#beer folk unite

[auraeseer]

As opposed to the normal lurks . . .

[snowtamale]

so far on dates i have talked about abolition and complained about centrists (and talked a lot about dog behavior and dog training). i feel like i’m much better at picking compatible people for myself these days.

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Polyphony

Chapter Twenty-Six

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Lee, Kevin, Charlie, Benny, Jesse, Sam/Madison, Annie/Bobbie, Crowley, Patience, Donna, Jody, Cesar, Nancy and going forward I'm just gonna list the bands as a whole unit and then the tertiary characters there's so many people all of the sudden!

Word Count: 3443

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, jealousy, Dean/Bela blow job, he's trying his best okay?, after party shenanigans, mild drug use

A/N: I am so sorry this update has taken me so long. It's been a weird couple of months. And with that I quickly duck away from all the tomatoes you will want to virtually throw at me over this chapter. xoxo Stu

Series Masterlist

Dean stepped off the side of the stage into the pit like a madman. He’d just played an entire show and finished with three encores. He didn’t want to be caught, it wasn’t an attempt at crowd surfing. It was submitting to the tide, merging with his audience.

They loved it, he was immediately met with open arms and cheers and more than one pinch on the ass.

The fog of smoke from the stage mixed with the stink of alcohol, decent weed and drying sweat then hovered over the entire crowd as Dean laughed and joked and hugged his way toward the barricade. Lee was still shouting his thank yous and Kevin was continuing to jam on the keys as the lights came back up.

Charlie cut all audio and the sudden lack of background noise was deafening. Everyone’s focus zeroed in on Dean among the chaos.

“Alright, c’mon brother,” Benny’s voice wrangled Dean out of the throes of fans more than anything. “Time to go home, folks! Let the man through!”

Dean waved and threw kisses backwards to the fans. Damn, his cheeks ached with the length of his grin, but he just couldn’t stop it. And apparently it was contagious, from Benny to Jesse, and all the way back to the dressing room, everyone who met his eye beamed back at him, followed by a cacophony of praise and congratulations that came by too fast to appreciate.

“There he is!” Lee shouted over all the laughing and cheering. The band and SPS had apparently started the after party the moment the show ended. Lee grabbed Dean around the neck, kissed his temple, and bowed him over for a noogie in the blink of an eye. Dean could have punched him in the dick, but took the high road and elbowed him in the gut instead. “Sonuvabitch—- let’s get you a drink.”

Lee dragged Dean towards the wall of booze they requested by the neck.

Someone smacked Dean’s hip as he waddled past, probably Donna, but it was too rowdy to be sure.

“Uh-oh!” Lee teased and then finally let Dean go. 

He popped up just in time for Bela to swoop in and kiss his speaking mouth. “Heh!” And okay, he closed his eyes a little late, but he was not expecting that. Lee whistled in his ear, but Dean had finally caught up with her and didn’t want to be ungrateful, so he deepened the kiss, got a hold of her hips and made it dirty, for the audience.

“Okay! Okay! Christ,” you swore. “Shots? I’m ready. Who else?”

Dean pulled back from Bela’s lips, suddenly self-conscious. She smirked, but Dean couldn’t quite match her mischief.

“Trouble’s startin’!” Pam hollered and Kevin practically shrieked as he rushed over to join you.

“You want in?” Dean asked Bela out of the side of his mouth.

“Definitely,” she agreed. They shuffled over and lined up for Cesar to drop another two disposable shot glasses onto the row before overfilling them all straight down the line.

“Salud!” He bid them imbibe.

“SALUD!” They shouted back in a choppy chorus.

The tequila without lime rolled down his throat more than stung, but Dean liked the way it felt on his tongue, an entirely different mouthfeel than his usual whiskey.

“Gah!”

Cesar eyed Dean knowingly, dark eyes bright and proud. “More?”

Dean nodded and looked around, seeing Patience sitting on the minifridge. “Hey Psychic chic, lay one on me?!”

She rolled her eyes but hopped down and got Dean a beer chaser as Cesar poured another row. “You’re a goddamn saint, thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Nice job out there,” Patience almost looked impressed.

Dean cranked the cap off his bottle and held it up. “Just gettin’ started.”

“That we are,” she agreed and then leaned over and reached behind Dean, waving and then holding out her hand. “Hey! Sorry, we haven’t met. I’m Patience— I’m the bass player for the opener.”

“Bela! I’m with him,” Bela replied, diligently shaking Patience’s hand. Dean couldn’t see it, but he felt it as Bela braced against his back to reach.

“You poor thing!” Patience teased.

“I’m right here you know!” Dean griped playfully and took his and Bela’s shot in the meantime, winking at Cesar.

“Eh, it’s not all bad,” Bela heavily implied something.

“I’ll have to take your word for it.” Patience said in a way like she’d be following up.

Dean groaned and took a long pull off his beer before finally turning around and joining the conversation about him. Bela practically draped herself against him, her spangly bracelets rattled down her forearm as she got comfortable.

“What is that bad?” Dean stage whispered to Bela.

“I’ll tell you later, dear,” Bela said diplomatically, patting his chest.

Patience chuckled. “How long?”

Dean looked at Bela before he could fuck that one up. “Couple of months.”

“Six.”

“Six?!” Dean balked.

“Yes, six months since we met for brunch at that place with the frittatas.”

“It’s March— that was November,” Dean countered.

“It’s still new, though,” Patience suggested, clearly amused.

“Basically,” Dean agreed.

“Not too new,” Bela tacked on.

Dean sipped his beer and looked around the room as Bela asked Patience about her band, things Dean heard but already knew. Lee and Kevin were geeking about something or another as they talked to Donna whose smirk told Dean that she was baiting them for something. Sam was spread back on the couch with Madison draped against his side while Annie sat across from them sealing a joint. Bobby and Victor were talking shop with the Sera chick from the venue just outside the door, making peace or demands, Dean couldn’t be sure.

He wondered if Charlie was still making notes for the show tomorrow or if she was here somewhere he hadn’t clocked.

“Alright folks, time to go make nice with the civilians. SPS let’s get you ladies first— Sam, grab your brother.” Bobby bellowed through the dressing room before heading out to the meet and greet area. Lots of bands did this stuff before the show, but Dean always preferred it after. Plus enough booze tended to put everyone, fan or band member, at ease.

Dean gave Patience a knowing look, rolled his eyes, and then pulled his arm off of Bela’s shoulders. “Duty calls.”

Seeing fans face-to-face was a mixed bag. Dean was never immune to the ego boost, it meant a lot that someone enjoyed something he helped make and that they were able to give them a good show in return. But there were the absolute nutbags too. And then everyone else in the middle who were either way too excited and forgot he was essentially a stranger or that he was a person at all, or trying so hard to be cool and aloof that he left feeling bad for them.

Generally it was fun, if exhausting. But after he had crashed and burned, he had this nagging urge to hang back and let the rest of the band do the heavy lifting for once. The guilt of entertaining that thought weighed on him as he followed Sam, Pam and Bobby while being flanked by Kevin and Lee. Dean Winchester didn’t pass the buck, he picked up the slack and so he walked into the repurposed rehearsal room with a big grin and his arms wide above his head.

“How’s it going everybody?!”

Screams and cheers hit them in a solid wave of sound. Carefully, you escorted them to the signing tables while everyone was still corralled behind the snap-bracelet dividers while Bobby watched the exit and the crowd. The venue’s security managed the line, ensuring everyone generally kept their clothes on and hands to themselves for this part.

SPS took up the first two tables, forcing PT’s diehards to play nice and give the openers some love. Though Dean was pleasantly surprised to see some folks decked out in their gear too, especially as a transplant band it made him proud of his friends. He cracked open the water bottle that was set in front of his assigned seat and chugged half of it. Suddenly hoping he didn’t smell too rank, from breath or sweat, he hadn’t stopped long enough to remember to grab some gum or more deodorant. He did a sniff check and felt a warm palm on his shoulder.

“Sure or unsure?” You teased, leaning in to hear him over the hustle and bustle of approaching fans.

“Passable. Got any gum?”

You rolled your eyes and stood back up to spin your compact cross-body bag around to dig through for him.

“Thanks,” Dean said while popping the piece into his mouth.

“‘’Course— anybody else?” You held out your pack and it got passed down the line from Lee to Sam, Pam was already covered, but Kevin took two, unabashedly pocketing the spare for later.

Then it was go-time and autographs passed in a blur.

The venue staff broke down the tables and slowly the people who hung around were able to mingle with the bands. Dean felt the urgency of a few groups pressing in on him, but he just grabbed his nearest bandmate, Kevin, and made the circle of conversation bigger. 

“So you’re the new Cas— how’s that going?” A woman who was old enough to know better asked behind hipster glasses.

“Weren’t you out there?!” Dean pushed back. “Dude killed tonight.”

“Ah, thanks, Dean.” Kevin said like the asshole he is. “And to think the last eight months felt like a fever dream.”

“Yeah, yeah, pipsqueak, we’re keeping you around.”

The small crowd around them laughed nervously, not yet getting Kevin’s humor.

Dean posed for selfies and gave out hugs and even had a thumb war with someone’s eight-year-old (who should not have been hanging out so late, but he wasn’t their parent). By the time the rest of the band had slipped away to the official afterparty, which included more of their friends and family and the rest of VIP, Dean was beat. 

So he headed back to the dressing room for a quick pitstop, Benny at his side now that the stage was secured for tomorrow night’s show.

Waiting for him, sprawled out on the couch like the epitome of seduction, was Bela, slowly smoking a joint through an antique cigarette holder. Who the fuck even had one of those? But damn, it stopped him well and good.

“Hey.”

“Hi there, is it time for the next round?” She slowly pulled herself up and slinked into his space. Behind him, he heard the door close. Fucking Benny.

“Yeah, I was just coming in here to— uh, freshen up a bit.”

Bela took another hit. “I see. Well, I won’t keep you from all that, but I might tempt you to stick around a bit before bumping more elbows.”

Dean eyed the couch she had crawled off of and the whole expanse of their suddenly empty dressing room. “Uh, yeah, I could use something to take the edge off.”

There was an actual shower stall nestled in the back of the ensuite bathroom of the dressing room. Dean was not brave enough to tackle that series of possibilities at the moment. But he ddid a quick scrub down of his junk and pits at the sinks, because nobody deserved a whiff of stale ball sack even if they only did this half clothed and dirty. He was a gentleman, okay?

He made sure to pull a condom out of his wallet and moved it to his front pocket instead. With one final glance in the mirror, Dean stepped back out into the dressing room proper, to see Bela now sipping something clear and fizzy out of one of the small plastic cups the venue sold cocktails in, legs crossed and eyes wicked.

“Hey.”

This thing with Bela had been growing tedious the longer it went on, but with the tour and all the publicity it wasn’t like either of them could get their rocks off with randos anymore. Dean liked Bela, in a get under-your-skin way with a perpetual need to one up one another flare that felt very high school yet with more varying levels of stakes attached. 

But she was gorgeous and more than interested. So he indulged again.

Dean sank down onto the couch beside her and finished the roach she had left in the tip of her cigarette holder, propped up on an ugly brown glass ashtray that was potentially older than both of them.

Who knew where half the shit in the dressing room came from.

Once he was good and relaxed, Bela set down her drink.

“You know New Kids on the Block was my first concert. I got to meet them and pose for pictures before they took the stage at Whitley Bay. Nobody knew who I was, we had just finished filming the first season of Red Sky at Dawn, but they still made me feel like a princess.”

Dean didn’t quite know what to say. “Well I hope we rocked a little harder than a boy band.”

Bela nodded and considered. “I was wondering if you’d mind making me feel a little more grown up—- a little more wild.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “You got some sort of fantasy I need to know about here?”

Bela huffed a laugh, more to herself, she wasn’t quite looking at him.

“All this, backstage at a rock concert— sex, drugs and rock'n'roll. I guess I always wanted to be the teenage bad girl. But I was never allowed, my “reputation” always came first.”

“Okay, well, I’m not exactly into PYTs anymore, so if you want to play pretend, let's keep our own ages— I’m game, just tell me what you wanna do.”

Bela kissed him in response and creeped onto his lap.

Dean’s hands found her hips and dragged her closer, while his tongue turned the kiss sloppy. She hummed into his mouth and rubbed the warmth between her legs against his hardening dick. They really didn’t have time for a whole scenario here, but he wanted to make her happy.

“You like it a little dirty? Fucking groupie just need to get a piece of me to brag about to all your friends? Huh?”

Her voice came out accentless and needy, always a performer and goddamn pro too. “Please, Dean, I just want to touch it. To feel you.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you can do more than that. How about you get on your knees and show me how much you want it?”

“I can do that— I love doing that,” Bela emphasized the last word, like it was too dirty to call by its name. 

“Yeah?” Dean leaned back and unbuttoned his jeans. “Show me.”

Bela eagerly dug him out of his boxers and fly, stroking him to his full glory. Her eyes sparkled conspiratorially. Dean tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before she took him deep inside her mouth.

Fucking hell was she warm and sucked him like she was pulling a golf ball through a garden hose.

“That’s it, take me deep. Show me how much you want me to come down that tight little throat of yours,” Dean growled, nearly spitting the words out until he closed his eyes. 

         He was transported back into his shower at home, the thoughts of you on your knees, of you teasing him, and running your bottom lip over the ridge of his tip. You lapping up the bead of precum you coaxed out of his slit. Dean wanted it to be you more than he should. But more than that, he wanted you anyway he could have you. And the thought of all the ways he would make you scream was what sent him over.

“FUCK!” Dean shouted, biting his bottom lip and holding Bela’s head in place as his dick finished twitching through his orgasm.

Bela purred and licked him clean. 

“You’re a fucking menace, I’ll have you know.” Dean said exasperated. And then pulled her face to his for a final kiss. “UGH! I have to go to at least another two parties now.”

Bela chuckled. “You can do it. You’re the lead singer of Phantom Traveler! You can’t be made useless from a single blow job.”

“Yeah, well, it was a killer bj.”

Bela rolled her eyes. “Stop bragging and help me fix my hair.”

Dean did as he was told.

Crowley was waiting at the after party. Which, fucking figured, but Dean and Bela showed up fashionably late had the snarky asshole smugger than a grandma who just gave her grandson his fifth cookie before sending him home for nap time.

Dean looked around the club, keeping quick tabs on the rest of the band and SPS. Jody and Donna were talking to Pam in the corner and he wouldn’t be surprised if somebody swapped hotel rooms that night. Those women knew how to have fun.

Patience and Kevin were talking to some more dressed up fans that might actually be family of someone or another at the label. Dean couldn’t remember what Crowley’s son looked like the last time he saw him, besides having an early Beatles ‘do.

Nancy and Sam were talking animatedly about something nerdy, Dean was certain. It even looked like Sam had found himself a triple red eye somewhere tonight, because there was no way that moose was that awake this late naturally.

Lee was sweet talking a group of ladies along the half wall near the bar, as Cesar watched from the corner amused. All of their people were there it seemed, he just hadn't spotted Charlie yet until he got a solid knuckle to the bicep.

“Took you long enough!” 

“A wizard is never late, he arrives precisely when he means to,” Dean quoted in his best Ian McKellan voice.

“Dude! Stop, you can’t do a good Gandalf and you know it!” Charlie begged. “So? Good night so far?”

She eyed Bela knowingly. “See anybody on my team? Besides the openers? I’m not touching that kind of drama again. Though Pam looks like she may be—?”

Dean chuckled. “Pam does what Pam wants— too late to stop her now. But, uh, I’ll keep my eyes peeled.”

Charlie held up her fist and Dean met it with a solid bump. “See you ‘round, Red.”

Bela waved at her as she left, comfortable at Dean’s side and smug as ever.

Dean made his way to the hor'dourves table and Bela went to find them fresh drinks. As far as afterparties went, it was a little more high brow than they usually were, but it wasn’t bad. 

Dean just wasn’t feeling it.

Or maybe it was the way Victor was leaning in to hear you better as you discussed something or another with him and Bobby and Annie across the bar. They ate and they drank and they got rowdier once everyone made it to the hotel. Lee had two girls heading up to his room, but he and Pam were arguing over who got to use their room for the night and who was picking up their luggage to make getting ready in the morning easier.

Sam and Madison kept stopping every five feet to kiss or grope one another. While Charlie and some curly haired girl with cat ears sticking out of her head were almost as gross.

SPS were riding into the hotel on the roadies’ backs, little Nancy on Jesse and Donna on Benny like they were jockeys or cowgirls. Kevin and Patience were carrying their bags and shoes, apparently, behind them, amused and begrudgingly helpful. Dean, Bela, you and Cesar all rode up on an elevator together, leaving behind most of the mayhem for a blissful stretch of two minutes of quiet.

You actually may have fallen asleep standing up.

Dean nudged you and you quickly snapped out of it, fumbling for your room key and dragging Bela with you.

“Uh, Y/N? I’m going to Dean’s— I’ll just get my stuff in the morning.”

“What? Oh! Yeah, of course.” You yawned so hard, Dean had to take a deep one himself. It didn’t lessen the heat that crept up his neck as you watched Bela walk the opposite way down the hall from your room. “See you guys— see you guys at breakfast.”

Dean wanted to say something, to be reassuring, you looked so sullen all of the sudden. His mouth wouldn’t work and his feet didn’t either until Bela tugged on his elbow and marched towards his penthouse suite.

He really wanted to shoot her in that moment.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

@brightlilith

@coldhearted93

@djs8891

@beautiful-places-blog

@n-o-p-e-never

Chapter 27: Molto

[multiwreckedmess]

February Filth Fest Day 28

Prompt: Mommy Pairing: Neighbor!Wooyoung x older!reader WC: 4k Summary: To Wooyoung, you were everything. You didn’t even know he existed. Older and audacity turned to maximum, he’s determined to make you never forget.

This is a work of fiction, it does not represent Wooyoung or any Ateez member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this. By clicking the “Read More” you agree that you are of age to interact with my works.

TW//CW: TBH THIS IS MOSTLY PROLOGUE. Reader called ‘mommy’ and doesn’t like it at first, wooyoung is desperate, age gap undefined (it’s not suggested that it’s HUGE but it’s there). oral (fem receiving). CLIFFHANGER END

 “You remember Wooyoung right? Youngie?” Your mom tugs you over to a young man, black hair half back in a ponytail, orange shirt just slightly too unbuttoned, kicking back a beer.  “Aw mom! I can see in her eyes she doesn’t!” Wooyoung’s eyes crinkle as he extends his hand to you.  Your eyebrows raise. Mom? Grabbing his hand you shake it tentatively. Strong muscular fingers grip back, fitting your hand fully in his warm palm.  Your mother doesn’t let the silence linger long, mercifully. “Our Wooyoungie has been taking such good care of us while you’ve been off making your own little homestead on the coast!”  “Now you’re speaking far too highly of me. You feed me just as good as well. It’s an exchange of labor for services.” He gloats, swatting lightly at the air in front of himself as if the words praising him still hung there.  “You eat so well it's always a joy to share, besides, it helps me get through the leftovers.” She lightly ribs you, trying to get you to join into the conversation.

 To be honest, you felt guilty. The only child setting out into the world by moving as far away as you could while staying within the continental United States. You’d intended to see your parents more but the realities of limited vacation time and cost of travel hit quickly. The pandemic years certainly hadn’t helped. If anything they prevented you from establishing a normal visiting schedule and left you floundering to fit them in between projects and personal days. You’d finally been able to decide on the yearly block party, held every summer, to make your grand return. Calling up old friends and arranging it this way ensured you’d see most if not all the folks on your obligations list.  However, seeing your mom smiling so fondly at this kid, almost more proud of him than she seemed of you, made your stomach turn. The beast of jealousy churning a pot inside of you. You barely track the rest of their pleasantries, simply watching their borderline flirtatious body language as you nurse your beer.

 “I’ll leave you two to catch up! I swear Wooyoungie has told me so many cute stories of you, I can’t believe you don’t remember him.” Elbowing your arm gently your mom hisses, “play nice, he’s a gem!” Wooyoung tilts his chin up and out, craning to receive a kiss on the cheek from her as you stare.  “So, you and my parents are close,” your lips curl, tiptoeing slowly into the shallow end of the conversation.  “Oh yeah! Well, I started shoveling their walk in the winters and salting the sidewalk which they seemed to really appreciate. So, Mom invited me to dinner after one particularly bad snowfall and I’ve been keeping them company when I can ever since.”  “Mhm,” you hum shortly, suspicious of him. “Well you haven’t murdered them yet.”  Wooyoung cackles, “do I really look like a killer?”  “Isn’t that what all the witnesses in crime series say? That the murderer didn’t seem like the kind of person to do it.”  His eyes flit down from your head to your toes. Wooyoung had always been a cute kid. Charming, sweet, a little spicy, but his good nature charmed the neighborhood. Or at least the adults of the neighborhood. He always got along better with adults. The kids of the neighborhood were less enchanted. They called him a suck up, kiss ass, brat, annoying, and worse all in the name of envy. Envy for how the adults loved him and took care of him. So many neighborhood nights out ended in tears for him, maybe it was good you didn’t recall those days. He shook his head with a smile. “Still I’m a little upset you don’t remember me.”

***********

 “Hey, some of the ‘big kids’ are heading up to the local bar!” A girl named Gina tugs at your sleeve. The street lights flickering on and only the young and unaccompanied left at the party it was a natural progression of the night. A quick four block walk from your home you shrugged, it wasn’t like you held any particular affection for anyone in particular but it also wasn’t an arduous trek. Besides, this is what you came home for, right? Socialize with the ones who knew you before you knew yourself.

 That's how you ended up drinking a gin and tonic at the back of the bar, letting the wash of noise and alcohol blur your nerves. You’d selected gin and tonic out of habit more than anything, the tap list overwhelming and no cocktail menu to be found. A safe bet, difficult to fuck up too badly.  Laughing congenially along to the stories retold by friends, you feel lost in the crowd. Stories that went like “oh remember when Ricky did this” or “Cassy has a funny story about when Hunter lost his tooth” which you didn't remember, why would you? Not to say you shared no memories, just that most of them were the aftermath rather than the incident. Always too buried in your books to notice the hijinx happening. Now burying your nose in your glass you nod along to save face. Yes, you were there but somehow also not.

 “So you remember all of this but not me?” Wooyoung slides along your side. Some form of brownish liquor in his hand.  “No, it’s called being politely interested.”  “Ahhh,” he grins and sips his drink. “I’ll note that, the politely bit. I’m already interested so I think I’m good there...”  You roll your eyes, “interested in my mom.”  “Your mother is a beautiful lady. And smart. And kind. Why shouldn’t I be interested?” He knows he’s being cheeky but part of it is payback for your memory lapse.  “Don’t you love your mommy?”  The word mommy hits you like a truck. Rolling up your spine and crashing through your skull with the force of a brick to the back of the head. “Wooyoung? Oh my god. Wooyoung.” You mutter, shocked, dismayed. It’s him. It’s definitely him alright. Wooyoung grins like a jackal in front of you, gnawing on the small plastic swizzler straw in his drink. “I know you.”  “Do you?”

 Thirteen. That’s how old you were when you went to your last neighborhood block party. It was the last summer you spent preoccupied with fictional boys instead of real ones. There was already a change in the air, all the neighborhood kids seemed just so much younger than despite the difference being only a couple of years. Watching them rough house and play from afar you’d been set out with ‘eldest’ duties so that the parents could absolve themselves of direct supervisory responsibilities. Which was fine to you, you’d be tipped generously at the end of the night by the parents without needing to do too much.  Suddenly two small arms encircled your legs, an equally small face buried in your pant leg, absolutely wailing for mommy. Tapping on the black mop of hair, red eyes and a runny nose looked back up at you and upon seeing your face cried harder. Prying your legs from his arms you lean down to meet his eye level, “can we go find her? Your mom?”  He sniffs and nods, lower lip quivering. “Jung Wooyoung,” his small voice tremors.  Taking his small fist in your hand, you lead him farther into the party. It doesn’t take long to find her, gathered in a small circle of moms, laughing jovially. Her smile fades as she sees you toting her son, face red and puffy.  “Should he be in trouble or someone else be in trouble?” She’s very brief in her assessment, half exasperated half sympathetic.  “I’m sorry I’m not sure Mrs. Jung. He just ran up to me like this asking for you.”  Squatting next to her son you notice, she has the exact same wash of jeans as you. “Jung Wooyoung, can you tell me what happened?”  The boy glances up at you, eyes wide, sitting on the pavement with a hard plop.  “Jung. Woo. Young. Your mom is asking a question.”  He notices you notice him staring and he hides his eyes.  “I’m so sorry miss, I can take care of him from here. He really likes pretty girls but gets so shy around them. You can go!” Mrs. Jung looks apologetically at you, scooping Wooyoung up onto her hip.  Smiling you look him in the eye and wave, watching as he smiles back shyly and buries his face.

 “You were such a cute kid!” You coo.  “Is that really all you remember about me? Cute little kid? Damn.” This was not exactly the reaction he was looking for. Wooyoung wanted the gasp and the dramatic reveal, of course, but being called cute was not the highest adjective on his list. And only one fleeting memory of his mother calling you a pretty girl.  His mother was incorrect though, you weren’t just a pretty girl to him, you were an angel. He was immediately obsessed, watching you silently with flutters in his stomach listening as the adults talked about your achievements. Not only kind and beautiful but smart and self sufficient and bold and fierce. He remembered one of your summers back from college, reading on the front lawn in a bikini, waiting for the sun to slowly turn you a pleasant golden shade. Only briefly passing by on his bike the image seared itself into his mind, fueling his late nights as he flipped through your instagram.  “I really thought the world of you,” he muses.  “And what about now?” You ask with a laugh and a grimace. Wooyoung looks you up and down. “I could ask the same to you, you said I was a cute kid. What about now?”  “Oh come on, you have to know this is a touchy subject for me…you can’t just say that you thought the world of a person in the past tense like that. What, I must be some washed up hag, desperate in her neighborhood bar.”  Wooyoung hums, smirking, “well now i don’t agree with the hag part but I like the desperate, desperate i can work with.” He gently takes your drink and swills the dregs. “Another of the same?”  “I want whatever you got. Order me that.”  His eyebrows shoot up, “oh come on. You’re the older one, you should treat me.” He smiles sweetly and bats his lashes. “I’ll come with you so you know what to order next time.”  You roll your eyes. He’s really too cute for his own good. Your heart sinks a little. He’s really too cute to be hanging around you like he is. But you take his glass with yours and slide them across the wood top bar.  “Two whiskeys, on the rocks!” Wooyoung flashes his winning smile, “on her tab please.” He finishes with a head tilt in your direction and a wink. “You’re such a baby.”  “Only for you mommy.” He bunts the top of his head into your arm as you blanch at the sudden endearment.

 You hate it on instinct. You’re not his mommy, yes you’re older but you're not his mommy. You’re not anyone’s mommy. You don’t want to mother anyone for any reason. You wanted that care and attention. Still, you don’t correct him and let him continue to press his side to yours. The pressure of contact from another person is nice, even momentarily.

 “So,” Wooyoung sips gingerly at his drink, “tell me what you think of me now. I can’t settle for being a formerly cute baby. I won’t.” He pouts, lilting his head.  With a heavy sigh you look him up and down, simple fitted black t-shirt, tight black pants, and moto-boots. “If I were closer to your age-”  “EH!” He shushes you abruptly, finger to your lips. “It’s not about you. Tell me about me.”  “Fine. You want to hear you’re attractive? You’re attractive,” you give him an exasperated glance. The heat of the alcohol warms the sides of your face, making you feel giggly. The whiskey goes down shockingly easily, loosening your inhibitions. “What about me? I’m the one in distress.”  Wooyoung steadies you, bringing awareness to your swaying, letting you lean back against the wall slowly with the support of his hand. “I think you’re the first woman I ever worshipped and now I want to make good on that.”  “Wooyoung, are you coming onto me?” You as incredulously, eyebrows almost launching themselves from your face with the speed they raise at.  “I’d very much like to if you’d let me.”  “You’d like to what exactly?”  “Cum on you. Or in you. Whichever you’ll let me.”  His forwardness leaves you gagging on unspoken words. You think for a second you ought to slap him as you see red around his smug smile. “Wooyoung do you hear yourself?”  Wooyoung slides his hand up, leaning into you on his elbow. He smells like earth and spice and alcohol. “I think you’d like it too. Not to brag but, I think I’m better than spending the rest of the night in your old twin bed with your decade old back massager.”  Stunned by his too all too accurate prediction of your plans your brain barely processes the way you lean into his light kiss on the cheek. Your face feels warm, he is warm. And soft, so soft. His brashness has you melting a little bit, there is no halfway here. No room for interpretation. He wants you, and it makes your stomach flutter and legs turn to jelly.  “So, wanna get out of here?” Wooyoung says with a small smirk, eyes downcast sheepishly. “If we get to my place and you wanna back out I’ll happily sleep on the couch with the cat. I just don’t want either of us to be alone tonight.”  Tender heartstrings plucked expertly by a master songsmith, you sigh. Foolish. Stupid. Irresponsible. What would your parents think when you didn’t come home? Your head shakes as you type out a short text to your mother, a sentence excuse about staying the night with Gina. Or was it Gia? The keyboard swims under your thumb. The rest of you melts and lets the younger man wrap his arm around your waist to guide you safely to a cab. Again you marvel at how warm he is, how his fingers splay casually in the divot of your waist. Cheeks burning you duck your head out of the bar, as though it would be shameful to be seen with him.

 Wooyoung kisses with the desperation of a starved man, drinking in as much of you as he possibly can before coming up for air. The electric lock on the door has barely even finished latching when his arms snake around your waist, lips attaching to the nape of your neck.  “You smell so good,” his face is smashed into your shoulder, the both of you stumble and struggle to remove shoes as he further tangles himself in you. The second you're free of them he’s turning you, pressing your back into the wall as his leg slots easily between your thighs. Winding your hips together you teeter on your tip toe as he kisses you, teeth tugging at your bottom lip lightly.  “Ooh mommy, I’m going to make you remember me-” he moans into your open mouth.  A burst of air comes through your nose as you suppress part of an awkward laugh, “Mommy?”  “Yeah, your baby’s gonna take good care of you.” His mouth stretches into a grin against your cheek, nose bumping against you until your head falls to the side, granting access to your throat. “Right mommy? I’m taking good care of you right?”  Teeth nibbling a searing trail to your shoulder, you can’t help but moan. You don’t hate it. Your mind hates it but your body loves it. His insistent desperation for approval from you is almost as intoxicating as the drinks you’d shared. “This mommy shit is weird Wooyoungie.”  Wooyoung sucks a bruising spot into your collarbone, skin immediately flushing, meant to leave a mark. Shivering you moan again, letting your head fall to your opposite shoulder, grinding your hips against him. “That’s not a nice thing to say mommy,” his grip on your ass tightens. His hands pull you down to him, pressure in your gut building.  “Fuck! Oh baby-” the phrase slides from your lips before you can pause and overthink what this might say about you.  “Yeah, is your baby making you feel good?” He tenderly kisses over the growing bruise. “Wanna be mommy now?”  “Fuck-Wooyoungie-you’re fucking incorrigible,” you groan. Between the alcohol and the pounding in your gut, you really don’t mind it. Silencing the small critic and setting that voice in time out, you slide to his bedroom, stripping bear besides your undergarments.

 “Damn mommy, you’re a walking wet dream,” Wooyoung looks at you from under his bangs, making a home for himself at your feet, waiting for the word to dive in. Eyes traveling up your legs to the crevice between them, he can barely wait longer. He’s been waiting since puberty. The hunger to prove himself to make you his, growing all the more as your life proceeded without him.  His gaze heats you from your core, anticipatory buzz gripping your gut. “Yeah baby?” You practically whisper, throat taut.  Slowly but surely his hands travel the tops of your legs, large and warm on your skin. Everything is burning and tingling and on a knife's edge as they stop at your hips, resting his full weight on you. His face comes barely a foot from yours. “Can you tell me how much you want this?” He smiles, Cheshire-like.  “I’m fucking aching baby,” you plead maybe just a bit too desperately. “Can you help mommy out?”  You can barely finish the sentence before his plush lips are on yours with a bruising amount of force. Eagerly his hands slide between your thighs, tracing the edges of your panties. “Mommy,” he gasps into your open mouth, “are you already this wet?” He teases a thumb over the growing damp spot.  Nodding, your legs slide easily for him. “Yeah baby, all for you.”  Pressing against your clit more earnestly he rubs in small circles. Your head goes back into the pillows immediately, pressure deliciously building in your core. The skin of his shoulders is cool as he nudges your thighs even wider, his lips replacing his hands. A shock of electricity runs up your spine as you realize he’s pulling your hips down against his face, bridge of his nose nudging you through your panties.  “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this,” Wooyoung mutters barely loud enough for you to make out. Fingers slipping between your panties and your skin he can barely breathe as he tugs the fabric over your hips. Caught between a fixated stare and a shyly glancing away he pulls down even more, practically cumming in his own underwear as your cunt is finally revealed. “Fuck you’re beautiful.”  “That’s not even the pretty part of me,” you feel the heat of embarrassment creep up the side of your neck.  Wooyoung looks up at you from between your knees, frowning incredulously. “Every part of my mommy is pretty, especially her cute little cunt.” He says before unceremoniously burying his face in your folds. Licking and slurping like a starved man, you don’t even register the auditory assault, squealing so loudly yourself your head rushes.  “Wooyoung! Oh shit! Oh FUCK!” You scream and fist the sheets, fighting your urge to snap your legs around his head. The pleasure twists in your gut as his tongue flicks against your swollen clit, a finger teasing your hole.  “Grab my hair-” Wooyoung gasps, “pull my hair. I’m not fragile.”  It doesn’t take any more convincing as you tug at his black locks. His lips buzz with moans of approval as you ride his face. His finger crooks inside of you, just enough to press against the top of your walls, right into the squishy spot that blurs your vision and has you seeing stars.  “I’m gonna cum, oh fuck baby, I’m gonna-”  His face presses more insistently against you, practically drowning himself in your sex. If he was going to die young he’d want to die like this, nestled in your heat. “Do it.”  Coating his chin in release your eyes flutter closed. Clamping down around the slight resistance his finger gives. He’s right. Much better than your vibrator. You release him from your grasp as he comes up for air, both of your eyes are hazy with lust as you look at each other.

 “Can I suck your tits?”  Wooyoung’s blunt tone does nothing to disturb your post orgasmic cloud.  “C’mere baby boy,” you say as you slide your bra straps off your shoulders, unclasping the band without a second thought.  Wooyoungs eyes bulge as you so easily and carelessly reveal your breasts, half reclined back in his bed, like he’d imagined all those years ago. It’s nothing to you but everything to him. You see them every day and he’d only seen them in his fantasies. He swipes lazily at the arousal still clinging to his lips and chin, transfixed by your tits. Almost reverently he reaches for them both, fingers fanning out over the pair and squishing into them. “Oh mommy,” he says, leaning down to kiss the top of one, “they’re perfect.”  “Wooyoungie-” you’re nearly dying of embarrassment, heat flashing through your body as he interrupts you.  “They’re just like I imagined.”  “Shut up and suck before I regret this,” you laugh, masking your tension beneath brusque humor. Wooyoung doesn’t seem to mind. In fact his eyes practically sparkle as you demand he follow through on his request. Lips encircling your nipple he kisses tenderly at first, hand resting on the opposite breast to make sure it was also attended to.  Soft skin in his palm and on his lips, Wooyoung hips move autonomously, rutting against whatever warmth his cock can find. His tongue flicks over your hardened nipple, fingers pinching the other lightly and listening for your moans of approval. Again, he flicks harder, pinches harder, and feels you respond louder and harder as he’d hoped. He keeps escalating until it feels like his heart is going to burst from excitement, leaning into you as he nips at your flesh.  Yelping you swat at him playfully, “don’t be a brat!”  “Sorry mommy, i just love you so much,” he smiles and nips again.  Truthfully the pain feels good, stinging only for a moment before the buzz of endorphins rushes through your spine. “S’okay baby,” you purr and coax him between your thighs, tugging at his underwear. “You’ve made a real mess of these.”  “All for you,” he’s breathless as he tosses the ruined pair casually across the room. Leaning close to you again, he kisses you as he rummages under the pillows. You can feel him smile against your mouth as he finds his prize.  Pulling away he brandishes a gold foil packet proudly. “A boyscout is always prepared.”  “Goddamn, is this just a normal thing for you?” Your heart drops just a little bit disappointed that you might not be special to him. He’s just so smooth, every action carefully planned.  “No,” he tears the foil packet with his teeth before leaning in to kiss your cheek. “I heard you were going to be in town and I wasn’t going to lose you again.”  “You sound obsessed,” you giggle, hands tracing the veins of his lower abdomen as you watch him roll the latex over his length.  “Yeah and I’m going to make you just as obsessed about me.”

Sorry, i just don’t know that i wanted to write more of this. I just do NAWT know how to write a mommy kink, it’s not something i’m particularly into which usually doesn’t really stop me when writing but IDK. I liked the beginning but then the mommy stuff felt shoehorned in.

[sweetwhispersofchaos]

Top Gun Threesomeissance 2023

My deepest apologies to @sushiwriterhere for how late this is, but it's done and posted and I thank you for inspiring me to stretch my writing skills and creative process with this one. I tried to take an unconventional direction with your prompt so I hope it's not too left field for folks. I had fun either way ;)

I literally wrote this, read through it once, and posted it. So be gentle.

Summary: Bob hasn't been intimate in a very long time and now that someone has caught his eye, hes panicking. He needs an education and Phoenix and her girlfriend are all too happy to oblige. Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female Reader x Natasha "Phoenix" Trace Length: 6K Warnings: Smut. So. Much. Smut. Bob Fucks. Phoenix Fucks. (MINORS DNI)

After the uranium mission, Bob and Phoenix returned to their original units at Lemoore. This time, though, as friends rather than strangers. They ate lunch together often, went out with friends on the weekends, and had a standing date to watch movies and eat junk food at Phoenix’s apartment every Wednesday night. Often you would join your girlfriend and her new BFF for Wednesday night movie night when you didn’t have to work. Bob made for a great third wheel to your dynamic duo and you both loved having him around.

One Wednesday though, Bob showed up for movie night, soaked from the rain with his own dark clouds shading his normally happy, shining eyes. Something was obviously bothering him as he stumbled into the foyer, fumbling with a grocery bag while trying to kick off his squishy tennis shoes.

“What happened to you?” Phoenix asked as she came in from the kitchen to take the bag while you returned with a towel.

“I’m just havin’ a day is all. Sorry for the mess.” He took the towel from you with a sullen expression of gratitude and moved further into the apartment.

Luckily, he was over so often that he had some spare clothing and comfort items in the guest room. Bob went to change while you and Phoenix prepped the living room with chip bags, beers, and a soda for Bob. You were just pulling up Netflix when he returned, looking almost worse than he did at the door. He walked over to the couch and flopped down next to Phoenix. Her dark eyes met yours where you stood in the middle of the living room with the TV controller. You both shared similar looks of concern and the movie was suddenly forgotten.

Phoenix spoke up as you turned and sat on the floor in front of where she and Bob were on the couch.

“Ok buddy, somethings obviously up. You were fine when we left the hangar earlier. What gives?”

Bob let out a sigh and rotated his head until his neck cracked. There was a war happening inside his head and you could tell he wasn’t sure whether to unleash it or not. You reached your hand out and rested it on his knee, trying to reassure him.

“Whatever it is, we’re here for you. It can’t be that bad.” You said gently.

Bob huffed a sarcastic laugh and reached up to rub his face vigorously with both hands under his glasses. He then growled and threw his hands up in the air in defeat.

“Fine. I’ll tell yall. But you gotta promise not to make fun of me.”

You shared another questioning look with Phoenix then she put her arm around his shoulders. “Bob, we would never make fun of you.”

“That’s absolutely not true. You both picked on me for two weeks over the vomit incident at Six Flags.” He accused.

“That was different, and you know it, Floyd. This seems serious, so spill it.” Phoenix said with a squeeze to his shoulders.

“Yall remember Rebecca? The gorgeous red head we met last month at the farmer’s market?”

You and Phoenix both nodded wordlessly while staring at him intently to continue.

“We’ve been on a couple of dates now and I really like her. I mean, really like her.” He said emphatically.

When neither of you spoke up, he huffed again and continued. Beads of sweat were starting to pearl on his forehead as he became more and more visibly nervous.

“Uh, well. I invited her over to my place for dinner this weekend.”

“What!? Bob! That’s awesome!” Phoenix shouted as she practically leapt off the couch. She smiled brilliantly at him, and you smiled at her enthusiasm for her friend.

“No. You don’t understand. She’s coming to my apartment. Alone. At nighttime.”

Phoenix smiled even bigger. “Bob, I’m pretty sure we understand the intentions of this mission.”

He looked up at her with disdain and you realized something about this so called mission was really troubling him, so you spoke up. “Babe. Calm down.” You said with a small laugh at the sour expression Nat gave you.

“Phoenix. Look. I’m not a virgin, but, uh,” he hesitated “it was my high school girlfriend. We were together for 3 years. We did it. Then she broke up with me when I left for college.” He looked between you both with a wounded puppy expression as he sank further into the couch.

“Robert James Floyd. Are you telling me you haven’t had sex in a decade?” Phoenix asked as she placed her hands on her hips. Most likely she didn’t mean for it to sound as accusatory as it did, but you intervened quickly, nonetheless.

“Bob” you started with as gentle a tone as you could muster “have you had any physical encounters with a woman since your high school girlfriend?”

His face began to flush bright red, and you watched Phoenix's dark eyes go wide with shock. She regained her seat next to him on the couch and grabbed one of his large hands in both of her much smaller ones. You were thankful that she calmed down before he ran screaming into the torrential downpour outside.

He cleared his throat “I’ve had a few make out sessions but nothing concrete. I was so focused on school and then training that the opportunity never presented itself. Who wants the geeky guy, right? Next thing I knew a decade had passed and here I am, thirty years old with the chance for intimacy right in front of me and I’m freaking out. I don’t know what to do. I’m not sure where to put my hands or mouth or anything. How do I know she’s enjoying it? What do I do if she isn’t? She’s so perfect and I want things to be perfect for her and I just know I’ll mess this up. Arggghhh” he grunted as he stood, pulling his hands through his hair. He started pacing around the room, almost making you dizzy from your seat on the floor. This was a truly conflicted man and you felt so bad for him. He obviously cared about this woman and his want to be good for her was endearing.  

While he walked around the room continuing to rant about his lack of carnal knowledge of the female species, your eyes once again connected with Nat’s, and you could see her gears were turning. Nothing good ever came from the plotting expression she was now wearing while deep in thought. Nat slid onto the floor and came to a stop on all fours next to you. She raised her hand to whisper an idea into your ear and you whipped around to look at her with surprise. Her eyes implored you and she shook her ass in the air, enticing you. You considered her proposition for a moment more before whispering to her “Doesn’t hurt to offer I suppose.”

Phoenix smiled then sat back on her heels before rising. She held out her hands to you and pulled you up, her arms wrapping around your waist once on your feet. She placed a chaste kiss to your cheek then released you, entirely too much excitement gleaming in her eyes. Just as Bob turned to pace back Phoenix stepped up, blocking his path and bringing him to a halt. You were always amused by their comical height difference. Bob’s frantic eyes looked down into the smirking face of Phoenix as she placed both hands on his chest.

“Bob. We have a plan. So, take a breath.” He stared at her, then looked over at you, then back to Phoenix, looking more perplexed than ever.

“A plan?”

“Yup. No movie tonight. Instead, we’re going to teach you.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped, brought up short as he began to realize what she meant by her statement. Phoenix slid her hands across his chest, down his long arms, and intertwined her fingers into his with a reassuring expression.

Bob stammered “But, uh, Phee” he choked on a chuckle “I. Teach me?” he finally asked. You closed the gap between you and your girlfriend, placing your body flush to her back and reaching around to wrap your hands around their connected ones. You smiled at Bob as his eyes met yours. “Let us help you, Bob.” You implored gently “Nat’s bi, I’m gay. I can guide you while she handles the physical aspects. We wouldn’t be doing anything we weren’t comfortable with. But we won’t do this if you aren’t comfortable.”

“Yeah, and just consider it a maneuvers exercise like work.” Phoenix interjected. “Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to make me cum. But this time the enemy is a friendly and we’re going to walk you through it step by step. End of the night you’ve gained experience, we’ve all had a fun night we can laugh about another decade from now, and you pounce Rebecca this weekend knowing exactly what you need to do!”

You just knew Bob was going to pass out. He was sweating profusely now, his eyes darting between yours and Nat’s as you both squeezed his hands firmly. In the silence something seemed to come to him suddenly. His eyes focused again, and his lips closed into a thin line.

“Wouldn’t this be like cheating on Rebecca?”

He had a point, you thought, but Phoenix jumped in always ready with an answer.

“Have you and Rebecca discussed exclusivity yet?” She asked.

“Well, no, we haven’t. We’ve been on exactly two dates, and I know she’s seen someone else during that time. So, I guess, the answer would be, no? But I'm hoping to impress her this weekend so we can discuss being exclusive, and I feel like this is my one shot to do it.”

You felt a little relief with his answer. You wouldn’t want anything to ruin the friendship your girlfriend had developed with Bob.

“Sounds good to me. Besides. We do this as an educational exercise, blame the alcohol that we haven’t actually consumed, and tell no one. But only if you’re comfortable and trust us. We can always bust out some anatomy charts and porn if you’d prefer?” You rolled your eyes at your girlfriends’ suggestion although you knew she was serious. When it came to facing a difficult task, she was nothing if not methodical with her plan of attack.  

“Bob. The most important part of this is that you are relaxed and willing. If at any time you aren’t, we can stop.” You added for reassurance as you slid your hands up Natashas’ arms then rested them gently on her shoulders.

Bob started to speak then stopped. His eye lids slammed shut and he took a deep breath, obviously working through the tennis match in his head. Then, something seemed to click for Bob. All the lines on his face relaxed and as he opened his baby blues, the clouds seemed to roll out. He stood up a little taller, his hands still intertwined with Nat’s, and he nodded once.

“Ok yeah. Let’s do it.”

You smiled at him as Nat reached up and gave him a gentle peck on the cheek.

“Let’s do it indeed.” She mused then flashed you a sassy smile as she led Bob down the hall by one hand to her room. You just shook your head with a grin and followed them. Your girlfriend had an insatiable appetite for physical touch, and you weren’t the least bit surprised she was willing to be the sacrificial lamb for Bobs sexual awakening. You just hoped she would be gentle with him. At least a little, anyways.

Phoenix dropped Bobs hand once everyone was in the room and moved over to a Bluetooth speaker on her dresser. She flipped it on, and soft music began to quietly fill the room as she placed her phone on the stand next to it. Bob stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, just watching Nat as she swept around the room lighting a few candles and drawing the curtains. She spoke as she flitted around. "First lesson Bob. Set the mood."

You closed the bedroom door behind you and looked up at the imploring blue eyes that were staring at you.

“Are you sure you don’t mind me, uh, you know. Doing, you know, this, with your girl?” he whispered to you.

You gave him a gentle smile. “Bob, that woman right there lives for physical touch. She will have her way with you and then have her way with me because she’ll be so revved up, so I’ll win in the end as well. Trust me, I’m totally ok with this.” And you winked as you brushed past him.

Phoenix turned from the curtains just as you moved into her space and wrapped your arms around her waist, pulling her close. She giggled slightly before your lips were gently massaging hers in a deep kiss. You pulled back and looked into her chocolate eyes. “Nat, go easy on him. Try not to scare the poor boy.” You whispered quietly into her lips. She only giggled again then shimmied out of your embrace and slinked to the middle of the room where Bob was still standing hunched like a cornered mouse.

Phoenix ran her hand across Bobs lower back as she moved around his side to face him, grinning like a cat toying with her prey the whole time. You quietly moved to the other side of the king size bed, stripped down to your basic black bra and panties, and sat up against the wrought iron headboard.

Phoenix looked past Bob and scoffed. “Oh, not fair! You’re distracting me already!” she pouted. Bob looked over at you, flushed red, then averted his eyes again. You just shook your head with a small laugh. “Phee, concentrate. You’ll get your turn with me later.” Her smile grew wider before she turned her focus back to Bob.

“Ok Bob let’s talk making the first moves. Think of this like our pre-flight check list. You’re in the cockpit and it's time to warm up the engines and prep for go. You’re going to take charge of the situation just like you do when we’re getting ready to fly. So, what would be on your checklist to get things started in a sexual situation?”

You stifled a snort behind your hand as you watched Bob turn bright crimson, and begin to stammer with wide eyes. Phoenix looked at you quizzically. “What? I thought I’d put this in terms he would understand.” She said defensively.

“Natasha. He’s not working on an airplane. Do you want him to treat you like one? Rebecca? Maybe soften your tactic just a little babe?” you implored through a weary grin.

Phoenix huffed then blew a loose strand out of her face. “Fine.” She said bluntly before looking up at Bob. “Sorry.”

“S’ok Phee.” He croaked.

“Bob, you still ok?” you asked, wanting to protect him every step of the way.

“Yeah, I’m good.” he said as he hesitantly slid his hands around Nat’s shoulders then down her back, enveloping her in his broad wingspan. Her face registered disbelief at his sudden boldness, then her arms wrapped around his waist, and she smiled up at him. You grinned too. “Good boy.” Nat cooed and bob let out a nervous chuckle. “Now what do you want to do to me?” she asked.

He took in a breath then answered on the exhale. “I’d like to kiss you.”

“That sounds like a great first step Bob. Go ahead and kiss her.” You encouraged gently.

Bob leaned down and connected his lips to Natashas. It was extremely hesitant at first but then Phoenix leaned in reassuringly and he began to deepen the kiss. You watched as their tongues started to dance. “Nat how does that kiss feel?” you asked.

Never breaking apart, Natasha moaned into Bobs mouth, and you watched with pride as Bob slid his hands down her sides, letting them come to rest on her ass. Another moan escaped from Phoenix, and you praised Bob. “Very good Bob. Did you hear her moan? That’s a good sign. Keep going.”

Bob broke their kiss and released Phoenix, a whimper falling from her mouth. Before she could protest though, Bob removed his glasses, tossing them to the side. He reached behind his head with one hand and pulled his shirt off in one swift move. He may not have been your cup of tea but even you were impressed with the agility of the shirt removal and the taught abs he kept hidden away. “That was hot Bob. Right Nat? Wasn’t that hot?”

Natasha said nothing though, only smirked wickedly. She drank in the sight of Bob in nothing but his jeans as she ran her fingers over his stomach, tracing the lines of his muscles. “Oh, that was very hot.” She oozed and licked her lips. Bob seemed spurred on by her reaction, pulling her back in for another long and sloppy kiss. Maybe a little too sloppy. “Bobby, try to keep the kisses softer, less moisture.” You watched as he swallowed and backed his tongue off a little, choosing to nip gently at her bottom lip before dipping his tongue into her mouth slowly. Natasha moaned again and something in your own abdomen jumped. God damn your girlfriend made the most beautiful noises when she was enjoying herself.

“You have her attention, Bob. Take advantage of that.”

He broke the kiss again, staring into Phees eyes as his hands gently grabbed the hem of the black oversized t-shirt she was wearing. As he began to lift it, you decided this was a great teaching moment.

“Bob, hang on.” You instructed calmly and he did, looking up at you anxiously. You continued. “This is a perfect chance to build some anticipation. Before you rip her shirt off, skim your hands along her skin as you raise it. Let your hands wander and build some electricity. Appreciate her body and she’ll appreciate you.” He nodded once then began kissing Nat again as his hands slid under the hem and across her smooth stomach. You watched intently as his large hands glided down her sides and her hips then slid around to her bare ass. He gave her cheeks a gentle squeeze and both he and Nat let out almost matching whimpers. You smirked, pleased to have a student who learned quickly.

“She has a great ass, huh Bob?” you asked, and he nodded into their kiss. “Tell her. Complement her.”

Bob let his kisses wander up from her mouth, across her cheek, to her ear lobe then he whispered into Nat’s ear “God I love your ass.” And he squeezed it again. Natasha let her head roll back with a moan and you realized you were starting to feel a little warm. You loved her ass too.

With her neck exposed, Bob trailed kisses down from her ear all the way to the sensitive spot where her neck met her collar bone. You decided Bob didn’t give himself enough credit, he was doing a good job relaxing and following instinct. You knew Natasha wasn’t faking with her little kitten purrs as he worked the spot with quick licks and nibbles. It was becoming harder for you to remain an impartial instructor in this activity, you couldn’t help it, Natashas pleasure gave you pleasure, no matter how she was getting it.

His hands moved from her ass and began to lift the shirt, unhurriedly. Bob skimmed his fingers along the soft skin of Natashas hips and sides, stopping the assault on her neck to remove the black fabric completely. She stood there in a purple thong and bra you were sure made Bob’s heart skip a few beats at the same time yours did.

“Phoenix” he whispered adoringly. “You’re incredible. I just want to. I want to…” he trailed off while holding her hands and looking up and down her body in appreciation.

“She is so gorgeous, isn’t she Bob?” you asked huskily. “What is it you want to do? Don’t tell me, show us.”

He didn’t have to be told twice. Bob let go of Nat’s hands and cupped her breasts over her bra. He leaned down and placed a languid kiss on the top of one and then the other. Nat ran her hands through his hair and sighed. “Yes Bob, you’re doing so good baby boy. You’re making her feel so good.” You hummed.

“Bobby, take the bra off. I want more.” She begged and you watched as he turned her around quickly, pulling her into his body, eager to please. Bob bent down to suck on the sensitive spot in the crook of her neck while his hands slid her straps down her arms. He then stood and worked the clasps of the bra until they sprang apart, and the bra dropped down her arms and landed on the floor.

“Baby you have beautiful breasts. Bob, how would you show her you like them?” He looked up from behind her, his eyes dark with lust, and gave you a smirk, before his large hands wrapped around and cupped both of Natashas breasts firmly. Nat gasped as he began to knead her breasts, letting her head rest against his chest.

You were starting to feel moisture between your legs. Watching Bob work Natashas breasts, pinching her nipples and tugging on them was making you delightfully jealous but you tried to remain focused on his education.

Natasha was rubbing up against Bob as he worked her chest, moaning and running her hands along the outside of his thighs. You were starting to salivate at the sight of her squirming. Then Bob shocked both of you. He removed a hand from one of Nats breasts, put his two middle fingers in her mouth and she began to suck on them. A rush of heat ran up your spine.

“Very nice Bob, so hot. Now what are you going to do with those soaked fingers?”

Bobs eyes met yours as he removed his damp fingers from Natashas slutty mouth and quickly slid them into the top of her panties. Before either of you knew what was happening, he had run his slick fingers along her folds, causing Natasha to buck against him and release a loud pant. You squeezed your legs together, trying to calm the burning sensation rising between your own legs. You watched as his large arm snaked around her torso, holding her in place while his other worked her slit. You could see the wet spot growing in her thong and it was almost more than you could handle. You had to shake your head to remain focused on the job.

Natasha let out several moans then panted “Bob, God, oh Bobby. I want more.”

You smirked. She was so frantic, and you loved it. “She wants more Bobby, what are you going to give her? Get on your knees and slowly pull her panties down. Torture her.”

He did as he was told, dropping to his knees. He cupped her ass and lathered one of her ass cheeks with a wet kiss that made her moan with a grin. God that ass did things to you and your vision was starting to blur. Bobs fingertips dragged deliberately up the outside of her legs, ankle to waist, then even more slowly pulled her thong down to the floor. You were salivating at the sight of your beautiful girl standing bare and writhing in front of you.

“Bob, you’re doing so good. Can you hear all the small pants and moans she’s making?” He nodded his head as he stood, his hands roaming all over Natashas soft skin. “That’s how you know you’re doing a good job. She’s warmed up and ready for you, time to take things to the next step.”  

Natasha swung around and made quick work of his zipper, being careful not to catch his very large erection. She pulled down his jeans and briefs in one quick movement, releasing his large cock into the cool air with a gasp. You could see her eyes glistening with enjoyment. Your baby girl loved cock and you knew poor Bob was in a little bit of trouble. Nat got on her knees and began to suck him, hard, cupping his balls with one hand while the other braced on his thigh. Bobs hands instinctively grabbed on to Nats hair as his breaths became loud and ragged. He let out a loud “Oh shit” and looked at you shocked as Nat took him all the way in.

You smirked at him. “Bob, are you enjoying her mouth? If so, tell her. Complement her good work.”

He was now thrusting into Phoenix’s mouth while tugging on her hair, his mouth agape as he struggled for breath. His eyes drifted from yours down to hers and between pants he did just as he was instructed.

“Nat that feels amazing. Suck me, just like that.” And then his head lolled back as Natasha worked her magic.

“Bob, do you want to cum in her mouth? Or somewhere else? You asked and he growled as his head flopped forward to look at Nat again while she worked.

“I want to cum in her gorgeous pussy.” He let out through his forced breathing.

He was getting the hang of this. You knew how much fun Nat had working a cock with her mouth and that if you didn’t stop her now this would all end too quickly. “Natasha honey” you said and she slowed her ministrations before releasing Bobs cock with a loud pop.

She looked over her shoulder at you sheepishly. “Sorry babe, I got carried away.”

“Bob, help her up. Take charge. You know what you want next, make it happen.”

He bent down slightly and grabbed Nat’s wrists before yanking her up to him. Her body crashed into his and he began kissing her again. His arms snaked around her body and pulled her in even closer. The sweet sounds coming from her mouth had you squirming. You wanted to kiss that mouth so bad right now. Squeezing your thighs together wasn’t helping anymore, so you slid your hands into your underwear and began rubbing your mound to find some friction. You sighed and Bobs eyes opened. He took in the sight of you working your bud and his eyes widened while he still kissed Phoenix.

“Don’t worry about me Bobby, focus on her. You’re doing great.”

What happened next happened so fast you almost missed it. Bobs hands reached under Nat’s ass and lifted her off the ground. Two steps and he had her flung onto the bed on her back. Before either of you could say anything, Bob laid on his stomach and began kissing the inside of Natashas thighs, first one and then the other. Her head was now lying next to you on the mattress, and she smiled at you with so much heat in her brown orbs.

“Baby, I think he’s a fast learner.” She hissed as his mouth began to lap at the outside of her smooth slit.

“I think you’re right sweet girl.” You said with a smile before reaching over to gently remove some hair from Natashas forehead. You continued to rub yourself, enjoying every saccharine sound falling from your girlfriend’s mouth.

“God I want this pussy so bad. Tell me Natasha. Tell me I can eat your pussy?” Bob practically growled from between her tanned legs. Nat bucked her hips as she grabbed his hair and pulled him all the way in, his tongue beginning an all-out assault of her clit. Her back arched and you couldn’t help yourself. Your free hand grabbed a handful of Natashas right breast and began to knead it. She was making a range of feral noises now that had you pick up the pace in your own underwear.

“Bob, Bob, yes Bob. Right there, that’s perfect. Suck my clit, oh oh yes like that. Ughh” her back was arching now and you knew she was getting close. Natasha loved nothing more than having her pussy eaten. It was your favorite thing to do to her and you had to focus on something else to keep from joining Bob on the action.

“Shes getting close Bob. Fuck her. Let her cum on your cock.” You instructed as you removed your hand from Natashas breast. He lapped a few more times at her opening before sliding up her body and layering her breasts with kisses and nips of his teeth. Natashas hands were everywhere, his hair, scratching his shoulders and biceps. Natasha was a babbling mess of want and need.

“Robert Floyd if you don’t fuck me now I’ll, I’ll” Nat trailed off as he moved the head of his cock to her maidenhead. Bob’s face hovered over Nats briefly before he looked up at you, his face searching for permission.

“Make her feel good Bob.” You nudged and that was all the encouragement he needed. Bob slid his cock into Natasha and she let out a loud moan that sent your head spiraling. You needed more relief than this, you were so wet. As Bob began moving in and out of Natasha you reached over to the bedside table and pulled out your tiny bullet, pressing the button and practically shoving it down your panties. The buzzing went unnoticed as Bob and Nat continued to fuck on the bed next to you.

“Don’t let things get stale Bob, move her legs, let her feel you at different angles.” Bob growled into the crook of Natashas neck before he pushed back onto his knees. He threw Natashas legs onto his shoulders and grabbed her hips, lifting her up as he started to pick up the pace, bumping into her pussy with more pressure. She was becoming a loud, vulgar mess, practically screaming obscenities as her hands grabbed ahold of the bars above her head. The mess in your own panties grew with every shout Nat released into the thick air as you moved the bullet back and forth over your sensitive nub.

“Phoenix, cum baby. Cum on my cock.” Bob bellowed. He released her hips and grabbed each of her ankles. He spread her legs wide and really leaned into the fucking. Natasha just gasped repeatedly, no longer forming any words.  You knew she was close when she became incoherent like this.

“That’s it Bobby, let her have it. She’s ready. Make her cum.”

Bob released one of Natashas legs and put his fingers in her mouth to lick before moving them to her clit and rubbing fast and furiously on it while fucking her hard. A few moments later and Natasha was grabbing at anything and everything as she hollered out her orgasm. “I’m gonna cum. Oh yes Bob fuck I’m coming.” She let out the deepest, most feral screech as Bob fucked her through it. You were close to your own release and could practically see stars now. You realized Bob was looking at you while he continued to move in and out of Nat, slowing his pace. “She’s such a good girl. You’re so lucky.” He huffed and you looked down into her ravaged eyes as you quietly came, creaming all over your bullet. You leaned in to kiss her smoothly before looking back up at Bob.

“Don’t forget to take care of yourself Bob. You did so good getting Natasha there. Now move her how you want her so you can cum.” Natasha whimpered while Bob looked briefly contemplative. Then he removed his cock and hooked his finger in the air, beckoning Natasha to rise to him. Slowly and with wet matted hair, she did as she was told. With both on their knees he kissed her lightly, cupping her face, before he used his hands to work her around and onto all fours, her perfect ass up in the air.  Natasha was practically face to face with you now and grinning through a haze.

As Bob slid into her pussy, Natasha whispered up at you “This was a great idea.” Then Bob grabbed her hair in one hand and her hip in the other and began pounding into her. You watched Nats face melt into anguished pleasure as Bob began to rumble into the void. With her eyes firmly locked on yours Bob shouted “Fuck yeah” as he came hard into your girlfriend’s pussy. His body continued to push back and forth with his release. As he slowed his pace, he freed Natasha's’ hair, and you moved in to give her a gentle kiss. Bob leaned down, still attached to Phoenix, and peppered her shoulder blades and upper back with light kisses. Bob whispered into Natashas back “Thank you.” Then he slid out of her and sat back so that she could collapse onto the pillows next to you.

Natasha giggled, rolling over onto her side. “Come here, handsome.” And she motioned for him to lay down behind her. Bob did as he was told, molding his front to her back and wrapping his arm around her stomach as his head hit the pillow behind hers. You chuckled at the sight. Your girl was quite proud of herself, and you knew that once Bob left you would get to have your way with her as well. It was going to be a long night for your needy girl.

“Bobby, I think you’re ready to take Rebecca for a ride. How do you feel?” you asked. He had his face buried in Natashas hair at the base of her neck and he rolled back just enough to look at you. A goofy grin met his lips. “I can’t fucking wait.” And all three of you laughed.

“She won’t know what hit her.” Natasha added as she wriggled back into him further. “Also, this is the best part. The snuggles and praise after its over.”

He raised his head to prop it up in his hand and with a peck on her cheek he said “Thank you for sharing yourself with me. I feel much better about this now, and you were so perfect. You’re both excellent teachers. I can’t believe I’ve gone so long without this. What was I thinking?” Natashas grin grew even bigger.

“Don’t sell yourself short anymore Bob. Just like in the air, you’re a 10 in the sack. Gave all new meaning to don't think, just do." He shared a look with you and you both shook your heads with a laugh. He kissed her shoulder again, then got up and dressed, placing his glasses on his face last. In the dim light he came around the bed and kissed the top of your head, thanking you once again for your help. As he made his way back around the bed to head for the door, Natasha sat up and grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks.

“Bob” she said coyly with a sinful expression, “If things don’t work out with Rebecca, I don’t mind doing this again. If you ever need or want extra practice.” He just shook his head and smirked. You shared a look with him that communicated the same thing: This woman was wonderful and also going to be the death of you both. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it gently.

“Remember, this didn’t happen. See you tomorrow, Nat.” And with a wink he left the two of you alone in the room.

“Natasha Trace, you are so bad.” You said with a playful pinch to her side. She rolled over laughing and grabbed you until you were anchored on top of her.

“I know. And you love me for it. Now get over here and show much how much you love me for it.” And you did. All night long.

[madsral]

𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧 — 𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐒. 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝𝐲

❝Leon was completely in love with you. He already knew he loved you even before the incident in China.❞

ɴᴏᴛᴇs: Hey, folks! English is not my native language, so I'd like to apologize for any mistakes you may find! Feel free and enjoy this short story about our favorite police officer!

Leon Kennedy is a man of simple tastes. He accumulates sketches and Polaroid photos in a box in the attic. He likes small apartments and his cup of coffee - sugar-free - every morning before checking emails.

However, Leon Kennedy is a very different man from the 21-year-old police officer who arrived late on the first day of work. Leon acknowledges that the worst part of living a life as an agent of the American government is this: he has an excellent memory for everything, good and bad. A monotonous grayscale, with growls of creatures whose shapes once belonged to ordinary people, covers most of them. He is a hero. Leon Kennedy is a veteran in the war against bioterrorism. He rescued the daughter of the President of the United States and became the best agent in the entire DSO. He found a glory he didn't seek. Something many desire in life, and that was a standard too high for that Raccoon City cop to imagine - and his standards were pretty high back then.

But this was not the life he desired. He desires and enjoys a simple life.

Leon is not a hypocrite: he prefers a peaceful death, lying in his bed, rather than being consumed by the undead. He is aging and needs something to lean on, a place to rest, to enjoy the pleasures of a simple life.

Fix what was broken. Leon knew he would have taken a checkmate just for desiring you.

Find a thread of hope. Undo the ashes that covered your life and give way to a palette of colors as beautiful as the dawn in spring.

All thanks to you.

Leon met you in one of the darkest moments of his life. How, he thought, can the world become a better place when so many horrible things have happened?

But you destroyed every barrier he built over the years, causing delirium with the thought of hurting himself or even losing the lovely sound he made when the characters in his favorite book got together. Leon knew he had taken a checkmate just for desiring you.

He was younger, and so were you. He remembers your eyes, large and doe-like, full of endless curiosity. He also remembers your smile, the shy way your palm covered your lips when you laughed. Leon never imagined himself a nostalgic man, but your presence adorned most of his favorite memories.

Leon remembers as perfectly how you two became friends easily, long before entangling into his apartment with your tacky coffee cups. Every night spent in a training gym, your company preventing him from walking out the door and surrendering to bottles of whiskey and cheap beer. Your jokes and sarcastic comments that he would have found irritating, but the desire to suppress a smile often found its way one way or another.

"Stop frowning before you break your face.''

"It would be so sad, and you'd cry for depriving yourself of this beautiful face.''

"Oh, screw off," he says.

And then the subtle compliments began - compliments about your hair that could be mistaken for insults, anonymous wildflowers left on your bedside table, the gentle touch on your forearm when you started to fidget with your fingers, a habit he soon understood as a sign of anxiety.

Gradually, you also turned to his touches - and began to seek them out. You held his hand under the table during meetings, always bought two cups of coffee on the way to the DSO, and sat together in the morning to review paperwork, your distraction with toe-tapping boots hidden beneath the table.

Leon was completely in love with you. He already knew he loved you even before the incident in China.

A frustrated sigh left his lips as Leon inspected your face more closely, trying to hide his concern with the head wound and the now-dried blood that marked a trail from the hairline to the chin.

"I'll kill him. I'll hurt whoever hurts you," he promised, his fingers brushing against her chin.

Two weeks after that mission, Leon invited you to wander the streets away from the center of New York. As they walked in slow steps, the city buzzed with activity.

The sky had a perfect shade of blue-green, filled with thin and shiny clouds, and Leon couldn't help but tilt his chin back, admiring its fluffy composition as they hovered in the sky. Some children passed by them, running after each other with short, quick steps, and their laughter spread through the crowd, blending with the low hum of conversation among friends and the cheerful chant of store owners.

Vendors were shouting, advertising their products, trying to lure people into buying from them, and it took a lot of Leon to contain a woman who wanted to devour everything at any moment. You turned your head from side to side, up and down, trying to process every tiny detail of the area. Your heart raced in your chest, and your heart-shaped lips were smiling. Oh, did this store owner just move to that area? Great! You promise to be his most loyal customer.

To your left, an elderly woman with brown hair was selling second-hand cauldrons. Then, in front of her, was a cart overflowing with hundreds of thick books with new and colorful hardcovers. You leaned forward, gray eyes examining the dozens of covers, looking for something that stands out in the crowd. Your lips were pressed into a thin line, your forehead furrowed in concentration. His eye twitches. Leon bites his lip to suppress a smile and reaches for the stack, pulling out a book and passing it to you.

Leon bought four books for you that day.

The hours passed quickly, unlike what they usually do when waiting. You drank too much and danced all night.

Leon thanked all the lucky stars for that night.

Because when you smiled over your shoulder, Leon felt completely sober. Your lips touch in a chaste kiss of just a second. And he holds your hands close to his heart. His tongue traces your lower lips, brushing the edge of your teeth before merging with yours. It was gentle, as he could say all the things he kept hidden in his heart.

Well, and now here he is: Leon Kennedy, the war hero, at 67 in his small and simple apartment.

His hair was gray, shoulders slouched, but he never seemed happier. He woke up early that morning, poured his coffee into his cup with tacky letters "for the best dad in the world," while checking the messages left on the answering machine.

"Hey, Dad, how are you? I'm leaving campus now and should be home by late afternoon. Can't wait to get there, I miss you. Love you."

Leon smiled.

He also couldn't wait to see his boy again. The blue eyes - his blue eyes - and infectious smile that had long filled that apartment.

Leon Kennedy loved his son in a way he never imagined possible. It was as if this love was enough to kill him.

Oh, he had a beautiful life.

And he was looking forward to savoring every last minute of it with you.

[blackswaneuroparedux]

I sat with my pen in my hand, trying to think up the worst reason a person could have for killing another person, and that’s what came to mind.

- Johnny Cash

This is how Cash explained how he came up with the line ‘But I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die’ in his iconic song ‘Fulsom Prison Blues’.

In 1953, Johnny Cash recorded ‘Folsom Prison Blues’ and two years later included it on his album Johnny Cash and his Hot and Blue Guitar! Cash was inspired to write the song after seeing the 1951 movie Inside the Walls of Folsom Prison while serving in West Germany with the United States Air Force at Landsberg in Bavaria. The location, incidentally, of another famous gaol and where Adolf Hitler wrote Mein Kampf when he was incarcerated after the Munich Beer Hall Putsch in 1924. After the war it was re-named War Criminal Prison No. 1 and kept war criminals convicted at the Nuremberg trials.

Folsom Prison Blues cleverly combined two folk idioms - the train song and the prison song. For decades Cash nearly always opened his gigs with Folsom Prison Blues after greeting the audience with the same introduction each time: “Hello, I’m Johnny Cash,”. On 13th January 1968, Johnny Cash and June Carter, the Statler Brothers, the Tennessee Three, with Carl Perkins on guitar, recorded a live version of the song before the prisoners of Folsom State Prison, Folsom, California. The performances - one in the morning, another in the afternoon - can be heard on the album Johnny Cash At Folsom Prison.

[trivialbob]

I am back home from vacation in Isla Mujeres. Sheila is staying a few more days. We know other visitors on the island. Sheila is hanging out with them this week.

The Island is a 25 minute ferry ride from Cancun. It is about tourism, but not at all like being inside an all-inclusive resort. Many folks we ran into visit Isla for several weeks at a time and stay in small condos or rooms.

(A bit long, with pictures, below the cut)

We rented a two-bedroom place in a small, four-unit building. It was at the north end of the island. That's where many of the American and Canadian visitors stay. But locals live there too. From our roof we could see the family next door, cooking and putting out their laundry to dry. Our door is the blue one in the bottom left picture.

Some US hotels I've been at lately don't offer daily changes of sheets and towels. "For the sake of the environment," ya know. Our modest place in Isla included fresh sheets and towels every day in addition to full room cleaning. It felt luxurious.

More local people live mid-island and to the south end. However, visitors rent places all over the narrow island. A couple we know has the equivalent of a studio apartment mid-island for two months at $600/month. A realtor would call it "Very cozy." I liked it.

That couple has bicycles they store there for when they come back each winter. They also rent a golf cart from time to time to drive around the island, as many visitors do. Some Americans and Canadians purchase places instead of renting. Some beautiful, modern houses dot the island.

One of the first things I did upon arrival was slather myself in SPF 50 sunscreen. My pasty white head and back made the soft, white beach sand look like black pepper in comparison. The sunscreen worked well. I have only one small patch of burned skin where I missed covering a spot on one ankle.

You won't find chain restaurants here. The few banks and gas stations have familiar names, but that's about it for big brands.

Warning signs are few and far between. Servers bring cold beer to the beach, in glass bottles. This was my fourth or fifth visit and Sheila's 12th. We've never seen or heard someone break a bottle. There are no lifeguards at beaches or pools.

When crossing roads, cars, golf carts, and scooters seem to have the right-of-way over pedestrians. Sidewalks are rough and uneven. You learn to be careful and pay attention. At times soldiers and police patrolled the streets with rifles. We felt secure the whole time, even while walking in dimly lit local neighborhoods.

One resort-like place where we hung out at for a few hours has a pool with concrete seats and tables in the water. A server, seeing me cooling off in the water, asked if I'd deliver a glass ashtray to four women sitting at table in the pool.

Smoking isn't allowed inside bars and restaurants, thank God. Unlike the US where that's just understood, there are some No Fumar signs posted in Isla businesses. I bet I didn't see more than a dozen people smoking the whole time I was there.

Touristy stuff is there if you want that. Two streets have vendors hawking t-shirts, magnets, and such. Scuba and fishing trips are available if that's your thing. Golf carts and scooters can be rented. Mainly I eat good food, drink relatively inexpensive drinks and cheap beer, read, and relax. Surprisingly though, I recorded 10,000 or more steps every day.

Many of the older buildings would make an American code inspector twitch with anxiety. Few stairs, even very steep ones, have railings. Nor do all the rooftops. Our place had a railing on top but the buildings next to us did not. A realtor might call those "Unencumbered terraces." I easily could have done one of those cop TV show stunts, jumping from building to building while chasing a perp down the block.

Try tracing these wires. Or finding the source of the water lines. A realtor might say "Plentiful utilities." We did have excellent water pressure, hot and cold. Just don't drink it.

Bathrooms in some bars and restaurants... oh my. An Applebee's is more sanitary, but then you are eating at Applebee's. About ten years ago one of Sheila's friends purchased a toilet seat with her own money and installed it herself in one of the island's bars she liked to frequent. She had developed some nice leg muscles from so much hovering. Life's trade-offs, right?

One bar's women's room has a lot of comments in Sharpie about Mark. Some female out there somewhere DOES NOT LIKE MARK. Apparently a frequent visitor to the island, she documents when bad thoughts of Mark cross her mind. The men's room offered some scribbles both for and against Mark. At our table a group of us sat around trying to come up with the story. It could have a chance at being a Netflix/Hulu movie.

We didn't cook. There are too many local places that are fun and tasty. In some parts of the island you can actually order a meal at someone's house and eat on their patio. I'll have a separate post later about how we hired local guy bring us to seven different places for food one night.

Several times we shared restaurant tables with other visitors, some we knew from previous visits, some total strangers. A couple from New Jersey wanted to sit on the patio at a restaurant Sheila and I like. All three outside tables were occupied. We had empty chairs at ours, so we invited them to join us and had a wonderful evening talking with them. The wife did sound a bit like Carmela Soprano. Her husband, however, did not make me remove my cap. Another restaurant had a cat you could pet during dinner at another place.

In addition to the restaurant cat there were sidewalk dogs. They putter around or relax on the warm pavement. People walk and drive around the dogs. I assure you that white dog in the right picture is just sleeping contentedly. I didn't use a flash, so I wouldn't disturb him. The little one on the left greeted me as I walked along the malecón on my way to a massage.

We played pickle ball while there. The courts were in the middle of an area with few tourists. All the players were Americans. I wonder what the local residents think of the game with the bright, plastic balls that go clink, clink, clink. That's me in the yellow hat (top left picture). The bottom two pictures are what was behind the courts.

I could get used to scooter life. Sheila has one at home, but it's engine is literally six times the size of what these ones here have.

Carnival celebrations began on Friday. Our place overlooked the town square, by the Catholic Church. It was fun to watch the celebration with the loud music and lots of people.

That got long! Enough for now.

[ludwig-holy-blade]

Love and Duty

Plot: In a time of crisis King Viserys makes a choice that effects both Rhaenyra and you.

Daemon Targaryen & Rhea Royce!Son x Rhaenyra Targaryen:

Commander of the City Watch: In an effort to familiarize you with the people of King's Landing your uncle Viserys, in all his wisdom, placed you in charge of the City Watch of King's Landing. A role which once belonged to your father. You set to work immediately. You wouldn’t say that the City Watch was inept, so much as it was toothless. Your father treated his men like a band of thugs and brigands. Better suited to thrashing poor folk and brutalizing women and children than actually functioning as enforcers of the law. This would have to change.

Enlisting the aid of Rhaenyra and Alicent you began the process of weeding out the members of the City Watch you could neither rely on nor trust. Out of two hundred and thirty only ninety met your standards. This decision was, unpopular, amongst the nobility and Viserys was pressured to replace you. It was only Rhaenyra and Queen Aemma who could convince him not to. They asked him to trust you and he did.

Your plan was simple. You appointed a captain beneath you in this case you chose Harwin Strong, a strong warrior, loyal son and trusted ally of the crown. He was in charge of properly training the men in the use of short swords and shields as well as crossbows. In the interim, a multitude of men at arms from House Royce were sent to act as temporary City Watchmen and help keep the peace. In a six months your plan had already shown fruit, the men were not great warriors but understood how to operate as small individual units that could respond and act quickly. You decided to take them on their first true test.

In the dark of the night. Under a moonless, starless sky choked by dark clouds the City Watch of King's Landing moved silently, their gold cloaks left long behind. You led from the front, Captain Strong by your side as your approached your target. Within the largest brothel in Flea Bottom, a place called The Rutting House, lay the largest Rat Pit assembly in the city. The Royce men at arms surrounded the building with a ring of tower shields, an impenetrable wall to stop any from escaping. You and your ninety men entered the building, took control of the top level then descended in to the lowest of the seven hells.

The Rat Pit was filthy, covered in grime and shit, stains of beer, wine and otherwise unsavory liquids caked the floor and the pungent aroma of piss pervaded the entire room. You and your men entered silently through the hidden passage and when every man was there you struck. At the sight of ninety armed and armored men wielding swords and maces most of the people scattered, some collapsed in fright and few fought back. Taking this Rat Pit was easy bloody but easy.

The true horror came after, nearly three-hundred men and women were arrested and sent to dungeons and nearly one-hundred and twenty children rescued from the pits, their teeth filed into fangs, starved and forced to fight for food they were barely human. At the appalling sight one-hundred and twenty abused children some of your men wept, other vomited at the sight of the ones that were dead and left you rot. You nearly joined them. No the horror was special for you however, as the children were being carried out and taken to the maesters and septa waiting in the Red Keep you scanned the crowd shackled criminals and among them you found a familiar face. Framed by his silver hair now messy after having been forced to the ground. Your father's violet eyes stared long into yours.

The King's Justice: You were commended by the King and his small council for your success but then the real work began. Weeks and weeks of trial and sentencing, you and Rhaenyra hearing men and women attempt to justify their being at the Rat Pit. Many went to the wall, many others were executed by your own hand. All the while one man's face burned inside your mind.

The matter was to be settled privately your uncle said, between family. Your father was apparently a frequent patron of the Rat Pits and held no remorse for doing so. "Why should I?" He said. " Are we not closer to gods than men?" You were enraged, your uncle was less so, more annoyed. Rhaenyra didn’t know what to do. She loved her uncle, truly she did, but the Rat Pits were awful she knew from her new attendants. Following the fall of the Rutting House you had brought every boy from the Rat Pits into the City Watch they would be trained, fed, housed and most importantly cared for by the City Watch which they would one day join. She however had taken in the girls. Some as young as six, Rhaenyra had seen many made into the her personal servants which she lavished with gifts and kindnesses. The rest were taken into the Red Keep and made staff members. The stories they told her chilled Rhaenyra to her very bones.

After many days of arguing and fighting, accusations and excuses Viserys came to a decision. Daemon would leave King's Landing, return to your mother and remain there until after the birth of the he and Aemma's next child. You were not satisfied. Before he could leave you had one demand, he must leave Darksister here. His response was expected. "If you do desire my sword boy, come and claim it." So the challenge was made. At dawn the following day you and your father were to duel for the possession of Darksister.

A Duel of Blood: Rhaenyra and Alicent came to you the night before, they didn’t want to see you harmed. You were offended by their lack of belief, you had been training every day for nearly your entire life, you were well trained not to mention already taller and thicker with muscle than your father and with Lamentation. You felt your victory was assured.

Dawn came and many gathered, nobles, the small council, Viserys and Aemma as well as Rhaenyra and Alicent however reluctantly. Your father was dressed in ceremonial armar adorned with a dragon shaped helm and black and red armor with Darksister out on display. You however dressed in simple steel plate with gambeson. The most filigree you had was bronze inlay on the steel demarcating it as Royce armor.

Duel began equally, neither of you striking merely testing each other. Both of you had shields so most blows were simply swiped away, then Daemon set in. A flurry of blows came your way each barely blocked by your shield. Eventually an opening came and you parried with Lamentation, breaking his momentum and you began a slow march of strikes. Not nearly as fast but dangerously strong, massive cleaves quickly turning Daemon's shield into kindling.

Daemon was cleaver however and used what was left of his shield to punch you. Despite the protection of the helm you were still shocked and staggered back giving him an opportunity to disarm and send Lamentation flying into the dirt. You had Darksister pointed at you and little room to move so instead of leap for the sword you charged with the shield, battering Darksister out of his hand. Tackling him to the ground you removed his helm and called him to yield. He refused. You began to strike him, over and over and over again years of rage and sadness and abandonment boiling over as you took it all out on your father. So vicious and prolonged was the attack that Harold Westerling had to drag you off of him. You thought you heard somebody screaming, later Viserys told you it was in fact you who was screaming. You were declared the victor and later that day your father left, leaving Darksister behind and without a word to you.

Rhaenyra came your room later that night, none had seen you since the duel. She found you still in your armor, sitting in your chair staring at the wall where Darksister now hung. She comforted you, told you you had done the right thing. That it was justice. But some how this get hollow, like you hadn’t actually done anything. She only asked you why you wanted Darksister and finally you spoke. "Because he was unworthy of it. Because he proved himself no better than a criminal, he dishonored himself, this House, my mother and me. He is unworthy of his position, of the love we give him and of the loved ones he was soiled." Somewhere in your rant, you began to weep, hot thick tears falling from your face as you finally broke. Rhaenyra held you as you began to weep into her shoulder and she realized something then. All you wanted was to be loved, by the father who’d abandoned you, the mother who’d barely raised you by the family you had come to love to faithfully. Rhaenyra began to weep herself as she drew you close and held you tightly.

Happinesses End: Queen Aemma was pregnant. A blessing to be sure but also a great risk, many of her previous pregnancies had been not only fruitless but dangerous leaving her bedridden for weeks on end. The realm rejoiced as well as King Viserys but the invisible sword of what could be was impossible to ignore. Rhaenyra was elated, she would be happy with a new brother but the thought of a sister brought her inexplicable joy. You yourself were happy with the news, a surprise to many but you understood that you’re position as heir was incumbent on whether this child was a Prince or Princess. If it were a Princess than you maintained your position, if it were a Prince than you were free to explore other interests.

You and Rhaenyra devoted much of your time to Aemma, attending to many of her needs yourselves. Aemma often couldn’t help but smile to herself as she noticed many of Rhaenyra’s sidelong glances towards you, taking in your tall, muscular form in a borderline leering manner. She also noticed how soft you had become around Rhaenyra, smiling and laughing with her, even cracking jokes from time to time. She and Viserys couldn’t help but giggle to themselves in private when she recounted the days events to him. The months rolled on and all seemed right with Aemma and in celebration of the coming birth of the new Targaryen Prince or Princess Viserys declared a tourney.

The tourney was magnificent, splendid and in your opinion incredibly wasteful and stress inducing. As commander of the City Watch you were now responsible with securing King's Landing. Luckily with new recruits and Harwin's aid you were able to declare the city secure, mostly. You sat in the royal box next to Rhaenyra, attempting to take in her beauty as stealthily as possible when through the tourney gate your father rode in on a black stallion. You stood to confront him, had it not been for Viserys commanding you to stay and Rhaenyra grabbing you, you would have confronted him then. The tourney continued on, many people lost many won, some were injured and a few of them died. But during the high point of the tourney, Viserys was dragged off by Otto Hightower turning your mood sour and the worry began to cloud your mind, you couldn’t even find joy in watching your father being knocked into the dirt. Eventually you went to find out more and when you walked toward the birthing room Lord Commander Westerling got in your way, the two of you stared challengingly in the hallway, the stand off breaking when one of Aemma's screams broke out of the room.

You forced past Westerling and into the room only to see the maester cutting into the Queen while Viserys clutched violently to his wife's hand. You moved to strike the maester only to be tackled by Westerling. You were held down and while you couldn’t see what was happening you could hear it and the sound of Aemma's screams over the splitting of her flesh as she begged for her life would come to haunt you forever more. You finally ripped yourself free only to be confronted by the sight of Viserys holding the tiny body of the baby Prince and Rhaenyra locked in place within the doorway as tears poured down her face.

[auraeseer]

Hi. Lee's killed!

[verdemoun]

I feel like John’s the kind of person to have a lot of friends in modern times while also thinking he has no friends

Honestly timewarp they all have massive imposter syndrome like everything has changed so much. What are they meant to talk to modern era folk about? Sports? Even sports that have been around that long have wildly changed and outlaws didn't have that much spare time to head on down to the ball game. Plus, this is rdr1 permanent scowl scar face 'there's only two things you need to know about me I hate the government and I love my family' John Martston. He has no idea how to make friends unless there is a shared goal and definitely does not consider half the people who think of him as a friend as friends.

In reality he's just super recognizable and an over-all nice guy who is just happy to lend a hand where he can and is also super handy like he built a house and ran a ranch for 4 years man has MacGyver skills and loads of people who consider him a friend but he almost exclusively considers the gang his only friends. People will introduce him to strangers as 'my buddy John' and invite him to neighborhood cook-outs and he still is like 'what a pleasant acquaintance'. Gang mindset is still so real if anything stronger than 1899. How many found family units have literally died for each other? Please send them all to therapy I'm begging.

He has one person he considers a modern era friend it's the guy he sits next at the pub who is a massive intimidating bear of a man they don't know each other's names. Sort of terrifying guy who is always in 'his seat' and there is always an empty seat next to him because people are absolutely horrified of this tattooed mass murder bikie looking man and John thinks it's great because even the bartender is that scared of the guy he only needs to raise a finger and they get their beers immediately and on the cheap. The only thing they say to each other is 'hey' 'how's things' 'can't complain' and they would absolutely throttle a stranger to protect one another's honor. Man called his elderly parents the next day to excitedly explain he made a friend first time John said hey to him.

[theygotlost]

Annotations for le Vimes playlist

hi. read this if you care

YOUTUBE VERSION if you want to listen without spotify

1. The Fool / Neutral Milk Hotel

A little instrumental preamble before the playlist proper. musically, I think it captures the state of Vimes at the beginning of Guards! Guards!. It sounds like a processional fanfare fit for a guard, but cacophonous and lilting, as if the band were stumbling drunk.

2. Wasted on the Senate Floor / Emperor X

Another Guards! Song, though the frantic energy reflects the chaotic excitement of the watch series and Discworld as a whole (and the excitement I get from reading it heehee). The title/refrain is pretty straightforward, just replace “senate floor” with “oblong office”. 

Some other pertinent lyrics:

That feels million to one [a million to one chance??? perhaps???]

Republican watchman from Virginia wraps his fist in a flag To punch our lights out

We've got bloody eyes but we're feeling good Causing confusion in the neighborhood

3. We Live in a Dump / They Might be Giants

I have to put a TMBG song in my discworld playlist, I simply must! Pretty much all the lyrics to this one are relevant, but the pre-chorus specifically fits well with the rank trying to get Vimes out of his drunken stupor and Vimes being dismissed from the watch, both of which happen in Guards! And Men at Arms.

Why be realistic? Don't wake me from my dream I was individualistic They kicked me off the team

4. Grace Cathedral Hill / The Decemberists

How Vimes experiences Ankh-Morpork. There’s a tenderness and melancholy to this song, since Vimes does have a sort of affection for the city despite how terrible it is.

All dust and stone and moribund

The air, it stunk of fish and beer

The suggestion of CMOT dibbler: 

We were both a little hungry So we went to get a hot dog

The pilgrims, pills, and tourists here Will sink fifty-three bucks to buy A brand new halo

This could be Sibyl, who knows!!

Sweet on a green-eyed girl All fiery Irish clip and curl All brine and piss and vinegar

I know “piss and vinegar” is an expression describing her personality (Vimes is really more the one full of piss and vinegar), but taken literally it would also accurately describe the smell of the city.

5. Dirty Old Town / Ewan Maccoll

A continuation of the themes from the previous song. I originally had the cover by the Pogues in here for the longest time, but I decided to replace it with the original from 1949 because it brings a more interesting color (the clarinet!!).

6. Precinct 41 Major Crime Unit / Sea Power

Another instrumental interlude, this time from the Disco Elysium soundtrack. Discworld and Disco Elysium are so closely linked in my mind, Vimes absolutely has Harry’s skillset inside his brain and you CANNOT convince me otherwise. As the title suggests this song is the theme for Harry’s police precinct, and I totally imagine it playing during an intense moment with the Watch.

7. Hurricane Drunk / Florence + the Machine

Yeah yeah I know it’s sooo easy to fill my playlist with songs about alcoholism. Well if the boot fits! Plus:

No walls can keep me protected No sleep, nothing in between me and the rain

Pretty good imagery here of Vimes’ night patrols and/or passing out in the gutter.

8. Down by the Water / The Decemberists

The river Ankh, if we’re using a generous definition of the term “water”.

9. Cap in Hand / The Proclaimers

FUUUCK the nobility!!!

10. Average Working Man / Panicland

FUCK the nobility… 2!!! He's God's message to the high class folk!!!! This is a perfect song for encapsulating Vimes’ RAGEEE

11. This Night / Black Lab

This one’s about the Summoning Dark/”The Beast”:

There are things, I have done There's a place, I have gone There's a beast and I let it run Now it's running my way

And then there’s this: 

So take this night And wrap it around me like a sheet I know I'm not forgiven But I need a place to sleep So take this night And lay me down on the street I know I'm not forgiven but I hope That I'll be given some peace

From Jingo:

He was, temporarily, a happy man. He was cold, wet and alone, trying to keep out of the worst of the weather at three o’clock on a ferocious morning. He’d spent some of the best nights of his life like this. At such times you could just…sort of hunch your shoulders like this and let your head pull in like this and you became a little hutch of warmth and peace, the rain banging on your helmet, the mind just ticking over, sorting out the world…

12. Get Better / Frank Turner

Vimes’ character is all about learning from mistakes and making an effort to become a better person. All the lyrics are relevant, but here’s the chorus:

I'm trying to get better 'cause I haven't been my best She took a plain black marker, started writing on my chest She drew a line across the middle of my broken heart And said "Come on now, let's fix this mess" We could get better because we're not dead yet

ILY SYBIL!!!!!

13. Damn These Vampires / The Mountain Goats

In terms of the song order of this playlist, this is the calm before the storm, the darkness before the dawn; Just one last quick interlude before the main event.

Crawl 'til dawn On my hands and knees Goddamn these vampires For what they've done to me

I admit this whole song is a little bit of a stretch, but the refrain is a nod to Vimes’ attitude toward vampires that’s addressed in Thud!. He spends some time crawling around like a beast in that book too.

14. Blossoms / The Amazing Devil

The crown jewel, the piece de resistance of this playlist! The Night Watch song of all time!!! I don’t feel like I need to break down the lyrics here since I already made this piece illustrating all the relevant lyrics. ✌ Ugh the emotional intensity of this one is really the important part. Leave it to the amazing devil to write Epic Music. 

15. Caesar / The Oh Hellos

This song also has a very Epic feeling to it so I have it riding on the high of Blossoms, but it’s less energetic so I think of it as a cooldown. I always thought the title referred to Julius Caesar, but Genius lyrics is telling me it’s actually about Jesus. whatevarrrr. Because I thought it was about the assassination of a monarch, I connected it with Old Stoneface. Compare:

Hear on the wind how the pendulum swings Feel how the winter succumbs to the spring Over the palisade morning will break Rise up to meet it, oh sleeper awake

With Jingo:

He had always wondered how Old Stoneface had felt, that frosty morning when he picked up the axe that had no legal blessing because the King wouldn’t recognize a court even if a jury could be found, that frosty morning when he prepared to sever what people thought was a link between men and deity

16. Untitled / The Long Winters

Just a lil silly one to take us out on a cheerful note! I admit this one doesn’t make much sense because it’s about living in a rural area and not an urban center like Ankh-Morpork but… I gotta get back to my shanty town!! And I’ve put a lot of folk music on this playlist bc even though he’s not a country boy VImes has some very folksy salt-of-the-earth sensibilities. Just let me have this one

[currenthyperfixationcherik]

A little deviation

I recently tried to retake my writing rhythm, so I came up with this little scene for an alternate meeting.

His footsteps barely echoed as Erik stepped onto the streets of New York, the first-night lights illuminating the streets as the stars adorned the sky. He already had his goal in mind for years. Since his days in the concentration camps, he had fantasized about doing what he had been able to accomplish in the last few days: to kill all those bastards. Now, however, being so close to finishing Shaw, he decided to wait a few more days to carry out his revenge. Did he want to see Shaw dead? Absolutely, but this particular night, more than violence, he needed a drink.

Walking around the city, he noticed plenty of places to get what he wanted, however, the atmosphere was not his cup of tea. He didn't feel like going into any crummy bar where it was easier to get into a fight than to finish his beer. The night wore on as Erik made his way deeper into the district crawling with drunken students. It was hard to believe that people like these were the ones studying to be the future of their country.

Erik was about to give up on his quest when he heard an unusual cheering in the distance. The noise was coming from a random establishment, also filled with young up-and-comers thirsting for alcohol and bad decisions. As he curiously wandered deeper into the place, the scene didn't change. Students trying not to throw up on the chairs, a couple fighting in the corner, someone sober looking after their friends, and there were even people doing homework in there. The dream.

Without noticing, he sighed gloomily.

Sometimes, in his nightly contemplations, Erik didn't avoid wondering what his life would have been like if he had grown up somewhere else. Would he have gone to school? What kind of student would he have been? What kind of person would he have become?

Maybe he could be one of these young people, free and happy, relaxing in a bar with a bunch of strangers united by the joy of alcohol. A young man like the guy at the center of the bar, a guy who stole the glances of everyone around him as he drank from a very long and peculiar glass. "Xavier has always known how to liven up a party." said someone standing near Erik. "No one would suspect a brainiac like him to be so wild." The mutant looked around, then at the man, and ordered a beer.

As soon as he received his drink, he turned to look back at Xavier, who was taking the last swig from the yard. As he finished, the audience was gleefully celebrating his stunt. "Excellent skills, Xavier" thought Erik mockingly as he smiled. "Thanks, it's not the only thing I know how to do." Right behind him stood the man with the yard. "Charles Xavier." He said as he extended his hand towards Erik, who without much thought, reciprocated the greeting. "Erik Lehnsherr, how did you do that?" The young man smiled at him, "It's not as hard as it looks, it's a matter of breathing and-" Erik interrupted him, "Not that, answering me something I had only thought of." Charles stared at him. "I have my secrets and my talents, for example, another one of my talents is knowing that you have a variation on chromosome 19, most likely the EYCL1 gene, a mutation." Erik froze at that word. Charles noticed that the man had tensed, then continued speaking to explain. "Nothing to be afraid of, I just want to say that you have the most interesting green eyes I've seen." Erik relaxed his posture and decided to take the conversation away from the mutations. "Funny and smart, the girls on your faculty must be drooling over you." Charles laughed as he ordered a beer. "Guys too." Erik just gave him an impressed look.

Charles took a swig of his beer and walked over to Erik. "Exchange folks are my thing, you know?" Erik looked back at him. There was something about his blatant way of flirting that was really working for him. It was either that, or Erik had already spent too much time away from that kind of contact. "A passionate lover of foreign tongues?" the young man smiled at him and leaned close to his ear. "And of their sheets too." Erik was able to get a closer look at Charles' features, from his mesmerizing blue eyes to his wet pink lips. "It's my first day here, still no sheets you want to examine."

Without another word, Charles took Erik by the hand and led him to the on-site restrooms. Erik gladly followed him, he had already decided to have fun tonight, so why not take advantage of it? "Don't worry about a place, you can come with me." The young man said and immediately pulled Erik into an urgent and passionate kiss. Erik reciprocated immediately as he walked, guiding Charles towards the wall. Their lips moved in sync as Charles wrapped his arms around Erik's neck. Erik, not wanting to be left behind with enthusiasm or desire, bit the young man's lips, causing Charles to moan softly.

They were both so focused on the kiss that they didn't hear when someone entered the bathroom. The man gasped and made them both turn around. At the same time Charles decided to use his mutation to make the man forget the scene, Erik closed the metal door using his own. Charles' gaze locked on Erik. "How did you do that?" At that moment Erik broke away from Charles. It was a bad idea for more people to know about him and what he was, especially people as bold and talkative as Charles. "You didn't see anything. I'd better get out of here." As he turned around, he felt a slight, almost imperceptible tingle rise in the back of his neck and spread to the rest of his head. "Don't leave, Erik."

"You too?" he asked the young man, who would not release Erik from his mental presence. Charles nodded. "Telepath since I was nine, I thought I'd gone mad. You?" at the question, he leaned his head back against the cold metal door. "Metallokinesis, I was a worthless lab rat." Silence enveloped them both for seconds that went on forever. That is, at least until Charles spoke again. "The offer to come with me still stands, my sister and I have space available at home." Erik bit his lip. "If you're a telepath, you must already know what I came for." Charles opted to reach over and touch Erik's shoulder. "I know, but consider my offer."

"I will." Immediately, Erik left the place.

The surprise for both of them was that the next day they would meet again, Erik trying to kill Shaw, and Charles trying to save Erik from drowning.

[attapullman]

Y'all ready for this?

when they're not sleuthing, @bobgasm has got them in photoshoots

A neighbors walks by, fresh off their night shift. They raise their morning beers in greeting before turning back to the half-empty pool before them. The apartment complex was…okay. Better than living with their folks, though. Their unit had peeling paint and the water heater took the entire length of Fleetwood Mac’s “Hold Me” to produce any hot water. Not quite the place to take a sweet thing home, but made do. Between Bob installing transmissions and Fanboy's city hall maintenance gig, solving small town mysteries in their off hours, the best friends were making a life in their hometown.

prepare yourself here

[dankusner]

MR. TEXAS LEATHER ’05: Lou Sedlacek

Who’s your leather Daddy

Lou Sedlacek represents the Lone Star State at I ML 2005

May 27, 2005 

The International Mr. Leather contest, held annually in Chicago over Memorial Day weekend, normally attracts more than 10,000 aficionados each year.

For year 27, North Texas resident Lou Sedlacek will compete for the title.

Past winners have spread the gospel of fetish and kink across the globe while promoting safer-sex and educating about the 60-year history of the leather community.

If Sedlacek becomes the world’s leather spokesperson, he hopes to unite the old guard with the new while remaining true to its fundamental principals.

Sedlacek recently completed the following e-mail questionnaire.

WE’RE All IN THIS TOGETHER: Sedlacek says the leather commu- nity often has a difficult time being accepted by the GLBT world.

Who: Lou Sedlacek

Occupation: Landscaper with Mighty Oak Landscaping

Age: 47

Leather titles: Mr. Cowtown Leatherman 2005 and Mr. Texas Leather 2005

When and why did you enter the leather community? My exploration began in the late ’70s. At that time, the leather bars were the place to meet masculine men clad in leather-Levi, wearing uniforms or who were shirtless. The smell was usually a heady mix of beer, sweat, leather, poppers (Yes, poppers!) and piss. An incredible feeling would overcome me — apprehension and nervousness, intense desire and that sudden pulsing in my crotch. I would do just about anything to meet a hot Sir or Daddy. On one occasion, I did just that, and that encounter sealed it for me.

Are you entering IML to win? Or is it just enough to be involved? I certainly hope to win! But I know being an IML contestant will be a growing experience.

What’s IML like? It’s a feast for the senses. You will never see a more confined place filled with leather-clad men and women. And nothing smells better than a room filled with leather. There’s also conversation, some clowning around and, of course, a wide variety of public leather-sex demonstrations (that fall within local decency laws, of course).

How many pairs of leather shoes do you own? You mean boots? Seven pairs.

What types of leather outfits are stocked in your wardrobe? I do not own "outfits." I have chaps, several uniforms, pants, vests, my “cover” and my leather jacket.

Do you have leather chairs and sofas in your living room? No leather furniture in the house — it’s all in the playroom.

Is leatherwear tough to clean? I don’t know. You’ll have to ask my boy, boysteve.

What is the significance of leather? Leather is the outward symbol of the ultimate free spirit and rebel. It symbolically binds the leather community together.

How is the gay leather community different from other GLBT groups? The leather community is just like any other GLBT organization or subgroup. I’m not sure why, but leather folk have a tougher time being accepted into the larger hodgepodge. Gay leaders all spout diversity, unity and inclusion. But there’s a fear when it comes to the leather crowd, who only want to help make a difference. They’re afraid that “the outside might take umbrage with the deviants.” Well, we’re all in this together, folks.

Why do you think you won the Mr. Texas 2005 title? I don’t know exactly what the judges thought. I reckon they saw or heard or felt that I was a man of honor, respect, integrity, love and trust, which are the foundations and protocols of the leather movement.

What community involvement have you accomplished as a Texas titleholder? I engage folks in a conversation and listen to what they say. I’d also like to remind folks that being Mr. Leather isn’t about me, or what / want. This is about a legacy that the original leather community hoped to pass on.

If you’re crowned the winner at IML 2005, what would you do as the reigning spokesman? The conversation would deepen and go global. Magic is real. Power is real. It only takes a few to begin the “spell” of change, so it has to be driven by what’s best for all of us. I hope our community would return to our founda- tion: honor, trust, respect, love and integrity. We would take the best of what has worked over the last 60 years and shape it to the here and now. And I’d encourage us to let go of what hasn’t worked.

[otome-obsessions]

Fairytale Keeper Archives - Theodore Cole

At the request of Her Majesty Victoria, Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, I have enclosed a series of summations regarding the personal opinions, recollections, and experiences of the members of the covert organization Crown. Each member was interviewed in regards to their developing relationship with the newest additions to Crown's assemblage in an effort to ascertain the efficacy of expanding Great Britain's cursed forces. With great humility, I submit my findings for your consideration.

Signed:

Kate, Her Majesty's Royal Fairytale Keeper

1. To the Members of Crown, what do you think about Theordore? William: Theodore is one of the rare few who follow their instincts without restraint. I find him to be as admirable as he is amusing. Harrison: He’s so bad at lying I almost worry about him, but I’ve got my hands full with one castle pet. Can’t look after another. Liam: Dorey’s great fun, and I love the way he talks! I still don’t know what a “humdinger of a hootenanny” is, but I’ll figure it out eventually. Elbert: He talks a lot. Even when I don’t answer, he continues. Hm? No, I don’t really mind. Alfons: That pup of ours is such a delightful little dullard, isn’t he? Oh, I don’t mean that as an insult. After all, he’s quite proud of being straightforward to a fault. Roger: Ale and Toto get along great! Dorey’s always leaving him over at my place when we head out to drink. One of these days I’ll have to get him some American beer to help with his homesickness. Jude: That nutty yank? He’s a good work horse and decent to have in a fight, but if I end up stuck with him again, I’m throwing him straight into the Thames. Ellis: He’s a happy person even when he’s treated harshly. He even smiled and chatted with me the entire day he worked with me and Jude. Victor: Isn’t our little puppy the best?! Hm? Oh, yes Toto is cute as well, but Theodore is just a-DOREY-able! Haha, I’ll have you know he loves it when I call him that. ━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━ 2. To Theodore, what you think about the members of Crown? William: Will’s one stand up feller, I’ll tell you what. He told me he ain’t royalty, but I reckon he’s what a king ought to be like. Real proper, but he don’t shy away when it’s time to get a bit dirty. And he talks good to regular folk to boot! That’s what we call a class act right there. Harrison: Now, if there’s one thing you should know about Harry, it’s that he loves spinnin’ yarn like a bee loves makin’ honey… Or like he loves eatin’ honey. Anyway, tall tales or no, he’s always done right by me when it counts. Liam: Boy howdy do I love bein’ 'round Liam! If we’re not havin’ a good laugh he’s leadin’ me into one tussle or scuffle or another. We even got matchin’ knife wounds the yesterday! Never a dull moment I tell ya! Elbert: Sigh. I’ve tried to bring him things he’d fancy, but we still ain’t found what he’s lookin’ for… Oh, and I wish folks would leave the poor man alone! He’s a pretty boy, no two ways about it, but that don’t give no one the right to treat him like a prized pig at the state fair! Alfons: Alfons is one wiley feller. Can’t get much of a read on him most times, but we get along great! He’s always right ‘round the corner when I find myself in trouble on a mission. It’s like he knows when somethin’ bad’s about to happen. (Keeper’s note: With great humility, I would request that your Royal Highness speak with Alfons regarding the potential consequences of playing pranks during mission hours.) Roger: Now that there’s my best drinkin’ buddy! Takes to spirits like a fish to water. Oh, and Toto loves him to pieces. My little buddy’s got a good nose for quality folk, so even if he’s always goin’ on about betrayal and whatnot, I think he’s a good friend to have. Jude: I think he’s finally takin’ a shine to me! Oh, I knew we’d be friends when I met him. He’s prickly as a cactus, but if there’s one thing my pa’s taught me, it’s that if a feller don’t try to shoot me outright, I can whittle him down til he’s willing to keep me around!  Ellis: Why he’s always hoppin’ around like popcorn in a skillet! I see him helpin’ folks and talkin’ about makin’ em happy every day. But I gotta say, every now and again he gets this look in his eye what makes my trigger finger itch. Victor: Well if he ain’t the nicest mother hen a man could ask for then spit ain’t wet! He ain’t nothin’ like my ma, but I sure do feel looked after with him around. And have ya seen his magic tricks?! Brings me back to happier days. ━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━