#the spur girlies are on another level

[aastraeus]

.

[be-my-ally]

All Revved Up

a/n: mention of elvis knowing he was going to buy the stutz; but from my research it appears the actual purchase was more spur of the moment than it is implied here. 

For a prompt that was fic based on a car. The car is… not the main event here; i can’t yet quite bring myself to defile the blackhawk - maybe another time. 

warnings: some level of objectification; oc laura briefly  compares herself to a car, brief fingering/masturbation, sex (p in v). I am, officially, sick with (absolutely totally not just a cold) flu so if this makes no sense I am sorry lol. pretty much p without plot. really stupid car jokes.

wc: 2.2k concise smut is back!!

1970 elvis x oc

thanks to the girlies as always!!

If you were to peer up at 1174 Hillcrest Drive from the road you’d probably be too far away to notice the curtains twitch just the teeniest bit, at least that’s what Laura hopes from her position trying to look out at Elvis in the driveway. She’d wanted to come out with him, he’d been so excited about the delivery of his new car, 

“It’s a prototype Lor, you can’t even buy it yet!” But he’d been adamant that she had to stay inside, preferably away from any prying eyes. He’d explained he’d agreed to photos - that they had been a key factor in the negotiations for the car. It had, in fact, been pretty much the only way to keep Sinatra away from it, and he didn’t need to have his joy at that tidbit of information be soured by Priscilla’s reaction to his truly broken promise with Laura being errantly caught in the background of one of the, sure to be heavily publicized, images. He’d sworn up and down to Cilla - he was going to the Hillcrest house just for the car; he’d be back at the new house in Palm Springs a day or two later; and no, no she didn’t need to bother even doing the fairly short drive with Lisa, “No, really Cilla it’s fine - it’s going off to be customized anyway.”

In a similar fashion to this elusive car, Laura had been delivered to Beverly Hills herself for the next couple of days. It was a nice change of pace from Vegas for her; she was, despite being essentially at Elvis’ beck and call whenever he wanted someone fun but familiar for a couple of days, still working at the International. While it was the fall Las Vegas didn’t really have an ‘off’ season and so it had been a struggle to find someone to cover her shifts at such late notice but her excitement at the possibility of getting to be alone with Elvis for three days had made it well-worth the effort. He’d promised her mostly uninterrupted bliss, and apart from these two hours on Friday he’d be all hers until Sunday afternoon. 

“I swear - I won’t be long. ‘S the only reason I was able to be here; just gotta spend the hour and take the pictures.” Despite her annoyance - he’d been pulled out of bed for it, he was practically reverberating with excitement and all she could do was concede, agreeing to stay away from the front of the house for however long it took. She couldn’t resist a peek though, even though she knew basically nothing about cars, still wanting a sneaky preview of what he’d been so excited for. 

She wasn’t disappointed, it was a gorgeous car and looking at the long, sleek black lines of it that she could just about see from her vantage point she could understand his desperation to have it. He circles it, looking like he’s dressed to match the car, slender black suit and thick gold belt accentuating the gold accents of the S badge at the top of the long silver grill. Laura continues to watch him as he gently brushes a hand over the shiny waxed exterior as he peers into the windows - appreciating the finish. The action makes her squeeze her thighs together, stomach muscles and vagina twitching and tightening in some sort of bastardized kegel as she remembers him that morning, circling the bed and assessing her in much the same way, claiming he just had to check he’d remembered her just right. 

He walks out of sight, and had anyone else been in the room with her she would have been mortified at the sad groan she let out in response to being unable to track him any further, and she lets the curtain drop out of her grip - stomping back over to the bed and flinging herself on it. 

She’s left hot and needy, and frustrated enough to start to deal with it herself, absentmindedly fiddling with her nipple, images of Elvis circling the car, circling her running through her head. She takes a shuddering breath in as she runs her hand down to slip into her panties, imagining it was him brushing his hand over her - complimenting the softness of her skin the same way he commented on the waxed finish of the hood. She’s just starting to get somewhere, her eyes closed, as she focuses on her clit when the door slams open as Elvis walks in. He’s taken his jacket off, left in his white shirt and black trousers, sunglasses still on his face. Laura jerks her hand out from her panties with a start. His frown transforms into a grin at the sight of her panic and sudden look of concentrated innocence, his eyebrows rising behind his glasses. 

“Huh, now then, what do we have here?” 

“What, what do you mean Elvis?” She tries to play it coy, rolling to face him fully and tugging her dress down as she does. 

“Well, I saw something in the window, sure looked like some little girl peeping out where I told her to stay away. You tryin’ to get me in trouble with my wife?” She cringes at the mention of Priscilla, playful mood changing as she quickly attempts to defend herself. 

“No, no, of course not!” He frowns at her sternly for a moment before he cracks, shaking his head laughing, 

“Knew it was you!” 

Laura gasps, “You didn’t even see me?!” He shakes his head, still laughing as he walks over to sit on the other side of the bed, curling his knee up so he can face her. 

“Oh you wicked boy! Elvis! I thought you were really annoyed!” He smiles, taking his glasses off, leaning over to rest on his hand over her legs. She shifts onto her back, leaning against the headboard. 

“So,” He flops his head to the side, keeping his eyes on hers as he trails a finger up her leg, circling her knee, “then, tell me, how much is that girlie in the window?” She giggles at his frankly stupid joke, and the way he’s just catching her where she’s most ticklish at the joint of her knee and thigh. 

“Hmmm, more than you can afford now you’ve bought that faaaaancy car.” 

“You like it, baby?” She nods, fervently, 

“It’s gorgeous… I bet it drives real nice.” Elvis looks pensive for a moment, 

“Yeah, well, uh, maybe - maybe later, when, when it gets properly delivered - after it’s gone to George, I’ll take you for a spin.” He nods, “Actually, yeah, that would work - I might even be in Vegas by then.” She hums noncommittally. He smiles, changing the subject, “Now though, let’s get that engine of yours purring huh?” His hand slips further up her thigh and he pretends to act shocked when his fingers graze across a damp spot, “Ah, you’re already all revved up aren’t you baby?” 

Laura nods, her legs parting open,  dress rising to her waist again. “Uh-huh, been waiting for you,” He tugs gently at a little patch of curls escaping from the legband of her underwear as he wriggles two fingers under the fabric,  and she squirms, 

“Ohh, you have been keeping that little motor running - just waiting for me to come and take it for a ride huh?” He rubs his knuckles over her burning, sticky, skin before reluctantly withdrawing his hand in order to shift himself up the bed, situating himself between her knees. He rapidly unbuckles and unzips himself, Little Elvis springing free, heavy belt buckle hanging down by his side, the weight pulling his trousers down further. Laura moans,

“God, El, wanna ride you - or you ride me, or god, I don’t know - whatever you were saying.” He laughs at her flustered expression and words, pushing her legs further apart and tugging her closer. 

“Shit, gotta, gotta get these off,” It never fails to make her smile to herself the way he’s portrayed as some sort of sex-god, and then does something like forgets to take her panties off. She shimmies them off herself, minding she doesn’t kick him in the ribs while she pulls her leg up. They’re still hooked around one of her ankles when he impatiently pushes her leg back down, gripping her knees. Elvis pumps his fist down himself, tugging her closer, nudging himself at her folds. Laura stops him, reaching down to grasp at his glasses, he doesn’t help her but he also doesn’t stop her and soon he’s blinking slightly as his eyes are forced to adjust to even the slight difference of light in the dimness of the room. She chucks them to the side, smiling back in response to his, lifting her hips a little and hooking her feet behind him - as if to remind him what he had been about to do. He looks to the side, grabbing a pillow from beside her head, shoving it under her hips. 

“You ready baby?” She nods, and he grins suddenly boyish, “Gotta pump that lil empty engine full of gas now.” She shakes her head even as she giggles, kicking him just the teeniest bit. “Ow! Watch it!” He laughs. 

“Elvis -I swear if you make a ‘you’ve got gas’ joke now I’m getting up and walking out of here.” He loses his balance at that, practically collapsing on top of her as he laughs hard enough that he’s shaking the mattress. 

“Don’t you mean drive -” He sets himself off again, “Don’t - don’t you mean you’re gonna pull out,” he chortles, “p-pull out and drive away?” 

“You silly, silly, man.” She can feel him twitching against her upper thigh, his laughter tickling her neck where he’s tucked his head down, his hot puffs of breath causing her skin to pebble. “Or is that race-car driver?” He heaves a last breath of laughter and presses a kiss against her collarbone before pulling himself back up. 

“Lady and Gentleman, start your engines.” He slides his fingers against her, and Laura quite literally can’t open her legs any wider, shifting her hips up as she tries to ignore his joke, 

“C’mon El, please, I need you.” He strokes her side, shoving the hem of her dress even further up. 

“I got you, don’t worry, I got you baby.” Elvis mutters, sinking into her, mouth instantly falling open, as he’s enveloped in her wet heat. She takes a deep breath in as she adjusts to him and he stills for a second, waiting until she nods before starting to move his hips. 

It’s quick and dirty, clutching at her waist and slamming her against him, moving a hand to paw at her clit and Laura is almost embarrassed at how quickly she finds herself on the edge. Elvis is whispering compliments, sucking his cheeks in in that way he does, unable to stop his lips and cheeks twitching between speech and it quickly gets to be almost too much, watching the sweat start to form on his forehead, the fact that he’s still fully clothed - like he just couldn’t wait. His thumb rubbing her just right as he mutters, 

“Oh baby, bet-better than a, than a - than a fucking corvette, god I love you.” and it sends her straight over the cliff. 

Her eyes fall closed as she shudders through her orgasm, finding herself still trembling and being held up entirely by his grip on her hips even when her blood stops fizzing in her ears and she’s able to relax her tense muscles. 

She opens her eyes just in time to watch him throw his head back, hair flopping with it, his lip curling as he grunts through his own orgasm, pulling out just in time to shoot across her thigh. If either of them had lasted longer than five minutes she’d be surprised. He collapses to the side of her, breathing hard, and it’s a couple minutes before either of them speak. 

“Jeez Lor, remind me why you’re not coming back to Tennessee with me?” She gives him a wry smile, 

“You know full well why.” Laura trails a finger down his cheek, jabbing it into him and squealing as Elvis playfully tries to bite it, “besides, you’re back in January aren’t you?” He nods, 

“Yeah- yeah I think, think that’s what’s bein’ ‘rranged.” He pauses, “You’ll still be there won’t you? Still looking pretty with your little apron and tray ?” Laura grins, 

“You never know - I might be promoted by then…I’ll be waiting on the rich and famous in the suites and just won’t have any time for you.” He nibbles down her finger, looking at her darkly, 

“Yeah you will be. Waiting just on me.” She giggles, shaking her head, “Uh-huh, only me - gonna put in a special request.” He taps her nose with her own finger, his hand enveloping hers, “Just. For. Me.” She nods along with him, whispering back, unable to stop herself giggling, 

“Yep! You and all the other rich and famous people.” He shakes his head, flopping back down to distract her with a kiss. 

@thatbanditqueen @vintageshanny @be-my-ally @arrolyn1114 @from-memphis-with-love @missmaywemeetagain @whositmcwhatsit @ellie-24 @shakerattlescroll @peskybedtime @powerofelvis @dkayfixates @lettersfromvenus

[fruitcoops]

Hey girly i was wondering if you could do a coops smut with the prompte 71 and/or 90 Pretty please and Thank you i love! Your writing

Coops wedding night!!! At long last it is here, and I still have more than an hour before midnight. Since it took me so long to get this out, I’m opening up fic requests until 12 pm (noon) PST tomorrow! Thank you all for your patience--it truly means the world to me. Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove!

Wedding Preparations II Part 1 II Part 2 II Part 3

TW for smut, hickeys, wrist restraint (for a bit), and happy tears

Prompt 71: “Go on. I want to hear you say it.”

Sirius looked like he was having a Moment™ as they stepped into the house and, being a polite and loving husband, Remus let him have eight solid seconds of awestruck silence.

Then he leaned up, sank his teeth into the side of Sirius’ neck, and sucked.

A breathless whine slipped from Sirius’ throat and he nearly dropped Remus before pressing him up against the nearest wall and kicking the door closed, gripping his thighs hard enough to burn in the best way. Remus hooked his ankles around his lower back, squeezing his waist until he drew a moan from the soft lips that mapped his jawline.

Sirius stopped cold when he ran his hands along Remus’ upper thighs, and he grinned into the kiss. “What’s this?”

“A surprise,” Remus said, skimming his teeth over Sirius’ pulse point. “Wait, are you laughing?”

“I’m—” Sirius broke off into snickering and set him down carefully “I’m wearing one, too.”

“You’re kidding.”

“It’s a wedding, sweetheart!”

Remus leaned back against the wall as he burst out laughing, then beckoned Sirius closer and kissed him softly. “I guess that means we should go upstairs, huh?”

“That depends. Do you think you can leave my poor thighs alone for once?” Sirius quirked an eyebrow as he led Remus toward the stairs by the rumpled ends of his bowtie.

“Never.”

Sirius’ grin widened and he grabbed Remus’ hand; they ran up the stairs in a tumble of laughter, nearly tripping over each other more than once in their haste. The air still hummed with electricity, but a steady undercurrent pulled them closer like magnets, inevitable and unbreakable.

The bed creaked as they fell onto it in a heap, which only spurred their laughter on until Sirius broke the kiss to roll onto his back and catch his breath, kicking his shoes off. “This is fucking incredible.”

“Hmm?” Remus scooted against his side, slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt with one hand while the other tipped his chin over for a kiss.

“I’m about—” Sirius’ palm cradled the side of his face as his tongue swiped along his lower lip. “—to have sex with my husband.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“In our bed.” Another kiss to the ridge of his cheek.

“Mhmm.”

“On our wedding night.”

“Indeed.”

“After an amazing party and fucking fantastic pizza.”

“It was pretty great.” Remus tangled their legs together and tugged Sirius on top of him, sliding the shirt off his shoulders with a smile. “Have I mentioned how amazing you look in a suit?”

Sirius ran his hands under Remus’ shirt, tracing his ribs. “Once or twice. How do you want me?”

“I wanna see you.” He unbuckled Sirius’ belt and tossed it to the side, laughing a little at the clatter it made when it hit the floor before he pulled him down for a hard kiss that was more tongue and teeth than anything else. “Fuck, it’s a good thing the season’s over.”

Sirius hummed as he slipped each of Remus’ buttons out one by one, running his index finger down the line of his sternum. “It is. I think Coach was getting tired of seeing me with a limp.”

Remus pulled back slightly with his fingertips still under the waistband of Sirius’ pants. “Why would you be limping?”

He blinked. “Because…I’m about to get fucked into next week?”

“But you grabbed my ass at the restaurant.”

“Sweetheart, I grab your ass all the time.”

“I thought it was a hint!”

Sirius sat up and made a timeout motion. “So we each thought the other was dropping hints about who was topping tonight?”

“…I think so.” Remus crossed his legs under himself and held his hands out. “Alright, let’s settle this like adults.”

“Rock, paper, scissors, sh—Remus!”

“What? We always do it on ‘scissors’!”

Sirius sighed and shook his hands out. “We always do it on ‘shoot’, honey. Take two. Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”

“Fuck,” Remus muttered as they both did ‘rock’. “Third time’s a charm. Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”

“Merde. This isn’t going to work, we know each other too well.” Sirius turned his puppy eyes on and Remus’ heart clenched. “Compromise?”

“How about…” He scooted forward, sliding Sirius’ tie off his neck and nosing down the side of his neck. “I tie you down and ride you into the mattress?”

Sirius hummed and tilted his chin to the side.

Remus moved up to his lips, pressing an open-mouthed kiss there. “And I could blow you?”

He felt a smile against his skin and gasped as Sirius nipped his lower lip. “Deal.”

“Pleasure doing business with you,” he said as he traced the familiar shapes of Sirius’ chest and soft skin; under his palms, a heartbeat quickened. “Easy, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

Sirius’ laugh was little more than a huff when Remus pushed him onto his back and straddled his waist to pull his own shirt off the rest of the way. “I know, that’s what I’m waiting for.”

His head fell back as Remus scattered light hickeys over his ribs and skimmed his nipples once in a while just to feel his hips buck on reflex—a lovely half-moan slipped through when Remus ran his blunt nails down his sides. “Can I see my surprise now?”

“Please,” Sirius panted, dragging him down for a brief, hard kiss.

Remus paused for a moment to cup Sirius’ face in his hands, pulling away with softer kisses before unbuttoning the front of his pants and sliding them down his legs; something soft with an itchy edge scraped against the side of his hand and his chest stuttered. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

“You haven’t even—unh—seen it.”

“Don’t have to.” Remus rolled his hips down again and Sirius’ breath hitched as he pulled away, shifting to get a proper view of the surprise. “Fuck, baby.”

“Yeah?”

Remus traced the edge of the garter, watching the scalloped lace and deep red ribbon ripple under his touch, setting off the summertime gold of Sirius’ skin like a wet dream. “Mhmm. Very pretty.”

Sirius closed his eyes as he hooked a finger under the elastic, giving it a quick snap before soothing the burn with his mouth; he feathered his lips over the strange texture, leaving small love bites in his wake before taking the edge between his teeth and slowly dragging it down Sirius’ leg. He shuddered when it slipped past the back of his knee and Remus smoothed a hand down his calf.

“Voila.” Remus held the garter up once it was off and cocked a playful eyebrow at Sirius, who couldn’t seem to decide where he wanted to put his knees. “Do you want to take mine off, too?”

“Hell no, you’re keeping it on.” Sirius reached for his pants and Remus shifted to help get them pants off—Sirius paused when the first edge of black and blue lace appeared, then took a deep breath and shoved them the rest of the way down so Remus could kick them off the bed. “Yeah, that’s staying on for the rest of your fucking life.”

“And you’ll be there the whole time,” Remus said, bracketing his waist as Sirius toyed with the edge of the garter. “The rest of our life.”

Something unbearably soft overtook Sirius’ face and he went still, scanning every inch of Remus in awe. “Our life,” he murmured, running a thumb under Remus’ eye. “I like the sound of that.”

“Me, too.” He ground down and Sirius gasped, reaching one hand toward the nightstand as the other dug into Remus’ hip; Remus caught his wrist and pulled it to his mouth. “Not yet, baby.”

Sirius twitched under his thigh and he grinned, sliding damp kisses to the crook of his elbow before shifting until he was level with his navel. Gray-blue eyes, glazed with anticipation, locked on his own before fluttering closed as he wrapped his hands around the backs of Sirius’ knees and licked along the fabric at the top of his dick. “Oh, fuck me,” Sirius breathed, flopping back down and throwing an arm over his eyes.

“I thought we established it was going to be the other way around?” Remus teased as he toyed with the edge of his boxers, tugging and snapping without ever moving them as he dampened the front.

“I love the way you look like that.”

“Then look.” He reached up and tapped Sirius’ elbow. “Come on, baby, look at me.”

A shimmer of silver appeared and Remus grinned, tonguing the vein he could feel swelling under his lips. Sirius took a deep breath and stretched his arms over his head, arching his lower back until Remus canted his hips back down and removed his boxers in a smooth motion. He sucked a hickey into the ridge of each hip, kissing a swirling pattern all the way to his inner thigh until he heard a whine at the tail end of Sirius’ exhale. “Are you going to be mean tonight?”

“Mean?” Remus’ smile widened and he shifted to lay on Sirius’ chest, closing his hand around his dick and pressing his thumb beneath the head. “Ever heard of something called foreplay?”

Sirius draped his arms over Remus’ neck and wound his fingers in his hair, giving a gentle tug. “You live to torment me.”

“Unfortunately, you love it.” Remus kissed him gently and gave him a quick squeeze before scooting back down the bed to take the tip into his mouth. Sirius cursed and twisted his hands in the sheets, and a tremor ran through him when Remus pulled away. “Do you need something to hold?”

“I—maybe?” Sirius flexed his fingers, already so hard he was starting to drip.

Wordlessly, Remus took one of his hands and put it back in his hair, then laced his own with the other. “Much better,” he murmured against the shaft before taking him down far enough that Sirius’ mouth fell open slightly. The light pressure at the back of his head made Remus’ eyes fall shut in bliss and he squeezed Sirius’ hand with a hum that sent a shiver down his legs.

“You’re fucking perfect,” Sirius panted. His eyebrows pitched as his dick hit the back of Remus’ throat and his grip tingled all the way down Remus’ spine. “Mon loup, mon coeur, oh—fuck, mon mari.”

Remus swallowed on reflex as the nickname lit up every pleasure center in his body and Sirius moaned, pushing him further. The corners of his vision went speckly for a moment and he pulled off with a cough, though he kept one hand curled around the shaft.

“D’accord?”

“Got a little excited,” Remus rasped, licking his lips as he went back to his previous position. “Good?”

“Of course it’s fucking good, it’s y—do that again.” A whimper caught in Sirius’ throat as Remus hollowed his cheeks, then sat back.

“Are you close?”

Sirius nodded, a little desperate as he ran his palms down Remus’ biceps and tried to bring him back. “So close, don’t stop.”

“Unless you think you can go twice…” Remus raised an eyebrow and Sirius bit his lip. “Really?”

He made a distressed noise and brought his knees up to squeeze around Remus’ waist. “I don’t know, I just—I need something, sweetheart, don’t leave me hanging.”

Remus leaned over to slide up his body until they were face-to-face, pinning his hands to the mattress. “That was quick.”

“If you knew what your mouth felt like—” Sirius’ defense was cut short by a kiss that he eagerly returned; Remus dug around with his free hand in the tangled sheets and smiled when he felt a brush of familiar material, looping it loosely around Sirius’ right wrist. Their chests bumped together and Remus shuddered when he felt Sirius’ shaft, slick against his own.

“This okay?”

“More. More, more, yes.” Sirius hissed the last word as Remus tightened the tie and wound the other end around one post of their headboard. “Mine’s on the—fuck, on the left side.”

A slip of black stood out against the white of their sheets and he pulled it free before tying it around Sirius’ other wrist, making sure it was just as tight before settling into his lap and opening the nightstand drawer. “Y’know, I thought you’d want to do this before I tied you up.”

Sirius’ already-labored breathing stuttered for a moment when he saw the lube. “I do.”

“You made your choice.”

“Sweetheart,” he whined, tugging at the restraints with a slight pout. “Let me do it.”

Remus paused midway through slicking his fingers and glanced down. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you want me to untie you. Once they come off, they don’t go back on.”

Sirius chewed his lower lip, gaze flickering between Remus’ face and hand. Finally, he sighed and relaxed a bit. “You’re so hot when you’re bossy.”

“Am I?” Remus closed his eyes as his first finger pushed in. The rough edge of Sirius’ sex voice had finally appeared and he let it wash over him, crackling against every nerve like a live wire as he ground back onto his hand. His fingers were slimmer than Sirius’—it was an odd feeling after so long.

“I love seeing you melt under me, but it’s different when you’re telling me what to do.” A slight roll of Sirius’ hips spread Remus’ knees further and he half-moaned at the sensation, adding a second. “God, Re, you’re fucking beautiful.”

Remus smiled, letting his head fall slightly to the side as he brushed his sweet spot and rocked down; the garter around his thigh slid against his skin and Sirius pushed his legs up, supporting more of Remus’ weight. “Mmm, still good?”

“Add another.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Remus.” Sirius spread his legs wider; since Remus was straddling him, he dropped down as well. “Add another.”

He took a second to catch his breath, then slid the third in. His mouth fell open with a staccato huff and he grabbed Sirius’ leg for balance, fighting the urge to ride his own hand until his building orgasm pulled him under. “Ngh—fuck, should’ve done this before blowing you.”

“At least I’ll last a little longer now,” Sirius mused, flicking his gaze toward the lube. His dick was still shiny with precome and Remus bit his lip to stop himself from taking him back down his throat. Other plans, he reminded himself. You have other plans.

He sank down on Sirius’ lap and kept a tight grip on those broad shoulders, watching as Sirius’ eyes unfocused. The first grind of his hips made fireworks pop behind Remus’ eyelids and he made an embarrassingly needy noise that was made slightly better by Sirius’ strangled groan. “I love you,” he gasped out, rolling his hips harder on the next push. “Oh god, that’s good.”

“I still can’t get over the—merde, comment dit on?” Sirius’ knees jerked inward and Remus scrabbled for a hold on his chest as the head slid over his prostate. “The ribbon thing? Lace, looks fantastic on you.”

“Garter. ‘s called a garter.” And I’m wearing it because I married you.

“What’s the smile for?” Sirius’ voice was soft and Remus blinked his eyes open as he sat down all the way, circling his hips slowly; his hands were clenched tight on the ties and a high flush colored his chest and cheeks, but his expression was downright smitten. Somehow, that was just as sexy as the flexing muscles of his abdomen as he met Remus’ motions.

“I just...” He shook his head, running his palms down miles of warm skin. His face ached from smiling all day long, but he couldn’t seem to stop. “We’re married. We got married for real. I fucking love you and you’re mine forever.”

Sirius’ eyes shone in the low light of their bedroom and his breath hitched. “Forever. I like the sound of that.”

“Can I untie you?” Remus stopped moving and soaked in the feeling of being warm, of being full. Sweat cooled on his back and he heard Sirius sniffle. “Are you okay?”

“Untie me, then I’ll tell you.”

He was careful as he loosened each knot and pulled them over Sirius’ wrists, almost reverent with each twist and tug. Once both wrists were free, he pulled them up and kissed Sirius’ pulse points, sinking into a puddle of mush when broad palms cradled his face gently. Remus looked down with a half-smile. “Spill the big secret, baby.”

Sirius kept his hands on Remus’ face as he guided him down to brush their noses together and press the ghost of a kiss to his lips. A single tear sparkled in the lamplight as it rolled down to his ear. “You are everything I’ve ever wanted. I never thought I would be able to have this kind of happiness, but you—” His voice broke and Remus felt something prickle behind his eyes. “You’re it, Re.”

“You know what I just realized?”

“Hmm?”

“We never did the ‘til death do us part’ line.”

Sirius smiled and traced Remus’ cheekbones like he was a holy relic. “As if death would ever stop me from loving you.”

“You’re so fucking romantic.” Remus pressed the heel of his palm against his eye as the tears tracked down his face and euphoria turned his whole body hot. He took a few deep breaths and swiped the dampness from his face before leaning back down to kiss Sirius soundly, pouring everything he had into their shared breaths. “I’m not—Sirius, I don’t tell you often, but you are my whole world. I’m not good with sappy words but I hope you know that I love you with everything I have and everything I am.”

“I know.” It was amazing how such simple words could make Remus’ heart pound with joy. He knew what heartbreak felt like, had tasted it and burned with it when he thought Sirius would leave him. But this...

Remus kissed Sirius’ forehead and held his lips there; the world narrowed to them, the breath on his collarbone, and the heartbeat under his hand. If heartbreak felt like spattering on the ground, this was flight, and he knew he would never come down from it.

They stayed like that for two seconds, an hour, a millennia before Remus shifted and electricity sparked through his lungs, kickstarting the heat that raced in his veins. Sirius held him close, snapping his hips upward as he kept a constant hand on the blue-black garter around Remus’ thigh—Remus had bought the thing as a bit of a joke, thinking it was the perfect cross between elegant and just tacky enough to make Sirius laugh with the tiny bow on one side. Evidently, he had misjudged the sexy factor.

Sounds punched from Sirius’ lungs, desperate and wanting despite the fact that Remus would happily give him whatever he desired. “Re, Re, please.”

“What do you want?” he murmured into the space under Sirius’ ear, skimming his fingertips over his ribcage until he dipped one side of his hips down with a moan and drew a cut-off cry from Remus’ mouth. “Sirius.”

“Don’t stop moving,” Sirius begged, even as he wrapped his hands around the base of Remus’ waist and pulled him into the right spot, fingertips digging into his lower back. “Do not stop doing that.”

His breaths were coming faster and the world blurred into shapes and colors as the wave crept up on him once more; if Remus had any shred of awareness left, he was sure his face would itch from dried tears, but he had reached the point of so-close-almost-there-just-a-little-more where everything was tortured bliss. “It’s so much,” he heard himself pant. “It’s so much, oh my god.”

Sirius was asking him something, babbling in French—more, sweetheart, mon coeur, mon mari—but Remus only caught every third word.

Husband. That means husband. The cool metal of Sirius’ rings was stark against the overwhelming heat of his thigh and he shivered, curling one hand in the sheets and framing the side of Sirius’ neck with the other as his thighs ached from dropping down again, and again, and again.

“It does.” Sirius trembled in every muscle as he wrapped his arms around Remus and ravaged the side of his neck with kisses and bites. “Mon mari. Mine, my husband. Go on, I want to hear you say it.”

“Mon mari.” The words sounded muddled in his ears, but it must have been enough, because Sirius fell apart beneath him with a shout muffled in the junction of his neck and shoulder. All it took was a hand closing around his shaft for Remus to jolt and moan and melt, tasting the salt of sweat along with something so quintessentially Sirius that he couldn’t help but bury his face in it and ride out the tide.

“I love you.” Remus blinked, propping himself on shaky forearms to meet Sirius’ eyes. They gleamed in the warm amber glow of the bedside lamp they found at a yard sale not three weeks prior. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” A smile spread across his face, followed by what could only be described as a giggle. “Sirius, I love you so much.”

“We got married,” Sirius laughed; the slightly hysterical crack to his voice only made them both laugh harder and Remus rolled to the side, clutching Sirius’ hand in his own as new tears of mirth gathered in the corners of his eyes.

“Who let us do that?” Remus managed after a second. “Who authorized this?”

“Minerva fucking McGonagall, that’s who.”

“We need to send her a fruit basket or something. Maybe a cat.”

“She does like cats,” Sirius agreed; he glanced over at Remus, still grinning, and then flopped on top of him like a dead weight.

“Ow,” Remus wheezed, torn between shoving him off and snuggling closer. “Ugh, you’re all sweaty.”

“And whose fault is that, hmm?” Sirius raised his eyebrows and scooted into a proper cuddling position, where he could press a smacking kiss to Remus’ cheek. “You’re in no place to talk, either.”

“I’m in the perfect place, actually,” Remus said, letting his legs fall open so Sirius could settle properly; he snuggled closer and kissed the dip of his collarbone. “We need to shower at some point, but…”

“…but you’re going to be raring to go in twenty minutes and I’m not moving until I cuddle the living hell out of you.” Sirius raised his head and stuck his lower lip out in a pout. “I missed our morning snuggles. As cute as Harry is, it’s not the same at all.”

“Tell me about it,” Remus muttered. “The next time we get married, we’re not sleeping in separate beds the night before. It’s a stupid tradition.”

“Deal. When are we getting married a second time? I’d rather not divorce you five hours after we tied the knot.”

“I guess we’ll just have to plan another wedding.”

“Do I get to propose this time?”

“Sure. It certainly takes a lot of the pressure off me.”

“You knew I’d say yes,” Sirius scoffed, giving him a playful squeeze around the ribs.

Remus shrugged. “It’s scarier than you think.”

“It’s not that hard.” Sirius shifted around for a moment, then pulled Remus’ wedding ring off and made a mock-serious face as he held it up. “Remus Lupin, will you marry me?”

“Gimme that,” Remus laughed, snatching the ring back and sliding it on. “For the record, yes.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard.”

He tapped the underside of Sirius’ chin with his finger and drew him down for a brief kiss, resting their foreheads together. “I’d marry you every day if I could.”

“It’s a good thing we’ve got a lot of days ahead of us, then.”

[scriptaed]

his side, her side | 7:00 P.M.

genre: angst/fluff/implied smut; (bold = genre for this particular drabble)

pairing: reader x jungkook;

length: 2.9k;

synopsis: a collective snapshots in time shared between two, whose fates were undeniably intertwined and futures would never come to be.

a/n: this is not a chronological series; more so, his side her side is a collection of drabbles in which each drabble helps paint the overall picture. each drabble can be read separately without having read the others. // alternatively: his side, her side pt. 4;

her side; 

Even if it pains you to admit, you knew that this—whatever it is between you and Jungkook—was more than just something… or at least to you, that is; because to part ways after an ephemeral five minute small talk right outside the company’s doors only to long for next week when your opportunity to relive what most would consider an insignificant five minutes of your seven days has to mean something. 

That unequivocal something, however, would forever be a crush mislabeled as boredom. 

“So how far do you live from work?”

Oh, shoot. Does that question seem too invasive? Peeping around at your chattering colleagues of whom gradually fade into the distance behind you two, you figure the coast is clear. The last thing you would want is to assume the new subject of your coworkers’ morning gossip rumors. You can just imagine it. Your stalkerish tendencies and your supposed obsession with the partner of your most recent project, Jungkook… they would call you a lonesome girl with fleeting emotions, willing to fall for any boy who gives her the slightest of attention.

That image, in itself, has been a nightmare you’ve grudgingly albeit successfully steered clear of.

It seems that your coworkers should not be the subject of your concerns, however, because even the shadow that befalls his profile that blocks the lamp post’s white-blue glow is not enough to blind you from Jungkook’s sneer. Your partner peers down at you and speaks his seldom words of the night, “wouldn’t you like to know?” 

“Wh—” you’re at a loss for words, not exactly because of his remark but rather over his rare choice to speak in exchange for an opportunity to tease you… something he hasn’t done in the past month of your blossoming relations “—what? I was just wondering how far you lived because you mentioned driving to work before.”

“Yeah,” he simply answers without further elaboration over his sudden tease. “I live with my brother. About five minutes away. Not too far.”

“You have a brother?” 

“Yeah,” he pauses, “you have any siblings?”

“What do you think? Do I look like I have any?” 

You lean back, as if to allow him to have a gander over your appearance that supposedly dictates your compatibility for a sibling. To your surprise, the boy who’s usually much less easily entertained turns his head as an acceptance to your challenge. The thought of his absolute attention focused on you, eyes scanning you up and down, is enough to have you slightly regretting your question. You’ve never been the type to feel self conscious; but moments like these, when you fidget with your hands and hastily tuck a lock of your hair behind the ears, you’re left wondering why he, of all people, is an exception. 

The spur of the moment skews your balance and you rock back and forth, subtly albeit unsuccessfully avoiding further attention from the boy before you; because as your right foot slips back only to counter the sway by pushing forward, your dumb self unintentionally pushes your left arm firmly against him. 

Your arm doesn’t just touch—no, it wasn’t a graze and it surely wouldn’t seem like a mere accident by the standards of people with a normal sense of balance, but it’s more of an assertive lean to the point that you’re sharing his warmth and molding into his well-toned biceps that you’ve covertly ogled at for the past weeks until his firm stature becomes the reason you’re not stumbling forward like a goofball.

Even the most dense of them all would have picked up on it; but Jungkook isn’t just any boy, because whether for the better or worse, he chooses not to mention the small mishap. 

“You seem like the older sister type,” he mentions, averting his attention ahead to the dimly lit sidewalk. 

“Oh,” you can only mumble as your arm dwells over the wake of his touch.

Wait, what does he mean by that? Do you seem reliable? Or does he see you as a know-it-all? Does he think you’re the girly type? The responsible type? And was it supposed to be a compliment?

One too many seconds had passed by for you to inquire for further elaboration. Instead, the occasional silence between you two has you scrambling for a new topic after the death of its promising albeit lackluster precedent.

“What about you? You live near here?” 

Alas, you can internally sigh in relief because at least the struggle to rekindle the conversation is a mutual one. Maybe he doesn’t think you’re too boring, after all.

“I live across the bridge and a few blocks down, so I just walk to work.” 

“Across the bridge?” he articulates with much more vigor than you’re used to. Ultimately, your surprise is short-lived when a cocked grin replaces his temporary gawk. “Try not to get mugged.”

“Wooow. Considering the sun sets before we’re out of work and crossing that bridge when it’s dark is a legitimate fear I have,” you give him the worst stank eye possible, “thank you for your concern.”

The damn boy only grins, “no problem.” 

As oddly comforting your usual, silence-filled conversations with Jungkook have been in the past, you don’t think you would be too disinclined to fiddle with your partner’s snarky attitude once in a while. Maybe you’re overanalyzing or maybe you’re excessively shrewd, but the organic flow between the two of you is starting to awfully resemble that of two close friends. 

But are you friends or are you merely colleagues coerced into working overtime? 

“Boy, I swear I will—”

“—oh shit,” Jungkook beats you to the curses, like usual, “I forgot to bring my card.” 

“So?” you quirk a brow at the distraught boy. “Just go home and make some food. Our cafeteria sucks anyways.” 

The boy turns to look at you, profusely serious and not a glint of shame present in his eyes. Then, he deadpans, “but I’m hungry.”

“So... you want me to spot you.”

“Hey,” he finally chortles with a slightly embarrassed grin akin to that of a child caught red-handed, “I skipped dinner after gym so that I could make it to work on time!”

“No one told you to skip dinner!”

His already ear-to-ear grin widens, if that was even possible, “I did it so you wouldn’t be alone!” 

Spotting your friends has never been a predicament for you; this, however, you’re not too keen on lending money to a boy whose relations are only based upon work, mutual friends, and endless inevitable crossovers between his path and yours—in fact, too many to be under the hands of mere happenstance. 

Surely, the two of you have grown much more acquainted than ever in the last month, but it’s not like you two never interacted before. On the rare occasion that Jungkook actually greeted you, a plea for help regarding work would always follow shortly after. To you, he only saw you as a reliable source. He never saw you as a friend and you never saw him more than a mere colleague. Even now, after all the sparks between you two, it’s difficult for you not to suspect his ulterior motives. 

You will not be taken advantage of. Just because he’s slightly—okay, maybe profusely—above average in looks, you will not make a fool of yourself. What happens next, however, takes you and your adamant determination by surprise.

“Okay, fine...” you grumble. “But you owe me boba!” 

“Boba?” his eyes pop as he chuckles. “Alright, sure.”

“Yeah, in fact, you owe me three boba,” you add. “I like roasted oolong milk tea with egg pudding. Write it down.”

“Three?” he gawks. “Wait, roasted oolong and what…?” 

He had asked a question, yet you can’t help but simply smile at him from ear to ear. Was this really happening? Was he serious or was this another one of your playful bickers?

Shrugging and stifling the laugh that threatens to slip from your lips, you decide to let fate override your usual level-headed reasoning, “take me and I’ll let you know.”

In that fleeting moment, the flutters in your stomach and the adrenaline that coursed through your veins were worth it all; and it wouldn’t be until months later that you discover your last leap of faith was not one worth taking. 

-

his side;

“So how far do you live from work?”

Her question finally ceases the dreadful standstill. The internal sigh after a prolonged bated breath and the realization of the unknown implications of such relief strikes Jungkook as an oddity. Clearly a quiet, standoffish man who strays from the center of attention, Jungkook had always preferred to observe rather than participate. To him, the state of nothing is where he belongs and silence is his safe haven—and yet, around Y/N, he can’t help but chant words of panic: shit, what do I say next? 

As thankful as Jungkook was for his partner’s break of silence, he, himself, isn’t aware enough of his once stone cold pond of a state, now disturbed by ripples of which its origins are unknown. Instead, the moment of anomaly is mistranslated into the only expression he’s developed a knack for. A sneer. 

Well, that wasn’t exactly what he wanted… but he figured he was close enough with Y/N to joke around with her by now, right?

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

“Wh—” Jungkook peers down at her baffled response “—what? I was just wondering how far you lived because you mentioned driving to work before.”

It would be a lie to deny how the look of bewilderment that plasters her face doesn’t egg him and his teasing streak onwards. Despite being a man of few words and little thoughts, the rare sense of amusement brought upon by her short-lived distraught catalyzed by himself, truly, has Jungkook scratching his head. The tinge of guilt intermixed with worry that perhaps he had gone too far only furthers the confusion. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook returns to his usual collected albeit monotonous composure, “I live with my brother. About five minutes away. Not too far.”

“You have a brother?” 

“Yeah—” what should he say now “—you have any siblings?”

“What do you think? Do I look like I have any?” 

Oh? He’s a bit hesitant to hurl a curse at his partner, but how the hell is he supposed to know?

When she leans back to open her profile to the boy, something Jungkook has realized is a rarity for the usually closed-off, shifty girl, the boy has no choice but to play along with her antics… either that or he lacks the energy to deny her politely. The boy turns, scanning his partner up and down with little haste and no specific game-plan. He doesn’t exactly know what he’s supposed to be looking for, but what he finds is much more than what he was expecting. 

For someone who speaks with such wisdom, who performs so well in every criteria, who seems to know the answer to all his questions, the way she fidgets with her hands and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear at this very moment as he watches her conflicted with the confident impression he once only knew. He had taken note of her occasional avoidance of his eyes—something which he had amusedly combated with an even more intense, to which she never challenged—but her wavering gaze that flickers on whatever was on the ground is especially prevalent today. 

Funny. 

Then she begins to lose her balance. How? Jungkook had no fucking clue; but before he knew it, she was swaying back and forth until her left arm finally stabilizes the rather skittish gal… through the use of his right arm.  

The sudden contact catches Jungkook off guard. No, it isn’t enough of a surprise to have him jolting back—although nothing really could elicit such a reaction from a boy like Jungkook—but he does notice the firm, close contact between her and him. The closest he’s ever been to her was visually through the eyes and the closest he’s ever touched her was tactually through the occasional graze of his fingertips against the back of her hand. Sure, his bare skin could only feel the cotton of her sweater and the moment of contact lasted for an ephemeral two seconds, but even that is enough to leave an imprint on that night. 

There’s no doubt in Jungkook’s mind that it was all accidental. Y/N isn’t the type to mess around with boys like him… but did she notice? 

Turning his head to the sidewalk brightly illuminated by white and gulping whatever was in his throat, he decides to fill the awkward silence, “you seem like the older sister type.”

“Oh.”

Shit, why does she sound so disappointed? She doesn’t think it’s an insult, does she? Well, it really isn’t his fault if he struck a nerve, Jungkook internally shrugs, he was just answering a question. He had to admit, though, her unpredictable sway of emotions was entertaining to say the least. If she really wanted an elaboration, she could always ask and he could easily clear up his intentions. 

But what’s the fun in a conversation without speculation? 

And so, Jungkook figures he’d leave her at that. 

“What about you? You live near here?” 

“I live across the bridge and a few blocks down, so I just walk to work.” 

“Across the bridge?” Jungkook gapes, although he’s unsure of why his expression is much more of an exaggerated version of how he really feels. Something about the drama of it all fueled the conversation further. Grinning, he remarks, “try not to get mugged.”

“Wooow. Considering the sun sets before we’re out of work and crossing that bridge when it’s dark is a legitimate fear I have—” damn, that was a long sentence and her stank eye doesn’t help any bit “—thank you for your concern.”

Her anger only spurs him and his unexplained satisfaction forward, “no problem.” 

Jungkook had always kept his circle of friends close and tight. It isn’t like he preferred it that way, but the world of simplicity and permanency gravitated toward him. Unlike the other countless guys who liked to spend their nights surrounded by girls whose names they didn’t know nor cared to know, his closed lifestyle kept him grounded. If someone were to tell him years ago at orientation that this girl would eventually be holding a conversation closely resembling that of two close friends, he never would have believed them; but now that he’s here, he could definitely see it. 

“Boy, I swear I will—”

“—oh shit,” a wave of terror overtakes the boy as he rummages through the pockets of his shorts “—I forgot to bring my card.” 

“So?” his partner quirks a brow at him and he almost narrows his eyes at her preposterous advice that follows. “Just go home and make some food. Our cafeteria sucks anyways.” 

A ravenous growl rumbles across his abdomen. The regret for having skipped his usual granola bar in exchange for making it to work on time after gym returns with vengeance. The two things Jungkook had no shame in taking seriously were: one, gym, and two, food. As cautious as he has been around his seemingly delicate partner, he had no shame in turning to look straight at her. Next, he deadpans, “but I’m hungry.”

“So…” the girl mulls, each second egging on the emptiness of his stomach. “You want me to spot you.”

“Hey—” well, that isn’t exactly what he wanted and now he just seems like a leech but prolonging the swift conversation that had developed as well as filling the hole in his stomach doesn’t sound too bad “—I skipped dinner after gym so that I could make it to work on time!”

“No one told you to skip dinner!”

He can’t help it when his grin widens, “I did it so you wouldn’t be alone!” 

Truthfully, her advice would have been much less of a bother to Jungkook. One, he wouldn’t have to spend all this time and effort convincing her. Two, he probably would’ve been home by now and enjoying his masterfully cooked instant noodles. Most importantly, he wouldn’t seem like he was trying to take advantage of his partner because severing their professional relationship and borderline friendship was not in his plans. 

As little of a crap he gave about the impression he gave others, he wasn’t that shitty of a person to willingly be the bad guy… and certainly not to Y/N. 

“Okay, fine...” she finally grumbles to his relief. “But you owe me boba!” 

“Boba?” he can’t help but chuckle in disbelief. “Alright, sure.”

“Yeah, in fact, you owe me three boba,” she asserts. “I like roasted oolong milk tea with egg pudding. Write it down.”

“Three?” Jungkook gasps; and this time, he really means it. “Wait, roasted oolong and what…?” 

How the hell is he supposed to remember that? And does she want it delivered to her house or work or what? 

Her next remark, however, answers his question. “Take me and I’ll let you know.”

Food might be all that he sees at the moment, but if obliging to her request could induce further conversations and get him to the light at the end of the tunnel? Then to Jungkook, that’s a win-win. Someday, he’ll take her when they’re truly friends and not mere coworkers with coerced interactions. 

Maybe not now, not later, but certainly in the near future. 

[miss-sophies-sissymaid]

Over the weeks and months Sophie’s control of James continued and he remained in chastity and at her beck and call, she stayed at the flat most weekends, initially telling her parents she was sleeping at friends houses but eventually things slipped out where she was actually speaking. Sophie’s mum was very concerned that Sophie was sleeping with James, and when she asked, Sophie just laughed and promised to show her the truth.

That very Friday after school, James picked Sophie up and drove her to the apartment, Sophie was in a playful mood and teased James mercilessly, suggesting that if he was exceptionally good that weekend he might be allowed an erection, that would be a real treat, the first time it would be unlocked in almost 6 months, but on the flip side if she wasn’t happy with him it would be her 16th birthday when he next got the chance again! he resolved to do exactly as his owner demanded that weekend, he wasn’t going to let this chance slip, he couldn’t wait another 18 months for a hard on! Surely she wouldn’t do that. Would she?

You know the rules loser, soon as we’re in the flat, your male clothes come off and after you’ve fetched me a drink you can put on your daisy dukes and crop top for starters. “Yes Miss Sophie” came the obedient reply. Up the stairs he ran to try beat the lift, arriving just as the doors opened and the gorgeous teen exited, he unlocked the door and opened it so she could walk in. Quickly he followed her inside and she leaned on the door preventing him from closing. “Chop chop faggot” she ordered and he was forced to strip right there in the open doorway, potentially in view of the neighbours. Quickly he removed his outer clothes and stood at attention, hands on head, wearing just a pink thong. She slammed the door shut and he kept out of his skin, sauntering into the lounge she clicked her fingers “heel” she commanded, faggot dropped to his knees and crawled after the perfect girl.

“Fetch me a beer and some crisps then you can get dressed loser” faggot crawled to the kitchen and collected the items swiftly returning to Sophie’s feet. Handing the refreshments over, he was dismissed with a wave. He went to his box room and dressed as instructed in the cut off denim shorts which revealed the bottom of his arse cheeks and his sparkly crop top. Miss Sophie reasoned that as men like James liked outfits like these, they should wear them too! So she often had him dressed in clothes designed for teenage girls, in fact his wardrobe consisted of tonnes of these things! From daisy dukes, to yoga pants to French maid uniforms and bikinis and finally the Pervert’s dream... a proper school uniform! She often had him in this when he was being punished. She was well aware of the looks she got in hers and how men wanted to spank her bottom, so got James one to match, only his skirt was shorter, much shorter than hers!

Faggot dressed as quickly as possible and returned to Sophie’s side, hands on head at attention waiting for her to acknowledge him, he waited, just waited. She was on the phone and he knew better than to interrupt her, stood where he was he couldn’t help but hear the conversation, or at least half of it! His stomach dropped with what he heard

“You must come over and see the flat. Yes. Of course. No it’s no problem. Yes. We can have a few drinks. Of course he will. No he won’t. James can cook us something nice to eat. Yes I’m sure. Great. We’ll pick you up at 6.” Just then she put the phone down.

She turned to James and inspected her property running her hands over his smooth skin, her touch made his cock twitch “hmmmm you feel so good all smooth, aren’t you a good little faggot, a good loser for me” she teased knowing what she did to him.

“Thank you Miss Sophie” he replied

“Right loser, you heard part of that phone call, we’re having mum over tonight, she’s worried that you’re fucking me, I told her nothing was further from the truth but she needs to see for herself how we live. I want you on your best behaviour tonight, don’t you dare show me up faggot.” Sophie revealed to James “just to remind you of what might happen in going to give you a quick punishment session, just to get you in the right frame of mind” faggot trembled, he hated the punishment sessions Sophie delivered, he was a wimp and his eyes pleaded for mercy, but none was forthcoming.

“Quickly loser get changed into your school uniform I want you back here with my hairbrush, slipper and cane .... you’ve got 3 minutes.... GO” she ordered, starting the stopwatch on her iPhone 11.

He dashed to the box room and stripped out of his outfit folding it neatly. Retrieving the white knee socks he pulled them up his legs and checked that they were level, training bra next, that was white cotton with teddy bears on and the matching knickers. Next freshly ironed white blouse and blue and gold striped tie, lastly his very short navy blue pinafore dress and navy blue gym knickers. Checking himself in the mirror he looked very smart but very foolish. He took the punishment tools from the hanger on the back of his bedroom door, where they lived all the time when not in use and returned to the lounge, just as the timer beeped. Phew he thought... just in time.

“Well done faggot” Sophie praised him “ don’t you look pretty? I think I could make some good money out of that sissy body of yours” sh chuckled “you make a sexy schoolgirl I reckon there’s loads of pervs like you who’d love to cane and fuck you.... “ she left the threat hanging there. Patting her knee, “come on then girlie, let’s get this started”

“Pweese mith Sophie pweese will you take down twis naughty gwils pwanties down and spwank her bottom pweese” he lisped to her.

“Of course I will, if that’s what you really want and need” and he nodded with tears in his eyes....she dragged the knickers down and he obediently laid across her lap. She rubbed his bottom gently before unleashing a volley of hard smacks with her hand, she hit so hard! He kicked his feet she chuckled to herself. God he’s a wimp she thought.20 blows in and he was crying away! There was moisture everywhere, tears on the floor under his head and juice in her knickers. She was soaking wet! God she loved life!!

“Having fun” she asked not needing an answer “well I am” she laughed.... “5 more and I’ll have a go with the slipper.” She laid on 5 more extra hard strokes and moved on to the plimsole, laying 12 hard slaps on each cheek. He was a mess, tears streaming down his face and now snot too, he was openly blubbing and she was close to cumming.

She pushed him off her lap “fetch me another beer boy and be quick” he gingerly stood and bent to pull his knickers up “leave them where they are, we haven’t finished yet” Sophie instructed. His stomach sunk again and scurried to the fridge, oh how he wished he could rub the cold beer bottle on his red hot butt.

“Lick that mess up off the floor and then while I’m having my drink you practice your deep throating on the 10 inch black cock.... how well you do that will decide how harsh round 2 goes”

He licked the snot and tears up, showing Sophie his mouth full before swallowing the load. He fetched the cock and knelt in front of Sophie, he so wanted to make her proud, he’d spent the last week practicing at every opportunity and could nearly take the whole thing. He was determined to do it today.... Sophie had told him she expected him to take a 12 inch cock eventually, when he could do that, she would find him real cocks to suck for her.

He worked the cock in and out, worshipping the tool. He got 6,7,8 inches in and held. He forced himself down further 9 ... nearly there, he held himself down 5, 10 seconds. Up and back down all the way this time. “Hold it” she said “30 seconds 29,28,27,26” his eyes watered “20,19,18,17... good boy... keep it there” the praise spurred him on “look at me, eye contact is important when cock sucking faggot” he looked at her, she was happy, pleased with him “ 3,2,1 well done faggot” his heart leapt, she was pleased!

“After that show, i need to get you a bigger cock and you can soon start earning me some money.... you pleased me there so I’m not going to hairbrush your arse, and I’ll only give you 6 with the cane.... for now. Quick now, bend over the chair arse up legs straight”

He jumped into position and waited for her, she run her hand over his warm butt “this is hot faggot, I bet it’s quite sore isn’t it?” She said rhetorically “still it’ll be a but sorer soon! Maybe even worse by the time the nights over” she threatened. She quickly laid her first stroke on “hmmmmmmm” he cried and his legs went “keep them legs straight, I’d hate to have to start over” he resolved to stay in position for the last 5 quickly delivering the remainder one after the other. He sobbed again he hated the cane but she loved it.

“Put your toys back on the hook for now, we might need them later though, fetch my toy from the Master bedroom tuck your skirt up so I can see my handiwork and get in the corner.”

He dashed around the flat, knickers still around his ankles hanging the punishment tools up and fetching Miss Sophie’s small vibrator, he handed the device over and returned to the corner nose pressed to the wall arse on display.

The only noise in the flat was the gentle buzz of James’s owners toy and her quiet moans he could smell her juices and was pleased that somehow he had turned the beautiful girl on. She brought herself off to a mind blowing orgasm and relaxed for a few minutes, gently playing with her nipples with the toy.

She walked to the corner and rubbed her finger across his top lip, leaving her scent for him to enjoy. She scratched her nails across his welted bottom delighting in his pain.

Leaving him in place “stay” was the simple command. Returning 5 minutes later “I’m going for a shower, once you hear the water running you can leave the corner.... pick up my clothes, tidy up, then I’ve laid some clothes on your bed for you to wear”

Yes Miss Sophie he replied.

5 minutes later he heard the shower and Sophie sexy voice singing away, swiftly he got to his tasks tidying up and stripping out of his school uniform putting everything in the wash. He dressed in his outfit of 6 inch butt plug pink thong, yoga pants, training bra, belly top and black tracksuit top with pick stripes on the sleeve.

Sophie dressed in her tight jeans and crop top and surprisingly didn’t leave the bathroom a tip.

It was now time to go pick up their guest. As usual Sophie rode in the lift and faggot ran down the stairs. He opened the car door for his delightful owner and they drove to her mums house. On the way there she gave him his instructions “ when we get to mums you will open the car door for her, you will address her as mummy dearest, you will do WHATEVER I say instantly or I swear to god I’ll break the cane on your balls, do you hear me faggot” she threatened him.

Yes Miss Sophie I’ll be on my very best behaviour for you and mummy dearest, I won’t let you down Miss Sophie he promised

“Make sure you don’t or you’ll regret it” leaving the threat hanging there.

Pulling up outside the home, faggot stepped out of the car and opened the rear door, allowing mummy dearest to step inside. The drive down to the apartment was quiet and the atmosphere frosty, Sophie’s mum didn’t think that James was fucking Sophie and had thought of informing the police, it was only Sophie intervention and promise to reveal all that stopped her.

James parked the car and opened the doors for the 2 females, calling the lift and dashing up the stairs to meet it at the other end, just in time he opened the flat, allowing both ladies inside.

“Fetch me a beer and mum a glass of wine and be quick about it” Sophie instructed and he quickly obeyed, Sophie’s mum looking quizzically. They sat on the sofa and he returned with the drinks and a few nibbles on a tray holding it out for the ladies to take. Sophie said “put them down on the table there” pointing at the small coffee table “go to your room and wait for us there, we’ll be there in a while when I’ve had a chat with mum” She looked at him to answer her correctly and the words fell out of his mouth “yes Miss Sophie” he slid out of the lounge and into his box room. Stripping out of his clothes and dressing in the French maids uniform Sophie had left out for him, he took the 5p coin from his bedside table and retired to the corned, nose holding the coin, hands on head. Waiting, just waiting.

Meanwhile Sophie explained the situation to her mum, who was aghast and still didn’t cruelty believe, back in the box room the little maid could hear the girls talking, giggling, then he heard them get up for the tour of the flat.

Sophie took her mum to her master bedroom and explained that faggot was only allowed in here for cleaning duties and never to sleep in the bed, whether Sophie was here or not. Then she showed mum the guest room, where some of Sophie’s friends had stayed over... often they’d share Sophie’s bed, but it was thee just in case, finally he heard the handle lower on his bedroom door and Sophie pushed the door open, faggot remained in position perfectly still, she leg mum into the room closing the door behind. Mum spotted the punishment tools on the back of the door and faggot in the maid uniform. “What the actual fuck Sophie” .... “see I told you mum, James is my slave, he does what I tell him and I punish him.... you should have done this to dad!” The ladies sat on faggots bed, Sophie clicked her fingers, “here boy” the loser lowered his hands, collecting the coin and turned to face his owner. He bobbed a neat curtesy and minced to his betters. Sophie was pointing at her foot, so gracefully he sunk to his knees and kissed her toes, all 10 of them. Looking up Sophie was nodding and he knew what was expected “excuse me mummy dearest but it would please me greatly if you’d allow this loser to worship your feet” he begged.

Mummy thought about this then replied “okay you fucking loser, let’s see what’s this is all about” he spent the next 15 minutes lavishing love on those 30 year old feet.

“Up” commanded Sophie and faggot rose to his feet “display” she ordered, he lifted the hem of his petticoats and dress to reveal the chastity belt “see mum he can’t fuck me even if I wanted” mummy was curious about the keys whereabouts and Sophie explained, she was still unhappy about the situation, but eventually relented and agreed not to let the police know, and that the relationship could continue, but only on a few conditions. Which she’d explain later.

“Turn” commanded Sophie, and he displayed he plugged arse and well punished bottom to mummy dearest she played with the stripes causing him to jump in pain.

Sophie stood up and with her mum following left the room, she clicked again “heel boy” and the loser scampered behind his beautiful owner.

He was instructed to fetch more drinks and then shut himself in the kitchen and cook mummy dearest her favourite meal. The menu was onion bhajis, meat samosas, popadoms, chicken balti, naan bread served with rice. All freshly cooked and served by the loser. He stood at attention whilst the two ladies relaxed, chatted and ate. The meal was delicious and there was hardly any scraps left on the plates. “Make coffee, clear up and then we’ll have a fashion show missy” decided Sophie. Faggot curtsied and quickly got about its task, serving the superiors freshly ground coffee. He spoke “ excuse me mummy dearest, but how do you like your coffee?”

“I like it like my men faggot.... hot and strong!” Both females chuckling, faggot bobbed another curtesy and poured the drinks.

After washing the pots and tidying the kitchen faggot stood at attention between the ladies Sophie skid her hand up his short dress and felt his welted bottom, causing him pain and his clitty to twitch, mummy dearest noticed and did the same, flicking the front up and saw his clit dribbling precum....she caught it with her finger and offered it to his mouth, he gratefully sucked her finger clean.

“You know faggot if you will insist on dressing in such sexy clothes you’d better get used to being felt up” Sophie said, patting his bottom... “run along now and start our fashion show”

faggot spent the next hour changing from outfit to outfit showing himself off to his betters. Starting with a little girls party dress, gymnast, skater chick, lap dancer, secretary, cheerleader, tutu, air hostess, PE kit (Sophie’s old one) and finally school uniform.

Sophie’s mum had a great evening but was still very sceptical...

“Strip to just your underwear boy and you can serve as a footrest while we have a chat” mummy ordered.

He curtesied and obeyed stripping to the white cotton panties, white vest and knee length white socks, position himself in front of the sofa for the ladies feet.

They sauntered over plopping themselves down on the sofa and flopped their legs on his back. Sophie curled her left foot “kiss” she ordered and he worshipped like his life depended on it. He was turned around so he could worship mummy’s feet.

They chatted and Sophie eventually persuaded mummy to let this continue, reasoning that she could be out at the park on a weekend with her mates getting pregnant instead she was being treated like royalty and wouldn’t ever need to work! James was loaded and had his own successful business.

There were conditions of course :-

1, mummy could borrow loser for a couple of evenings a week to do her housework (and anything else she wanted)

2, mummy would supervise Sophie releasing faggots chastity belt.

3, mummy would be employed at James company.

She said there may be more in the future but that would do for now!

Sophie and James were delighted he kissed and kissed her feet slobbering all over her Sophie hugged her mum.

The weeks went by with faggot staying locked, his Male underwear long gone, mummy dearest now office manager at his security company, she’d inspect his underwear choice every morning at work, and as he was constantly leaking insisted he wore a condom over the chastity belt and a sanitary towel in his knickers... these knickers were always the cast offs of his owner Sophie or mummy dearest.

He’d spend every Monday and Thursday evenings at mummy dearests home doing the cleaning, washing, ironing etc. At work mummy would often have him run errands like taking dry cleaning, taking the car to be washed, fetching coffees etc.

That weekend it was his birthday, he’d be 34, both girls knew this but didn’t let on... Friday he picked Sophie up from school and she insisted on going to Meadowhall shopping centre for an hour or so. They entered the main mall and Sophie went to town buying herself new clothes on his credit card, him following obediently behind carrying the bags stepping forward to pay. She really enjoyed herself especially choosing bikinis and underwear asking him if he thought she’d look good in them! She bought a tiny white bikini, it was literally 3 triangles on a piece of string. How he’d love to see her in that, alas a new rule prevented him from looking above her ankles when she was dressed sexy. His cock leaked some more precum as he imagined her perfect, beautiful, tight body in it. She noticed and laughed “go change your condom” she whispered to him. He quickly returned and offered the used one to her, she took it and poured the contents into his mouth “swallow” he complied and she thrust the used rubber in his mouth, “suck it clean boy” humiliated as he was he obeyed the teen and sucked his jizz out of the rubber.

She was so hot and wet at her dominance she could hardly wait to get home and play with her pussy!

Walking in the main mall, she suddenly decided to sit down on one of the benches, “James, be a dear and tie my shoelace please” she asked, he knelt down right there in the busy mall, and retied her beautiful white trainer. “And the other one” she said sweetly, he obeyed ..... “right, I want you to place a kiss on my toe” he hesitated, he couldn’t do that in the mall could he? “I haven’t forgotten whose birthday it is this weekend, I’d have to have to cancel your gift” he gulped, knowing she was talking about his erection, that was his present from Sophie, his cage was getting unlocked. “I’d hate to postpone it for a year I was so looking forward to tonight” she teased “ I might even wear the new bikini for you” he bent and quickly pressed his lips to her right foot “that’s wasn’t much of a kiss, try harder on my left foot now” he belt again, this time she raised her right foot and pressed it on the back of his neck “stay” she commanded, a little too loud, and people turned around laughing, giggling, snapping pictures. She held him in place for what felt like an hour but in reality was no more than 15 - 20 seconds. Eventually she released him “up” she commanded and walked away, he followed behind, her skirt swishing sexily as she walked to the exit. He dashed behind in abject humiliation, carrying the 7 shopping bags, hoping to reach the door before her so he could open it.

Back in the car he began to sob in humiliation and she cuddled him, kissing him on the cheek, “awww I’m sorry baby” she said “but you’ve made me so horny in there, you’ve never made a girl as wet as that in your life before!” She put her head in his lap and nuzzled his chastised cock, “is your little clitty getting a treat tonight?” She asked sexily....

On the drive home she teased his nipples and his clitty, offering him hope for tonight, she was going to get him off, that would be his best ever birthday present! Well until the day he could sleep with her! “When we get home, you’re to sprint up the stairs with the shopping, if you beat me up in the lift you’ll get your treat, if not well you’ll have to learn to run a bit faster in the next 12 months” she was wet at the thought of denying him for another year, but no she wanted this to go to plan. They parked up and she got out walking to the lift “come and call the lift for me faggot” he called the lift and returned to the car for the shopping racing up the stairs, knowing it was nearly impossible, Sophie on the other hand had stopped on the 2nd and 4th floor so he’d win.

He stood there, red, out of breath on the doorstep waiting his owner. She ambled over standing on her tip toes to kiss his cheek, “well done pussy boy, you’ve earned your present. Open the door then strip naked before you come in MY home, take my clothes to my bedroom, unpack and hang them up .... you know the rules, kiss the bottom of and panties or trousers before they get put away, then go to your room and follow the instructions in there.”

He quickly curtsied and began to strip, she closed the door and went to the lounge, naked, he tried the door, it was locked. He rang the bell “who is it?” The sexy girl replied “please Miss Sophie it’s your faggot” .... “wont be a minute” she made him wait a couple of minutes naked there on his doorstep! Opening the door she held her hand up stopping him, “yes faggot what would you like” she asked, “please Miss Sophie, may faggot bring your clothes shopping in and put it in your wardrobe please?” He begged “okay” she said “but whenever you enter MY home you will kiss my shoes before you pass the door mat, so right there he dropped to his knees and worshipped her trainers. She ushered him in and closed the door, slapping his arse, “hurry up loser I want to get this over with”

He quickly complied with his task enjoying kissing the underwear, knowing that very soon it would be touching her delightful bottom, imagining him kissing those perfect cheeks. He was so horny at what she did to him in the shopping centre, he thought he’d blow his load right there and then.

Returning to his room, the instructions were there, cuff your legs and right hand to the bed and wait for me.... I’ll do the left hand when I get there. He knew his time was coming! 9 months without a hard on and now Sophie would be giving him the best present ever! He lay there for about 30 minutes or so whilst Sophie watched TV and chatted on the phone. She poked her head around the door “won’t be long now lover boy” she teased closing the door again. She returned a good 20 minutes later, wearing the white bikini, his eyes popped out of his head and quickly averted his eyes, “awww baby, you can look today, it’s your birthday” he stared at her amazing body my god she was hot, he was in love .... she peaked off his condom and poured the contents in his mouth “hmmm you’ve been a busy sissy, look how wet you are girlie” he swallowed the load, she swished out of the room, he stared at her arse, it was amazing, returning with a tray she placed it down on the bedside table. She pulled back the towel just enough so he couldn’t see the contents.... grabbing the ice from the bowl she dropped it onto his crotch, shrivelling the clitty down some more. “Need to get the little guy to a smaller size, before we unlock him sissy” she pulled the key from her necklace and unlocked the padlock. Standing up, she teased “well that’s you unlocked, will that do for this year faggot?”

Aww please Miss Sophie don’t leave me like that, he begged and begged her, she backed up towards him and offered her bottom to him, just out of reach... “kiss my arse loser” he strained as far as the cuffs would allow just reaching her bottom, he planted reverent kisses to it, she was really enjoying herself now. “Okay faggot, you’re 31 years old today so that means you get 31 seconds out of your cage then it’s straight back in whether you cum or not! And don’t forget next year you get another second a full 32, up until your 35th birthday but then it’s downhill from then on .... cumming is a young mans game, it’s not good for your heart so every year after you lose 7 seconds, so on your 36th birthday it’s 28 seconds 37th 21, 38th 14, 39th 7 and it’s all over with before you’re 40.” He continued to worship her behind as she explained his future “don’t worry though, you’ll be trained to cum from being fucked in the arse” she added.

She pointed at the corner of the room and he spotted the camera, “mum is supervising you, like she said she would faggot, she’s had cameras put in all over the flat to keep an eye on you”

Sophie set up the timer on her phone for 34 seconds and released the cage, his limp clitty flopped out and she held the cock loosely, “well hump my hand loser” she said she started the timer and he jumped away for a few seconds, just then Sophie received a text, she removed her hand and replied to the text, “keep humping faggot” he humped away at fresh air, no friction to get him off “it’s Jordan, she wants to know if she can come over later.... that’s okay isn’t it?” Sophie watched as he continued to thrust his cock up and down .... “beeep beeep beeeep the noise came from her phone “awww too bad sissy, you’re times up... I’d have thought you’d be able to cum in my presence in that time faggot” she teased. She iced his clitty back down, “time to get this back in its cage, well try again in another year loser” he cried and begged and begged, it wasn’t fair, she’d only touched him for 5 seconds, please could they try again without interruption. She laughed at him crying “awww my poor sissy, okay, I’ll let you have another go, but I want you to start me a trust fund up paying £2500 a month and give me 10% of your business” he agreed immediately. A high price for another 34 seconds of her hand. She played with his cock like an expert teasing him and making him cum in 33 seconds, she caught the load on a condom and made him eat it all. Quickly icing him down and refitting the belt. She uncuffed him and he followed her to the lounge, she teased his balls to make his clitty excited again.... only then did he realise, she’d used a smaller cage and fitted it with spikes. He was in agony! “Hope you like your new cage faggot, that’s what you’re wearing for the next year, until we get you a smaller one.

[poguesofthebau]

Hi!! can i get a ship please? my name is Kiara, so do with that what you will. Im bi-racial and bisexual. i am 5 feet 9 inches, so relatively tall, my hair usually stays in a bun but is very curly, i have a pretty girly style, sundresses and what not. i tend to be the mom friend, i speak very softly, i’ve been told my voice is soothing, i’m very loyal, responsible, kind empathetic, and like pope level smart lol. i play guitar, paint, read, and bake. i eat healthy and am on the swim team!

i ship you with pope!! (honorary mention: kie would be your best best best friend. literal twin flames. the boys would refer to you and kie as “kie squared,” and the rest of the obx would refer to you as “the kiaras.” half the people on the island would think you guys were sisters, mostly because you’d spent the first 3 years of your friendship telling everyone at your elementary school that you were sisters.)

i feel like this is just such a natural fit. you and pope would always be 100% comfortable with each other. except one time: the first time you guys ever met. he’d be a mess, with sweaty palms and shaking hands. his smile would be convincing, but you could see the anxiety behind it. you’d automatically stamp pope as ‘the nice one’ in the back of your head, not really realizing how deep in you’d get with all the pogues, but immediately knowing he was your kind of person. when he started to get more comfortable with you, cracking his usual jokes and playfully bickering with the boys, you’d mentally pat yourself on the back for just knowing there had to be more to the kid. you and pope would grow to be great friends at first, and then your friends would catch on.

the first time you’d ever suspect something was really going on with pope, specifically pope and you, would be a summer afternoon that you’d spent at the Chateau with john b. he’d been too hungover lazy to tag along with pope, jj, and kie when they took out the pogue for a few hours, and you’d skipped because you had woken up with the sudden urge to bake. so john b would spend those hours laying on the couch, drinking a few beers (”it cures the hangover, dude!”) and chatting with you as you made a mess of his kitchen for the sake of some good desserts later. it was fun day-- you didn’t typically spend much one-on-one time with john b, one or more of the pogues usually tagging along with you guys, but he was one of your best friends, and you always loved hanging with him. by the time the rest of the gang got back from their day on the water, you and jb were sprawled out on the couch eating cupcakes and laughing at each other’s favorite dad jokes. kie and jj would walk in first, jj reaching into the fridge for another beer while kie raided the goodies you’d prepared, hungry after sitting in the sun all day. pope, however, happened to be lagging a little. he’d sulk through the door thirty seconds later, eyes locking onto yours right away. something happened, you immediately though. you’d tilt your head questioningly at him, and he’d just shake his head, a mixture of somberness and aggravation in his actions. he’d stomp into the bathroom, and you turned to the others to see if they’d noticed his mood. they did. “don’t worry about it,” kie would say to you. “he’s been in a mood all day.” “yeah,” jj would chime in, gulping down some of his beer before he continued. “he’s just pissed that somebody stole his girl.” jj would snicker, john b covering up a laugh through a cough as kie rolled her eyes. they know something i don’t.

a few hours later, things had died down at the Chateau, and you and kie were on your way home. the boys were all staying at john b’s, and you and kie had plans for a sleepover. “so,” you’d begin when you finally got to the security of her car. “what was pope’s deal today?” she’d throw you a look, shifting her car into reverse and shaking her head. “pope,” she’d reply, now shifting into drive and heading onto the main road. “is an idiot. he’ll figure it out.” “okay, but what is there to figure out? like, does everybody know something that i don’t?” kie would smile, shaking her head. “i’m not getting into this.” “well, you’ve got me all night, so good luck. i’m getting it out of you.” and you did. when kie went home and decided to smoke a little, you encouraged it. statistically, she was much more likely to word vomit while baked than she would sober. so she smoked, and she talked, and she told you that, “pope’s a pussy. he was all mad the whole time on the pogue because you were cuddling with john b or whatever, like, what? dramatic.” for the first few minutes after she told you, you didn’t believe her. after regurgitating an entire conversation about you that had gone on between jj and pope earlier in the day, though, kie had you convinced. then would come your favorite part of the whole ‘how pope and kiara wound up together’ story. 

your stoner of a friend then insisted on hitting a 7Eleven, or a convenience store, or something, so the poor girl could get the cool ranch Doritos she so desperately needed. so, like the good friend you were, you’d hop in her car and drive to the nearest open store that sold the chips, telling her to sit innocently in the car while you went in to grab them. funny enough, you wouldn’t be the only pogue in that store. you’d walk in and hear three familiar voices-- john b, jj, and pope. grabbing the bag of chips with a smirk, you’d head over to see what the boys (who had yet to notice you) were doing. “pope’s high!” jj would squeal as soon as he saw you. “kiara, pope is highhhhh.” you’d make eye contact with john b, who looked miserable, and laugh before looking back at jj. “pope’s not the only one who’s high, jj.” moments later, jj was trying to do something illegal (probably open a jar of pickles before paying for it), and he and john b became preoccupied. glancing out at the car to see kie singing to a song on the radio, you made a spur of the moment decision. “pope, can i talk to you?” his eyes would widen first, and then his face would break into this huge, contagious smile that you unwillingly returned. he’d follow you to the other side of the store, dopey smile and all. “what’s up, kiara? my favorite kie. but don’t tell other kie. kie c. c kie. don’t tell her. that’d be bad. that’d be mean.” you’d chuckle, internally rethinking your plan to discuss this while pope was so far gone but knowing you’d never have the courage otherwise. “yeah, i actually heard the news today. that i’m your favorite kie, i mean. what’s that about?” you’d cross your arms in front of your chest, prompting pope to defensively copy your movement. “um, excuse me. that’s common knowledge. everybody knows you’re my favorite kie. except kie. seriously, don’t tell her.” you’d laugh again, shaking your head. “okay, pope. i won’t tell her. but, when your high fades, text me and we can have a real conversation about that?” he’d almost seem to come out of it then, nodding slowly with wide eyes. “okay, favorite kie. i’ll text you later. do you want me to buy your Doritos?”

[queeniewriteshockey]

can i get a sad carter where hes crying and having a panic attack after a game and you have to calm him down, thank you in advance girly! also love your writing!!

Warning: Panic AttackWord Count: 1866

You’d missed the game but you’d heard about it. You wished you could have been there, but you’d been called into work on your day off and couldn’t say no to your manager. Luckily you hadn’t had tickets wasting away in your pocket. You’d simply planned on sitting at home and watching the Flyers on TV. It was hard, though. Going into this particular game. The Flyers had hit another losing streak, five and counting. Carter was in the goal for three of the five and you could tell that it was starting to wear on him. 

It wasn’t his fault, not really, but you understood the stress. He was a goalie, after all. The shots he let in ultimately decided the game. Even when he only let in one goal, if he own team couldn’t find the back of the net, the loss fell on him. You’d watched this happen time and time again in the last few games. Carter let in one maybe two goals, but for the life of the team, they couldn’t score. Which meant losses. 

The last game you’d been in the stands for, you’d watched Nolan throw an absolute fit at the end of a game. He’s scored, it would have tied the game up. Only it didn’t count. The replay had shown it was an offside goal and they’d reversed the call. He hadn’t been the only one pissed off about that. You could see the frustration on everyone's faces, not just Nolan’s.  

Tonight’s game had been equally as brutal from what you had heard. You’d kept up with the score on your phone, but each goal Carter let in made your heart sink and your insides twist. At the second intermission, it was 4-0 them and you decided not to check on the game again. It was stressing you out and you were at work. You could only imagine what the boys were going through. 

When the game ended, and you heard the final score, you knew you had to get home. You knew, with every bit of you, that Carter wasn’t going to be taking this loss well. It was one thing to lose by a large margin. You could see that one coming and you knew what to expect, but it hadn’t been a large margin. The game had ended at 4-3 and that one goal Carter had let in had been the game-deciding play. 

You didn’t know what to expect when you got home. He wasn’t prone to anger, but you’d seen it before from him. He was so mild and calm, so level headed, that the one time you’d seen his anger flair, you’d been so shocked all you could do was sit there in silence and watch. It had come after he’d been pulled from a game the first time and you completely understood why it had morphed the mild-mannered man into something more akin to Nolan’s rage monster. 

Walking in the door, initially, nothing seemed off. Nothing was out of place, everything was quiet. You could hear the water running in the master bathroom, but it was faint from the living room and figured Carter was just washing off the game. Sometimes a hot shower was the best recipe for that. You made your way to the kitchen for a drink and grabbed a snack on the way out. 

“Hey babe,” you called as you set down the drink on the side table and finished your food. There was no reply from the bathroom, but the door was open. You figured he hadn’t heard you over the water running. You decided to poke your head into the bathroom, to say hi and make sure he knew you were home. 

The cheerful greeting you’d expected to give him died on your lips when the sight of him met your eyes. The large glass shower stall in your bathroom left nothing to the imagination, though often it was fogged over with the steam of the water. There was no steam to the water, no warmth in the bathroom and the sight that met your eyes made your blood run as cold as the water in the shower. 

“Carter,” you said quickly, pushing yourself into the bathroom and over to the shower. He was sitting, naked on the floor of the shower, water running down his face, eyes empty and unseeing. Fear pulled at your mind, worry and horror filled your heart. It was all you could do to reach in and turn the fridged water off, to at least stop the barrage of ice from flowing. 

His eyes blinked once. Twice. Three times before his head tilted up in search of what had suddenly changed. He couldn’t really see, his eyes unfocused on the here and now. All he saw was the scoreboard. The loss. The anger from the stands and the fans. He could hear the fans jeers in his head. The ones screaming that he sucked. That he needed to be pulled from the game. A few telling him to go back to the AHL. He wasn’t good enough to be pro. 

His hands came up to cover his ears, to block out the noise of the angry crowd and he closed his eyes. He needed to get away from the game, away from anger. It was all his fault. He’d let the goals in and they’d lost. Because of him. Six games. Six straight games. Four them his fault. Maybe they were right, maybe he did belong back with the Phantoms. Or maybe. Maybe he should hang the whole thing up. Walk away and do something else with his life. 

The thought tore through him like a muscle tearing from bone. It left him gasping for breath, the pain of the idea strangling him. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t think. He just watched as the life he’d worked to build crumbled in his hands. He was insignificant, standing on an empire made of sand. He was helpless to stop the tide as it rolled in and washed him out to sea. 

“Carter!” 

Warmth touched his skin for a moment, shocking him like electricity to his heart. Forcing him to focus his eyes a little. 

“Carter, hey, I need you to look at me.” Your voice was panicked as you spoke but you saw, the second his mind came back to you and your sighed. You expected to see a bit of his anger, but this… this was a completely different side of Carter, one you hadn’t expected or ever wanted to see. 

Tear tracks ran down his face where the water hadn’t hit his skin and it broke your heart to know that this loss had gotten to him so much so that he’d actually cried over it. He was always the first one to remind you that it was just a game, but even he had his limits when it came to losses. 

“Y/N?” He asked.

Hearing his voice, empty and hollow as it was, both made your heart soar and break at the same time. You lacked the ability to define the relief and horror you felt when he said your name. How many times had you heard him say it without having a reaction at all? Too many to count, that was for sure. 

“Yeah, it’s me, baby. I’m going to grab a towel. You need to get out of the shower.” His skin was even more pale than normal and there was a purple tint to his normally pink lips. He’d let the water run too long and the sub-zero temperature of the winter outside had not done wonderful things to him. 

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at work?” He asked, not acknowledging that he’d even heard what you said about a towel. 

“It’s nearly midnight,” you told him, fingers running through his sodden hair, pushing it out of his face. “You know I get off at 11:30.” That meant he’d likely been sitting blindly in the shower for at least an hour. Your heart broke even more. “I’m getting a towel. I’ll be right back.” 

You let go of him, even if you didn’t want to. You knew you needed to get him out of the bathroom and warmed up, but the act of walking away from him was the hardest thing you’d ever done. You were thankful it wasn’t a long walk to the cabinet, you could keep your eyes on him the entire time. 

“Come on,” you said once you had the towel and were back over by him. “I need you to help me get you up. I’m not that strong.” You tugged at his arm, hands grabbing his wrists in an effort to spur him into movement. 

“Y/N?” He asked again. “When did you get home.” 

Concern etched your features but you didn’t give it voice. “Not long ago,” you told him. “A few minutes ago, maybe. Can you stand?”

“What?” 

“Can you stand? I have your towel, but you’re too heavy, I can’t pick you up.” You probably could, if you had to, but you wanted him to try on his own. You tug at his arms again and this time he adds his strength to the mix and you’re able to get him standing. You took your time wiping him off, ridding his skin of the water that had clung to him before you wrapped the towel around his waist and guided him out of the shower. 

“Did you see the game?” He asked, breaking the silence as his bare feet touched the soft bathmat on the floor. 

“No, I was working. But I caught the highlights.” 

“What highlights? The game was awful.” 

Your eyes flicked up to his and your face fell. The green, so mossy and beautiful was dull and empty. “Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, distracting him while you directed him out of the bathroom and into your bedroom. 

“No.” 

You had expected that answer. You were okay with that. “Okay,” you told him with a nod. “What do you say we get ready for bed?” 

He nodded in response, but you weren’t convinced he had it in him to get dressed. It fell to you to get him ready for bed. You didn’t might, though. Getting him dressed was easier than getting him out of the shower. All you had to do with slip a pair of boxer briefs over his legs and get him tucked into the cozy bed. When he was situated you took the time to get yourself ready for bed and then joined him. 

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, a shiver ran through your body the moment his cold skin touched yours. You placed a kiss on his cheek and molded yourself around him. “You’ll get ‘em next time, Babe. I know you will.” 

You finally let yourself relax when you felt his fingers thread through yours and the press of his lips against your knuckles. “Thank you for believing in me.” He said softly. 

You gave him another kiss on the cheek and bury your face in his shoulder. “I’ll never stop.” 

-Fin-

[dhawkesnest]

Trouble at the Rusty Spur

Warning: Violence and Adult Language Characters: Rune Ymir

There was something about these storms that always took her back to that night. The memories had replayed in her mind as she sat at the bar nursing a shot glass of whiskey. At one time, she had been able to allow herself to get caught up in these moments of nostalgia, but not so much anymore. Anyone who knew her, and a most of those who didn't could tell that she was hyper-aware of what was going on around her, her ear flicking and turning faintly at sounds within. The group of men in the corner playing cards, the occasional coquettish laugh of a woman sitting on a patron's lap, the clinking of glasses. At moments like these, the memories were an unwelcome distraction, and so the ranger did the best to push them aside as she heard the scrape of boots approaching across the wood floor. She could smell him before he reached her, cheap alcohol and even cheaper cigars. The odor made her want to curl her nose in distaste, but she kept her expression neutral and her gaze on her glass. That was, until the man put his hand over the top of it. Slowly, she leveled her lavender gaze with the stranger, her brows knitting faintly together. “Problem?” Her unusual accent, a mixture of her homeland and her time in Gridania, was thick due to the drink. “Yeah... you be sitting on my favorite stool.” The man drawled, his proximity making it that much harder for her not to scrunch up her nose. How could he not smell himself? She did the best she could not to gag. The least he could do was have better taste in spirits and smokes. The Viera tilted her head at him, maintaining a blank expression. “Really? I wasn't aware that this bar had assigned seating.” “You mockin me, girlie?”

“Twelve forfend, I wouldn't dream of it. I was merely remarking on how ironic it is that the seat had no name on it.” She raised her arms in a shrug. “Alas, I was here first, and there are plenty of other seats to be had at the moment. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to finish my drink.” She wouldn't normally have baited the man, but there were many factors that lead to her decision that she quite frankly didn't give a shit tonight. Weather, her work, the lingering memories and the alcohol had lead to a bad humor. The man appeared to take offense to her attitude and put his finger in her face. “You want to start somethin? I ain't above hitting a woman.”

The bar seemed to go unnaturally quiet at that statement as everyone waited to see what was going to happen next, the room charged with a mixture of tension and excitement. Rune tilted her head at him again, raising a brow, then snorted softly and shook her head at the midlander. “Go home, pops. Sleep off these delusions of yours, before you get hurt.” It was cheeky of her to call him pops, given the fact that she was most likely at least two decades older than him if she guessed right. The ranger also knew the likelihood that her words would only provoke him, but once more she didn't care. He wanted a fight? She could give him one. She'd just intended to let him make the first move. And then he made a mistake. “You little cunt-” She took one deep breath in and let it out, but it didn't help. Removing her hand from the glass that he still blocked with his own, she shifted to stand to her full height, towering above the man. Reaching out, she gripped him by the front of his filthy shirt and lifted him off the ground with little effort, much to the chagrin of two other men who might have been his friends. The other two approached, warning her to put him down and yelling obscenities. Using her other hand to aid her, she pitched the man into a nearby table with all the force she had, sending him careening into customers. The altercation seemed to raise the crowd, the room filled with the din of jeers, cheers, and laughing. The ones who had come to the other man's defense launched themselves at her in tandem. A whiskey bottle across the head dealt with the one, sending him stumbling back clutching his wound. The other managed to land a blow to her face, almost spinning her around. As he came at her, she dodged him as carefully as she could while still seeing stars, gripped the back of his head and slammed his face hard into the bar top, sending him sprawling.

The man she had hit over the head came at her brandishing the broken bottle, slashing at her. One of his attacks bit into the flesh across her knuckles, eliciting an angry scream from her. The cut was deep enough blood began dripping from her fingers, but her anger and the alcohol seemed to make her unaware for the moment. Using her good hand, she punched the man in the jaw hard enough he hit the floor and lay still. The one who'd called her a cunt was getting up now, still yelling expletives at her. As he ran at her, she grabbed his arm, twisted it behind his back in a vicious motion that may or may not have dislocated the arm at the elbow, and slammed him against the bar, pinning him down. “You fucking little c-” Pulling an unusual curved dagger from beneath the folds of her chain mail and leather coat, she drove the weapon into the wood of the bar within an inch from his very nose. The man went silent then and swallowed hard. When she was satisfied that her message had been received, she jerked the blade from the place it was embedded and returned it to its scabbard. “So much for a relaxing drink.” She muttered softly, pulling some gil from her pocket and dropping it onto the bar. The owner would find it was more than generous enough to cover any damages. Looking at her knuckles with a frown, she jerked a handkerchief from another pocket and wrapped it tight around the wound before looking around  the establishment at the other patrons and storming out through the doors into the storm. They're not going to be too happy about this if it gets back to them, she thought to herself. But it couldn't be helped. Besides, she wasn't the only one within their ranks who had gotten into trouble in bars. (( @trc-xiv ))