.2k

Warnings/Tags: cuddling, kissing, fluff, attempted humor, swimming, nature boys, dreams, romance, flirting, soulmates

Author's Notes: My lovely dear @satans-helper , I am SO grateful that you take the time out of your day to go over my writing to give me all of the wonderful feedback that you do. It really does improve it a lot, and, of course, your reactions and encouragement make me feel so warm inside.

@rogers-wristbands you said they go swimming, I say yes! I hope you like this, thank you so much for the suggestion :) I'm also gonna tag @lazingonsunday @mercuryyrising @mountainofthesunn @oblvions @karrotkate @lantern-inthenight @okietrish @bigthighsandstupidguys because I'm pretty sure y'all will be happy to see this? As far as I can tell y'all like Sanny so I'm taking a wild guess and tagging ya

Inspired in part by @satans-helper / thelazarus 's No One Else (ah-mazing), then of course it took another direction because I don't be about that copying. Also, they just belong in nature. Happy hippy boys are lover boys

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"Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming, swimming. *What do I do? I swim, I love to swiiiimmmm!*"

"DANNY. If you don't- fuck, pleugh!" Sam paused, choking on water. "If you don't fucking stop I will drown you!"

"But you have to keep swimming, Sammy! *You're* gonna drown if you don't. Unless you want me to carry you?" Danny asked. He was in a ridiculously good mood, and, being so energetic and happy to be in the water, had forgotten that Sam wasn't quite as strong as he was, nor did he possess as much stamina. His best friend was, frankly, exhausted.

"No! This was my idea, I don't need you to carry me!"

And Sam was a little testy, too. As much as he loved seeing Danny's muscles working in the water - or, better yet, feel them pick him up like he weighed nothing - the fact that Danny was just so fast and wouldn't slow down for Sam had him on edge. He'd been chasing tail for an hour, but it kept running away!

"Just, slow down a bit!"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tire you out so much, I was just having fun."

"It's alright," Sam sighed, now calmed down in the cradle of Danny's thick arms. "I'm glad you're enjoying myself, just let me have some fun too."

"Oh? What kind of fun do you want to have?" Danny questioned, slowly moving them closer to the shallows of the lake.

"I want to go hike up to the waterfall, but, later. Right now, I just want to float while you hold me."

"We can do that," Danny said softly. He anchored his feet in the sand bank, letting Sam rest his head on his shoulder in the neck deep water. Their arms were wound around each other, Sam's legs floating up to the left as Danny held onto him.

Nature immersed them in her soundtrack: birds twittering, leaves rustling, insects humming, and the breeze lapping gentle waves onto the shore. All was at peace, with the world and in their hearts.

Sam's eyelashes fluttered, his eyes closed to face the warm August sunshine. Danny watched him, observing the slight shadows playing over his face as a cloud passed overhead. Sam's lips parted, and Danny was nearly certain that he was going to start snoring - he hadn't moved in nearly 20 minutes - when Sam spoke.

"Is this what heaven feels like?"

Danny hummed. "I don't know, Sammy. No one knows what heaven will be like, if there is one at all, until we get there."

"I hope we go together," Sam said, sitting up slightly in the water. Danny caught him when the movement nearly pitched him under, grabbing the silky skin over Sam's ribs with his hands to steady him.

"I don't want to live without you, but I don't want to be dead without you, either. It wouldn't be heaven if you weren't there," Sam continued.

"I'll be there," Danny promised, pressing their foreheads together. He didn't know what that would entail, or when it would happen, but he and Sam were going out together, he knew it in his soul like he knew Sam was his soul-mate.

"We just made a death pact," Sam giggled, switching from somber to giggly Sammy like that. It always amazed Danny how quickly Sam could process and move on, his genius brain working at twice the speed of anyone around them, it seemed. And yet, Sam never left him behind, never made him feel left out; quite the opposite, Danny was often at the center of Sam's world, a warm fact he'd come to accept after hearing it so many times from Sam's mouth itself.

"Should we kiss on it?" Danny asked, laughing, too. "You know, to seal the deal?"

"Protect the pact from attack?"

"Give our engagement a worthwhile entanglement?"

"Save the loot from the boot?"

"Okay, that last one didn't make any sense!"

"Well, neither did yours!" Sam retorted. "'Give our engagement a worthwhile entanglement'? What the heck does that even mean?"

"It means we're gonna kiss to finalize the agreement, silly!"

Sam's mouth was a pretty little 'O'. Danny leaned in and gave it the barest of pecks, pulling back quickly and flushing dull red in the sunlight.

"Oh, c'mon! That wasn't a kiss! Where's my entanglement?" Sam laughed, surprise knocked out of him.

"Well, if you say so..." Danny trailed off, moving in close again.

"I do," Sam breathed against his lips, both hands holding Danny's head steady.

Danny had one hand on the small of his back, pressing Sam into himself, and the other gripping his right thigh, hoisting Sam up effortlessly in the water to wrap his legs around him.

Sam's lower lip made contact with Danny's as he jumped up, both of them freezing at the extensive contact of cool, moist skin below the water and still warm mouths above it.

Their lips slid, Sam to the left and Danny to the right, until they were locked in a sweet embrace. Slick warmth, comfort, and faintly barbeque flavored saliva was passed between them as they slowly kissed; no tongue, but soft, wet, open mouth presses that left no doubt in either's mind the strength of the bond they had curated over a lifetime, til death do them part.

"This is, like, one of those memorable scrapbook moments, ya know?" Sam said, pulling back after a minute. "Our first kiss in our favorite lake, just the two of us out on a perfect day."

Danny quirked his brow. "This isn't our first kiss, dude," he huffed, though he was amused.

"What? Yes it is. I'd have remembered if we kissed before, I'm pretty fucking sure."

"Don't you remember that one time you went to kiss my cheek and you planted one right on me?"

"That doesn't count! It's gotta be intentional, this was our first kiss with *intention*."

"Okay, okay, sure."

Sam splashed a little bit of water at him, getting the clear droplets in Danny's hair. Danny yanked - gently - on Sam's own tresses, nearly pulling his head backwards underwater but letting up early enough to make it clear he was joking.

"So, how was your first kiss with a guy?" Sam asked, grinning.

"This wasn't my first kiss with a guy."

"Again, I call bullshit! You've never kissed a guy, I know this for a fact."

"Uh, hello? Do you not remember when Josh tried to make out with me at that New Years party?"

"Also doesn't count," Sam snorted. "He was macking on everybody, hell, he even kissed Jake out in the open after he had all those shots. And, key word 'trying'. You pushed him away before your lips really touched."

"When did you become such an expert on kissing?" Danny asked, amused.

Sam brought their heads together again, like he was telling a little secret. He stroked Danny's face and whispered in his ear, "Puberty."

They both cracked up, clinging to each other in the water. Despite having just made out for the first time - and having that rock their world so much it made them sane - nothing was going to stop Sam and Danny from being Sam and Danny, resident-best-friend-goofballs.

Sam kept snickering, still sitting on Danny's canted hips with arms wrapped around each other. He wiggled in surprise when Danny put a hand on his ass, squeezing it through the thin fabric of his mini shorts.

"I think we should do the hike naked."

"I think that's a great way to get a bug bite on your dick. When we get to the waterfall, though, we can go skinny dipping."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Danny asked, turning and running to the shore as swiftly as the water would allow him with Sam still in his arms, his former hyperactiveness renewed.

Sam jumped down before he could be tossed onto the sand by Danny's over-eager legs tripping up. He rung out what water he could from his hair, putting it up in a bun and them helping Danny gather his own at the back of his head. He stooped down to pick up his bag and sunglasses, thwarting the anticipated ass smack with a sudden somersault.

Danny stared down at Sam lying on the sand, arm still raised in the air where Sam's ass had been moments ago. He raised a brow in slight apology, helping Sam get back up with an offered hand.

"Sorry, I didn't think you'd object so much."

"What, now that we've kissed once you think you have free reign to treat me like your bitch?" Sam asked, though he was obviously teasing.

"No, I would never. You've never minded before, though."

"Well, things have changed, haven't they?"

"I'm not sure."

It didn't feel like it. They were still themselves, and not looking any different to the other; perhaps only their eyes were now open to more ways to mess around with each other.

"I can't believe we kissed. Like, we were actually making out for a whole minute!" Sam said, a little awed. He had been, perhaps, covering for his shock with some extra sassiness.

"I know, me either," Danny breathed.

They both gaped and giggled like loons, not sure what to make of that reality. Like Sam had said, it was definitely memorable.

"Alright, let's get going before it gets too chilly to swim again."

Sam nodded and fell into step next to Danny, heading towards the North-bound trail to the waterfall that fed into the lake. Their wet feet were coated in the sand, dirt, and mud, making the brown of their Birkenstocks even browner.

Danny caught Sam's hand, swinging it as they made their way through the trees, leaves obscuring the lake except for occasional shimmering glimpses.

A bird whistled, and Danny mimicked the sound, making Sam look at him with what could only be described as dripping affection. It ran down their bodies, flowing over the knot of their hands and falling in small splashes along the path as they walked, leaving a trail of love like Hansel and Gretel.

They had to unlace their fingers to climb up the boulder at the end of the journey, using all four hands, and feet, too, to boost themselves up and over it. On the other side, roaring loud enough to drown out the birdsong that Danny had joined in on, was the waterfall.

Sam immediately ran down the shining, wet rock towards the river's edge, Danny following along more cautiously behind him, finding a spot to set their stuff down. First the bags went, then the shoes, and finally the swim trunks were pulled down and they were bared to the world.

Turning to grin at him, Sam stood in all his glowing, glorious nudity, backed by the mists of the waterfall behind him. Danny stepped forward, catching him around the waist.

Sam's lashes fluttered, his mouth pouting and seeming to draw Danny in. His hands landed on Danny's strong shoulders, feeling the hot shift of muscle beneath as Danny brought them close.

The fronts of their thighs were touching, spreading an electricity made even more volatile by the water still dotting their skin. Sam leaned forward, putting them belly to belly, chest to chest, groin to groin.

"Do you want me to carry you, now?" Danny murmered, dark eyes locked right below Sam's clavicle, as if he could actually see his beating heart. He had a crazed need, sometimes, to just hold Sam, to lift him up and away from others so that he could be all Danny's; Sam never minded.

Sam didn't respond, simply walked himself backwards slowly, carefully, with Danny following along, to the edge of the rock. The boulder was a cracked off part of the cliffside that the water ran over, raised higher as if it was nature's intention to be the diving rock all teenagers saw it as.

They locked eyes, counted to three, and jumped together into the deepest pocket of the water. Danny surfaced, gasping a little at the shock of ice melt cold - even though it was August - and Sam came up a second later. They swam with fierce, determined kicks towards the pebbled shore further on from the boulder, fighting hard against the sucking current from the waterfall.

"Whew, man, I always forget how cold it is up here."

Sam nodded, immediately wrapping himself around Danny in the shin deep water and holding to him - and his body heat - tight. Danny grabbed him right back, sitting on the rocks with Sam in between his legs, both lying halfway in the stream.

"I'm always worried that we'll be too shocked with how cold it is to swim well enough and fast enough to get back to shore," Sam said, a shiver racking his body to make his point.

"But we always do, and I'd never leave you behind. C'mon, let's see if there's any crawfish."

"What?" Sam laughed, getting up and wading back into the river. "Why do you want crawfish? We literally just had lunch like two hours ago, and besides, there's no pot or seasonings to cook them in even if we do start a fire."

"I don't want to eat them, I just wanna see if they're still here. Do you remember when we came up - I think it was ninth grade - and we all spent hours diving for our dinner? That was so fun!"

"Oh, yeah! And Jake got pinched in the nips cause he was messing around with one of them!"

"I'll pinch your nips!" Danny yelled, grabbing Sam and rolling them deeper into the water. He made pinchy fingers at Sam's chest, grazing his nipples and making him laugh at the ticklish sensation.

"Yeah, well, I'll mess around with YOU!" Sam retorted, cackling like a stoned hyena. He really did have a funny laugh, Danny knew, but it seemed to make him even more awesome: the fact that he was so perfect, and yet still human.

Sam flung his arms around Danny's neck, letting himself be carried in the water once again. They came to standing on one of the shallower rock banks in the middle of the stream, watching the waters rush over the boulders and tumble down below into the next stretch of river.

Danny turned his head to face Sam, love clear in his eyes. His lids fluttered shut and his lips puckered as he leaned in for a kiss, gathering Sam closer to him.

Sam was ready to recieve it when, suddenly, those eyes bulged open, black and beady. The hands on Sam's back felt sharper, all made of nail and bone.

"Sam. SAM!"

He stirred, still futilely trying to push away the creature that had taken over his love.

"Sammy, c'mon baby. It's alright, I'm not trying to hurt you. It's just me! Sam, wake up!"

Opening his eyes, Sam saw Danny - regular, hazel eyed Danny with his large, soft hands holding his face - next to him, looking both concerned and amused.

Danny smiled at him, softly stroking over his hair. "Hey, you were having a nightmare, something about lobsters. Is everything alright?"

Sam breathed a sigh of relief he hadn't realized he'd been holding, chuckling tiredly at the end.

"Yeah, yeah I'm okay. Man, that was such a weird dream! You ever have those ones where it's, like, exactly what you did the day before, except one or two things are off and you don't even notice it at first?"

Danny nodded, looking at him intently, curious to hear more.

"Well, it was basically what we did yesterday: we were swimming in the lake, I got super tired chasing you so you held me, we hiked up to the waterfall, and then we swam there, too. The thing was, we kissed! Like, we were making out in the middle of the fucking lake, and at the river, too!"

"Woah, really?" Danny laughed. "How was it?"

"Pretty good," Sam admitted, blushing but looking Danny straight in the eyes. They had stopped hiding that affection what felt like eons ago, though really the shift had been gradual.

"So that explains the wood poking me," Sam smacked Danny's shoulder gently, though he couldn't deny that he was hard after his bout of Danny-kissing-REM. "But, what about the lobsters? Why were you scared, you love lobster! Were they trying to get back at you for eating them?" Danny giggled.

"They'll never get me, I'm higher up on the food chain! And it was crawfish, not lobsters: You turned into a crabby-monster thing and tried to eat my face." Danny chuckled, snuggling up to Sam as they swayed gently in the breeze blown hammock.

"Was this after I had sucked your face?"

"Yeah, the second time- wait, no, we actually only kissed in the lake, then you were about to go for it again when you went all rock lobster on me. I guess it kinda changed our conversations too, though, because we kept talking about it. I wonder why that suddenly turned into a bad dream, I was really enjoying it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, it was nice. It was when you were holding me in the water, and we made that pact. Except, in my dream, we did actually kiss on it, and then almost again at the waterfall. But, other than that stuff, I guess it was pretty much the same."

"Interesting. Did we still hold hands, and jump in together, and all that?" Danny asked. Sam knew it was really the 'Were we flirting like we really do make out?' that Danny was too scared to outright ask.

"Yep, it actually kinda made more sense in the context of the dream. Like, we haven't kissed yet after all this time!"

Danny nodded, looking contemplative. He inched his head closer and planted a peck on Sam's forehead, then his temple, moving along the trail of his cheekbone to his nose and down around to his jaw again.

Sam put more pressure on the hand on Danny's chest, feeling on either side of it where their bare skin rubbed on each other. He felt Danny's heart beat in tandem with his own, pumping the same flow of life through both of them - no matter their parentage.

They laid there wrapped up in the hammock on the front deck of the lake house they rented every summer, enjoying the lazy day. He closed his eyes again, relaxing now that Danny was holding him and protecting him.

Sam smiled when he felt another kiss being planted on his cheek, just an inch shy of his mouth. He turned and rubbed his nose against Danny's stubble, murmuring something about waterfalls that Danny couldn't quite decipher.

They let the gentle motion of the wind funneled through the mountain valleys rock them back to sleep, snoring together in the afternoon sunlight. Whether in sleep or death or and waking, their love bound them together. Nothing could ever separate them; them they were one eternal being. All that was left was an intentional kiss to seal the deal.

[sarinataylor]

the beginnings of a soulmate au that may, one day, eventuate.

So, here’s the thing.

John didn’t notice.

When his soulmate died? John didn’t notice. It hadn’t been anything like all the stories he’d heard over the years: the colour didn’t leave his life, his heart didn’t skip a beat, and he didn’t fall to the ground as grief overwhelmed him. He’d gone to school with a soulmate, the words dark against his skin as he’d gotten dressed in the bathroom with steam from the shower curling the hair at the nape of his neck, and come back without one and he hadn’t noticed. He didn’t know when his soulmate died, didn’t have a time that made the breath catch in the back of his throat each day as it passed by agonisingly slow. He’d gone to school with a soulmate, a future, and come back home without one.

Or, perhaps, he’d still had one when he’d come home. He wasn’t sure. He’d come home and watched TV for a bit, fucked about on his Xbox while ignoring both his math homework and his little sister who insisted on chattering on at him about her day even when he snapped at her that he didn’t fucking care, Julie, Jesus Christ. He’d come home and for all he’d known he’d still had a soulmate waiting for him right up until the moment Julie had spilled her milk at dinner, splashing down his school top that he’d been rather hoping to stretch out for another day before washing. He was grateful, later, that she had — it was difficult enough, even after years of the fucking things, to sit amongst his peers in the Deceased Soulmate support groups and admit that, no, he didn’t know when his soulmate had died right down to the bloody second, let alone how difficult it would be to admit he didn’t know the day. 

If she hadn’t of spilled her milk… well. The thing about soulmarks is: you sort of take them for granted. They spill out over your skin for your entire life and they don’t change. The don’t change unless your soulmate dies and when you’re fifteen years old death is a foreign concept. Death is for old people, or sick people, or people in different countries. Death isn’t for you or the people you care about; death isn’t for the person who is meant to be the other half of who you are. The act of obsessively checking your soulmark was considered a symptom of a multitude of mental illnesses and it was frowned upon to actively seek them out — they just were. If Julie hadn’t of spilled her milk he couldn’t say he would have realised until his shower the next morning. His soulmark sat low on his hip, just below the waistband of his boxers that he usually slept in and… 

John’s soulmate died somewhere between 7:30 in the morning and 8:15 at night on the 12th June, 2012. He was fifteen years old, stood naked in his family bathroom with milk growing tacky on the skin of his belly when he found out. He’d been confused at first. He was pale, so the words usually stood out in dark contrast against his skin: You’re better than I ever imagined.

That was what got him, really. When he sat in the support groups and he talked about his experience. He didn’t have a generic soulmark. He didn’t have one of the Common Marks. There was no ‘Hello’ for him; no ‘Sorry, do you have the time?’ or ‘Nice to meet you, I’m—” No, John had the soulmark of a fucking fairytale. John had a soulmark just begging to be sold off to a major Hollywood studio and turned into a three part saga about the enduring nature of true, instantaneous love. John had You’re better than I ever imagined and he never got to find out what he would have said to deserve such praise.

He was pale, so the words usually stood out in dark contrast against his skin but as he peeled himself out of his pants, one hand stuck absently under the spray of the shower to test the water temperature and grumbling under his breath about Julie’s clumsiness, the contrast he was so used to seeing wasn’t there. He’d been confused, staring down at himself, and it had taken him a good thirty seconds to realise what was wrong. Staring down at himself, his pants pooled around his ankles and his hand still under the water, he hadn’t understood straight away that his soulmate was dead. The words had gone a dull, dirty colour — grey and purple and blue and not black. The words hadn’t been black because his soulmate had died.

His first support group, a week later after school at the local YMCA centre, please, do sit down, we only have an hour before the Alcoholics Anonymous get here, had been terrifying. Surrounded by others who had been just like him and yet so fucking different. It was like a strange badge of honour: who had the worst soulmate death. A lady had put her hand up and introduced herself, Suzie, apologising for not being able to stand. She was sorry, she had said, but her soulmate’s death had caused her to pass out as she drove to the shops and she’d be in a cast for another three months. It was unfair, she had said, that she hadn’t died too.

That was a common theme. 

Suzie passed out from the pain of her soulmate dying and John didn’t even fucking notice.

(“I think, sometimes, about what it would have been like to meet them,” Suzie had said, a wistful smile on her face as she traced an absent minded pattern on her cast. “With words like God, they take their time I just know it would have been so romantic.”

John had sat opposite her with his eyes darting to the others in their circle, all nodding sympathetically as if her words had been a declaration of love, and wondered if this circle jerk of self pity actually helped anyone.)

It had been explained to him over the years, so many times that he’d lost count, that he had noticed. He had noticed that his soulmate had died but his brain wouldn’t let him remember to protect him. He had noticed that his soulmate had died but that his brain had waited until he was naked in his bathroom, half covered in milk, to let him come to terms with it. On some days this made more sense than others. On some days John just thought that he had been broken, been left behind, long before his soulmate had died. 

Because the thing was that even when he’d noticed, even when he was sitting in a badly lit YMCA hall surrounded by his grief stricken peers… John hadn’t felt grief for his soulmate. He’d felt confused. He’d felt confused because this wasn’t how his life was supposed to go, how anyone’s life was supposed to go. You had a soulmate and then you found them. You had a soulmate, you found them, and you got married. You had a soulmate who you married and no matter what everything else would work out because you had your soulmate. He’d felt confused because his entire idea of what his future held was built around the idea that he had someone he was fated to spend that future with and all of a sudden he didn’t.

John was fifteen when his soulmate died. He was fifteen and he didn’t notice.

John was fifteen when his soulmate died, and sometimes he felt like that was the only thing anyone ever needed to know about him. It was one of the most common ice breakers: so have you met your soulmate yet? He lied, sometimes. Demurred with a shake of his head, eyes on the ground as his new acquaintance eagerly told him about their own soulmate, or attempted to commiserate about how difficult it was to wait for your one. Usually he told the truth in all its ugly glory.

There were cultures in which the soulmates of the dead were killed once they were left behind, John had learned in school. This was a barbaric practice, his teacher had intoned, praising the civilised nature of the Western world. There were cultures in which the soulmates of the dead were killed once they were left behind, but that was not a practice followed in England. No, in England they merely treated you as if you were already dead. This was supposed to be somehow better.

Usually he told the truth in all its ugly glory and he got to watch his new acquaintance recoil minutely, flinching away from him as if the death of his soulmate was somehow contagious. He got to watch as they stammered out their consolations as if their lukewarm apologies for his sorrow, his pain, his anger would have any effect on him now, years after the fact. He got to watch as the words formed on their lips: “I’ve heard there are support groups and dating sites—”

And there were. Support groups, of course, past the initial mandatory ones that GP’s were required to send patients to in the event of a soulmate death. The support groups got more bearable as time went on, the leaders referring him to ones filled with people whose experiences aligned better with his own. People who had become jaded by their experiences, who looked at coupled soulmates and wondered: would you have felt it if the other had died before you’d met? There were dating sites as well but John found them horrendously depressing. 

If you were of the left behind, you had to options: your peers, or the soulmated who hadn’t met their one yet. The other left behind tended to be… depressing as all hell. It was an accepted opinion that any relationship post soulmate death was merely settling because you didn’t want to be lonely, and it was expected that any relationship pre soulmate meeting was a placeholder to be abandoned posthaste when the one was met. Neither options appealed to John all that greatly. 

He’d dated, of course. Had a relationship or two which had fizzled out for one reason or another: they hadn’t been able to look past their own faded mark, let alone his; the chemistry simply hadn’t lasted; he’d felt as if he was competing with the ghost of a sentence that had never so much as been spoken. 

(“Well, darling,” his mum had said, spooning another serving of roast potatoes onto his plate as Julie canoodled opposite him with her soulmate. “You can’t afford to be pi— I mean—”)

[camgirlsurvivalguide]

How To Overcome Low Visibility

The bulk of the articles on this guide give advice on how to perform your best for your audience. Ways to talk, things to offer, how to manage your tokens, so on and so forth. But what about actually attracting an audience at all? What if it’s not that there are a few people at a time that you’re trying to entertain - what if it’s absolutely no one at all? What then?

This is a topic that I haven’t touched on much in this guide. It’s certainly not that it isn’t a relevant subject matter - I think that a great deal of the questions I get asked fall somewhere close to these concerns. It’s just that, while running the risk of sounding conceited, it isn’t an issue that I’ve personally had to deal with, so it’s been tough for me to offer sound advice on my own.

That said, I’m certainly not without knowledgable sources, so I took to twitter a couple days ago to ask for some advice from ladies who had come back from a low camscore, and combined those pieces of advice with some thoughts of my own. 

What is Camscore? A Review.

Camscore is a rating scale on MFC that is determined by some bizarre combination of tokens earned vs time broadcasted. How, exactly, is it calculated? I’ve been on the site for five years and I still couldn’t tell you - the gist of it is that it’s a good idea to make as many tokens as you can every hour and not just sit around on your phone or sleep because your camscore will be affected in a negative way. Every model begins with a camscore of 1000, and the tokens she makes will impact that score by either increasing it or decreasing it. Receive a tip bomb? Camscore goes up. Spend three hours on cam and only make 5 tokens? Camscore goes down. It’s a wise to try and maintain a camscore of 2000 or higher for visibility.

How do camscore and visibility go together? Camscore is the default sorting option for the way a member sees the main page on MFC - that’s to say, if a member doesn’t go into his settings and fiddle with stuff, the first “slot” on the main page will be the cam model streaming with the highest cam score, then the second highest, third highest, so on and so forth, moving from top left corner of the screen and gradually scrolling down the page. If I go to the MFC home page on my MacBook, I can see just three rows of room previews, eight previews per row - that’s just 24 spots visible without me having to scroll down the page. The lower your camscore, the lower your position on the first page, the further a member has to scroll to happen across your room preview, aka, the lower your MFC visibility. Right now the “first page” (aka no scrolling needed to see previews) of models have camscores between 10,000 and 6,000. 

The Low Camscore Vortex

We need tokens to raise camscore. We need members to tip to get tokens. We need members to see us in order to tip us. A higher camscore helps us get seen. 

This is the troubling part about MFC for a lot of models, and for a ton of reasons. The bottom line is that a low camscore - regardless of how you ended up with one - can make it incredibly difficult to make money. It can also make a lot of the advice I write more or less non-applicable. I suggest minimum hours and consistent shows - but for what audience? I suggest countdowns for stripping or for adding friends - but what’s the point when there’s hardly anyone in the room? If you’re used to sitting in front of the cam without any viewers, waiting for someone to happen by you, you’re stuck in a tough place; do you immediately jump on them and say hi (because talking is good cam modelling, as I suggest) - or do you wait for them to say something? What if they leave? Then what? In attempting to put myself in these shoes, I imagine camming would be incredibly stressful and really hard on the confidence.

That said, not totally impossible. While having a low camscore can start pulling you into the vortex, I’m hearing from credible sources (aka my bomb dot com cam lady friends) about some tips and tricks to help to haul yourself up and out.

Camscore Raising Tips

1. Log On Naked.

Okay, so maybe this isn’t applicable to my non-nude hopefuls out there ... but this is the piece of advice I heard pop up most often. Log on naked or topless to attract people in the room, and when you manage to get a small group of returning regulars, then try the countdown thing. Countdowns are great but if there’s no one around, they might look more discouraging than encouraging to potential tippers. 

2. Content hustle.

Offline tips count more toward camscore than online tips do, so creating content to sell in your MFC Share is a good way to entice potential tippers. Your videos do not have to be fancy: you can simply open your webcam recording software, make a recording of you doing a strip tease or cum show, and then upload it to MFC share. Pricing these fairly low gives members the opportunity to purchase a show from you, in the absence of you putting up a countdown for them to view a show from you live. Obviously that’s the goal, but in the mean time, short and simple video sales could help you boost your score.

3. The “Friend Add” perk

Here’s a work around to camscore: people who have you added as a friend will see you pop up at the top of your list, and they’ll also see your “news feed” updates when you post them. For this reason, offer perks to adding members as a friend, because it’ll encourage them to add you as a friend, too - and then you’ll show up at the top of their page. My suggestion: 50 tokens to get a “friend add” will allow them PM privileges and a photo gallery on MFC Share. When people tip, make sure to remind them to add you as a friend, too - and then make use of that “news feed” feature to post when you’re going to be logging online. 

4. Lovesense

I have zero knowledge about these things, other than that at least some members apparently do enjoy them. The Lovesense (and related toys) supposedly buzz or activate in reaction to the tip sound. Models will put “LOVESENSE ON” in the topic, so members know that when they tip, their girl is going to get a little vibration from them. Models replying to my twitter thread have said this was quite helpful, so it’s worth a shot!

5. Achievable goals

Start small. By keeping your tip menu and your content priced low, you’re allowing for a wider audience. People love to succeed. It’s better to offer your snapchat/videos/countdowns for cheap and slowly increase them as you’re able than it is to sit online and not sell anything at all.

6. The Grind

Like any cam advice, it seems that gritting your teeth and grinding it out is still very applicable in this situation. A few camscore champions mentioned that consistency is key, even when it’s difficult to attract an audience. One model said that she opted to work 10 to 12 hour shifts, daily, for a number of months in order to climb up the ladder. I would suggest a high degree of agreeableness would be beneficial: say yes to privates, say yes to custom videos, say yes to releasing new content as often as possible (obviously within your comfort zones though!). 

7. Non-Camscore Visibility

Camscore isn’t the be-all-end-all of cam success! Social media is a powerful tool, as is the power of association. Myfreecams runs social media accounts on instagram and twitter, and frequently reposts/retweets models who tag them in photos. Don’t be afraid to use other platforms to boost your member base - and, at the end of the day, don’t feel as though MFC is the only site that you can find success on. Some choose to leave MFC because of camscore and go to another site, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Some girls hustle entirely over twitter or snapchat (though ToS can make that difficult, obviously).

Here’s a strategy: offer your snapchat for free, or for relatively few tokens. On your free/cheap snap story, offer the opportunity to tip to join a snapchat cum show. This way you’re raising your camscore through offline tips without actually having to broadcast and risk lowering it. Tadaa! One model offered the following advice: in those paid-for snapchat shows, attach a link to one of your MFC Share videos to every snap. This gives a member the opportunity to swipe up and purchase an MFC Share video during every snap. At the end of the snap story, add more links! 

[wishtheywerereal]

Colleagues to Lovers- Will Zic find his true love?

ZOE & ZIC.

Zic was an below average looking 24 year old who has been single for too long that it had started to become uncomfortable. When he finally found a job he was excited that he is finally stepping into the adult life and he could finally start to settle, now all that’s left is to find the right man. You see, Zic never felt that fitness was important and this reflected very well on him. Weighing almost 125Kg at 178 heights, Zic wasn’t really attractive to many guys. The only hook ups he ever got were those who were interested in his massive man boobs. Few months passed in his job and Zic quickly climbed his corporate ladder and was appointed as the assistant manager of his department.

Little did Zic know that his live was about to take a turn towards love and romance. Zic’s manager had resigned and a new manager was incoming soon. Zic heard a lot about his new manager but Zic never expected much as his previous manager wasn’t very attractive anyways. The day came, it was a Monday and Zic’s new manager walked into his office and introduced himself to Zic. “Hi Mr.Zic, I’m Mr Zoe, your new manager,” was all Zic heard as he was being sucked into the eyes of the handsome and sexy looking man in his early 40s.

Zoe: Mr Zic?

Zic: Sorry Mr Zoe, nice to meet you. Hope all works out for us, erm and yea call me Zic sir.

Zoe: Sure. See you around.

As Mr Zoe left his office, Zic sat down on his chair and thought to himself “god damn, how am I supposed to control myself in front of him?!” Zic felt an instant attraction to Zoe but Zoe wasn’t gay. “Guess I won’t have any luck anyways, back to work” sighed Zic as he glued his eyes back to his computer screen. Weeks past and Zic and Zoe maintained a professional relationship. They had lunch together casually and went out for drinks and movies sometimes but Zic kept his feelings to himself but he always had the same feeling whenever he met Zic. The feeling of having a million butterflies in his stomach. Both Zoe and Zic’s offices were in the same room and were divided by a glass wall with a glass door. As the manager, Zoe was given his own room thus Zic was seated on the other side of wall, but he had clear view of Zoe every single day. Zic and Zoe got close very quickly; they became good friends and started sharing their personal life to each other.

Eventually, Zic learnt that Zoe was married twice and both were failed marriages. His first wife passed away due to kidney failure. Things didn’t work out with his second wife however he has a son with his second wife whom he decided to leave with his wife for the better of his son. However, Zoe missed his son a lot. This only made things worse for Zic. He was genuinely attracted to guys who had been through a heart break, he always believed that guys who had been through a heart break were more sentimental and knew the meaning of true love, love that they lost previously.

A few months passed on and one day Zoe walks over to Zic’s table.

Zoe: Can I ask you for a favour?

Zic: Yea sure sir.

Zoe: Well, I know you’re into fish keeping and I just recently moved into a new house. I want to set up something in my living room, something simple and easy to maintain, can you help me with it?

Zic: Sure sir, it will be my pleasure. I’ll meet you up on Saturday and we can discuss? Will be good if I can see the exact spot for the aquarium.

Zoe: Sure Zic, erm, I’ll pick you up from your place on Saturday morning?

Zic: Sure. I will start doing some research for you first.

Zoe: Thanks.

Saturday came and Zoe picked Zic up. As he was just travelling to Zoe’s house, Zic didn’t really dress himself up, he was just wearing his Bermuda and a T-shirt.

Zoe: You could have worn some pants to cover those hairy legs of yours!

Zic: Sorry Sir. I thought you will be fine with this.

Zoe: I am fine, was just joking buddy. Anyways, call me Zoe, you keep reminding me about my age every time you call me Sir. I’m only 41 you know.

Zic: Sorry Zoe, anyways age is just a number, doesn’t mean much.

Zoe: Tell that to the ladies’ man.

Zic: I’m sure ladies fall all over you right? Haha.

Zoe: Yea, by ladies you mean Aunts, then yep. Haha.

“He must have had a lousy Friday night I suppose, or maybe no action in a while. Oh well.” Zic thought to himself as he stood next to Zoe’s car. :Hey big butt, let’s go man!” said Zoe as he smacked Zic’s ass. Zic’s berms were a little tight and his ass, let’s just say his ass was as famous as his man boobs.

After taking a few measurements and discussing a few of details for the tank Zic was wrapping up and packing his stuff when he accidentally trips on Zoe’s carpet and falls over onto to Zoe who was seated on the couch. Due to the fall, he accidentally kisses Zoe’s neck.

  Zic: Gosh, I’m so sorry, it was an accident. I…I….I’m so clumsy.

Zoe: Hey, chill. I knew this carpet was a bad idea. Are you okay?

Zic: Yea, I’d better get going, have to place orders for your fish by today. I will see you on Monday. Rest well.  Bye.

Zic said as he ran out the door. He felt embarrassed about what had happened and he just wanted to leave. Zoe stood at the door looking at the young man running down his corridor. “What’s wrong with me? Why do feel like I have an attraction for him”, Zoe thought to himself as he closed his door.

Monday came and both man meet at their office

Zic: Morning Mr Zoe, I’ve ordered the tank and the fish. The tank will be arriving on This Friday evening and the fishes will arrive on the following week Sunday. We need to give the tank one week to cycle so I delayed the delivery of the fish.

Zoe: Friday, erm, I’m on leave but I’ll be home. So I’ll see you at my place.

Zic: Sure sir. Oh and about Saturday, I didn’t mean to kiss your neck like that, it was…

Zoe: Zic, stop. I know what happened. Don’t worry so much. Let’s get back to work.

“Glad I cleared the air, though it did feel good” Zic thought to himself as he started doing his work.

The week passed on with no big incidents between the two man, however, Zoe started noticing Zic more often and every little thing that Zic did made Zoe feel more attracted to him. On Thursday evening as Zoe was leaving the office,

Zoe: The tank is coming tomorrow right? I will see you tomorrow?

Zic: Yea, I told them to deliver it at around 6pm, so I hope it’s okay?

Zoe: Yea it is. Don’t worry. I’ll see you then.

Zic: Enjoy sleeping in. Haha.

On Friday evening, Zic reaches Zoe’s place at 5pm, an hour before the delivery. He tries ringing the doorbell multiple times but no response from Zoe. However, Zic saw Zoe’s car parked downstairs so he knew Zoe was home. He tries calling Zoe but Zoe doesn’t answer. Zic ends up waiting for an hour and the delivery van arrives with the tank. Zic decides to try calling Zoe again, for the 30th time and finally Zoe picks up, “oh fuck fuck, Sorry. I’m coming, wait wait” exclaimed Zoe as he runs for the door. He open the door to see Zic standing there with the delivery man and equipment behind him. “sorry Zic, I fell asleep, got a little drunk, come on in.” Zoe explained as he let Zic into the house. Throughout the whole time Zic didn’t say much and Zoe was wondering if he was angry with him. After putting all his things down, Zic instructed the delivery man to start setting everything up and walked up to Zoe.

Zic: Erm, Zoe? I think you’re making the delivery man feel uncomfortable.

Zoe: What? What do you mean?

Zic: You do realise you’re in your underwear right? Those are not even boxers?!

Zoe looks down to realise he was wearing only a skimpy bright yellow underwear. “Oh Fuck!” Zoe said as he covered his crotch and ran to his room. Zic just thought himself “well that was hot” as he giggled softly.  It took 3 hours to set up the tank and after they were done, Zic and Zoe crashed on the couch feeling exhausted.

Zoe: That was embarrassing man! I totally forgot.

Zic: Yet you say only the aunts like you?

Zoe: Not everyone gets to see me in my underwear, that too in a skimpy one.

Zic: Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. Your secret is safe with me.

Zoe: Secret?

Zic: Yea, that my boss sleeps in skimpy bright undies!

Zoe: Haha. God damn. Anyways, here, take this spare key. Till this whole set up is complete, hold on to this. Don’t wait outside for an hour. Sorry about that.

Zic: You sure? I don’t mind.

Zoe: No no, take it. It’s ok.

Zic: Alright, I better get going. Enjoy your weekend.

As Zic leaves the house, Zoe closes the door n locks the door. The thought of standing nearly naked in front of Zic was embarrassing but at the same time Zoe was starting to feel turned on by that thought. His member was growing in his pants. “What’s wrong with me?” thought Zoe as he decided to just release his load either way. He removes his shirt and pants. Shoving them to the side and starts rubbing his member in the same yellow undies. Pre cum was soaking the underwear and Zoe was feeling very horny. He decided to try something he has never done before. He turns his laptop on and opens a site for gay porn. Though at first he felt a little weird watching it eventually as he watched it, he realised he was feeling hornier than he already was. He took his underwear off and his 6.5inch cut dick sprung up. Zoe takes some lube and lube up his member and starts stroking himself. “oh fuck, it’s been a while since I felt like this, mmmmm” thought Zoe as he started jerking off. In the video, the top starts to finger the bottom’s ass and this makes gives Zoe an idea. He sits on his couch and lifts up his right left exposing his hole. He takes a bit of lube n starts rubbing it on his hole and slowly slip a finger in. As it was the first time anything has been put up his hole, Zoe felt a bit of pain but he didn’t feel pleasure from it. “Maybe ass play isn’t my thing” Zoe thinks to himself as he continues to jerk himself off. He could feel the orgasm building. His dick was waiting to shoot the load. Zoe laid back and closed his eyes and as he shot his load he exclaimed “Yea Zic, this is for you, fuck yea, take my load!”

Zoe shoots his load all over his chest and some of it gets onto his face. Feeling exhausted, Zoe laid there thinking “Wait, why did I call out his name?!” However, being so tired, Zoe decided to shower and go to bed.

On the other side, Zic reaches home and as he was using he laptop, he suddenly remembers how Zoe looked in his underwear. Though Zoe was 40, he maintained his body well, with nice firm chest muscles and a smooth body. Zoe was definitely a pleasure for sight. Zic needed to wank this one off. He took his clothes off and whipped out the dildo from his drawer. He lubes the dildo up and starts to fuck himself with the dildo. “Ah fuck, yea fuck me Zoe, fuck me like you own me” exclaimed Zic as he starts to ram the dildo inside faster and faster. Unlike Zoe, Zic wasn’t very well endowed. He has an average 4.5 uncut member. Within minutes, Zic shoots his load all over himself.

Both man have already started falling in love with each other and have yet to realise it.

The rest of the week passes by without any major incidents and Sunday finally arrives.

Zic whips out his phone and messages Zoe,

Zic: Hey, I just got the fish, coming over now. Please be awake and get some clothes on: P.

Zoe: Gosh, I am waiting for you dude. Just head on over and don’t worry, I am clothed.

Zoe wanted to play a prank on Zic. “He saw me in my undies, maybe I should get him to be his undies,” thinks Zoe. He thinks of something to do as the doorbell rings.

Zoe: Come on in man.

Zic: Thanks, look, I got the fish.

Zoe: Damn they look cool. Let’s get them in the tank. I’ll go get the net.

Zic: The fish needs to acclimate to the water temperature in the tank first, so I’ll let the bag float in first. Just prepare the net and a pail.

Zoe: Sure, since we got some time, I’ll make us some coffee.

Zic: Sure, thanks.

Thirty minutes passes by and the fish are ready to be released into the tank. As Zic opens the bag to catch the fish, it jumps off the bag and lands on the floor, Zic scoops the fish up and releases it into the tank. Due to that, his clothes get wet -.

Zic: Oh no. Now I’m going to smell like fish…

Zoe: No worries, remove your shirt and pass it to me, I’ll put it on quick wash and dry.

Zic: No worries, I’ll get it washed at home.

Zic was always insecure about being topless as he was afraid people will make fun of his man boobs but Zoe wanted to play the prank.

Zoe: Come on, don’t feel shy, we’re both guys here. It’s ok. Here let me help me.

Zoe walks over to Zic and start to lift it up. Zic gives in and says “okay I’ll take it off, but can I have a towel please?” Zoe walks into to get a tower but asks Zic to remove the clothes in the meantime. As Zic removed his shirt, Zoe watched from his room “Holy cow! Those man boobs!” he thought to himself as he realised his member was growing in his pants. He adjusted his bulge and walked back out with the towel just as Zic dropped his berms revealing the bright red jockstrap he was wearing.

Zoe: Really? Jockstrap?

Zic: Sorry, I just feel comfortable in it.

Zic wrapped himself with the towel and Zoe puts his clothes in the washer.

Zoe: That will take 30 Minutes, just sit down and relax. I’ll close the door just in case.

Zic: Sure, thanks.

Zoe: Anyways, don’t mind if I ask, are those like natural or surgical? I mean, I know you’re gay but just clarifying.

Zic feels embarrassed; he covers his chest using his hands

Zic: It’s natural and humiliating. It gets very depressing at times.

Zoe scoots over to Zic’s side and holds his hand.

Zoe: Listen, it’s important to love yourself. You’re perfect, nothing wrong with you or in you. Cheer up.

Zic: Thanks

*BEEP  BEEP*. The dryer was done. Zic change into his clothes and leaves home. Zoe sat down and starts thinking how it must feel to be unhappy with yourself. He pitied Zic. Zic on the other hand, felt embarrassed about the situation and wondered if Zoe might find him weird.

Days past and the 2 continued about their daily life as usual. Zoe wanted to surprise Zic for helping him out with the tank set up. He brought Zic out for dinner and they both had a wonderful sharing session,

Zoe: Hey listen, about that day, I didn’t mean to hurt; it was just a normal question, casual.

Zic: I understand, didn’t take it offensive at all. It’s just; it gets a little weird at times. I’ve even considered surgery but it probably won’t help.

Zoe: Just let it be, I mean, I’m sure you can learn to love yourself instead?

Zic: It’s easy to say when you have a perfect body like that but when you’re in my shoes, it’s not going to be so easy.

Zoe: Come on, no one’s life is perfect; you just have to accept and move on. You need to cheer up, how about drinks at my place after this? Up for it?

Zic: Well, It’s pretty late already, maybe next time?

Zoe: Oh come on, it’s Friday night! You can crash at my place? I could use some company.

Zic: Fine, but let me get some change of clothes on the way back?

Zoe: Sure, let’s go.

Zoe drives Zic back to his place to pick up some clothes and they both head back to Zoe’s house. For some reason, Zoe was feeling very excited for the sleepover. Upon reaching, Zoe pops open a bottle of Red Wine and both men start drinking while watching a movie. Both of them didn’t bother changing first hence they were both still dressed in their office wear.

Zoe: Damn, this movie is bad! Why did we even pick this?

Zic: I hate to cut a movie, can we finish it?

Zoe: Come on. I can’t take it. I’m cutting it.

Zic: Hey, no!

Both men start brawling over the remote control to the point that they both fall off the couch and landed on the floor. The house fills with the noise of 2 guys grunting in attempts to grab the remote control first. At last, Zoe grabs the remote back from Zic and he realises that he was laying on Zic and the only reason Zic had lost the remote was because he was starring right into Zoe’s eyes.

Zoe drops the remote and stares right back into Zic’s eyes.

Zic: Zoe, I think we should….

Zoe: Shhhh, don’t ruin the moment.

Zic: what?

Zoe closes in on Zic and kisses Zic. The feeling of pure love from a genuine person like Zoe made Zic weak. He couldn’t resist. In no time, both man were making out with each other, hands rubbing down each other’s body. Zoe’s hands reach Zic’s man boobs and he stops. Zic’s heartbeat stops when Zoe stopped moving. “Does he find it weird” thought Zic. Zoe unbuttons Zic’s shirt to reveal 2 massive man boobs with hard nipples waiting to be devoured.

“That is fucking hot and impressive” exclaims Zoe. Without any hesitation, he wraps his lips around Zic’s right boob and starts sucking and licking it.  Zic’s man boobs have always been very sensitive thus Zic was moaning in pleasure as Zoe was soaking them in saliva. “No offense, but they feel like just a woman’s breasts” Zoe mentioned as he took both boobs in his hands and massaged them. “Is that a good thing?” questioned Zic. Zoe replied “You bet!” before sucking on them again. Zic reach for Zoe’s bulge and starts feeling it through Zoe’s pants. “That feels huge” exclaims Zic.

 After a good few minutes of devouring Zic’s man boobs, Zoe starts making out with Zic as Zic unbuttoned and removed Zoe’s shirt as well. Let’s take this somewhere more comfortable said Zoe as he brings Zic to his room. Zic was feeling very nervous yet somewhat mesmerized by Zoe. After switching on the Air-Conditioning in the room, Zoe pushed Zic on to the bed and started making out with him again. He ran his finger along Zic’s body and upon reaching Zic’s crotch; he could feel a hard on waiting to burst out.

Before going any further, Zic had to know something first. “Zoe, before this goes out of hand, I know you’re straight, all these could very well be just lust or it could be, you know, more? What is this going to be? I don’t wish to spoil the moment but I don’t want to be lead on either” questioned Zic. Zoe stopped what he was doing and looked directly into Zic eyes, “to be honest with you Zic, initially I thought it was just my sexual desire that was building up, whenever I thought of you, I just started feeling horny. But things changed when we got so close to each other, looking at you smile or laugh when you were with me made me feel like I accomplished something. You joy made me feel joy. I fell in love with you, but I was too scared to ask, I am older than you. I love you Zic, I want this to go on further but if you don’t wish to date a man who is 16 years older than you, you don’t have to” said Zoe as he moved to get off of Zic. Zic knew at that exact moment that Zoe was more than just a fling. He pulled Zoe closer and started kissing him again. Zoe knew what that meant and was overjoyed.

“So what you wearing under these pants? Jockstrap again?” Zoe laughed as he started unbuttoning Zic’s pants. Zoe removed Zic’s pants to reveal a red Renoma underwear which was wet with precum. “Damn, that’s wet, exactly how I like it” exclaimed Zoe as he pulled the last remaining piece of clothing off Zic. Zic was laying naked on Zoe’s bed as Zoe started rubbing Zic’s dick, gently stroking it to keep his partner moaning while he nibbled on those man boobs once more. “You have an amazing body” said Zoe as he went down to Zic’s dick. “I’ve never done this before, so forgive me if I do it wrong”, said Zoe as he was about to suck Zic’s dick. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to” said Zic, but Zoe smiled and started sucking Zic’s dick. He worked his tongue all around Zic’s dick, giving extreme pleasure to the young man. Zoe’s teeth did give Zic a bit of discomfort but nothing could affect the pure pleasure he was having. Zoe lifted Zic’s legs into the air and slowly moved down towards Zic’s hole. His licked around Zic’s hole making him moan louder and louder. Zoe then started eating out Zic’s ass which made Zic grasp the bed real hard. Zoe slowly inserted his finger into Zic’s hole and started fingering him while he moved up to kiss him.

 Zic held Zoe’s hand and guided him to lay back on the bed. “I have a favour to return” said Zic as he starting undoing Zoe’s pants with his mouth. Zoe wasn’t wearing any underwear, thus his pants were stained with precum. Upon unzipping, Zoe’s 6.5inch monster sprung up like a summoned beast. “omg, that  is huge ”exclaimed Zic as he started licking Zoe’s dick. Zoe closed his eyes and started enjoying the blowjob from Zic. Zic knew what he was doing, working around the shaft and slowly swallowing every inch of Zoe’s tool, giving his man the ultimate pleasure, Zic went slow not wanting to rush. Slowly his fingers trailed down to find Zoe’s hole. Zic started rubbing Zoe’s hole with a bit of saliva while sucking his dick. Though Zoe wasn’t too sure about having another man touching his hole, he trusted Zic and Zic being thoughtful, didn’t want to hurt Zoe as he assumed Zoe was never analed or fingered before.

 Zoe couldn’t hold it any longer, “I need that ass, now!” claimed Zoe as he reached out into his bedside drawer and grabbed a condom. Zic laid on the bed with his back facing Zoe, he could feel Zoe entering him. Zoe took it slow, he didn’t want to hurt Zic. In just a few seconds, Zoe was balls deep in Zic and he started thrusting. With each thrust he became faster and faster and soon enough, he was pounding Zic hard in his butt. Zoe’s fucking brought Zic to the edge of pleasure and after about 5 minutes of intense pounding, Zic shot his load all over the bed even without having his dick touched by Zoe or himself. “Wow, that hot!” claimed Zoe as he began fucking Zic harder. “ Wish I could fill you up” requested Zoe. “I’m sure you’re clean, why don’t you take that condom off and get in there raw daddy” teased Zic.

Zoe smiled, he pulled the condom off and started fucking Zic raw. Within minutes, Zoe was filling Zic’s hole his warm cum. “Ah fuck yeah! Fuckkkk, this feels awesome!” exclaimed Zoe. Zoe’s body shivered as the last drop of cum came out of his dick and dripped down Zic’s hole as he pulled out. Both man crashed on the bed, right next to each other. Zoe gathered some strength and walked out to grab a few tissues and towels and a fresh set of bed sheet. He changed the bed sheet and both men helped each other to clean off in the shower. Zoe offered to let Zic sleepover as he knew Zic was probably worn out. “Thanks Zoe, appreciate it!” said Zic as he got back on to the bed and reached for the pillow.

“Not the pillow, come here, lay on my chest for a bit, I just want to cuddle with you” requested Zoe. Zic was very glad to have a man like Zoe.

 Zoe: Zic, not just for the sake of fucking, but I love every bit of you, character, personality and now, body.

Zic: Zoe, I love you too! Wish I could stay like this forever.

Both men talked their heart out and the next morning, they couldn’t even remember what time they fell asleep.

 Everyone has someone special out there, just be patient, you will find your right man. Just don’t rush into something you will regret later. Till we meet again, bye bye. A

[modifiedmelody]

Luck was on his side (Chaper 3)

(Part 3 of 8)

The boy walked into his room, leaving George alone in the hallway. He ambled down the hall to his own room, about three doors down from his Soulmate. For a while he didn't know if he even existed, but he was relieved. The boy, Samuel, seemed like a bit of a pushover. Not that it was a bad thing, but it highlighted the fact that they were probably opposites. George almost hoped he wouldn't find the boy who's name was on his arm, due to his promise. What promise? A promise to his mother. She was a smart woman, and George knew to listen to her. So he did. His father was a crime boss before him, and he always hurt his soulmate. He always hurt George's mother. And George hated him for it, who wouldn't. His mother made him promise her he would give whoever his soulmate was the best life possible, and he agreed. A week later her body was found a few miles downstream.

He was going to keep that promise, if he could. He did think the boy was cute, although a bit naive. George let down his hair and got dressed into his pajamas before flopping onto his bed. He didn't really know if he'd like Samuel or not. He didn't believe in soulmates, to be honest. His 'business' probably wasn't the best place for the boy. Although he couldn't kick him out, the kid'd die on the streets. George didn't really know what to think of this situation, but he was going to get through it. He just had to be smart about it.

It took a few hours, but he finally fell asleep.

The next day George woke up around six, and rolled out of bed to get dressed. After about an hour of deciding what to wear he came out in pretty much what he wore the day before, but his vest was white, while his undershirt was dark red. His black pants stood constant, however. After he fixed his hair, (Down today, because he didn't want a receding hairline) he walked out the door and toward Samuel's room. After knocking, he heard a loud 'THUMP' which he assumed was the boy falling off of the bed. Soon the door opened and Samuel looked up at him, clearly embarrassed from falling. George looked from his rat's nest of light-blue hair and his clothes that looked like five generations of hand-me-downs,

"Didn't you wear that yesterday?"

"I- uh, sorry- I don't have any clothes,"

"I see. Well, I'll just have to fix that." George began as he motioned for the boy to follow him, he took him to his room,

"Before we get you dressed,  we need to fix your hair. How do you like it?" George asked as he brought Samuel to the side-room to the left of his room, where he did his hair and picked out his clothes. As Samuel was thinking, George rolled his sleeves up,

"I don't really mind,"

"In that case it's going up. From what I've seen It's always in your face anyways," he states before finding a wooden brush from his desk and beginning to run it through his hair, and spraying in a bit of dry-conditioner in there too so the tangles would come out easier. Samuel sat in awkward silence. He couldn't really think of much to say, so he just decided to talk about the only thing he knew about George,

"So... whats it like being CEO of a big-name company...?" he asked as George finished brushing out his wavy hair.

"Pretty boring, but that's not even my job so," he chuckled before pulling Samuel's hair into a pony-tail, although he left some down on either side to braid back.

"You're not?"

"No, that's just a cover. I'll be honest, I don't think you'd live if you decided to tell anyone, and I kind of trust you, Samuel, don't know why, I guess since we're soulmates are something" he started,

"I'm a leader of a big branch of organized crime. I steal lots of money, and kill a few people, it's pretty simple. It's fun, really, but blood doesn't wash out easily," he states as he continues to braid Samuel's hair. Samuel gulps, he realized he didn't know what he was getting into when he came here. He didn't even know how to process this information. Part of him was in denial, or praying it was some twisted humor. Although he did believe it possible, he'd read news on organized crime in the city on some news sites, it worried him. George noticed the boy became pale and laughed, Samuel noticed that his laugh was very pretty, and very silky. And the laugh of a murder.

"Samuel, don't worry, I wont let anyone hurt you~" he teased while finishing the braids on one side of Samuel's head,

"Ok- um, George are you s-serious?" he stuttered out,

"Yeah, but it's chill. It's not like i'm insane. I control a third of NY, so I don't rob banks or anything that much anymore." he speaks non-nonchalantly, and Samuel started to breath a bit heavier. George started on the other side,

"So, you k-kill people?"

"Only people who deserve it,"

"...what qualifies as deserving?"

"Killers, Rapists, People who piss me off,"

"So you just kill anyone in your way?"

"Yup."

"That's a bit... harsh,"

"Yeah. Sometimes. Y'know what, your being pretty talkative. I thought you were shy, guess I was wrong."

"I'm n-not shy, you're just intimidating..."

"I try," he deadpanned as he finished Samuel's hair,

"All done," he said with a grin, and surprisingly Samuel was impressed. His hair looked better than it ever had, to be honest. George then spun Samuel's chair aground to look at the front. Samuel felt a bit trapped, due to the fact George had a hand on either arm of the chair. But his face wasn't that close to his so he ignored it. That was when George noticed the bruise his father left on his left cheek- it had become extremely visible by now.

"...How the hell did I not notice that yesterday..." he mumbled to himself before moving his had to touch it, although Samuel flinched away. That didn't make George very happy at all, it was a sign of abuse that he was too well-aware of.

"Who did this?" George asked with fake mild interest, and Samuel silently panicked,

"I- uh, it doesn't really matter, it doesn't even hurt anymore," he answered, and George rolled his eyes,

"I'm not gonna go kill whoever did this, chill, I just think payback is necessary. Plus, they could be a good example as of why not to mess with my soulmate. This is a dangerous job for everyone involved, kiddo. And if people don't know you're protected, then they might try something." He said, and Samuel gulped. He realized very quickly that he didn't want to be part of a crime boss's private life! In the movies they boss's dame is always the one that gets killed, or kidnapped, or... worse.

"So, who did it?"

"I'd really rather n-not say, George," he mumbled, and George lowered his head so he was eye to eye with Samuel,

"I won't hurt them, badly. I just... was it your dad? Some kid at school? Warmer or colder?" He asked, and Samuel blinked,

"Wh... I am not playing the warmer-colder game about my dad! It's not even that noticeable!" He squeaked, he didn't notice his mistake until he saw a sly grin grow on George's face,

"Your dad huh... good to know." He mumbled before motioning Samuel to stand. Samuel hesitantly did,

"You aren't going to hurt him, right?" he asked, and George sighed.

"If you care that much, I guess not." He states flatly as he starts to look Samuel up and down.

"What to dress you in..." he says to himself, and Samuel tries not to make eye-contact,

"Actually, I have an old suit you can use. It should fit loosely, but the meeting we're going to is going to start in a few hours... we can fit it right afterwards."

"...meeting?"

"Yeah, just with some of my men. They need to meet you anyways." He says as he walks towards Samuel, who was still rather confused.

"First of all, let's get rid of this baggy sweater. It seems like it's been handed down for your last three generations," He said as he grabbed the rims of Samuel's sweater,

"W-wait, are you just going to strip me or something?" He asks, already starting to blush (it was an exceedingly easy feat to make Samuel blush), George smirks before pulling the sweater up and off,

"Yup. But it's just to get you dressed, it's also kind of to check if you have a recording device, although." He said, and Samuel nodded. He guessed that made sense. George then folded Samuel's sweater and turned back to him,

"Are you going to take your pants off or do you want me to do that too?" he asked with a smirk, and Samuel shook his head before taking them off himself. It was quite embarrassing to Samuel, to be honest, to be standing in the middle of the room in nothing but his underwear on. George was looking him up and down, and that only made him more uncomfortable. He chuckled before sauntering over to Samuel and placing his hands on the rim of his boxers from behind him,

"We can wait until later to take these off~" He said as he ran his hands slightly higher,

"Or now," He flirted, although after him mumbling something to himself he jerked his grip away harshly,

"No, sorry, self control isn't my strong point," He said in a strained voice, and Samuel took that as something to be weary of as George walked off to the closet. Samuel shivered,

"What's your favorite color, Samuel?" He called from the closet, and Samuel thought a bit before answering,

"Blue, I guess," he said, and George hummed in response. Samuel decided he found this entire situation very odd, considering he was half naked in the room of a New York crime-boss with a British accent, who was finding an old suit of his for him to wear. He honestly wondered why he thought it was a good idea to find this man before doing any research. The thing was, though, that Samuel did think George looked good. He couldn't judge his personality yet, but from what he'd seen the man was a slight bit too murder-y for his taste. He wondered about his temper, if it was bad or not. Samuel gulped when he thought of the flirting, and if it could lead to anything. The boy, of course, had no experience with sex whatsoever. He assumed he wouldn't have to worry about it to much, but was going to text his friend's later anyways because Philip claimed himself a 'ladies man'... he must know at least something. After many of these thoughts started to make Samuel dizzy, George left the closet with an old suit neatly folded in his arms.

"Here ya go, the smallest thing in blue I have," George gestured with his head towards the clothes, and Samuel nodded. He really didn't feel like seeing people

"Do I... um... do I really need to go to this meeting?" Samuel whispered, and George barley heard him,

"I hope you plan to speak up when talking to me, I don't think I can understand mumbling," He said in a tone that screamed pristine, and Samuel held back an eye-roll. He praised the lord he managed not to scoff,

"Sorry... George... um, well, what I wanted to ask is if my attendance at this meeting is necessary?" Samuel asked wearily, and George chuckled,

"Yes. It is. I feel like you need to meet the others, and that the others need to know their respective boundaries" George said clearly, as if Samuel wouldn't understand otherwise. The boy nodded and started to pull the black pants over his lanky legs, it didn't take long. Lucky for him, they weren't too baggy. He grabbed the white undershirt and buttoned it on, he started to have trouble with the cuffs and after enough struggling George rolled his eyes, and then the sleeves. In Samuel's opinion, the light-blue bow-tie was his favorite part of it all. It was fake, (Button on), so it was on quickly. After he put the vest on, George buttoned the front and took a few steps back.

"Perfect, now we can go. Right in time too, my business partners should be arriving by now." George pointed out before guiding Samuel out of his room and down the stairs, finally to the mud-room type area right inside the door. George pointed to a door to the right,

"I'll greet them. You can wait in the dining room right outside that door,  don't be loud, sit on the one of the two chairs at the head of the table" he commanded, and Samuel nodded hesitantly before approaching the door. As he left the room he heard a pattern-knock, although he wasn't paying attention so he couldn't remember the start of it. After sitting down he heard muffled greetings and many footsteps, it made him pretty anxious to say the least. The only other people in the room aside from him were some armed guards beside each exit. As the men all filed into the dining room the glared at him, each taking their seat. Samuel decided he wanted to not be there. After they had all taken their seats, George took his beside Samuel. The men spent no time before skipping small talk,

"Who's the kid?" a man at the other side of the table asked, he was wearing a lot of magenta, Samuel deduced it was a favorite color of the man's. Just like him, a shorter man sat beside him in all green,

"Soulmate. Just found him today," He stated simply, and Samuel looked to his feet. He didn't enjoy all of these people staring at him.

"What a cute kid- despite this we have business to attend to. How about our darlings hang out in the living room while we talk about the big stuff? We shouldn't worry them with business" He suggested, and Samuel didn't know why but he took offense.

"Sounds good to me. Boys, go on." George said in a serious tone, the man across the room stood first and left out a side-door, Samuel copied him and hoped it was right. After he left the dining room he sat on a couch across from the man awkwardly, the man was pretty much staring into Samuel's soul. He had dark brown hair, and a goatee of the same color. It made Samuel wonder what hair products he used. His hair looked really silky. Samuel, being the naturally shy person he is, decided not to be the first person to say hi. Lucky for him, the man placed his hand out to shake,

"My name is Alexander Hamilton, nice to meet you," He said, and Samuel shook his hand. He recognized that name almost immediately,

"My name is Samuel Seabury... hey, uh, you wouldn't know a Philip Hamilton, would you?"

"Oh yeah! He's actually... me and Thomas's son. You're Sammy?" He asked, and Samuel was surprised. The man in magenta- who he assumed was Thomas- and Alexander didn't seem a day over 25. They seemed way to young to have a 19 year old son.

"Uh, yeah?"

"Jeez, he talks about you a lot. His little girlfriend, Theo too- are you friend's with her too?"

"Um, yes?"

"Oh, isn't that neat! What a trio-" But Samuel cut him off with concern,

"Wait- so if Philip's dad is a crime-boss... is he safe?"

"Um... kinda."

"Am... am I safe?"

"Ehhum.... I'm pretty sure..." the man trailed off, which made Samuel want to barf. Alexander must of been able to tell, so he quickly reassured him.

"I-I mean, yeah! Totally! Organized crime isn't even that dangerous," he lied, and Samuel gulped. Alexander looked to Samuel wearily, as if he was thinking of something Samuel couldn't begin to comprehend. He cleared his throat,

"I don't mean to scare you are anything kid... but I hope you like sex because that's George's favorite hobby," He murmured,

"...Favorite? As in... he does it a lot?"

"Heh, yeah. And, once again, I don't mean to scare you, I just think you should no what you're getting yourself into with this dude." he started, and Samuel gulped,

"This is really helping my anxiety to be honest," He mumbled with an awkward laugh, and started to breath a bit heavier,

"Hey, it'll be fine though. I'm fine, and I've been married to Thomas for 4 years now, we're both alive," He states simply, and Samuel nods slightly,

"Wait... so we're just not going to go back to the fact that he loves s.. s... eh- idon'tlikethisword -sex? A l-lot of it?" Samuel asked, slightly worried.

"Uh, yeah, but i'm sure he won't do anything without consent- some weird chivalry thing he's got going on. Don't worry about it too much. Actually, wait-" He said before grabbing a slip of paper from his pocket,

"How about this, if anything bad happens, call me." He says before handing Samuel the slip, and standing up. Samuel found it kind of weird that the man kept his number in his pocket at all times, but decided not to say anything.

"Are you going somewhere?" Samuel asked, and Alexander nodded,

"The meeting part is over. It's time to eat," He said, and Samuel wondered how the hell he could tell. Samuel decided to stand as well, and both of them walked into the room and sat at their seats from earlier. 'Thomas' cleared his throat.

"So, you and George have known eachother for a day, i'm guessing you've fucked at least three times," he teased, and Alexander elbowed him in the stomach. George scowled at him,

"Thomas, i'm sure you're not insulting me," George said in a threatening tone. Although, Samuel was more distracted by the fact the men sitting on the chairs to the side seemed far more high-strung than before. This comment may have started something.

"Why, of course not, I'd never try to do that, I was joking, of course."He says, Samuel deduced that this man's voice was way too loud for his liking.

"Sure you were. Well, either way, the food is nearly done. And, Thomas, i'd rather you not speak to Samuel, you could very well corrupt him with your inappropriate jokes and mind."

"Well, either way I know that you have a dirty mind anyways. You just don't laugh at my amazing jokes."

"I do not. And your jokes are not amazing, they're juvenile. You're so classless, you could be a Marxist Utopia" Laughed George, and it seemed Samuel, who was giggling and trying to hold back a guffaw, was the only person to get the joke. Thomas seemed to decide he didn't care enough to look for an answer. George noticed Samuel got his joke and smiled,

"Hey Samuel, oxygen went out on a date with potassium today... it went ok." He said with a giggle, and Samuel laughed back.

"I thought oxygen was dating magnesium... omg" Samuel said in mock surprise, and George chuckled. Alexander and Thomas shared a confused look, although Alexander was secretly trying not to laugh due to the fact he just started to get the joke.

"... you guys are nerds. Stop. When will the food be ready?" He drawled, and the king cleared his throat,

"Soon. And i'm not a nerd, i'm just intelligent." He stated flatly. Samuel was getting over his giggles as the food came out,

"So, Samuel, what do you do for a living?" Thomas drawled, bored out of his mind and willing to make a conversation of anything.

"I, uh, just graduated high school a few months ago. I want to have a sweet shop somewhere but I don't have a lot of time to work on it. Well, I didn't- my family had me work a lot." He said, before realizing it might of been TMI, Thomas nodded before looking to Alexander and back to Samuel. The boy looked to his food, some french sticks and what his family called an 'egg-in-the-hole', although he assumed there was a more formal name that these men used. He wanted to ask, but he felt like he had already talked too much during this brunch. Samuel wondered what they must have been talking about while him and Alexander where alone. They all ate somewhat silently, with small banter between Alexander and Thomas here and there, but eventually they all finished. Thomas was the first to stand,

"Well, thanks for the food, our transaction on Saturday will be smooth. So don't worry about it," He  said, and Alexander stood with him.

"I won't. I do love our visits, and I hope we can talk again soon!" He said with a smile, and Alexander smiled back. Thomas nodded,

"Me too," He said before leaving with his soulmate. The moment the door closed George looked to Samuel,

"I hate that guy," George said as his workers cleaned up the table. He stood, and Samuel copied this.

"...why?" Samuel asked as they both left the dining room, and George grumbled,

"He thinks he's better than me or something," He said as he grabbed Samuel's wrist and led him to a side room. Samuel looked around and noticed it was filled with fabrics and needles.

"So, we're gonna do the outfit thing now?" Samuel asked, and George nodded.

"Yeah. I just need to measure you so I can send that to tailors, and you'll have a few suits ready in a week or so," He said as he grabbed some measuring tape from a wooden drawer, Samuel hummed in understanding before George walked to him. During dinner he had forgotten, but as the man towered over him by a foot he found himself worried about the other's comments. If George, who was much stronger and bigger than him, wanted to do anything to him, he could. Very easily. Samuel snapped out of his thoughts when George pulled his arm out to measure it. He found the entire situation awkward and decided to try and start a conversation.

"So, uh, what do you do for fun?" He asked George, and the other shrugged,

"Go to bars, get drunk, buy... um, well..." He trailed off, realizing he didn't want to say the last part. Samuel, however, could guess what he would buy after a night at the bar. George wrote some things down on a notepad and placed the tape down before turning back to Samuel.

"So, Samuel, want to do something? We have the rest of the day," He said, and Samuel nodded happily.

"Ok, cool, want to go watch TV, walk around the garden, or what?" He drawled,

"I'd like to watch TV," He mumbled, and George nodded before leading him to a room with a TV larger than the wall of Samuel's room at his house. George plopped down on the couch, and Samuel sat down politely about a foot away. George turned on the TV and got up off the couch with a sigh, realizing he would have to walk. He walked across the room and kneeled down to the TV-stand before opening it,

"I have Pet Sematary, The Omen,  The Fog, It- ooh I didn't know I had that one, and Insidious. What sounds good to you?" He asked, and Samuel gulped. He hated scary movies so damn much. He didn't want to say anything, though, because he didn't want to seem cowardly. He hadn't seen any of them, and he only remembered the name 'Pet Cemetery', so he decided on that one,

"Uh... Pet Cemetery?" He asked, and Samuel chuckled,

"I love this one, Stephen King really is one of my favorite authors," He said, and Samuel gulped. He had heard that name be used before, and he knew that this movie was going to scare the shit out of him. George put the film in and ambled back to the couch, this time sitting slightly closer to Samuel, which the boy took extreme notice to. The movie started, and for a while it didn't seem that bad. That was, until (Spoilers but not really) the kid died. Afterwards it became much too scary for the boy. He squeaked any time anything remotely scary happened, which always made George chuckle quietly to himself. Although, Samuel was shaken from his fear when he nearly slapped George for doing the stupid 'pretend to yawn but rally put your arm around them' move. Samuel would have protested, if not for a jump-scare that made the boy lean into George for protection. He didn't even notice he had until he saw the gloating smirk and George's face. He was about to say something about it when the movie scared him once more, and he finally screamed aloud. George seemed to be trying not to laugh at him,

"I-It was scary, OK? You can't blame me for having a normal human reaction!" He said quickly, but George shushed him in favor of the movie. Samuel had barley noticed, but it had became dark outside and in the room, they must have started watching right before the sun went down. The rest of the movie Samuel squeaked every now and then, but was otherwise fine. Until the screen went black, in the dark room. He hated the dark so much. He hated it more when he still had the thought of dead children in his mind. George yawned and Samuel closed his eyes, not wanting to see what he was imagining in the dark. George clapped and the lights turned on, which nearly made Samuel scream. George, who was bored now that the movie was off, used the hand on Samuel's shoulder to start playing with his hair. Samuel, however soothing it was, did not like it. He did not like it due to the fact that he loved it, and couldn't bring himself to tell George to stop. George moved his head closer to the side of Samuel's, and the boy squeaked.

"You're really close, George," He mumbled as he turned his head away from the other. George took the chance of Samuel's bare neck being turned to him and kissed it lightly, Samuel nearly jumped three feet in the air. Samuel really wanted to say something, anything, but his words were caught in his mouth, and George seemed to take this silence as consent. He pulled Samuel onto his lap and started to kiss the back of the boy's neck, at this point Samuel wasn't completely sure if he wanted George to stop or not. He wondered if this was too soon, or if anything like this would be considered 'too soon' for George. The man started to kiss less, and suck more, Samuel, however, stopped him by placing a hand on George's cheek,

"I, uh, don't like hickies," He mumbled, and George hummed before going back to just kissing and licking the back of his neck. George placed either hand on Samuel's waist and slowly slid them into his shirt. The boy whimpered as George ran his cold hands higher, although suddenly his smoothness deteriorated into hesitance,

"Shit, I'm doing it again," He mumbled to himself as he removed his hands

"Sorry, Samuel, I did it again," He says, and prepares to take Samuel off of his lap, Samuel thought it was a bit more serious than a habit, although he said nothing. After he was off of George's lap and onto the couch, he sat there awkwardly, looking in any direction but George's. He still had a bright-red blush on his face. Both of them sat in tense silence. George grumbled before getting up, leaving Samuel on the couch. Once he left the room, he cringed at himself

"Ugh, I'm an idiot! What am I doing? Why am I like this?" He whispered to himself, although he waited until he was in his room to punch a wall,

"Why can't I just act normal? No one normal wants to fuck someone the first day they meet," He said as he paces back and forth across the room,

"How can I even face him, now? I basically just molested him, I'm a terrible person!" He said as he plopped himself onto his bed,

"I doubt I even deserve a soulmate," He mumbles to himself as he lays back, alone with his thoughts.

Samuel sat in the living room, still breathing heavily from the prior encounter. He slightly regretted not asking George to stay, or something similar. He just didn't feel close enough to George to do anything. After collecting his thoughts he wandered to 'his room'. Through the night he tried to shake the feeling of George's lips on the back of his neck, and his cold hands on his chest, but a ghost of the feeling stayed with him through the night.

[theopenbookofdavidsmind]

The strange dating world of Plenty of Fish

Plenty of Fish, for the unitiated, is the haystack of online dating. Unlike Tinder which claims (with some justification) to simplify dating to its simplest form, POF requires some words alongside the pictures although unfortunately it doesn’t really stipulate what those words might be.

Often these words consist of adehfhsdasoifdsg until the requisite number of spaces have been filled, sometimes it’s full of deep and interesting insights into the character flaws of their ex partner, occasionally there’s even something about the person.

I used POF a while back but I’ve recently been lulled back in by the most evil of all inducements, the free trial.  

The site appears to be directly wired into Instagram and snapchat filters, I thought Tinder was bad but POF has a wide array of ladies disguised as dogs, cats, wearing giant glasses, unicorn horns on their head and the occasional artful pic looking meaningfully out to sea.

I don’t know what the guys selection is like but guessing by the number of ‘no naked torso and d**k pic’ comments I suspect we’re a lot worse.

Women with their horses also feature frequently. Generally they’re jumping or doing something sporty, I’ve contemplated borrowing one of my sister's but knowing how much they spend on them I think I’m probably just setting myself up for bankruptcy. There’s also the danger that the person in question might think I can still jump which is likely to result in severe pelvic damage or if I'm very lucky, falling off.

Like all sites where you have to write something, Plenty of Fish has its fair share of challenges for writing your profile. Too many ‘prefer not to say’ choices makes you seem a little secretive. Too much honesty about my geekier hobbies is probably an unnecessary amount of transparency.

The revival of tough mudder and running competitions brings with it additional danger. I play football three times a week more or less, therefore in theory I could write sporty. On the other hand this opens you up to people who are looking for a ‘running partner’ which won’t go well for either of us. Whilst gym buddy in theory is doable, I don’t really find the idea of doing crossfit every morning all that appealing, I’m just not a morning person; so again some slight economies with the truth are necessary otherwise it’s probably going to mean finding a lot of excuses for early starts.

Of course the argument goes that what you really need to stand out is a great profile picture.  Thanks to travelling, Facebook and the wonders of Instagram I have lots of pictures of me from around the world. Unfortunately they normally fail the selection criteria due to three important factors.

a) The somewhat hobo like beard because I couldn’t be bothered to shave for duration of the trip  b) The unhealthy sweaty sheen and soaked clothing of a man who’s just walked up a mountain c) The fact that I’m wearing walking boots, a rain coat and I’ve got a rucksack on with every eventuality planned for inside it

Of course the good thing about travelling photos is I tend to have done lots of walking so whilst I may look like a middle aged rambler who’s got lost on the Yorkshire dales at least I’ve done so with a reduced waistline.

Once the photo is then selected you need to punch in a few of your interests, preferably ones that collaborate with what you wrote in your profile otherwise it gets awkward. Second languages (I wasn’t even allowed to take French GCSE so this is probably one best to be left as blank) and of course the most vital statistic of all because women aren’t shallow in any way… height.

Then it’s onto the site itself, this is very exciting initially because you receive a message about every thirty seconds. Unfortunately these are mostly directing you to other sites which have interestingly looking young ladies desperate to chat to you for just a few of your credit card details.  Since I unfortunately deleted Nick’s whatsapp message where he sent me his VISA I have to avoid these.

Finally you’ve navigated past the wave of cunningly placed adverts and then you’re onto ‘how much Instagram filter is on this photo’ or even trickier, ‘what does the person look like when they’re not snapchatted as a rabbit’. This far from easy task completed it’s then onto reading the profiles themselves and that’s before you’ve even thought of a witty chat up line.

On the whole, maybe chatting people up at bars isn’t that bad a plan after all…

[stargleeksil-blog]

Criminal Minds s03e16 Elephant’s Memory review - or more aptly named, no elephants, but we get Derek and Spencer backstories and I just can’t believe how much love my heart can encompass. An Elephant Never Forgets

Episode 16 – Elephant’s Memory

Hey guys! So when I saw the title of this episode I was like, wait, are they actually bringing real elephants on the show? Because my excitement levels would skyrocket!! Then I realized it must be an analogy to something and I kinda got depressed. I love elephants.

Hello, Babar!

Anyway, let’s not get my hopes up too much and see what’s going on.

Let’s see what happens.

So we’re starting out in Texas and there’s a hillbilly song that begins with a line: “There’s a man going round, taking names.” Does NOT bode well.

Why is that dude talking to the trees?

Oh honey, didn’t your momma teach you that smoking is bad and will kill you?

See? You’re already limping, honeybee.

Oh fuck! That house just fucking exploded with that dude inside it! SHIT!

“Heck. Send everybody.” Haha he looks so lost. Dude.

WAIT WHAT? Did someone just open fire on the cops? Oh damn.

Oh my poodle is going to a support group for cops? I love you so much, Babyboy.

“I didn’t expect to see a man of your position here.” Oh honey, you don’t say that to a higher ranking agent. You don’t.

Aw! That agent gave him his one-year medallion so he’ll be more determined to stick it out and get to the one-year mark of being clean. I love you, dude.

“Sorry I’m late.”

Rossi: “I hope she was worth it.”

Derek: “I hope it was a she.” YOU LITTLE SHIT, DEREK! SO WHAT IF HE WAS OUT WITH A GUY? Wait, does this mean Derek is now jealous of whoever Reid was out with? I totally get the ships now XD

I love you so much, baby, but why hide what you were doing? Oh yeah, a support group is secret and anonymous.

“The locals are thinking terrorism in West Bune, Texas?”

First off, why the slouch, baby boy? Still broken up about Penelope?

And second, it looks like he’s never even heard of that place.

“I’ve never heard of this place.’

….

NAILED IT

“They’re gonna want revenge.”

“Can you blame them?”

I’m with Rossi, a hundred percent.

John Steinbeck: “A sad soul can kill you quicker, far quicker, than a germ.” WHOA! That’s so true, I’ve never even thought of it!

Oh god. So it’s not terrorism? They knew the habits of that Rod Norris and shot the deputy in the face. That sounds like something out of a hillbilly song, “I shot the deputy in the face” (imagine it in a Texan accent XD I am! And I’m lovin’ it)

“Shoots Savage in the face when he knows he’s already dead.” YEESH

Baby boy is onto something here, that’s plain cruelty.

Wait hold up. So the guy who got shot in the face postmortem’s son was dating the guy who got blown up’s daughter? Are we in some Southern Soap Opera?

Hold up. So there are no pictures of the wife and son, the dude resents his son for going off to the marines. The wife died in a drunk driver accident, but she was the drunk driver. Oh boy. This really is a southern soap opera.

“You might have just sold me on that profiling of yours.” Oh honey.

“Gun safe is empty.” Oh boy.

“That’s a surprise.” Did my poodle just use sarcasm? WHOA.

“That’s James Dean’s Porsche. No pictures of James Dean, though. That’s a bad sign.” LOL why?

“Still haven’t found the Father of the Year award.” WHAT IS WITH MY POODLE BEIGN SARCASTIC???? I DON’T LIKE IT!

Neither does yummycakes.

“Hey, Reid. Check yourself. That sheriff out there wanted to take your head off. I think Hotch might have let him.” OH SNAP! So I’m not the only one who picked on Reid’s seriously annoying behavior? Thank goodness.

“You know, I wish all our unsubs would just tack their profiles on their walls like this for us.” Oh honeybear.

“It doesn’t mean anything. What, you grew up in Chicago, a high school jock, you had pictures of, what, Scottie Pippen and Michael Jordan all over your walls, trophies everywhere?”

“Yeah. But you forgot Walter Payton.”

“Not to mention the sexy ladies of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition.” Oh god.

Oh damn. The fat officer’s wife just stormed up and demanded they shoot down the kid. Oh damn.

“Why do I get the feeling she’s not going to be the only one with that sentiment?”

Ooh, my puppy’s smart

Wait. So the body they found in the house isn’t the girl? He stuffed the meat he bought in her jeans? What the fuck is going on here?

She’s not a victim. I repeat, she’s not a victim.

Oh damn, twenty seconds looking at Owen’s files and poodle just diagnosed his learning disabilities and how the school wasn’t treating them right. Boom. Schooled about school!

“Come on, mom.”

LORD watching Shemar try to work a computer and fail shouldn’t be hot.

NAILED IT! My baby is amazing.

Lol, I love it how my baby is the tech genius in Texas. Has Penelope been giving you private lessons?

I like this Eileen, she’s sweet.

Wait. Hold up. So a video of the football guys forcing Owen to masturbate in public was posted on the school social networking site, and they just took it off? Once it’s on the internet, it’s out there forever. You can’t really delete it. Come on, dudes.

God, I hate that dude so fucking much.

Wow. My poodle is seriously judgmental right now.

“I told him that being bullied is part of growing up.” NO IT IS NOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FUCK YOU!!!!!!!!

Oh god. He deleted everything but the mpeg, “I’m walking Morgan through retrieving what he put in the trash.” You teach baby boy to do it right.

“The kid is tech savvy, sir, but fret not, I am tech savvier. Is that a word?”

Well, it didn’t flare up my spellcheck.

“That sounds like a word. If it is a word, I’m it.”

I love this woman so fucking much.

“DC time, Garcia.” “11:17 AM.”

“DC. Decaf.”

“Right.”

I love this so much.

Oh god, this mpeg must be horrifying, my baby girl is absolutely devastated. Shit.

Oh fuck. he just shot his tormentors from high school. Damn.

“There’s a man going around taking names, and he decides who to free and who to blame. Everybody won’t be treated all the same.” Johnny Cash.

That’s the first time the character quoted something, and not the actor in the background.

Poignant.

“But you could have prevented it.”

What the frack is wrong with you today, poodle?

Wow. That’s the first time I’ve seen Hotch loose his cool on one of the gang.

And it’s the first one-on-one scene he’s had with Reid and I love it so fucking much!

“It’s the truth. They could have done something. They worked with this father. They knew Owen.”

“So what? All adolescents profile like sociopaths. There’s a reason you can’t diagnose them until they’re eighteen.”

“Yeah, and they could have seen the signs.”

“Nobody sees the signs, Reid. You know that. And making it their fault is not only unfair, it’s dangerous.”

“I want you to go back to the Savage house and I want you to go through Owen’s room.”

“Morgan’s already doing that.”

“Yeah, and you’re gonna join him.”

“Oh, you’re punishing me?”

“No, I’m using you. You know this kid better than anybody. Go find us something we can use.”

Oh my fucking fuck! He just stabbed the old man who lives in the house he’s squatting it! DAMN!

“Reid.”

“You know, you’re not the only one who identifies with him.”

“You said I was a high school jock.”

“I was. But not at first.”

Wait. What? We’re getting more young Derek background story? YAAAAAAAAAAY

“My freshman year I was five foot three. I weighed a buck 20 soaking wet.”

“So trust me when I tell you I got my ass kicked every day.”

“So the following summer, I hit the weights.”

“And I got lucky. I grew six inches.”

“But it was never about vanity, Reid.”

“It was about survival.”

Damn it! Every time I think I might be over him, Derek reels me in and makes me fall in love with him all over again and I can’t fucking take it anymore.

“I was in the library, and, uh …”

Wait, we’re getting more poodle backstory too? FUCK YOU!

“Harper Hillman comes up to me, and she tells me that Alexa Lisben wants to meet me behind the field house.”

“Alexa Lisben’s like, easily the prettiest girl in school.”

“So what happened? Alexa wasn’t there?”

“She was there.”

“So was half of the football team.”

“They … uh … stripped me naked and tied me to a goal post.”

“So many kids were there, you know, just watching.”

“Nobody tried to stop them?”

“I begged – I begged them to, but they just … they just watched.”

“And finally, they got bored, and they left.”

“It was, like, midnight, when I finally got home.”

“And my mom didn’t …”

“Mom was having one of her episodes, so she didn’t even realize I was late.”

“You never told her what happened?”

“I never told anybody.”

“I thought … It was one of those things that I thought if I didn’t talk about it, I’d just forget.”

“But I remember it like it was yesterday.”

“Ah, Reid, you don’t need an eidetic memory for that.”

“You know, we forget half of what they teach us in school, but when it comes to the torment and the people who inflicted it, we’ve all got an elephant’s memory.”

Oh my god, this was like one of the most intense scenes in the entire season so far and I just fell in love with my two babies so fucking much. Both characters and those amazing actors, oh my fucking god!

“He’s been making a big deal of saying goodbye to Jordan in all of his emails. None if’ts shorthand.” Weird.

So they used Eileen to get Jordan to talk to them via the PDA? Oh honey. Also, I can’t believe they had PDAs in 2007, I’m so behind on technology it’s weird lol.

Oh damn. They’re planting a seed of doubt to get her away from Owen. Please get her out of there, fast.

Get out of there, sweetness.

Oh thank god. Jordan is there. Fuck.

The found Strattman. Lovely.

“He’s gonna force us to kill him. I don’t need to be a part of that.”

Oh my sweet little poodle.

Oh my genius poodle’s mind’s at work. So Owen isn’t going to return the necklace ot his mom, because it’s hers, he’s going to return it to Jordan, because she left it there. Fuck, I love you.

So he’s coming to the station. Damn.

“Cover me.” And you’re giving away your gun? WHAT? Oh my god, Reid, be careful, you crazy loon!

Did my poodle just negotiate with a psycho teen without the use of weaponry? Oh my goodness fucking gracious.

Tom Stoppard: “We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except the memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered.” WHAT? Somebody explain that nonsense to me, please.

SLEEPING MORGAN!

“You knowingly jeopardized your life and the lives of others. I should fire you.” WHAT?!

“What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that that would have been the second time a kid died in front of me.”

“You’re keeping score, just like Owen.”

Oh hey, come on, Aaron! There’s no need to turn nasty on poodle.

“It was my turn to save one.”

“It doesn’t work like that.” “It should.”

“I know it’s painful when the person you identify with is the bad guy.”

“What does that make me?” “Good at the job.”

Oh Hotch, you just ruined it for me.

Oh my boy, my sweet, sweet boy.

 Okay, so this episode was just a magnitude of whoa for me, I loved every bit of it. It had very little humor, but enough background story about my yummycakes and my poodle that I’m satisfied with it. We got to see emotional Hotch. We got to see sides of Morgan and Poodle that I didn’t think I’d ever see and I love it so fucking much.

And of course, as always, thank you guys for your amazing support, as I’m queuing this, the reviews of the first episodes of season 2 are being posted, and I’m overwhelmed that anyone is even liking the shit I put out there. So THANK YOU! (especially cuz Elle leaves and all that)

So, as always, my faithful sweeties, I leave you with shots of our handsome boys that didn’t make the cut above.

<3

[tombromance]

The Assistant

A/N: Ha! Finally finished my first work to post on here! Always accepting Requests.

Warning: This contains smut, so 18+ please.

~*~*~

               It was late, even by Harper’s standards. Two in the morning wasn’t a time she was used to just getting out of her office, or rather Tony’s office. Being Tony Stark’s secretary meant doing a lot of late night work with both him and the other Avengers. Ms. Pott’s had spent months preparing her replacement for the day and night duties. Harper’s late stay tonight was purely her own doing. Instead of parading around the party, making sure Tony didn’t make an ass of himself, she’d resigned herself to his office and reordering his very important files. Something she’d been meaning to do for the past six months, so in some ways it was a win-win situation.

                Harper sighed, dark blue heels in hand long with her bag, as she crept through the Avenger Tower’s hallways. Due to the erratic hour’s she kept, Tony completely redid one of the rooms, to make a small apartment for her. This way she was never late for work, but still had her privacy. The halls were silent, the gusts of the party long gone, and the Avengers most likely sleeping alone or with a guest for the night. It wasn’t until she passed Bucky’s bedroom door that she realized she wasn’t the only person awake. A loud groan left his room, forcing a light blush onto her features. Harper and the avengers were great friends, but there was something about Bucky Barns that was different. Maybe it was the tormented soul that he had -something she could relate with- or the gruffness in which he did things, either way she wasn’t sure why she was so drawn to the Winter Soldier.

                 She knew what she should do, she should keep going to her room, and she should go straight to bed. Yes, she knew what she should do, but her body stopped mid-hallway, right in front of his room. Harper glanced around, no one was awake, and Bucky tended to wake up about this time anyways, so there wouldn’t be any harm done if she knocked on his door. Not unless he had a lady friend in there of course. A puff of air rushed from her bright red lips, just as his bedroom door flew open, revealing the half-naked Winter Soldier.

 “Oh, Bucky,” Harper murmured in a strangled yelp of surprise. “I-I was just going to my room, and then I…. Are you ok?”

 “I can’t sleep,” he breathed heavily, much like he just ran two miles straight.

                 Her professionalism kicked into high gear, it was bad for business to have an exhausted Avenger walking around. Tired meant distraction, which could easily get someone killed, in their line of business at least. Harper’s sleep deprivation quickly went away, as she pushed the larger tank of a man back into his room. Her foot kicking the door shut behind them, as she continued pushing him toward his bed. Different ideas flashing in her mind of what to do.

 “Ok, what helps you sleep?” she inquired, once he was sitting. “Warm milk? Sleepy Time tea? Counting sheep?”

 “I usually work out.” He breathed, awkwardly placing his hands into his lap.

 “That’s no good,” Harper hummed tapping her finger against her chin. “The gym is under construction,” she grimaced. “One of the mutant recruits accidently blew up that part of the building. Is there anything else?” Her eyes rested onto the titan, the desperation of wanting to help evident.

 “There’s one thing….” Buck breathed shakily, a dark blush shading his features.

 “Yes?” Excitement echoed in her voice, as she leaned closer to his rock-hard abs.

 “Well…. I…. ah…. I’m not sure if it’s appropriate to say in a lady’s presence.”

 “Nonsense,” Harper laughed, standing back up and placing her hands onto her hips. “I work with Tony Stark, there isn’t a thing I haven’t heard before. Plus, I really want to help, so please tell me what I can do.”

                 Bucky sighed, watching her fingers move to the curve of her hips. God those hips were pure sin, he thought as they swayed to the cadence of her words. The other Avengers often talked about how her clothes were just a little too tight, and how they found it distracting sometimes. Tight clothes weren’t too much of an issue for Bucky, it was how her hips swayed whilst she walked that called the dirtiest of thought to the forefront of this mind. His eye drifted slowly back up, lingering at the two extra buttons that were undone at the top of her shirt. During the day, she always dressed in a button up top with a pencil skirt, only two buttons would be undone for comfort. Tonight, she had four unbuttoned, which showed off the top of her round breasts.  Bucky groaned, was she trying to tempt him? He wondered, as his attention went directly to her pouty lips.

 “Bucky, are you listening to me?” she huffed, crossing her arms over her breasts.

 “Yes, I’m listening.” He cleared his throat, before answering. “When I was younger I’d masturbate.”  His throat tightened around the words, as he watched Harper’s cheeks brighten in a crimson haze. “N-not that I’m asking anything.”

                 Great, she probably thinks I’m a pervert now. He thought, redirecting his eyes to the ground. Harper breathed a sigh, she could at least help set him up to do that. Her fingers pulling out the personal laptop from her bag. How would he handle porn? She wondered dropping the bag to her side. They had porn magazines back then, she was almost certain of it. Harper cleared her throat, as she waited for her computer to start up.

 “So, porn it is,” She breathed, knowing he needed the reassurance. “I have the perfect website for that, it has almost anything anyone would want.” A sparkle touched her eyes, as embarrassing at it is, she’ll be sharing something very personal with him. “There’s only one condition.”

 “What’s that?” Bucky’s eyes danced to her own.

 “You can’t tell anyone, this has to be our little secret.”

                 Harper redirected her sights to the laptop, typing in the URL of her favorite site to visit. Tony often asked her about her sexuality, since he’d never seen her admire anyone -whether they be male or female.  To which she’d calmly -and mostly respectfully- told him it was none of his business who she spent her nights with. The question of whether or not she had sex toys and watched porn was an added questioned, which she ignored giving him an annoyed look. Only Black Widow knew that she indeed had a few sex toys, being that they had gone on multiple occasions to buy them together.

 “No one knows?”

 “Nope, each Avenger and I have a series of secrets we keep.” She smiled brightly, placing the electronic device onto his lap. “This one will be ours. Now just click any of the links that interest you, there will be a list of videos you can watch by pressing the play button.”

                 Harper stood to leave the room, there was no need for her to stay with him. That is until his large fingers tugged at her wrist, embarrassment evident on his face. The dark-haired woman glanced to her companion, only then realizing what her error was. He was from the forties, during World War II, he wouldn’t know how to work a laptop. If she had actual video’s she would gladly lend them to him, but she didn’t, and he still wouldn’t be able to work the technology.

 “W-would you like me to stay, so if you need any help with the video I’ll be here?”

 He nodded, equally as embarrassed to ask her for this favor, as she was for offering it. Harper smiled briefly, picking up her bag and taking her iPod from it. She’ll listen to music while he…. and if he needed any help all he’d have to do was call her attention. This too would have to be a secret between the two, but that went without say. She sat beside him, her fingers already taking the screen from him.

 “Ok,” a slow sigh left her, keeping her nerves down. “What do you like?” She paused, “Or a better way of asking that is, what is it that you look forward to doing?”

 “I can’t finish, unless the woman I’m with orgasms first.”

                 A smile touched Harper’s fingers as she used her mouse to scroll down to the link that clearly stated Orgasm. All the while she explained exactly what she was doing, for when he’d be able to do this himself. Bucky watched, her features as she spoke to him. Her brows crinkled a bit, as the look of concentration too her features, a look he was well acquainted with from working with her. Already he could feel his pants pressing painfully against his member. It was sweet that she wanted to help him with this, but in reality, all he needed to do was think of her walking down the hallway. His fingers tightened into a fist, before going flat onto his legs.

 “Here’s a list of videos’, see this arrow like button?” Harper questioned, as she pointed to what she was talking. “Just press that when you’re ready. If you find something you really like, you can press the button labeled ‘Add to Favorites,’ it’ll add it to my list, and will stay there for later watching until I make you your own account.”

                 Once again, he nodded as a reply as she passed him the laptop. Bucky watched as she stood, pulling at the bottom of her dress to straighten it, before she crawled back onto his bed. Her head resting a foot away from his side, eyes closed with her earbuds pulsing music in her ears. Curiosity took over after two or three songs passed by, urging her to see what he had chosen. Harper opened her left eye partially, glancing up to the computer screen. He was still where she left him. Her fingers turned off the music, as she sat back up.

 “Is everything ok?” the words seemed to snap him out of his daze.

 “Um… I was curious what was on your favorites list.” He breathed, his darkened stare touching her face.

 “I like an assortment of things,” she blushed, moving the mouse to her favorites list. “I usually watch lesbians, it makes solo work easier,” she clarified, due to the look he sent her. “I like the toys, close-ups, BDSM, anal, and a few others.” She rolled her lip between her teeth, as she scrolled down the extensive list. “I’m sure I find something you’d like.”

                 She ignored the heated stare on her, as she finally found the video she was looking for. To be honest, she was sharing something far too intimate with him, and if she were keeping with honesty, she liked having him know this about her. Harper half smiled, picking up the computer, and walking over to the 32” screen TV on top of his dresser. Her fingers attached the needed cables, so that they could watch the video together, on a larger screen.

 “Where’s your remote?” she asked, avoiding looking him in the eyes.

                 Bucky cleared his throat, starting to feel himself pressing uncomfortably against his pants. “On the night stand.”

                 Harper breathed shallowly, turning the volume loud enough that they could hear, but too low for anyone one outside to. Bucky shifted, so that he was facing the TV, and she flopped onto her stomach beside him. She didn’t intend on partaking in the fun, but she thought watching the video was preferable than laying there awkwardly. Spacebar, and the video started. Both swallowed hard, avoiding looking at anything that wasn’t the TV, in respect of the others privacy. Harper pulled at her lip with her teeth, the low throbbing of arousal touching her lower half. Her thighs rubbed together, desperate for friction, prompting a quiet gasp.

                 Bucky glanced down, feeling the slight movement, his engorged member nestled in his large fingers. He breathed shakily, taking his free hand and sliding it along her curvy leg, and continuing up her skirt. A deep moan left her lips, before she sat up sending him a heated glance. The two women on the screen moaned, when a third person entered their room, now was only background noise, as Harper and Bucky locked eyes.

 “S-sorry,” he breathed, voice shaking when his fingers slid to the base of his penis. “You looked like you needed the touch.”

                 Without another word, Harper straddled one of his thighs, kissing his lips hungrily. Her fingers threaded into the hairs at the base of his neck, as his one hand pulled her closer to his body and the other tugged at her skirts zipper. Their lip moving together in a sloppy needy kiss, fueling their desires farther. Harper’s sinful hips ground against Bucky’s legs leaving a dampened area where her heat touched. Her body hot and needy, fueled the rapid pace her fingers tugged at the buttons of her blouse. Bucky pulled her skirt from her waist, dragging the fabric down to her thighs, as his body pushed her onto the bed and lying heavily on her.

                 A quite moan of approval left her lips, tossing her shirt to the side of the room, along with her skirt. His fingers probed her body, dragging the tips down the pulse of her neck, past the lacy bra she was dressed in and stopping at the matching panties. Their lips parted long enough for Bucky to replace them onto her neck, his fingers dancing along the pantie line before dipping under.

 “Don’t tease.” Harper quietly cried, threading her fingers into his sleep pants. “Please.”

 “I would never dream of it doll,” he breathed, wanting more than anything to sink himself deep inside of her. “You’re not a-“

 “No, but it’s been a while.” She breathed, their hips grinding against his.

                 Bucky nodded, understanding the message, as he pulled the soaking cloth down her legs. No teasing, but go slow, or at least as slow as possible. Her fingers pushed the soft fabric down his hips, revealing his entire phallus, instead of what fit through his sleep pants buttons. Harper moaned, feeling the palm of his hand pressed her heated entrance. He pressed anxiously against her, as his fingers pressed into her wet cavern. An excited yip left Harper’s lips, as she ground against the two digits. Bucky wasn’t expecting a virgin, Harper was too tempting for that to be a factor, but her pink flesh stretched too deliciously around his fingers for her to have enjoyed anything sexual attention in the past year or so.

 “Fuck,” he cursed, twisting and curling his fingers into her. “You’re perfect.”

 “B-Bucky now, please.” She moaned, starting to feel her orgasm building.

                 The Winter Soldier shook his head, his fingers continued scissoring inside of her, as his thumb dipped into her pressing against her clitoris. By the way her legs quivered, and her fingers dug into the silver bed sheets, he could tell she was nearing her orgasm quickly. Harper’s body arched, exposing her long neck and partially hiding her facial features. That wouldn’t do, Bucky got off, on both the face and the tightening of the vaginal walls, one without the other could ruin a potentially exhilarating release. With his free hand, he traced the curve of her breast, before pressing her body back to the cushion.  Shock danced through her features for the briefest of moments, her body not expecting the rough touch, but before too long, her body convulsed into ripples.

 “James, fuck.” She whimpered, once her orgasm subsided.

                 Hearing his name quickened his movements, placing his hips between her legs. Though the sensitivity of over stimulation pulsed uncomfortably, she was more than happy to feel his hard member pressing against her opening. She needed him. Harper bucked her hips towards his, begging him to enter her, a request he soon granted. Bucky hissed, feeling her walls widen to accommodate his girth, the feeling an overwhelming pleasure. His eyes dance over Harper’s features. Her beautiful eyes shut tightly in pleasure, her mouth opened in what seemed to be a permanent O shape, and her fingers white from holding the sheets so tightly.

 “Look at me,” he groaned, finally filling her completely.

                 Harper’s eyes shot open, locking onto his wintery blue ones. Neither daring to move just yet, both clinging to what little control they still had. Bucky smiled, taking the time to lean down, and tenderly kiss her. Before everything, every action and thought, was consumed with lust, now he paused to allow passion. His lips slowly moved against hers, his teeth lightly nibbling her bottom lip, begging for entrance. Harper hummed, as she freely gave him access to what he asked for. He mapped the inside of her mouth carefully, making sure to commit every smooth fleshy surface and crease to memory, before beckoning her tongue into join in the fun. The Winder Soldier worked his magic, his fingers dancing up her sides and resting just under the curve of her breast. He worshiped her body, touching, tasting, biting, and licking every inch he contacted.

 “Bucky,” she moaned at his ministration. “Please.”

                 He snapped back into the world, hearing her weak voice begging him to move his hips. It took a moment, but he answered her prayers, choosing to set a slow pace at first. Moan after moan danced from Harper’s lips, feeling his large length moving inside of her walls at such an agonizingly slow pace. Her fingers danced up his strong arms, only to rest on his shoulder blades, as she bucked her hips against his.

 “Faster,” she whimpered, as her teeth sunk into her lip.

“Anything for you doll,” he purred, with a mischievous smile.

                 Harper gasped, as Bucky speed picked up, hitting the perfect angle. Their hips meeting roughly, before drawing farther apart, drove them mad with passion. Harper sliding her lips down his throat, muffling the pants that dance from her, as he slammed into harder. Her fingers lacing into his hair, drawing their hungry lips together, sweat dancing down their bodies.

 “Sh-shit,” Bucky hummed, feeling the coils tightening in his being. “This will be shorter than I thought.”

                 He groaned, feeling her walls tighten around his member, signaling she too was very near insanity. As a last-ditch effort, Bucky pulled her knees over his shoulders and jutted his hips harder into her. She had to finish before him, or the pending release wouldn’t be anywhere near as enjoyable. Harper gasped loudly, before her legs wrapped tightly around his waist quivering uncontrollably. Her eyes fogged, as she convulsed against him. That was exactly what he wanted, what he needed before he too road out his own orgasm. Only when they were calm again, did Bucky roll from her, drawing the warm -soiled- blankets over their bodies.

 “Thanks for the help,” he purred into her hairline.

 “Anything for you,” she yawned. “Good Night, Bucky.”

 “Night, my lovely harp.”