#stop telling me the Tories and Labour are the same

[everything-maxriemelt]

#us politics #dan rather #this also applies in U.K. #stop telling me the Tories and Labour are the same #they aren’t and we need to be a grown up #no party is going to be perfect for you or anyone

[zaddyazula]

gary lineker is completely in the right

i feel like some sort of right wing enthusiast saying “see this is what happens when all media is influenced by a political side” but it’s true. and i might go on a bit of a rant about it.

for those who don’t know, gary lineker compared the new tory bill to prevent immigrants coming into the country to nazi germany, which is completely right. he has now stepped down from his job on match of the day.

the tories completely control the media, and the general population it seems, because for years and years in general elections the tories have come out victorious, despite them ruining the country trying to fill their own pockets.

[screenshot of a sky news article]

as someone who lives in the uk, specifically from the north, the tories are fucking devastating the country, and have been since margaret thatcher. i don’t really know what the us version would be, but the north and south of england have been against each other for decades.

another thing i’d like to mention is the fact that gary lineker stepped down from a BBC JOB. the BBC is very important in this, as they may or may not have been the ones who edited a clip of the orgreave’s riot to portray that the civilians incited the riot, and not the police officers. they switched the film around. and broadcast it on live television. so yeah, that’s how fucked up the BBC was and how far they’d go to protect the tories.

(by the way, the tories are basically the republicans :) )

the divide between the tories and labour (the version of the democrats) is a lot deeper than actual politics. this goes as far as the tory governments depriving the north of the same necessities and developments as the south. rochdale, in extremely north manchester, (as someone who has lived there) is a complete fucking shithole. there’s barely any fucking public transport that don’t run solely in the town centre, the train station is in the middle of nowhere, and most importantly, the town itself is in the middle of nowhere. it’s a point to where you can just tell towns are shitholes purely because of their position in the uk. obviously, just because a town is in the north, doesn’t mean it can’t be tory and vice versa.

the actual bill lineker was talking about is to restrict the amount of people crossing the english channel into the uk from france, most of these people fleeing from war. hang on a minute, aren’t they the same places the uk may or may not have bombed??? what a coincidence. these poor fucking people, coming to this shithole of a country for a better life, and the people who approved the orders to rip them from their lives have the FUCKING AUDACITY TO KICK THEM OUT OF THE COUNTRY.

breaking news today:

what a lovely thing to see. what fucking bullshit.

the absolute fucking shite the government comes out with is unbearable, and there are still tory supporters????? i’m sorry but fuck the hell off.

these people are coming here for a better life. risking their lives to be given a chance at a new one in the lovely uk. putting innocent people in detention centres like we’re back in the 1930s isn’t a great look for the tories, but i doubt people will stop supporting them. instead of funding the military, education services, health services etc. etc., the government are giving france money to build detention centres.

these people, who are somehow in charge of a country, are making my life hell. first it was fucking brexit, don’t even get me started on that, and now it’s adopting a fascist, racist, xenophobic regime. it’s been coming for a long time.

minorities already suffer enough over here, and now we’re going to suffer even more.

my grandparents migrated in the late 60s (i believe so anyways - they’re both dead so i can’t ask them) for a better life, and they got one. after a while anyways. i expect they probably went through a bit because of the ira. again, i never asked either of them, i was too young.

hope you enjoyed my rant :)

#bullshit #the tories #uk news #rishi sunak #gary lineker #bbc #uk

[mariacallous]

The gloves are off. The 106-year-old Royal College of Nursing (RCN) is about to strike nationally for the first time. They strike, they say, to send up distress flares about the state of their service.

Their case is strong: pay for experienced nurses has fallen in real terms by at least 20% since 2010 across the country. Roles are reclassified to different paybands to save on wages. In gruelling 12-hour shifts, in often understaffed wards, they have ever-sicker patients staying shorter times – they worry they can’t care as they should. They are not being sanctimonious when their leader, Pat Cullen, says this is a strike about the state of the NHS and safety of patients, as well as pay.

Nurses’ burnout rate is accelerating, with a record 47,000 vacancies in England and 40% fewer working in social care than 10 years ago. For a government missing its recruitment targets, the only enticement is better pay, so facing down the nurses is not an option. Oliver Dowden sounds absurd when he tells Sky, “We have well-oiled contingencies in place”. Where is his phantom army of spare nurses? Agencies will not provide strike-breakers. Brexit stopped the flow of EU nurses; 48% of new nurses still come from abroad, many of them from countries, such as Nepal, that the World Health Organization says should not be targeted by the rich world for recruitment.

Dowden’s empty defiance bodes ill for good negotiations, as does the last three health secretaries (Steve Barclay, Thérèse Coffey, Barclay again) failing to make any contact with the RCN, the union complains. How long before it dawns on the Tories that they have zero bargaining position?

Not only are nurses leaving the profession, but new entrants have fallen by a record 8% in the past year. Recruiting students, who face the prospect of £50,000 of debt, gets harder when half new recruits’ time is spent working on wards unpaid. Though in theory these student nurses are “supernumerary”, while under instruction they are increasingly used as spare hands caring for patients, doing the same exhausting shifts but paying instead of being paid. Unlike other students, they work too hard to take bar jobs to cover living costs; the age profile is older, and many will have children to look after too.

Remember how abolishing that crucial bursary for nursing students in Jeremy Hunt’s time as health secretary led to a sharp drop in nursing students? Wisely, Wes Streeting, Labour’s health shadow, is preparing to bring it back, to be announced when Labour’s whole higher education policy is ready. That may force the Tories to restore it.

Now chancellor, Hunt must surely know he has no choice but to settle – or resign. Only months ago, as a protesting chair of the health select committee, he roused up royal colleges – yes, RCN included – to back his push for a workforce strategy in the health and social care bill. He argued vehemently that a rolling 10-year staff plan was essential to train enough doctors and nurses for an ageing population. He complained to me, as to everyone, about a shortsighted Treasury blocking any commitment to future funding.

He can’t now escape his own reasoning as to why locum doctors and agency nurses waste a fortune that is better spent on training and higher pay to attract new entrants. His long campaign, and his own book on patient safety, rely on enough well-trained staff. Cullen says the nurses she talks to as she travels the NHS speak of their daily dread facing the wards, where they take on not just their own work but that of those missing 47,000.

Streeting, visiting hospitals with food banks for their staff, says: “I can’t blame the nurses for voting to strike.” He hears the acute anxieties of nurses, ambulance crews and all working in A&E. “No one wants a strike. Their pay demands are reasonable.” Would Labour pay up? He says, as in their 1997 manifesto, that they will pledge to restore public sector pay “as circumstances allow”, but as in 1997, he can’t set a date. “We did restore public pay and we will again when we can.”

Will there be rows about Labour MPs joining NHS picket lines? Christina McAnea, head of Unison, dismisses that as an irrelevance: it makes “absolutely no difference” whether shadow ministers join striking workers. She tells the Daily Mirror that Labour frontbenchers on picket lines are a “distraction”, and warns off selfie poseurs, saying strikes are “serious”, not a “photo opportunity”. Nurses will not leave their wards or A&E, but their strike will stop elective non-emergency admissions, increasing that 7m waiting list.

The RCN ballot, by law, was conducted in each NHS facility: it is expected that Wednesday’s results will show most voted to strike, but some narrowly missed the stringent requirement for a majority on a 50% turnout. A flotilla of strikes will follow, as public sector pay averages just a 2% rise, compared with the private sector at 6% – both far behind inflation, at 10.1%. The RCN’s demand for inflation plus 5% still leaves them paid less than in 2010 – hardly “militant”.

If the Tories hope the politics will go their way, public support for a nursing strike stands at 65% for and 27% against. The government has no choice but to negotiate immediately and reach a good enough agreement to keep hold of precious NHS staff and appeal to others to join up. As Margaret Thatcher might say: Tina, there is no alternative.

[auroraluciferi]

if anyone in this time of deep concern of his health is interested about what a worthless piece of shit Prince Philip is, here is a very brief list of 90 racist, sexist, and incredibly ignorant things the man has said in the last century:

1. "Ghastly." Prince Philip's opinion of Beijing, during a 1986 tour of China.

2. "Ghastly." Prince Philip's opinion of Stoke-on-Trent, as offered to the city's Labour MP Joan Walley at Buckingham Palace in 1997.

3. "Deaf? If you're near there, no wonder you are deaf." Said to a group of deaf children standing near a Caribbean steel drum band in 2000.

4. "If you stay here much longer, you will go home with slitty eyes." To 21-year-old British student Simon Kerby during a visit to China in 1986.

5. "You managed not to get eaten then?" To a British student who had trekked in Papua New Guinea, during an official visit in 1998.

6. "You can't have been here that long – you haven't got a pot belly." To a British tourist during a tour of Budapest in Hungary. 1993.

7. "How do you keep the natives off the booze long enough to pass the test?" Asked of a Scottish driving instructor in 1995.

8. "Damn fool question!" To BBC journalist Caroline Wyatt at a banquet at the Elysée Palace after she asked Queen Elizabeth if she was enjoying her stay in Paris in 2006.

9. "It looks as though it was put in by an Indian." The Prince's verdict of a fuse box during a tour of a Scottish factory in August 1999. He later clarified his comment: "I meant to say cowboys. "I just got my cowboys and Indians mixed up."

10. "People usually say that after a fire it is water damage that is the worst. We are still drying out Windsor Castle." To survivors of the Lockerbie bombings in 1993.

11. "We don't come here for our health. We can think of other ways of enjoying ourselves." During a trip to Canada in 1976.

12. "A few years ago, everybody was saying we must have more leisure, everyone's working too much. Now that everybody's got more leisure time they are complaining they are unemployed. People don't seem to make up their minds what they want." A man of the people shares insight into the recession that gripped Britain in 1981.

13. "British women can't cook." Winning the hearts of the Scottish Women's Institute in 1961.

14. "It was part of the fortunes of war. We didn't have counsellors rushing around every time somebody let off a gun, asking 'Are you all right - are you sure you don't have a ghastly problem?' You just got on with it!" On the issue of stress counselling for servicemen in a TV documentary marking the 50th Anniversary of V-J Day in 1995.

15. "What do you gargle with – pebbles?" To Tom Jones, after the Royal Variety Performance, 1969. He added the following day: "It is very difficult at all to see how it is possible to become immensely valuable by singing what I think are the most hideous songs."

16. "It's a vast waste of space." Philip entertained guests in 2000 at the reception of a new £18m British Embassy in Berlin, which the Queen had just opened.

17. "There's a lot of your family in tonight." After glancing at business chief Atul Patel's name badge during a 2009 Buckingham Palace reception for 400 influential British Indians to meet the Royal couple.

18. "If it has four legs and it is not a chair, if it has got two wings and it flies but is not an aeroplane and if it swims and it is not a submarine, the Cantonese will eat it." Said to a World Wildlife Fund meeting in 1986.

19. "You ARE a woman, aren't you?" To a woman in Kenya in 1984, after accepting a gift.

20. "Do you know they have eating dogs for the anorexic now?" To a wheelchair-bound Susan Edwards, and her guide dog Natalie in 2002.

21. "Get me a beer. I don't care what kind it is, just get me a beer!" On being offered the finest Italian wines by PM Giuliano Amato at a dinner in Rome in 2000.

22. "I would like to go to Russia very much – although the bastards murdered half my family." In 1967, asked if he would like to visit the Soviet Union.

23. "If a cricketer, for instance, suddenly decided to go into a school and batter a lot of people to death with a cricket bat, which he could do very easily, I mean, are you going to ban cricket bats?" In a Radio 4 interview shortly after the Dunblane shootings in 1996. He said to the interviewer off-air afterwards: "That will really set the cat among the pigeons, won't it?"

24. "Oh, it's you that owns that ghastly car is it? We often see it when driving to Windsor Castle." To neighbour Elton John after hearing he had sold his Watford FC-themed Aston Martin in 2001.

25. "The problem with London is the tourists. They cause the congestion. If we could just stop the tourism, we could stop the congestion." At the opening of City Hall in 2002.

26. "A pissometer?" The Prince sees the renames the piezometer water gauge demonstrated by Australian farmer Steve Filelti in 2000.

27. "Don't feed your rabbits pawpaw fruit – it acts as a contraceptive. Then again, it might not work on rabbits." Giving advice to a Caribbean rabbit breeder in Anguilla in 1994.

28. "You must be out of your minds." To Solomon Islanders, on being told that their population growth was 5 per cent a year, in 1982.

29. "Young people are the same as they always were. They are just as ignorant." At the 50th anniversary of the Duke of Edinburgh Awards scheme.

30. "Your country is one of the most notorious centres of trading in endangered species." Accepting a conservation award in Thailand in 1991.

31. "Aren't most of you descended from pirates?" In the Cayman Islands, 1994.

32. "You bloody silly fool!" To an elderly car park attendant who made the mistake of not recognising him at Cambridge University in 1997.

33. "Oh! You are the people ruining the rivers and the environment." To three young employees of a Scottish fish farm at Holyrood Palace in 1999.

34. "If you travel as much as we do you appreciate the improvements in aircraft design of less noise and more comfort – provided you don't travel in something called economy class, which sounds ghastly." To the Aircraft Research Association in 2002.

35. "The French don't know how to cook breakfast." After a breakfast of bacon, eggs, smoked salmon, kedgeree, croissants and pain au chocolat – from Gallic chef Regis Crépy – in 2002.

36. "And what exotic part of the world do you come from?" Asked in 1999 of Tory politician Lord Taylor of Warwick, whose parents are Jamaican. He replied: "Birmingham."

37. "Oh no, I might catch some ghastly disease." On a visit to Australia in 1992, when asked if he wanted to stroke a koala bear.

38. "It doesn't look like much work goes on at this University." Overheard at Bristol University's engineering facility. It had been closed so that he and the Queen could officially open it in 2005.

39. "I wish he'd turn the microphone off!" The Prince expresses his opinion of Elton John's performance at the 73rd Royal Variety Show, 2001.

40. "Do you still throw spears at each other?" Prince Philip shocks Aboriginal leader William Brin at the Aboriginal Cultural Park in Queensland, 2002.

41. "Where's the Southern Comfort?" On being presented with a hamper of southern goods by the American ambassador in London in 1999.

42. "Were you here in the bad old days? ... That's why you can't read and write then!" To parents during a visit to Fir Vale Comprehensive School in Sheffield, which had suffered poor academic reputation.

43. "Ah you're the one who wrote the letter. So you can write then? Ha, ha! Well done." Meeting 14-year old George Barlow, whose invited to the Queen to visit Romford, Essex, in 2003.

44. "So who's on drugs here?... HE looks as if he's on drugs." To a 14-year-old member of a Bangladeshi youth club in 2002.

45. "You could do with losing a little bit of weight." To hopeful astronaut, 13-year-old Andrew Adams.

46. "You have mosquitoes. I have the Press." To the matron of a hospital in the Caribbean in 1966.

47. "The man who invented the red carpet needed his head examined." While hosts made effort to greet a state visit to Brazil, 1968.

48. "During the Blitz a lot of shops had their windows blown in and sometimes they put up notices saying, 'More open than usual.' I now declare this place more open than usual." Unveiling a plaque at the University of Hertfordshire's new Hatfield campus in November 2003.

49 . Philip: "Who are you?"

Simon Kelner: "I'm the editor-in-chief of The Independent, Sir."

Philip: "What are you doing here?"

Kelner: "You invited me."

Philip: "Well, you didn't have to come!"

An exchange at a press reception to mark the Golden Jubilee in 2002.

50. "No, I would probably end up spitting it out over everybody." Prince Philip declines the offer of some fish from Rick Stein's seafood deli in 2000.

51. "Any bloody fool can lay a wreath at the thingamy." Discussing his role in an interview with Jeremy Paxman.

52. "Holidays are curious things, aren't they? You send children to school to get them out of your hair. Then they come back and make life difficult for parents. That is why holidays are set so they are just about the limit of your endurance." At the opening of a school in 2000.

53. "People think there's a rigid class system here, but dukes have even been known to marry chorus girls. Some have even married Americans." In 2000.

54. "Can you tell the difference between them?" On being told by President Obama that he'd had breakfast with the leaders of the UK, China and Russia.

55. "I don't know how they are going to integrate in places like Glasgow and Sheffield." After meeting students from Brunei coming to Britain to study in 1998.

56. "Do people trip over you?" Meeting a wheelchair-bound nursing-home resident in 2002.

57. "That's a nice tie... Do you have any knickers in that material?" Discussing the tartan designed for the Papal visit with then-Scottish Tory leader Annabel Goldie last year.

58. "I have never been noticeably reticent about talking on subjects about which I know nothing." Addressing a group of industrialists in 1961.

59. "It's not a very big one, but at least it's dead and it took an awful lot of killing!" Speaking about a crocodile he shot in Gambia in 1957.

60. "Well, you didn't design your beard too well, did you? You really must try better with your beard." To a young fashion designer at a Buckingham Palace in 2009.

61. "So you're responsible for the kind of crap Channel Four produces!" Speaking to then chairman of the channel, Michael Bishop, in 1962.

62. "Dontopedalogy is the science of opening your mouth and putting your foot in it, a science which I have practiced for a good many years." Address to the General Dental Council, quoted in Time in 1960.

63. "Tolerance is the one essential ingredient ... You can take it from me that the Queen has the quality of tolerance in abundance." Advice for a successful marriage in 1997.

64. "I never see any home cooking – all I get is fancy stuff." Commiserating about the standard of Buckingham Palace cuisine in 1962.

65. "I suppose I would get in a lot of trouble if I were to melt them down." On being shown Nottingham Forest FC's trophy collection in 1999.

66. "It makes you all look like Dracula's daughters!" To pupils at Queen Anne's School in Reading, who wear blood-red uniforms, in 1998.

67. "I don't think a prostitute is more moral than a wife, but they are doing the same thing." Dismissing claims that those who sell slaughtered meat have greater moral authority than those who participate in blood sports, in 1988.

68. "Ah, so this is feminist corner then." Joining a group of female Labour MPs, who were wearing name badges reading "Ms", at a Buckingham Palace drinks party in 2000.

69. "Cats kill far more birds than men. Why don't you have a slogan: 'Kill a cat and save a bird?'" On being told of a project to protect turtle doves in Anguilla in 1965.

70. "All money nowadays seems to be produced with a natural homing instinct for the Treasury." Bemoaning the rate of British tax in 1963.

71. "It is my invariable custom to say something flattering to begin with so that I shall be excused if by any chance I put my foot in it later on." Full marks for honesty, from a speech in 1956.

72. "Why don't you go and live in a hostel to save cash?" Asked of a penniless student.

73. "In education, if in nothing else, the Scotsman knows what is best for him. Indeed, only a Scotsman can really survive a Scottish education." Said when he was made Chancellor of Edinburgh University in November 1953.

74. "If it doesn't fart or eat hay, she isn't interested." Of his daughter, Princess Anne.

75. "They're not mating are they?" Spotting two robots bumping in to one another at the Science Museum in 2000.

76. "I must be in the only person in Britain glad to see the back of that plane." Philip did not approve of the noise Concorde made while flying over the Buckingham Palace.

77. "The only active sport, which I follow, is polo – and most of the work's done by the pony!" 1965

78. "It looks like a tart's bedroom." On seeing plans for the Duke and then Duchess of York's house at Sunninghill Park.

79. "Reichskanzler." Prince Philip used Hitler's title to address German chancellor Helmut Kohl during a speech in Hanover in 1997.

80. "We go into the red next year... I shall probably have to give up polo." Comment on US television in 1969 about the Royal Family's finances.

81. "Bugger the table plan, give me my dinner!" Showing his impatience to be fed at a dinner party in 2004.

82. "I thought it was against the law these days for a woman to solicit." Said to a woman solicitor.

83. "You're just a silly little Whitehall twit: you don't trust me and I don't trust you." Said to Sir Rennie Maudslay, Keeper of the Privy Purse, in the 1970s.

84. "What about Tom Jones? He's made a million and he's a bloody awful singer." Response to a comment at a small-business lunch about how difficult it is in Britain to get rich.

85. "This could only happen in a technical college." On getting stuck in a lift between two floors at the Heriot Watt University, 1958.

86. "I'd much rather have stayed in the Navy, frankly." When asked what he felt about his life in 1992.

87. "It looks like the kind of thing my daughter would bring back from her school art lessons" On being shown "primitive" Ethiopian art in 1965.

88. "You're not wearing mink knickers, are you?" Philip charms fashion writer Serena French at a World Wildlife Fund gathering in 1993.

89. "My son...er...owns them." On being asked on a Canadian tour whether he knew the Scilly Isles.

90. "Well, that's more than you know about anything else then." Speaking, a touch condescendingly, to Michael Buerk, after being told by the BBC newsreader that he did know about the Duke of Edinburgh's Gold Awards in 2004.

#uk #united kingdom #royal #royals #prince philip #queen elizabeth #meghan markle #prince harry #corruption #racism #sexism #monarchy #seriously #what planet do you live on

[a-jumped-up-pantry-boy]

Please excuse this thing, I decided that I should write something while running low on sleep and high on caffeine, and this was the substandard result: Remus and Sirius being Library Boys (because I like books and why not) in a few thousand words. (Also @onlydreamofmysoul kind of inspired this because your dedication with ficmas made me want to write, so I’m blaming you for this disaster) His tea is far too hot, but he gulps down mouthfuls anyway, knowing he’ll need the sugar to have even the smallest chance of actually staying awake during his library shift tonight; the night shifts are his favourite, because he’s usually free to just stack books without being interrupted, but on nights like this, he can barely stay awake. Inputting yet another barcode into the aging computer, a repetitive task that needs no brain power whatsoever, he internally groans when someone walks over to the desk. 

“Hi, I’m wondering if you can find me the worst book in here?” Remus doesn’t startle at the request, doesn’t even lift his eyes from the list he’s reading. 

“My autobiography might fill that category for you. It’s called “Why My Parents Should Have Left Me By A Motorway”, and it - oh. Fuck.” It’s only then that he remembers that people can hear what he says, and that most of his internal monologue shouldn’t be heard by other people. 

“And on what shelf would I find that book?” The guy is smiling, thank God, and Remus is sure he recognises him from a class. Probably a language, he thinks. The man opposite him definitely seems like a language kind of guy. He also seems like a very, very attractive kind of guy, but that’s neither here nor there. 

“Actually, it’s still in publication - there’s still more stuff they can add to the book, you know, since my life keeps getting worse - but maybe you’d like a classic instead?” 

“I read enough classics as it is, but maybe-” It’s at this moment Lily, who’s at the end of her shift and is putting her mug back in the sink, walks by and decides to get involved. 

“Just so you know, children’s abridged versions don’t count as reading classics. Not when you’re in your twenties,” she says, grinning far too energetically for midnight. 

“Fuck off, Evans. I just want a really shit book. We’re talking My Immortal kind of shit, but published.” Remus wonders where Lily knows the guy from, and then remembers her once telling him about a strange, yet endearing, man who was obsessed with her and his best friend, and presumes the man opposite him is one of the two. 

“I’m not sure books like that generally get published, and if they do we probably don’t have them here.” Remus stares curiously at him, taking in the messy, yet somehow still perfect, hair and the tattoo - because of course he has a tattoo, all hot guys have tattoos, it seems - peeking out from the back of his shirt. “What do you want with the worst written book anyway?” 

“I’m glad you asked.” He waves his arm, gesturing to the library, and sinks into one of the chairs. “I’m doing an experiment. Both my brothers are literature nerds, and they’re becoming too poncy for me. So I’m gonna really hype this book up, make it look like everyone loves it, and then give them a shit - really, really shit - book, and see what they say.”

“Too poncy? I can practically smell the wealth coming off you, and yet you’re not poncy?” Remus sometimes thinks that maybe he should consider the things he says, and now is one of the times he regrets not being slightly more sensitive. Or, like, polite. The stranger looks shocked for a second, then smirks and hoists himself off the chair.

“That’s fair. But, they both study Classics, so they’re automatically poncier than me.” Lily walks past again as the man speaks, and stops to glare at him. 

“Are you calling me poncy? I had to work day and night to be accepted here, and I didn’t have a family name getting me in, and there was no using money to-”

“Lils,” Remus says, interrupting her before she can go on a well intentioned, but unnecessary, tirade. “He’s talking about his brothers. Don’t worry, nobody’s accusing you of swimming in bribery-money.”

“Bribery money? Is that a thing?” The man goes to take a square of Remus’ chocolate, and he all but slaps his hand away. 

“You tell us. You’re the one with all the insider knowledge of ponces and Tories.”

“Okay, I can excuse being called poncy, but a Tory? That’s too far, even for me.” Remus has the decency to pretend to be sorry, even though he’s one step away from crying with laughter; a man who sounds like he wouldn’t be out of place at Buckingham Palace, getting offended at being associated with Tories. Luckily, he doesn’t have to pretend to be remorseful for long, because Lily lets out a burst of laughter before he can apologise. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you came out wearing a blue pin button and cheering on Margaret Thatcher. You might not be a Tory, but don’t try and tell us your family has been voting Labour for years. You can’t blame us for assumptions.”

“Actually, I came out wearing a rainbow pin, not a blue one. But, I guess I get it. The majority of ponces here are Tories.” Remus feels his heart speed up - if he said that to Lily, she’d definitely start making notes to check he wasn’t having a heart attack, the dramatic woman - at the mention of the man’s gayness. He could have a chance. A small chance, admittedly, but a chance. Lily finally decides to leave, and Remus waves her goodbye as he leads the man down a pathway of bookshelves, on the hunt for the worst book ever published. 

“So, what’s your name? And what’re you studying, if not Classics?” Remus asks, inspecting the shelves for something, anything that hints at a terrible book. 

“Erm, don’t laugh, but my name’s Sirius. And I’m studying Philosophy and Modern Languages.” Remus looks up from the bookshelf, not even trying not to giggle. 

“Sirius? But no, you’re not poncy at all. I’m kidding, I’m kidding. So, modern languages? That’s where I recognise you from.”

“Recognise me? Have you been stalking the University buildings, searching for my pretty face?” 

“No, you dolt, we take several classes together. I’m doing English and Modern Languages, hence the sharing of classes.” 

“Oh, we take basically the same degree then.”

“We definitely don’t. I’d never be caught dead taking philosophy - I hate my life already, and now I’ve got to come up with bullshit theories of why?” Sirius - Remus can’t get over the name, even though his is equally as ridiculous - opens his mouth, about to protest, and then closes it again. 

“Actually, that basically is what we do. How come you’re making me evaluate all my life choices in the span of five minutes?” 

“I don’t know, maybe you should consult a philosopher to find out why. That’s what they do, right?” Although his tone is meant to be teasing, the same kind of jokes he makes with Lily, instead it comes out as flirting, though he can’t imagine Sirius minds much, because he’s smirking at him and looking like he wants to kiss him. 

“Take that back, and say my degree is perfectly valid.” Sirius takes a small step towards him, and he doesn’t step back, instead looking him square in the eye and raising his eyebrows. 

“Make me, philosophy boy.” He takes another step towards him, and Remus is certain he could feel Sirius’ heartbeat against his chest, if he tried hard enough to sense it. Instead he winks, and says, “Or don’t, and go ask why you’re searching for validation from some random boy you met in the library fifteen minutes ago.”

“In my defence, the library boy is incredibly hot.” They’re touching all over now, chest to chest, their noses rubbing against each other. Remus’ back hits the bookshelf as their mouths crash together, and he hears the distinct noise of books falling to the floor. Later on, when he’s restacking all the books, he’ll regret snogging someone right up against the bookshelf, but right now he runs his hand through Sirius’ hair and smiles against his mouth. He likes the night shift even more now. 

#wolfstar #library #my book obsession is shining through #i'm sorry that this monstrosity had to cross your screens #I'm seeking validation I probably don't deserve lol

[twokinkybeans]

COLD COFFEE - WINTERIRONSPIDER VAMPIRE!AU

Summary: “How good could one person really-” Tony freezes, eyes wide, nose twitching. Time seems to stop for a moment and it’s only when he spots Bucky’s grin from the corner of his eyes that he finishes his sentence. “-smell.” It’s exquisite. Intense. The only thing clawing at Tony’s mind right now is the need to know where the source is. His mouth salivates and his canines ache to push out. He doesn’t know how much time passes, but eventually, Bucky speaks. “That’s him.” “I figured,” Tony replies through gritted teeth. He turns his head to look at Bucky with his jaw tightened. “Why would you want to share him?” Tony scoffs. “You could’ve had this all to yourself.” A wide smile spreads on Bucky’s face and it’s only now that Tony realizes that the tables have turned. The power has been shifted. Bucky unhooks his arm from Tony’s and cups the man’s face. “Oh, Tony,” he sighs. The look in his icy blue eyes is resolute. “I want to keep him.” 

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Notes: Hi everyone! I've been working on this one shot since MAY! At a whopping 24890 words, it’s the longest one shot I’ve ever written on my own! It's also probably my favourite fic I have /ever/ written because it's the most self indulgent one and I had to take breaks in between writing cause it was too much omg. Half of this one shot is plot. The other half is smut. Good luck! I'm actually quite anxious sharing this, since it's so personal to me. I hope you all enjoy! <3

-Lien

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Warnings: Adult!Peter Parker, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Consensual Mind Control, Vampire!AU, Slight Dubcon at first but it’s Consensual Sex, NSFW, Smut/Fluff/Angst, Vampire!Bucky, Vampire!Tony, Human!Peter, Poor Peter, Dream Sex, Masturbation, Shower Masturbation, Anal Sex, Shower Sex, Oral, Dirty Talk, Morally Grey Characters, Rough Sex, BDSM, Master/Slave

Read Cold Coffee on AO3!

Or on Wattpad!

Peter Benjamin Parker The dog area in Central Park is the only place where Peter gets to unwind after a long day of doing unsatisfying labour in a commercial bakery. His alarm went at three this morning and with the other job he has lined up for tonight, he’s fairly sure he won’t see his bed until that exact same time, twenty-four hours later. He’s used to it at this point. His weekends simply look like this. Bakery work during the week and extra waiting jobs at events on Friday and Saturday night. Sleep all Sunday and start the grind again on Monday morning, three AM.  Since the dog area is right next to the bakery, he usually spends about half an hour there after work, just to relax for a bit. Get his smile back on his face. And though he would love to go straight home to crash and nap before tonight’s gala, he wants to give some well-deserving furry friends some pats. Right when he decides he wants to go home to get his needed between-sleep, someone screams. “MY DOG!” Peter looks up, only to see a large Dobermann jump the fence and make a break for it. Before Peter could put his thoughts in one line, he’s already on his feet, leaping over the fence himself and initiating the chase to help the owner get their dog back.  The dog is fast. Faster than Peter’s legs can go. His lungs ache in his chest and his reaching is pointless. He’ll never catch this dog. As a last resort, he shouts at the people in front of the four-legged rocket.  “Somebody, please, stop that dog!” Most people ignore Peter, as is to be expected. It’s still New York. One man, however, turns. He’s in the middle of the path and the dog is headed straight for him. His half long, brown hair is tucked neatly behind his ears and he’s wearing a long, stylish, wool trench coat and leather gloves. His eyebrows raise and the coffee he holds is quickly discarded; dropped on the ground and spilling everywhere, as he braces himself for the coming impact.  The Dobermann tries to swiftly evade the man. Peter blinks once and suddenly, the dog is stuck between the man’s arms, his grip tight. The dog yelps and struggles, baring his teeth with a growl. Peter slows down his pace slightly, the exhausted muscles in his body grateful that he can stop sprinting. The man flicks his head, the hair behind his ear now covering his face and soon after, the dog’s tail shoots between its legs, its growls turning into soft whines. When Peter’s close enough, his jog turns into a walk. “Thank you so much,” he exclaims through his panting. The man turns his head up to look at Peter and something seems to flash over his face for a split second. It’s a strange expression Peter’s never seen before and a strange tingle settles in his body. The unreadable look soon turns into a kind smile. The man’s grin is wide and white, with defined canine teeth. He has a short beard, well taken care of, and the bluest eyes. “This yours?” He asks as he slowly pets the dog, who’s gone strangely quiet. He stands up and hands the leash to Peter, who doesn’t notice the man’s touch lingering. He’s too caught up in the adrenaline of the chase, his heart still beating fast, pumping his blood through his body at a rapid pace in order to keep up with the sudden need for fuel. His stomach screams, having been empty so long. He shouldn’t have chased this dog, he didn’t have the energy for it. Yet he did. Simply because it’s the right thing to do. “No-” Peter scoffs a laugh, shaking his head and clenching the leash in one hand. “Well, I, eh-” He frowns, pointing back towards the dog area with both thumbs, trying to figure out how to explain the situation in as few words as possible. “Tori!” A woman shouts. She approaches the two men and the dog quickly, and lets out an exasperated, loud sigh. “Thank, God! You caught him- Thank you, boy!” Peter turns with an apologetic look on his face to tell the woman it was actually the other man who caught the dog, but he speaks first. “It was a spectacular catch, ma’am. He’s quite athletic.” “But-” “Ooh, thank you, thank you!” The woman wraps her arms around Peter, who tenses up and stares at the man wide-eyed, lips pressed on top of each other. When she finally lets go of Peter, she takes the leash out of his hand. “Have a wonderful day, boy.” “So, that’s it?” The man scoffs, causing the woman to look at him confused. “You’re just going to take the dog and leave?” “Well, it’s my dog.” “This young man just caught your dog for you. And all you say is thank you. Don’t you think he deserves a reward?” “Excuse you?” The lady straightens her back, her posture turning defensive. “It’s okay, sir, please,” Peter turns to the man with a pleading look in his eye and, once again, before he can think about what he’s doing, he rests his hand on the man’s upper arm. A shiver shoots through Peter’s entire being as he stares at the intense expression on the man’s face. Their gazes are locked and Peter’s thoughts cloud momentarily. Time seems to halt and the man speaks under his breath. “Let go.” Peter blinks a few times and it takes a second before he realizes he has pulled his arm back in. His thumb caresses his fingers on the same hand, the feeling of the man’s wool coat still lingering on the tips. The humming background noise of New York City fills Peter’s ears again and part of him wonders what happened. When he completely returns to earth, he turns, only to find the woman and the Dobermann gone. He frowns. When did she leave? Weren’t they in the middle of something? And where’s- Peter shivers when there’s a sudden cool breath tickling the back of his neck. He pivots quickly and has to tilt his head to look into a pair of icy blue eyes. The man smiles kindly and Peter subconsciously mirrors him; the corners of his mouth curling up to match the man’s expression. The strange, floaty feeling returns slightly. Something in the back of Peter’s head tells him he should be scared. But he’s not. It feels… Kind of good. “Are you okay?” The man asks. Peter’s eyes flutter and he takes a slow breath. “Y-yeah?” His voice is shaky. Soft. He doesn’t know why, but he can’t look away from the man’s eyes.  “What’s your name?” “Peter.” His reply is nothing more than a whisper. “Pretty Peter,” the man mumbles. “I think it’s better if you go home. There are a lot of predators out there.” If Peter really cared, he would wonder why this stranger is saying these things to him. But he doesn’t. In fact; he couldn’t care less. The eyes are too mesmerising. The man frowns and once again, Peter mirrors the expression. “Forget the last five minutes.” The man suddenly clears his throat and takes a step back. Peter snaps out of whatever he was in and he takes a breath of fresh air, head tilting down to look at the asphalt path below him to ground himself. He turns, only to find the woman and the Dobermann gone. He frowns. When did she leave? Weren’t they in the middle of something? And where’s- wait… Déjà vu? “Peter,” the man says. Peter looks at the man and smiles brightly. Right, he was here too. The man nods and presses his lips on top of each other. “Name’s James. Call me Bucky.” “Oh! Sir-” Peter steps forward and fiddles with his fingers. “Nice to meet you.” He doesn’t remember telling the man- Bucky- his name, but he doesn’t question it. A realization hits him and he shifts to look at the spilled coffee on the path. “Ah- your coffee-” “-Was already cold.” Peter scoffs. “That’s not the point, though.” He walks away from Bucky and bends down to pick up the empty cup. “I made you drop it. I owe you one.” Surprise flashes over Bucky’s face and Peter shuffles back to him, raising the cup to hold it between their faces. His eyes peek over to look into Bucky’s and he smiles. “I insist.” “Peter-” “Please.” Bucky’s jaw tightens for a second and he sucks in a breath. He then scoffs and shakes his head, closing his eyes and raising his eyebrows. When he looks back up at Peter again, there’s a mischievous sparkle there and Peter’s smile grows wider. “I have some things to take care of right now, but how does three o’clock sound?” Peter nods eagerly, somehow forgetting he’s supposed to be taking a nap. “Perfect!” He’s about to walk away when he realizes he doesn’t know anything but this man’s name. “Meet up again here?”  “Sounds good to me, doll .” A shiver runs down Peter’s spine, but his smile doesn’t falter. When he initially mentioned the coffee, he genuinely meant to pay it back, but now… It kind of feels like a date. “See you at three?” Peter skips once as he walks away in the direction of his apartment. Bucky nods and licks his lips. “Three.” James Buchanan Barnes Let go. He’d said. Let go. He didn’t want Peter to let go of him. He didn’t even want to let the boy walk away. But he did. He did, and he hates himself for it. He’s never this flustered around humans. He’s always focussed, confident and in control. Yet, the second he caught a whiff of Peter’s scent Bucky knew he was a goner. Knew he had to have him. Never in his afterlife had he ever smelled, seen, sensed someone as utterly captivating as Peter. Everything about the boy screamed at Bucky to split him in two on his cock and suck his veins dry until they’d burn. The last conscious thing Peter would do, is have the most intense orgasm he’s ever had and then his lifeless body would slump against Bucky’s chest. The man would hold him until he grows cold and… and… No. Bucky doesn’t want him to die. Wait. What? His feral urges want him to do everything he would usually do to his prey, except for the killing, which was odd since his entire existence is based on just that. The pick, the hunt, the seduction, the sucking, the sex… Always followed by death. Though, this time it’s different. Peter is different. Bucky is certain he’d go insane if that invigorating smell would be gone forever.  Maybe that’s why he let him go. Peter’s too precious to kill. Too… delicious. God, he must be delicious. Bucky can only imagine what he tastes like and he wonders why he didn’t steal a sip when the boy let go for him. He’s absolutely starving, given that he didn’t hunt yesterday because he was simply too lazy to. Oh, the regrets. Obviously , Bucky wanted Peter to just let go of his arm, yet the boy’s subconscious took it a step further.  “Let go,” Bucky had said. But instead of just uncurling his fingers from Bucky’s arm, Peter immediately slipped into pure submission. He let go of himself . The look on his face was everything to Bucky and his cock twitches at the mere idea of seeing it again. He still doesn’t understand why he didn’t just take Peter home. The boy obviously needs a good fuck, based on his response to the compulsion, and Bucky knows he is a good fuck. They would both get what they desire so much.  But no. Part of him wants to see how far he can take this. Would he even need to manipulate the boy’s mind, or is a smirk and a wink enough for Peter to fall to his knees? Probably. He looked so pretty, though. Jaw slacked, deep brown eyes glazed over as his mind turned off and his body turned on, listening to Bucky’s every word as he was told to wait until Bucky’d gotten rid of the ungrateful witch and her pathetic goblin of a dog. He could watch Peter float inside himself for hours. Who knows, he might even do that at some point. For now, though, he watches how Peter quickly jumps out of the subway train, evading other people who try to catch it before the doors close. Bucky keeps his distance, but he sticks close enough to keep Peter’s intoxicating scent in his nose. He stalks, enjoying how Peter sometimes looks back with a frown, looking for the source that makes him feel like he’s being watched. The boy knows he’s being followed and Bucky relishes in that part of the hunt. The uneasiness that the prey feels. Followed by the fear of the confrontation, which soon turns to immeasurable pleasure and then- no. No death. Not with Peter. After a short walk, Peter cuts into an alleyway. Bucky frowns and holds back for a bit, not wanting Peter to turn around on him in the alley. He takes the pause to have a look around, now his eyes are no longer strained on the frail, small body of his prey. They’re quite a bit away from the city center and the neighborhood is… Not great. Something about that irks Bucky. Why would a sweet, soft boy like Peter live in a place like this? When Bucky cuts the corner to follow him further, a door closes. Peter went inside one of the buildings. Bucky closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in through his nose. He’s slightly startled when the smell suddenly grows more intense and he looks up to where it’s coming from. A small window opened. Bucky smiles. There he is. Bucky crosses the street, quietly joking that he’s doing it to get to the other side, and swiftly climbs the building. He settles on the roof, hiding behind the heightened ledge and stares intently at Peter, who checks his phone at the opened window. Bucky suppresses the urge to quote Romeo and Juliet and flares his nostrils. His eyes roll back when the sweet, sweet scent of Peter fills his lungs. He studies Peter from afar. The boy is talking to himself, which has Bucky wondering if he’s lonely. He’s alone, that’s for sure. Peter grabs a tin can and sits down on his bed next to the window. Bucky frowns when Peter tips the can, a few dollars and a couple of pennies fall out of it. Peter bends down to put the can on the floor, for a lack of table in his little studio, and picks up the bills and coins to count. Bucky’s barely beating heart squeezes. The kid’s poor. Very poor. And now he’s counting this week’s cash in the hopes of having enough to buy Bucky a coffee. An expensive, useless, New York coffee. One he’d let go cold, just like all his other beverages. When Peter has gathered all the money, opting to just put all of the tin can’s contents in his bag as it’s only just enough for one overpriced coffee anyways, he flops down flat on his bed. “Thirty minutes…” Bucky can hear him mumble as he sets an alarm. Somehow Bucky hoped Peter would use those thirty minutes to play with his dick, but no. Peter closes his eyes, face relaxing almost immediately as he drops into a dreamless sleep. For now. Bucky shifts so he can see Peter more clearly and he can’t help but be amazed at how quickly Peter’s breathing steadied. He must’ve been exhausted. Bucky wonders when Peter had enjoyed himself last. Not sexually. Just generally. He smiled at Bucky, sure, but that was after Bucky turned off his brain for a minute or two. He’d chased a dog for some hag who didn’t actually put in the energy to catch her own pet, can barely scrape together ten dollars for a cold coffee for someone who doesn’t even deserve it and needs a nap in the middle of the day. Nobody his age should need to take a nap in the middle of the day. Worries must be clouding his mind so much that even the smallest suggestion to free himself from his anxious thoughts is enough to snap his willpower in half. A strong sense of pity urges Bucky to glance around the street to check if anybody would see him. When he confirms the coast is clear, it only takes him a second to jump over the road, get inside, and crouch down besides Peter’s bed. The smell is absolutely overwhelming. The entire room is drenched in the boy’s perfume and Bucky opens his mouth to taste it on his tongue. He glides it past his teeth and licks his lips before turning his attention to Peter. His jaw is slacked again, but his face is not as relaxed as it was when Bucky had complete control over him. Every fiber in Bucky’s body wants him to touch Peter’s face. Trace the lines of his veins from his neck down to his wrist. But he doesn’t. If the boy needs sleep, he needs sleep. That doesn’t mean Bucky won’t help him have the best thirty minute nap Peter has ever had.  Bucky inches closer, practicing the most self restraint he’s ever had to do, fighting his urges to sink his teeth into Peter’s exposed neck. He opens his mouth and releases a cold breath on Peter’s face. The boy’s eyebrow twitches. Bucky grins when his little magic starts doing its work. Peter relaxes even further and sighs. The corners of his mouth curl up and Bucky wants to kiss them. Press his cold lips against Peter’s warm smile. He holds back though, and closes his own eyes to guide Peter through his dream. Peter Benjamin Parker Peter opens his eyes, quietly frustrated that he can’t sleep. He doesn’t want to sleep. All he can think of is the strange man he met. How relaxed he made him feel. How nice. Bucky . There’s a tingling feeling in Peter’s abdomen and he licks his lips, taking a shaky breath. It doesn’t take him long to decide what to do in that half hour, knowing he won’t be able to sleep anyways. He takes off his pants, discarding them to the side, and puts his pillow against the wall. He rests his head against it, sitting slightly more upright so he can open his laptop. He puts in his password and opens his browser in incognito mode. With one hand, he scrolls through what Pornhub has to offer, while palming his dick through his underwear with the other. It’s already half-hard and Peter whimpers quietly when his thumb brushes over the clothed head. His eyes roll back and flutter shut as he squeezes the shaft, stifling a moan.  “Don’t hold back…” a voice says quietly. Peter’s mouth opens wide to let out the sound he was suppressing. He doesn’t recall hitting play on any porn, but he doesn’t really care. Whatever video he clicked on, the audio of it went straight to his cock. He keeps his eyes closed, continuing to palm himself. His hips start rolling slowly. Rhythmically. He’s only half-aware it’s at the same pace as his heartbeat, thumping through his dick. “You look so pretty when you enjoy yourself,” the voice whispers. It’s close, which Peter doesn’t really get. His laptop is next to his hip, how is he hearing the man speak right next to his ear? The man. Peter’s body twitches when he realizes he’s hearing Bucky. Bucky is saying all these sweet things to him. Bucky. “Does that feel good?” Bucky asks softly and Peter can’t help but nod, face contorting with pleasure. Because it does; it feels amazing. “Mmm…” Bucky’s hum vibrates through Peter’s body and he automatically squeezes his dick a little tighter. His free hand moves up to pinch his nipple. Suddenly, two cold hands pull down Peter’s underwear. One feels like skin, yet the other… Is that metal? The boy’s hips buck up involuntarily. “P-please,” he whispers. He’s unable to open his eyes and the situation has him thoroughly confused. How could his imagination seem so real? So vivid. It feels so good. “ Oh ,” Bucky exclaims quietly. Teasingly. “You beg so nicely.” Peter jolts when cold fingers curl around his shaft. His own hand immediately loses tension and falls onto the mattress. He didn’t even need to be asked. He wants to give in. So bad. Suddenly, soft lips press against his slacked jaw. Peter raises the hand that was playing with his nipple to cup the face of whoever’s kissing him, but there’s nothing there. Right. This is his imagination. He’s getting off to the idea of Bucky jerking him off. The man’s not actually here. "Beg some more, would you?” Bucky whispers and Peter’s muscles tense when the man starts pumping slowly. Both of Peter’s hands are helplessly laying next to him. He couldn’t even move them if he tried. Peter gasps under the attention and bucks his hips up into the tight grip of his imagination. How could something that’s not actually there, feel so real? “Please, feels so good, please- don’t stop-” His fists grasp at the sheets and he writhes on his mattress. “Not planning to, doll .” Peter could hear the grin in Bucky’s voice. “ Relax for me …” Bucky teases Peter’s ear with his deep voice, leaving kitten licks on the shell between his sentences. Peter’s body grows heavier and heavier with each stroke of Bucky’s hand. “ Let me take all your worries away …” Bucky increases the speed of his pumps and Peter moans obscenely. There’s a soft chuckle next to Peter, but he can’t open his eyes. He just can’t. Not when Bucky’s hands and kisses caress his body. Not when Bucky’s voice is like heavy honey, keeping him in place. “Do you want that?” Bucky asks softly. Peter has already half forgotten what Bucky is referencing to. All he knows is that his answer is the truth. “Yes- yes, please, take it. Take it all.” Bucky’s hand goes even faster, making Peter’s cock spurt precum onto his stomach. The man twists his wrist expertly as he pumps, pressing his thumb into the tip each time he reaches it. Peter’s a sweaty mess. His toes curl with every thrust he makes in the hopes of gaining even more friction. “ Such a good boy ,” Bucky whispers. His wandering mouth reaches Peter’s neck and leaves an open, wet kiss, suckling at the skin. After less than a minute of mercilessly squeezing Peter’s throbbing shaft, the room smells of sex. Peter knows his neighbors could hear him. But he doesn’t care. Wants to give all his worries to Bucky. The man’s voice orders: “ Open your eyes .” Peter does so and is immediately captivated by the stunning blue irises right in front of him. Is… Is this real? Is he not imagining this? Bucky smirks and Peter lets out a sob. He’s close. So close. Bucky’s words and actions have turned Peter into a desperate, wailing mess. “That’s it, Peter… Give yourself to me. Let go. ” Peter’s eyes shoot wide open at his alarm. He bolts to sit upright, chest heaving, and he looks down at the damp patch in his pants. He was right at the edge and he’s certain he would’ve come if that horrible alarm didn’t snap him out of it. It takes him a minute to let the adrenaline of the edge fade away. He considers getting off quickly. Just pull out his dick and hump into his hand until he explodes onto his sheets. But he can’t. He’s already late. He kicks his pants and underpants off and tosses them into the corner. His throbbing cock bounces against his abdomen as he hops into a new pair of underwear. He’s so horny it hurts . That dream was strangely intense. It felt so real. But it wasn’t. Bucky wasn’t here. Bucky’s at Central Park, waiting for Peter to show up. Peter hopes that next time he gets to get off, he’ll be able to dream like that again. He’s not even sure if he can look Bucky in the eye after this. For now, though, he considers excusing himself to go to the bathroom once he and Bucky get to the coffee shop. At least he won’t be too late then and he can still rub his painful erection away. He puts on his shoes and grabs his bag - double checking if he put in the twelve dollars and 70 pence he had left - before grabbing his phone and shutting the door behind him to rush to the subway. James Buchanan Barnes Bucky pushes up his sleeve to look at the time on his Rolex. As if he didn’t arrive a minute before Peter did and he had been standing in their established meeting spot for over ten minutes. He’s the reason Peter’s late. Not that he minds. Everything about Peter was absolute heaven in that little bedroom. Bucky hadn’t laid a finger on him. He just watched the boy as his body responded to the images Bucky put in Peter’s head. The only word Bucky could use to describe his new obsession is… Delicious . He looks delicious, he sounds delicious, he smells delicious and Bucky is sure that Peter would taste delicious too. For some reason Bucky still denies himself that pleasure. The number of opportunities he’s had to sink his teeth into Peter’s skin is laughable at this point. Other creatures like him would even be embarrassed. Bucky isn’t, though. Everything about Peter is too good to spoil. And so, he waits. He’s not entirely sure what for, but he waits nonetheless. “Bucky!” The man pulls down his sleeve again and looks up at his boy with a smile. His eye twitches once. Peter is his boy. Peter jogs, slightly out of stamina, cheeks rosy, hair tousled and clothes slightly disheveled. “Peter,” Bucky says quickly. Politely. “I was wondering where you were.” “I- eh,” Peter stammers and he stops right in front of Bucky, scratching the back of his head. “I have no good excuse, I’m sorry.” “Oh?” Bucky cocks an eyebrow playfully and smirks. “Now I’m curious.” Peter gulps and the red flush on his cheeks extends to his ears. Cute. Bucky thinks. “It’s nothing special-” Peter tries. “I just took a nap.” Bucky presses his lips on top of each other in a smile. He glances at the path ahead of them and nods in that direction. Peter follows Bucky’s gaze and returns the smile slightly before taking the first step, initiating a walk through the park. “I can’t help but notice the change of pants.” Bucky clears his throat and he can feel Peter’s muscles tense again. “And the lack of a coat. In November.” “I spilled in- on! On my jeans.” Peter slaps his forehead, but attempts to hide the gesture by pushing his fingers through his hair. “Coffee!” He yelps. “Yes, coffee.” A terrible excuse that makes absolutely zero sense. Cute. Bucky thinks. Again. “Alright, doll .” Bucky smirks, baring his teeth and Peter sucks in a breath. Bucky knows Peter’s alibi isn’t solid, but Bucky won’t pry further. He knows what’s up. Bucky doesn’t even have to look at Peter’s crotch to know that it’s still up. “And I assume the lack of coat is because you were late?” “I’m not cold if that’s what you’re asking.” Peter immediately contradicts his words by hugging his bare arms. The nerdy T-shirt is obviously not enough. Bucky scoffs to himself, taking off his leather gloves and only half ignoring Peter’s stare resting on his metal hand. Right, the boy had only seen the prosthetic in his dream, not in real life. This must be quite the mindfuck for him. Bucky puts the gloves in the pockets of his coat. He can’t believe he’s doing this.  One by one he opens the buttons of his sleek, wool trench coat and shakes it off his broad shoulders, revealing his grey three piece suit. Peter immediately stops in his tracks and raises his hands in front of him. “No, no, it’s okay!” Peter looks at Bucky’s fingers curled around the fabric. “It’s my own fault for forgetting.” When he tilts his head up to look Bucky in the eye, Bucky grasps him with his stare. “ Hold still. ” Peter’s frozen in place as Bucky walks around him, placing his coat over Peter’s shoulders. Bucky squeezes Peter’s upper arms as he leans over his shoulder. “Don’t want you to catch a cold.” “Cold…?” Bucky swears inwardly at Peter’s whisper. The coat should’ve been warm. It’s not. Cause he’s not. Bucky quickly hooks his arm into Peter’s and continues their walk, hoping Peter won’t ask any questions about it. However, when he realizes how close Peter is to him, his brain stutters. Just like when he was in Peter’s room, the smell is overwhelming and he now knows his growing thirst is certainly insatiable. How could he ever get enough? Could he stop when he starts? Could- “Are you okay?” Peter’s voice is small, just like his body against Bucky’s. “Yeah.” Bucky sniffs once, a habit he picked up spending time with Tony. Right . He was going to have to tell Tony about Peter. He looks down at the boy, who - in turn - looks back up at him with his big, beautiful brown eyes. A smile creeps onto Bucky’s face at the realization that he gets to share Peter with Tony. If Peter wants to, he reminds himself. Though, with how the boy’s been responding to Bucky, he’s fairly certain Peter would eagerly be dominated by both of them. “Just a little lost in thought, I suppose,” Bucky mumbles. “Something on your mind?” Bucky didn’t expect the honest question and before he can think of a better reply, his mouth has already said the word. “You.” Peter’s eyes widen slightly before he tilts his head to look down at his feet. Bucky guesses it’s to hide his everlasting flushed cheeks. It’s quiet for a few seconds. “You’re on my mind too,” Peter admits. Bucky would’ve laughed if it hadn’t sounded so utterly innocent.  “Hm,” is all he manages to reply. Bucky guides Peter to the exit of the park and nods at the coffee shop across the street. “You up for a cup?” He grins at Peter, who chuckles at the rhyme. “I think I’ll pass, but I still need to get you yours.” Bucky nearly forgot; the boy can only afford one coffee. “Peter.” Bucky’s tone is stern and Peter looks up at him with curled brows, wondering if he did or said something wrong. “I’m paying.” Peter tries to struggle free from Bucky’s grip, but the man won’t let him get away. “What? No! I made you drop your coffee, I’m not gonna make you pay for it, I-” “I’m paying. ” Peter’s lips squeeze on top of each other and before his mind catches up with what’s happening, he nods and lets himself be guided to the shop. . The coffee shop is cosy. Quaint. Bucky had let go of Peter to open the door for him. He quietly stalks behind the boy and can’t help but smile. Though it’s warm, Peter still hugs Bucky’s coat around him. It’s too big on him, which makes him look absolutely adorable. Peter tilts his head up, flaring his nostrils and taking a deep breath in through his nose with his eyes closed.  “Smells so good,” he sighs softly. Bucky stares at him, pretending that Peter’s soft moan didn’t surge through him. He knows Peter was talking about the baked goods, but Bucky can’t really smell anything but Peter. “You do.” “Hm?” Peter opens his eyes to look at Bucky, who clears his throat in an attempt to hide how flustered his own error made him. “It does,” he says quickly. “Apple-cinnamon.” He’s not smelling any of that, but given the time of the year, it’s his best guess. Peter smiles and nods, but Bucky doesn’t miss the expression faltering when Peter turns to look at all the displayed foods on the counter. Oh, no.

“Hungry?” Bucky asks softly, not wanting to make Peter uncomfortable.  “A little,” Peter mumbles. He doesn’t dare to look at Bucky, feeling slightly embarrassed. His eyes are strained on the many cakes and cookies. “When’s the last time you ate?” The question seems to startle Peter and he finally looks at Bucky again. “What, a meal? Or-” “Christ, kid, anything.” Peter shifts his weight back and forth from one foot to the other and fiddles with his fingers. “I mean… I had some popcorn yesterday.” He frowns slightly. “Or was that the day before?” “You’re telling me you don’t remember when you last had anything to eat?” “Please, Bucky, I’m not here to be pitied. Let’s just get the coffee.” Peter wants to step further inside but Bucky’s rough hand turns him by his shoulder and the boy’s knees nearly give in when Bucky makes eye contact. “If you could eat anything. Right now. What would you want?” “What-?” “Answer the question.” “Spaghetti Bolognese.” Bucky’s heart squeezes. The kid could ask for the most elaborate of meals. Buffets with endless options, an all you can eat menu... He could’ve asked for sushi, or Turkish bread. Yet, what he wants most is a basic plate of spaghetti with red sauce. Peter hides his face behind his hands and wiggles free from Bucky’s grasp. “I’m sorry, that’s stupid.” “It’s not.” Bucky frowns. “I just wonder why?” Peter visibly swallows and looks down at his feet. “My aunt always made that for me.” He chuckles, but his eyes betray his sadness. “She’s- she was a terrible cook. She could only make spaghetti.” “And your aunt…?” “Passed away three months ago.” Peter takes a deep breath and clears his throat to collect himself. “Cancer.” “I’m sorry,” Bucky mutters sincerely. “Is there no one you can go to?” Peter purses his lips and shakes his head with a quiet scoff. “Parents died when I was ten. My uncle died when I was fifteen. May was all I’d left.” Peter’s brows curl up into a frown and he turns away from Bucky even further. “I shouldn’t be bothering you with this.” “You’re alone,” Bucky states. The spoken truth seems to sting Peter. “Is that why you wanted to buy me the coffee?” Peter bites his lip. “Maybe. I don’t know.” Bucky stares at Peter for a second, before offering his hand to the boy. “Do you want to go get some spaghetti with me?” He doesn’t know why he wouldn’t compel Peter to just join him, whether the boy wants to or not. Perhaps he wants to see if Peter would take his hand without being urged to. He hopes so. Peter looks at Bucky’s hand, visibly holding back tears. “I can’t afford it.” “I can.” Bucky gives Peter an encouraging smile and he can’t help but feel both surprised and victorious when Peter’s fingers hesitantly curl around his palm. Bucky leads Peter out of the coffee shop they’d just entered and uses his free hand to haul a cab.  “I’ll pay you back,” Peter promises quietly. Bucky scoffs with a smile and lets Peter get into the cab first. “Sure, you will.”  . The cab ride to Bucky’s favourite Italian restaurant was pleasant. They had surprisingly normal conversations, but not out of formality. They discussed interests. Peter’s a nerd. Bucky learned Peter dropped out of MIT to take care of his aunt when she got sick. He doesn’t have the funds to go back there now, as the funeral cut into all his savings. MIT. Peter is smart. Something Bucky is certain Tony will take a liking to. The boy’s into Star Wars and, surprisingly, flowers too. And dogs. Which is why he spends time at the dog park every day. Bucky figures that’s the only thing keeping him sane with everything he’s got going on. Bucky glances at Peter, who gawks at the restaurant building in front of them. He can’t help himself and softly presses the palm of his hand against Peter’s lower back. The boy whimpers, holding more tightly onto Bucky’s coat still wrapped around him. “Like it?” Bucky grins. “Like it?” Peter repeats sarcastically, causing Bucky to laugh. God, if Peter knew what exactly Bucky is capable of- what Bucky is, he’d never have done that. “It’s a little much,” Peter admits, chuckling. “If we go here I probably won’t be able to pay you back within, I dunno, ten years?” “I’m not asking you to pay anything, Peter.” “But I want to.” Peter crosses his arms and looks up at Bucky defiantly. “My uncle always told me that being in debt to someone is the stupidest thing you can do. The only loan you should ever take is your mortgage.” “You were never indebted to me.” Bucky nods. “Solid advice, by the way.” “But your coffee-” “You keep saying that as if I wasn’t the one who tossed it to the side.” Bucky creeps his arm further around Peter’s back, until he’s pressing the boy against him by his waist. Peter doesn’t fight it and for a second Bucky forgets that Peter isn’t under any form of compulsion. He’s letting this happen. Does he want this? Peter ignores Bucky’s comment and, instead, looks back at the restaurant. The sign outside proudly shows that it has a Michelin star. “I don’t fit here- I don’t look the part.” Peter looks down at his worn sneakers and denim jeans. He purposefully skips his T-shirt with a nerdy pun on it. It would only make him feel worse. “They’ll never let me in.” Bucky squeezes into Peter’s side, causing him to yelp softly and look up. The boy immediately freezes when Bucky’s eyes capture his. “Don’t worry. You’re with me.” Bucky’s cock twitches at the sight of Peter’s glazed over eyes. He didn’t expect Peter to reply. His thralls never reply. “I’m with you…” Peter’s lips barely moved when he spoke and Bucky has to suppress the urge to call him a good boy. To help control himself, Bucky looks away from Peter, who blinks a few times as he snaps out of it again. Bucky starts walking up the stairs towards the entrance of the restaurant, his hand still on Peter’s back, and Peter quietly follows Bucky’s pull. . Peter’s an eater. When given the chance to take his fill, he takes. And Bucky relishes in giving Peter what he deserves. Peter’s thoroughly enjoying the pasta and the six sides Bucky ordered for him. Carpaccio, stuffed zucchini, pumpkin gnocchi, stuffed mushrooms, grilled tomatoes with basil leaves and olive oil and – Bucky’s favourite – garlic bread. It should be enough to feed at least two people, but Peter is like a vacuum. Bucky would’ve made a comment about how Peter should take the time to taste the dishes, if Peter wasn’t so vocal after every bite. It’s not enough to disturb the other people at the restaurant – not that it’s busy, it’s not even four o’clock yet – but it’s enough to have Bucky squirm in his seat. The boy moans every time the fork disappears into his mouth, lips wrapped around it, enjoying the explosion of flavour on his tongue that has been denied the pleasures of good cuisine- any cuisine- for so long now. “Are you sure you don’t want anything?” Peter breaks the silence and Bucky realizes he’s been staring at Peter eating for at least ten minutes now. Bucky straightens his back and shakes his head with the corners of his mouth curled up. “I’m alright.” Peter is about to put a piece of garlic bread in his mouth, but he halts halfway up. He cocks an eyebrow and pushes out his arm to give the bite to Bucky. Bucky stares at the piece of bread. Or well, the hand that’s attached to it. And the wrist. The veins. “Peter, I-” “Come on, it’s really good!”  “I know.” Bucky says through gritted teeth. Peter pushes in further, the most innocent smile on his face and Bucky chooses to just hold his breath. It’s no use. If he weren’t already dead, this boy would’ve been the death of him. “One bite?” If only he knew. Bucky’s going to lose control. He knows. But he doesn’t want to. He can’t just run out on Peter. He wants to… He…  He leans in. Slowly. His mouth opens slightly and his canines ache with the need to push out. Bucky’s breath hitches in his throat and he closes his eyes. Maybe if he can’t see Peter, he’ll manage. He realizes doing just that was a big mistake. His lack of vision immediately intensified the smell. The only thing he can do is repeat all the swear words he knows over and over and over again in his mind. Peter is so close. So horrifyingly close, that Bucky can hear his blood pump through his wrist. He opens his mouth further and further and his lip trembles when he feels Peter’s body heat vibrate against his skin. Almost there. Almost. He bites down, the crunching of the bread bringing him back to the present. His eyes open wide and he stares at Peter, who has a curious look on his face. The boy carefully lets go of the bread and pulls his hand back in, leaving the snack to stick half out of Bucky’s mouth. Bucky swiftly brings his own hand up to catch it from falling out and he sits up straight again, ripping the bread to a size he can chew. He can barely believe he was able to hold back. He would never deny that he wanted to stop Peter from pulling back- that he wanted to grab his lower arm and kiss his skin until it turned red from the pressure. He’s yearning to taste Peter. Why won’t he just do it? “It’s good, right?” Peter says with a bright smile. The question reminds Bucky to chew further. Humans do that. They don’t just swallow their food in one go. Bucky supposes that’s one of the few perks about being what he is. The liquid diet. Saves a lot of time. It’s been a while since he had food in his mouth, but he can’t say he hates it. It’s actually pretty good. He’s not sure if it’s the food or Peter’s presence that’s making it better, though. “It is.” . “So, you’re telling me you work at a bakery? But you don’t eat?” Bucky rests his head in his hand, elbow on the armrest of his chair. He’s leaned back, legs spread slightly, but Peter can’t see it with the table in the way. Not that it matters. The boy is still occupied with stuffing his face for the first time in forever. “Company considers it theft.” “Even the loafs that aren’t pretty enough for the stores?” Peter sighs and looks at his nearly empty plate of pasta. “They want a good image so they give the ugly stuff that won’t sell to homeless shelters. Which is fair, to be honest. The homeless need it more than I do.” Bucky’s baffled by Peter’s words. “Didn’t you tell me less than an hour ago that you’ll be evicted within two weeks if you don’t find a better paying job? Means you’re homeless too. You deserve the food just as much.” Peter leans forward again, cocking his head. “Not homeless yet. Not eligible for food.” He takes another bite and speaks with his mouth full. Normally Bucky would’ve minded. Not with Peter, though. “Besides, I’ve got a job interview on Monday.” “For something that makes you enough money to keep the sad little studio you live in now?” “No, but-” Peter stops in his tracks and stares at Bucky, who realizes he ran his mouth. “You know where I live?” “No!” Bucky straightens his back and evades Peter’s piercing gaze. “I just assumed-” “Well, guess you assumed right.” Peter’s voice is strained. Oh, no. This is the last thing Bucky wants. Peter puts down his fork rather aggressively and crosses his arms. “Do you do this more often? Find someone poor, in need of help? Groom them? What is all of this?” “Peter, I-” “I’m paying,” Peter repeats Bucky’s words with a mocking tone. “Does that make you feel better? Knowing you did your good deed of the day?” Bucky is stunned. He has no clue what to say next, but his silence was enough of an answer to Peter. “You know what, I’m done.” Peter pushes his chair back and stands up, nearly causing his glass of water to tip over. Bucky quickly drops way too much cash on the dinner table and rushes after him. When the cold November air hits their skin, Bucky finally speaks again. Though, it’s more of a plea. “Please, don’t go.” Peter isn’t planning on slowing down and glances at his phone, cursing quietly at the time. “Peter-” The boy whips around and it aches Bucky to see tears in his eyes. “Thanks for the food, but-” He looks at his feet and his face contorts. “I gotta go anyways, I got work.” “Work? You’re going to the bakery, now?” Peter looks up to the grey sky and scoffs. “Some people work multiple jobs to make ends meet, Buck. I’m waiting at a gala tonight.” He waves his hand and continues walking away. “Why am I even telling you all of this. Just leave me alone.” No. Bucky isn’t letting him go. He wants to make him let go. For all different reasons. Bucky moves fast and grabs Peter’s hand. He makes Peter turn around to face him and he gives the boy a stern look. “Do you really want me to leave you alone?” “Yes.” “Are you lying?” “Yes.” “Why?” Bucky moves to invade Peter’s space, maintaining eye contact and rubbing soft, slow circles on the exact spot he wanted to bite into when Peter offered him the garlic bread. “I don’t want to be pitied.” Bucky presses himself against Peter. The boy can step away whenever he wants. Bucky doesn’t control his body right now. Yet, Peter stays. Right there, flush against Bucky and looking up at the man with his beautiful, distant, brown eyes. “What do you want?” Bucky whispers, only half aware that his mouth is inching closer to Peter’s. Slightly stunned that the young man still isn’t fighting him. “To be loved.” A shiver runs through Bucky’s body and he can’t help but smirk. His free hand reaches up to cup Peter’s face and his skin is so soft. “That can be arranged…” It’s quiet for a second, neither of them knowing exactly what to say next. “I actually received an invitation for a charity gala tonight. Time’s Square. Is that where you’re working?” Peter nods shyly. “Are you going?” He asks quietly. A kind smile spreads onto Bucky’s face. “I wasn’t planning to… Do you want me to go?” Peter presses his lips on top of each other and closes his eyes. His breath is warm against Bucky’s lips. So close. “I do,” Peter whispers, before finally pressing his lips against Bucky’s. The man gasps and opens his mouth to push his tongue against Peter’s flat kiss. The boy immediately complies and grants Bucky access, allowing him to to taste all the flavours Peter just experienced at the restaurant. Peter kissed him. Of his own accord. The mere idea has Bucky groan in pleasure. After a few seconds of kissing, Peter’s eyes blow wide open and he takes a big step backwards, breaking free from Bucky’s hold on his wrist. He apologetically bows his head. “I’m sorry- I, I have to go now, I really do.” Peter turns and runs. As fast as he can. With any other human, Bucky would’ve initiated the chase. It was part of what he liked so much about the hunt. But he’s frozen in place, unsure of what to do next. What to say next. What to think next. All he can muster up in his mind is Peter. Peter-Peter-Peter-Peter. The boy kissed him. His lips were so soft and warm and Bucky wants to kiss them again. Envelope himself in the scent that’s now slowly fading away. It takes a few minutes for Bucky to come to his senses and he blinks, looking at the high rises around him to ground himself. The gala’s tonight. He’ll see Peter again tonight. Wait. Tony received an invitation to the gala as well. Bucky could introduce them. He laughs loud. Once. It catches the attention of a few people, who soon decide the man isn’t a threat - wrong - and continue with their lives. Bucky walks to the street and hauls a cab. He wants to go back home and tell Tony all about his new fixation. His Peter. Anthony Edward Stark “You’re in a good mood,” Tony quips from his lounge chair. He’s absentmindedly scrolling through his phone, half-ignoring Bucky stomping into the penthouse. “Bad feed?” “No feed,” Bucky growls as he throws his coat over the couch. “Wha- no feed?” Tony sits upright and cocks an eyebrow. “You didn’t feed yesterday either. Aren’t you starving?” The look in Bucky’s eyes says enough and Tony relaxes back into his seat until… His nose twitches. “What’s that?” He eyes the coat that Bucky had just tossed aside. There’s a strange, faint scent coming from it. It’s… Good. “My prey.” Bucky picks the coat back up and tosses it to Tony. He presses the wool against his nose and takes a whiff, cock stirring at the sweet scent. “Jeez. And you didn’t feed?” “Not from him.” Bucky groans as he drops himself on the cushions of the couch.  “I can’t stop thinking about him.” He hides his face behind his hands. “About how he might taste.” “Wai-wai-wait.” Tony tosses the coat over Bucky’s head. He instinctively hugs it, pressing the fabric against his nose and smelling the remnants of whoever his prey is. “Why does your coat smell of your prey?” “He wore it.” “Jesus Christ, Buck,” Tony exclaims when he gets up from his chair to grab them both a straight whisky. Double. “Had him right where you wanted and you let him go?” Bucky doesn’t reply. Tony figures he’d feel stupid for saying yes. Same as that he would feel stupid for lying. Tony can hear Bucky lick the coat, tasting the smell of his prey on his tongue and moaning softly. “We’re going to that gala tonight,” Bucky states. Tony immediately protests, placing Bucky’s whisky on the coffee table and sitting back down in the lounge chair with his own glass in hand. “I literally told you this morning that I don’t feel like going.” “He’ll be there.” “And why should I care? He’s your prey.” “Smell it again.” Bucky growls as he throws the coat back to Tony. The billionaire groans and reluctantly inhales again. Sure, it smells better than average, but it’s not worth going to a party for. If Bucky wants this guy he can go get him himself. “He wore that coat three hours ago.” Tony’s eyes go wide at that comment. “Three hours?” He stares at the coat in disbelief. Bucky’s scent is intense and overpowering. Anything he touches smells of Bucky. Yet, this prey Bucky’s been describing... If he wore this coat three hours ago and Bucky wore it all this time after that, it shouldn’t have smelled of his prey anymore. All that should’ve remained was Bucky. Yet… “Is he that intense?” Tony asks, brows curled up into a frown. “Is that even possible?”  Bucky picks the coat from Tony’s hands and curls his fingers around it. He moves to sit on top of Tony and grinds himself down onto Tony’s crotch. Bucky presses the coat against his face and moans as he slowly ruts himself down into Tony.  “Oh, Buck,” Tony growls, pressing his fingers into his lover’s hips and baring his sharp teeth. A grin spreads on his face when Bucky speeds up slightly. “You’re hooked, aren’t you?” “I need him, Tony, I-” Bucky whimpers. “So bad-” “Well, then.” Tony puts down his whisky to unbutton Bucky’s shirt. “Let’s get changed.” . The entire car ride to the gala, Tony teased Bucky. The man was uncharacteristically nervous. A little antsy, but nothing Tony can’t handle. He curls a lock of Bucky’s hair around his finger and leans in. “If you’re so desperate for him, why would you want to share him with me?” Bucky turns his head away from Tony, who sees it as a challenge to get the man to look at him again. He takes Bucky’s chin between his thumb and index finger and tugs playfully. “Bucky bear, tell me.” “Don’t call me that,” Bucky growls, yet he lets his head be turned under Tony’s touch. “You’re a grumpy bear, I just call you what you are,” Tony says with a smirk. It falters and his expression turns serious. His stare is intense and if Bucky wasn’t like Tony, he’d have answered without second thought. Fortunately, compulsion doesn’t work on him if he doesn’t want it to. “Tell me why.” “You’ll find out,” Bucky sighs. He grabs Tony’s wrist with his metal hand and guides Tony to his crotch. Tony immediately cups the shaft through Bucky’s pants and scoffs a laugh. “Your cock’s almost as hard as your arm, Buck.” He pulls back, much to Bucky’s dismay, and crosses his arms. “That boy must really be worth it.” The car pulls over and Bucky bites the inside of his cheek. “Trust me, he is.” “Sure, sure,” Tony chuckles. The car door is opened for them and Tony swiftly gets out. He offers Bucky his hand, but the man gets out of the car himself. Still grumpy.  “You might want to put on a smile if you want him to like you. Or… Do you want to scare him off?” Tony jokes, hooking his arm into Bucky’s and initiating their walk up the stairs outside the building. “I’m seconds away from ripping out your heart, please choose your next words carefully.” Tony stops them, halfway up the steps and stares Bucky with a nonchalant look before leaning in and whispering. “I love you.” It’s soft. Genuine. “And however much I may be joking, I am honored you want to share something so precious to you with me.” Bucky cocks an eyebrow, but presses a quick kiss on Tony’s lips before continuing their way up. “You’re awful,” Bucky sighs. “You always get away with it.” “Only because you let me, Bucky bear.” Tony laughs softly. The next help opens the double doors for them. “Besides, this is more for you than for me. How good could one person really-” Tony freezes, eyes wide, nose twitching. Time seems to stop for a moment and it’s only when he spots Bucky’s grin from the corner of his eyes that he finishes his sentence. “-smell.” It’s exquisite. Intense. The only thing clawing at Tony’s mind right now is the need to know where the source is. His mouth salivates and his canines ache to push out. He doesn’t know how much time passes, but eventually, Bucky speaks. “That’s him.” “I figured,” Tony replies through gritted teeth. He turns his head to look at Bucky with his jaw tightened. “Why would you want to share him?” Tony scoffs. “You could’ve had this all to yourself.” A wide smile spreads on Bucky’s face and it’s only now that Tony realizes that the tables have turned. The power has been shifted. Bucky unhooks his arm from Tony’s and cups the man’s face. “Oh, Tony,” he sighs. The look in his icy blue eyes is resolute. “I want to keep him.” Peter Benjamin Parker “You’re in a good mood,” Betty quips, shaking Peter out of his thoughts.  “What?” “Seriously, Pete?” She laughs as she loads her tray with more champagne glasses. “You’ve had this goofy smile on your face all evening. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you this energized.” Peter straightens his back and turns to help Betty with her work. She jumps. “No, wait, let me guess!” Peter chuckles. The tray is halfway filled now and he shifts to grab a new champagne bottle to fill some more glasses. “Whatever you think it is, you’re wrong.” “Oh, so you didn’t meet someone cute?” Peter tenses up and his head whips to face Betty. She squeals. “I knew it!” She hops in her place, evading the stare of their asshole manager, Quentin Beck, who was lazily scrolling through his phone. “So? What’s she like?” “He.” “He! Ah, I knew it!” “Betty-” “Sorry, sorry! I did it again,” she sighs and rolls her shoulders before pressing into Peter’s space again. “Tell me everything!” “Betty!” Beck’s loud voice echoes through the kitchen and she flinches. “Stop distracting Peter and get your pretty ass to table S2, they requested a waiter and that’s your area.” “Yes, sir.” Betty smiles embarrassed at Peter before making her way out onto the floor. Peter quietly continues to pour the champagne glasses, trying his best not to anger Beck any further. When he’s done, he picks up the heavy tray and balances it expertly as he walks onto the floor. The second he sets foot into the dimly lit space, a strange, yet familiar feeling washes over him. It’s the same as what he felt when he walked home after the dog incident. Like he was being watched. It’d be rude to stop and stare to find the source of the uneasy sensation, so he powers through and continues walking to his area. Once his tray is empty, cheeks hurting from the fake smile on his face, he turns to make his way back to the kitchen. However, he didn’t expect Betty to be right behind him and he runs into her. “Woah!” He exclaims, catching her before she loses balance. When they’re both standing up straight, he notices something is off. “Are you okay?” He asks, squeezing his hand that rests on her upper arm. She stares up at him and blinks a few times. “Yeah! Eh… They asked for our deepest red wine.” “Who?" “Oh, the, um…” Betty frowns, but collects herself. “The people from table S2?” “And you’re telling me this… why?” Peter leans in to check Betty’s pupils. Unfortunately, this wouldn’t have been the first time some gross guys tried to drug her while working. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, save for her behaviour. “They want you to get it for them.”  “Me?” “You.” Peter stands up straight and cocks his head. He suppresses the urge to turn his head and look at table S2. He’s still being watched. He’s not sure if he likes where this is going. Peter wipes a stray lock of hair behind Betty’s ear and gently pushes her in the direction of the kitchen. “Let’s get you a glass of water first.” Betty sits on one of the few chairs in the kitchen and stares at the glass of water in her hands. “I’m fine, really, all they asked is for Peter to bring them our deepest shade of red wine.” Beck scratches the back of his head and puts his hands on his hips before turning to look at Peter. “How familiar are you with the S area?” He asks. Peter purses his lips and takes a second to think. “It’s not what I’m used to, but I think I got the numbers down.” He looks down at Betty with a frown. “And if they made you so out of it, maybe it’s better if you don’t take their orders anymore.” Betty’s eye twitches and she looks up to lock gazes with Peter. “...Orders?” It’s quiet for a second. Mr. Beck breaks it with a sudden clap of his hands. “Alright, Peter, Betty’s fired. You’re taking her area together with your own.” “What?” Peter exclaims. “You can’t fire her for something like this!” “I can and I did.” Beck glares at Peter. “Now, off you go, they’ve been waiting long enough. And no, you’re not getting double pay.” Beck suddenly stops in his tracks and points both his index fingers to the ceiling. “The wine!” He turns to the wine cellar and disappears, offhandedly shouting something about wine glasses to Peter. That man is mentally unstable. Peter will never understand how he became the manager. Peter turns to Betty once more. “I’m… I’m so sorry.” Betty nods slightly and she curls the corners of her mouth up. Her eyes don’t smile along. “I’ll be fine,” she says. It’s forced. Peter frowns. “You had to switch places with me anyways.” “Wha- why did I have to? The S area was always your thing, you always claimed it during prep.” “I don’t want the S area anymore. It’s okay. I’ll find another job. They want you.” Peter’s officially worried now. He takes Betty’s hands in his and stares her down, trying to read her. “They?” He mumbles. “They.” Peter was hoping she’d give a little more information, but he probably won’t get it. And she’s out of it. Really out of it. Who would ask specifically for him at a gala? Nobody knows he’s working here… Peter freezes when it hits him. Bucky. “Peter, I thought I asked you to grab the glasses!” Beck shouts annoyed when he returns with a bottle of red wine. Peter stands up straight and nods apologetically, eyeing Betty once more before turning to the cupboards. It’s not long before Peter finds his way onto the floor again, balancing his tray with two glasses and a bottle of red wine on a shaky hand. He sniffs, trying not to look at the S2 table while he’s making his way there. His heart thumps loudly in his chest. “Excuse me?” Peter is almost grateful that someone stops him and he smiles at the lady. “Good evening, ma’am, how may I help?” “The waitress who just helped us, where is she?” “Oh,” Peter says as he turns his body, lowering the tray slightly. “She suddenly felt dizzy, so she’s, eh… She’s taking a break. I’m taking over the tables here.” Honesty gets you further. May’s words still linger in his head. The lady frowns worried. “Oh, dear, I hope she feels better soon. Did our order come through?” Peter quickly peeks at their table number, trying to remember what he saw on the order board in the kitchen. S4. Awesome. That means he can say- “Yes, ma’am, it came through. They’re working on it right now.” He nods, glad he was able to give good news. “I’ll be serving you tonight.” Peter’s startled by someone coughing loudly, choking. He turns and rushes over without second thought, putting down the tray on the table and placing his hand on the shoulder of the hunched over man.  “Sir, are you alright?” He glances at the table number out of habit, freezing for a second when he reads S2. The man who’s choking, collects himself, grabbing his glass of water and taking a sip. Peter can’t help but stare at him. He’s beautiful. There are lines on his face, but they only accentuate his features. His eyes are deep. Brown. He’s not young, but aged like fine… Wine, the wine, right. Wait. Is that… Tony Stark? Tech giant, richest man of New York, Tony Stark?! “Peachy,” Tony forces out, suppressing another cough. He looks up at Peter. The boy is immediately captivated. The only one he’s ever seen with eyes that entrancing is- “Ah, Peter, took you a while.” Peter barely manages to break eye contact and looks up startled at Bucky, sitting next to the Tony Stark. After a few more seconds of stunned silence, the man speaks again. “You can let go now.” Peter realizes his hand still rests on Tony Stark’s shoulder. His words shoot through Peter like a missile. It wasn’t an order, but… Let go.  Before he can move away, Tony captures him again with his eyes. “Unless you don’t want to.” “I-” Peter’s breath hitches in his throat, and it takes him a second to collect himself. “I have to work.” His fingers uncurl from the man’s arm and he stands up straight again with a nod. “Oh?” There’s a mischievous gleam in the Tony’s eyes. “Does that mean you wouldn’t have let go of me if you weren’t working right now?” Let go. Let go. Let go. The words keep echoing through Peter’s head and it makes him tingly. He can’t right now. He has to work. He opts to ignore the inappropriate question. “Your wine,” he says quickly as he places the glasses from the tray onto the table. He then opens the wine bottle, holding it with a cloth. He pours both men a sip to taste, evading eye contact with Bucky. Their kiss still lingers on his lips. He takes a step back and waits for Bucky and Tony to purse their lips, pushing the wine around in their mouths. “It’s a Sagrantino di Montefalco.” Peter says quietly. “Our deepest shade, as per your request.” “Perfect.” Bucky grins and pushes out his arm for Peter to fill his glass further. He complies and tilts the bottle until the glass is adequately filled. The other man does the same, wordlessly, and Peter fills his glass too. “Oh, right, Peter, this is my partner, Tony Stark.” Peter’s eyes go wide. Peter kissed Tony Stark’s partner. In his panic he accidentally tips the bottle too far, overfilling the glass and coating Tony’s hand with the wine. “Oh, sh-” Peter catches himself before he swears and puts the bottle down, immediately using the cloth he held the bottle with to take the glass from Tony’s hands. “I’m so sorry, sir, I didn’t-” Before Peter can hand Tony the cloth, the man brings his wine coated fingers to his lips. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in. He shivers, which has Peter wonder why. It’s not exactly a good smelling wine. Is he smelling something else? Peter’s jaw clenches when Tony pushes his digits into his mouth. It all seemed innocent enough until he made eye contact with Peter. And held his gaze. Peter is glued in his spot. Body stiff, slightly shaking. Bucky leans over Tony’s shoulder and nudges his head against Tony’s. The man complies, takes his fingers out of his mouth and presents them to Bucky, who licks them clean of the last bits of red wine. Peter isn’t certain what he’s looking at, but he knows for sure that he can’t look away. His gaze is still locked with Tony’s and… Are Peter’s pants getting tighter? “We share everything, Peter,” Bucky says with a grin as he pulls back. Tony presses his fingers together and smirks. He finally breaks eye contact with Peter, but the boy can’t stop staring. Did that just happen? “It did,” Tony quips. Peter’s eyes go wide. Did he say that out loud? He turns away, picking up the wine bottle as he goes. “Peter?” He stops in his tracks, quietly hoping to disappear into the floor. He kissed Bucky. He kissed him. And now he’s here with his- With Tony. He requested Peter to wait their table and now… This. God, this is embarrassing. And hot. Unfairly hot. Peter slowly turns around, but keeps his eyes strained on the floor. “Thanks for the service.” Peter can hear Bucky’s shit eating grin, but they’re testing him. He knows. He’s very aware of what they want him to say and so, he’ll indulge. “My pleasure.” He nods at the floor and shifts to move back to the kitchen. Table S4’s order should be ready to go. He’s not sure how, but it’s like he can hear Tony’s voice in his head. Whispering. Tickling his ears from the inside. “Your pleasure.” James Buchanan Barnes “Did you see the look on his face?” Tony is the giddiest Bucky has ever seen him. “He’s perfect, Buck, absolutely perfect.” “I know.” Bucky leans back smugly and crosses his arms. Tony takes another sip of his wine, settling the excitement with some ineffective alcohol. “I want to keep him too,” he says quickly before letting the liquid coat his tongue. “How do you suggest we go about this?” He cocks an eyebrow at Bucky, who can’t help but smile. “We offer him a job.” “A job,” Tony repeats, raising his other eyebrow as well. Bucky cocks his head, not listening to whoever is talking on stage. Galas are the worst. “A job.” “Why?” “He’s poor.” Bucky sniffs and leans towards Tony to tell him the story. How Peter hadn’t eaten a meal for a while until Bucky took him out for spaghetti earlier today. How Peter, from the kindness of his heart, chased the dog and then offered to pay for the cold coffee Bucky had dropped, even though he didn’t even have fifteen dollars to his name. How Peter will be evicted from his home. Bucky talked about the subjects discussed on the date. Peter’s all alone and stuck in a vicious cycle until he manages to break free. He just needs the means to break free. And Tony and Bucky have those means. And their own needs. “Still a little shady.” “What? We’re just offering him a way out. Just a job.” “As what?” “I dunno. Personal assistant?” Tony snorts at that and puts down his glass. “To cater to all your wishes.” “Well, yeah?” Bucky shifts in his seat and rests his head in his hand, leaning his elbow on the table and taking a sip of his own glass of wine.  “You haven’t seen how he was this afternoon.” “You’re right, I haven’t. You told me about the ‘let go’ part. Had a lot of fun messing with his head just yet.” “Okay, but that means you saw it too.” Bucky tilts his head. “He’s stressed. On edge. Tired. Hungry. And most of all; he’s touch starved. And mind you, he kissed me. I didn’t ask him to. I didn’t compel him to. He just did it. By himself. He wants this.” Tony sucks at his teeth and Bucky groans. “Oh, come on, don’t tell me he’s making you second guess your morals.” “I don’t want to use him.” Bucky stares at Tony in disbelief. “So, all the people you feed from aren’t being used by you?” “I don’t want to use him.” “Fine. Fine, me neither.” Bucky groans, pressing his face into his hand and rubbing it. “But I can’t let him go.” “How about we let him decide? We ask him. He can say yes or no.” Bucky tenses and sends Tony a worried look. “What if he says no?” He realizes he sounds scared. Bucky Barnes. Scared. Bucky from yesterday would laugh him in the face. “Then we’ll convince him,” Tony says determined. He nods and pushes a lock of Bucky’s hair behind his ear. “The old fashioned way. Without dark magic.” “You’re saying we should stop playing with him?” Tony laughs and shakes his head. “No.” He takes his glass and chugs it, only to chug Bucky’s immediately afterwards. Empty glasses means a certain waiter would have to show up at their table again soon. “We won’t force him to be with us, but we can still play.” “How morally grey,” Bucky chuckles. “You’re disgusting.” “Love you too, Bucky bear.” . “It’s okay to feel uncomfortable with us, Peter. Are you uncomfortable?” “No, sir, I’m not,” Peter mumbles, staring into Bucky’s eyes after giving them their fourth glass of wine. Bucky knows it’s all formality. The boy’s still at work. He can’t say that to the people he’s… Serving. “Are you lying?” “Yes.” “Don’t lie when you’re with us, Peter.” “Okay.” “Jesus, Buck, go easy, someone’ll catch on something’s off,” Tony says quickly and quietly. “Look at him, Tony, isn’t he wonderful?” “I’m… I’m right here,” Peter mutters, a slight frown curls his brows. “We know, we know. Forget we said that and go do your thing.” Peter blinks and his wide, fake, waiter smile returns. “Your food should be ready soon,” he says, bright and awake.  “Thank you, Peter.” Tony nods curtly and Peter shuffles where he stands before mumbling his reply and rushing off. “Mm. Pleasure.” . “Why are you uncomfortable with us?” Tony tilts his head and cocks an eyebrow. “I, eh…” Peter stutters as he pours their ninth glass of wine. “Tony knows about the kiss,” Bucky adds nonchalantly. Peter stops pouring their beverages and takes a slight step back. He’s startled and takes a second to find his words. “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t know you-” “I don’t mind,” Tony says with a grin. Peter stares at him wide-eyed, which makes Bucky chuckle. They’re going to have so much fun with him. Heck, they already are. “In fact…” Tony leans forward on the table and rests his elbow on it, placing his cheek in his hand. “...I’d like you to kiss me too.” Bucky can literally feel Peter’s hard on from where he’s sitting. The boy swallows and the steady but fast, beating of his heart thrums in Bucky’s ears.  “I’m working,” he replies and it has both men smile up at him. He didn’t say no. Peter quickly tilts the bottle again, emptying it with his lips pressed tightly on top of each other. It’s Bucky’s turn to show his gratitude to Peter, so he does. “Thank you, Peter.” The boy squirms where he stands and pivots to rush back to the kitchen. Though, his soft whimper didn’t go unnoticed. “Pleasure.” . “Oh, please, you haven’t resisted us before, why now?” Tony leans forward, obviously taking a whiff of Peter’s scent before curling up the corners of his mouth, fluttering his eyes innocently. “Work,” Peter pushes out, eyes strained on the bottle he’s tipping to pour Bucky’s seventeenth glass. He’s caught on that actually looking at the men makes him lose himself. Especially when they talk like that. Bucky wonders if Peter has any suspicions about what he and Tony are. Not to mention the amount of alcohol they’ve consumed at this point. He’s smart. He must know something is afoot.  “Well, we actually had a proposition about that.” Bucky’s regular voice gave Peter the confidence to look up at him, which was a mistake on his part, honestly. Bucky immediately traps him with his stare. “Proposition?” Peter asks quietly. “See, we were just discussing that we want to-”  Their conversation is cut short by a short yelp and the sound of glass shattering behind them. The scare breaks Peter away from Bucky and the boy immediately puts down the bottle to rush to the problem. Someone dropped their glass, coating the floor in white wine and covering it with thousands of tiny pieces. Some other guy rushes over, while Peter squats. He uses his tray to quickly pick up the larger glass pieces and asks the other waiter to grab a broom. Bucky and Tony stare hungrily at how Peter is bent over. Their imaginations run wild with the endless possibilities. All of them involve Peter in that exact position. Naked. Suddenly, Peter winces and sucks in a breath, cursing quietly. The enhanced scent immediately hits Bucky’s and Tony’s noses. Their pupils dilate fully and they grab onto each other to hold themselves back. Blood. Blood. Blood. They stare at how Peter raises his hand to look at the damage, only to put his blood covered index finger into his mouth. Sucking on it. “Jesus Christ-” Tony spits out through gritted teeth. Bucky can only growl. The smell and the sight are dizzying and the need to sink their teeth into Peter is becoming overwhelming. “Peter!” The other guy returns and has spotted Peter’s situation. “Bwad-” Peter tries to speak, but his finger is keeping him from pronouncing all the letters. He takes it out of his mouth to show it to ‘Bwad.’ Tony and Bucky are shaking. The blood flows fast, already trickling down his fingers, so he swiftly puts it back into his mouth. Bucky wishes he didn’t hear Peter’s soft sounds. Yet, he wants to hear nothing but those soft sounds.  “Sheesh, Pete, go get a bandaid for that. And some alcohol-” ‘Bwad’ says disgusted. “And stop sucking on it, you’re not a vampire.” Peter freezes when ‘Bwad’ says that and he whips his head to look at Bucky and Tony with large eyes. Bingo. He caught on. Bucky grins wide, no longer trying to hide his fangs and he raises one eyebrow, using his head to gesture at the finger still in Peter’s mouth. Peter takes a deep breath and rushes to the kitchen. . Bucky isn’t surprised to see Peter walking out of the kitchen again, a new wine bottle in hand. The boy is bold and he obviously knows what he wants. It’s the exact reason why Tony and Bucky didn’t chase him. They knew he’d come back. “You were talking about a proposition?” Peter initiates the conversation this time, aiming to pour the next glass for Tony. However, the man catches his wrist and pulls Peter’s hand with the bandaid closer to his nose. “I thought you said the wine you’re serving is your deepest shade of red.” “Not anymore, you drank it all.” Bucky is surprised by Peter’s sudden sassiness. He’s no longer the polite waiter. He’s Peter again. For them. And he’s not afraid of what they are. “Well, then…” Tony sighs, closing his eyes and pressing Peter’s bandaged index fingers against his nostrils. “Why don’t you give us your deepest shade of red?” “Is that why you’ve been doing all of this?” Peter asks quietly, not wanting to gain attention from anyone around them, yet also not pulling back his hand. “You want to suck me dry?” “No,” Bucky says with a kind smile. “We want to do so much more than that.” “The proposition.” Peter stares at Bucky, who guesses he’s waiting for the man to compel him again, but he doesn’t. “We want you to be our personal assistant. An exciting job that matches your intellect, good pay, insurance, great sex, a roof over your head, we even got dental-” “Woah, woah, wait-” “Sex. Yeah. I said sex.” Bucky grins. “Don’t you want that? Want us?” Tony tenderly kisses the bandaid and Peter shivers. “I do.” Peter frowns and takes a second to collect his thoughts. “But I can’t just- I can’t-” He looks back to the floor and the kitchen and Bucky follows his gaze. His manager’s eyes are on him. This could get him fired. On the spot. “Peter, trust me when I tell you that never in our entire undead lives have we met anyone as utterly captivating as you are. We don’t want to kill you. We don’t want to hurt you. We want to keep you.” “Keep…” Peter mulls over Bucky’s words, turning his head to look at the two men again. “So, I’ll be your pet?” “You’ll still be you. You’ll have a life. Just… With us in it.” Tony shrugs. It’s almost strange how casual they are about this. “Will you…” Peter stops talking, slightly embarrassed at what he wants from them. “Will we…?” Tony looks up at him, patient but curious. “Will you compel me?” “Do you want that?” Bucky asks immediately. He knows what it does to Peter to be controlled like that. “I… It’s not something I want to discuss here.” “Tell us,” Bucky orders. A shiver goes up Peter’s spine and he closes his eyes, complying straight away. “The feeling is so nice, I- It makes me horny.” “Oh, does it?” Tony coos. “You’ve been so submissive all evening already. And now you’re telling us it’s because we can control your mind? Most people would run if they were in your position.” “I want this,” Peter mumbles. “I’ve got nothing left to lose anyways.” “Oh!” Tony exclaims, trying to stay quiet in order to keep the other tables from looking at them. “He wants this,” he says to Bucky, before turning to Peter again. “You want this! We truly hit the jackpot, Buck.” “You’re really not going to kill me?” Peter asks quietly. A bit of fear seeps through and Bucky immediately takes Peter’s other hand in his, tracing the tips of his fingers over the prominent veins on his wrist. “And waste all of you?” Bucky whispers, looking up at Peter in awe. “I’d rather kill myself.” “What’s so special about me anyways?” Peter sucks at his teeth, trying to ignore Tony’s soft lips and Bucky’s cold fingers against his skin. “You could have anyone. Why me?” “You have no idea how good you smell,” Tony sighs. “S-smell?” “We’re going to have to take a look into why you’re so intense and addictive, but believe us when we say that you’re making us lose our minds,” Bucky chuckles. “With us, you’ll be the safest you’ve ever been. No one will touch our flower. You’ll live with us, we’ll share our riches with you. We want to give you everything, Peter; A fulfilling life, a purpose, all the pleasure you can imagine. More.” It’s quiet for a few seconds as they all realize what this means. “Will you...?” Peter asks again. “Will we...?” Tony replies playfully. Peter nods slowly, doing his best to find the courage to finish his sentence. “Will you compel me?” “With pleasure.” Bucky immediately takes hold of Peter’s mind. “You want to stop worrying, don’t you, pretty Peter?” The mention of the nickname Bucky had used on him before has Peter twitch where he stands. Tony has started kissing his entire hand, licking the veins on his wrist. “Yes.” “Do you want us to take all your heavy thoughts away? Replace them with good thoughts- thoughts we want you to think?” Peter nods, eyes strained on Bucky’s. “Do you want to let go for us?” “Please-” “Let go.” Peter’s knees give in for a split second, but it’s enough for Bucky to have to catch Peter as he drops. Peter Benjamin Parker Peter’s snapped back into reality sandwiched between Tony’s and Bucky’s shoulders. Their arms are wrapped around his waist, keeping him upright. They’re walking down the stairs of the venue, but Peter doesn’t recall walking out. The cold November air hits his skin and he takes a deep breath. “Hello, there,” Bucky chuckles. “H-hey?” “No worries, we just want you to know where we’re taking you. We’ll put you back under when we reach the bedroom.” Peter jolts, standing more sturdy on his feet at the mention of their destination. “PETER!” He turns his head to see Beck, staring at him wide-eyed, arms spread in confusion. “Your shift’s not done, where do you think you’re going?!” It’s quiet for a second, but Peter doesn’t even consider lying. He knows he’s in good hands. He knows they speak the truth. He knows he’s better off without Beck. Without this job. “I quit,” he whispers. Both Bucky and Tony stare at him in disbelief. “Excuse me?” Beck yelps. Peter stands up more straight and rolls his shoulders, finding the courage to repeat himself, but louder. “I quit.” “Y-you can’t just-” “I can. I quit.” Peter moves to get into the car and tosses his black apron on the sidewalk. “What about all the guests?” There’s a hint of desperation in Beck’s voice and Peter shakes his head. “Pull your own weight for a change.” The car door shuts. Peter is still pressed between the two taller men, who stare at Peter. Stunned. “Did- did you tell him to say that?” Bucky mumbles to Tony. Peter scoffs a laugh. “I didn’t,” Tony answers honestly and ends it with a groan. “Kid, you’re gonna be the death of us.” “Aren’t you already dead?” “Touché.” . Stark Tower. The building Peter could only dream of working at during his time at MIT. The dream crumbled when he dropped out. He didn’t dare think about setting foot into this place without a degree or doctorate of some kind. He couldn’t imagine getting the attention of Tony Stark, the man he’d looked up to since his childhood. And now he’s here. In the elevator to the penthouse, the living quarters, being held by Bucky and his boyfriend. Tony Stark. If he really is dreaming right now, he never wants to wake up again. But it feels too real. Their cold fingers wrapped around his arms, stroking his skin delicately and gently. They make terribly casual conversation for the current situation. Peter answers all their questions, though. Tries to engage, but he can’t stop looking around. Perks of a glass elevator is that he can see every floor. All the labs, all the test areas. Some floors are blinded for their own reasons, which is fair, but it’s obvious Tony has the glass elevator installed to show off. Peter falls quiet in the middle of a sentence about the last project he’d worked on when he was still at MIT, involving nanotechnology, and frowns. The question leaves his lips before he realizes how rude it is. “How old are you?” Tony bursts out laughing. “Older than I look.” “No- but-” “Bucky’s nearing… Three centuries?” “You wound me, Tony, you don’t even remember my age?” “Details, details, Buck.” Tony smirks. “How old am I, then?” “You’re a young sprite. Got your ninety-second birthday coming up, don’t you? I sired you when you were forty-seven.” Bucky puts up a cocky smile and raises one eyebrow. “Now you’re just making me look bad.” Tony pouts. “Why don’t people wonder about that? Y-your age, I mean?” Peter purses his lips, trying to recall a time when magazines and news outlets questioned Tony’s looks compared to his age. He doesn’t. “Well, I took over from my ‘father,’ obviously,” Tony chuckles. “Wait, that was you too?” “The resemblance is striking.” Tony looks incredibly pleased with himself. “That’s… That’s insane.” Peter stares ahead, trying to have it all make sense in his brain. “How old are you?” Tony asks with a genuine smile. “Twenty-three.” “Only a babe,” Bucky chuckles and Peter turns to face them both, cheeks puffed. “I’m not a child!” “You say to the two-hundred-seventy-six year old man.” “What- you want me to call you great great great grandpa?” “Dear god, no.” “Then don’t call me babe-” Peter gets pulled against Bucky’s chest, a wide grin spreads on the man’s face. His cold breath tickles Peter’s skin. Peter shakes, but can’t help but push in too. Bucky’s hard and he gently grinds against Peter. The boy whimpers. “Not even in the bedroom?” Peter flutters his eyes, now very aware what the gesture does to the men he’s with and he whispers seductively. “Only in the bedroom.” . This isn’t a bedroom. It’s a small palace. Dark granite tiles, a gigantic glass bathtub in the middle of the room, the bed is so large it could fit five people generously. The sheets are a deep shade of red and the room even has space for an extensive sitting area. It’s insane. His studio would barely be considered a cupboard compared to this. “Here’s where the magic happens.” Tony places his hands on Peter’s shoulders and leans over. He looks at Peter expectantly, but all Peter can do is stare, mouth opened slightly. “Is it too much?”  “You haven’t seen where he lives, Tones-” That comment snaps Peter out of it and he turns to give Bucky an accusatory glare. “So you did know about my studio!” “I followed you home. Shoot me. You smell too good.” “Thanks.” A short awkward silence falls and the slight frown on his face betrays that Peter is thinking about something. “My dream…” “Was nice, wasn’t it?” Bucky grins and takes a step closer to Peter, taking his hands to lift them to Peter’s heart. They feel the beat quickening slightly. “You’re unbelievable.” Peter’s breath is shaky. Bucky leans in until their noses touch.  “Hey, you were obviously enjoying yourself. Too bad you set that alarm. I’d have let you come.” “You gave him a wet dream?” Tony scoffs and slightly squeezes his fingers into Peter’s shoulders.  “I did,” Bucky says proudly. “It was very convincing.” Peter chuckles and shakes his head. “Like I said; unbelievable.” “Hmm, but Pete… Did you end up coming at all?” Tony’s words tickle Peter’s ear and he shivers, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “Oh, the torture.” Tony’s hands slowly move down Peter’s arms to caress his waist and then grip his hips. “You want to come, don’t you?” His trimmed beard scratches Peter’s jaw. All Peter can do is nod, paired with a soft whimper. Yes. He wants to come. Let go. For them. Suddenly, both Bucky and Tony let go of Peter and he sucks in a breath. “Let’s give him a tour of the room, shall we?” Tony claps his hands once and Peter’s quiet, frustrated groan doesn’t go unnoticed. “Don’t be so needy, babe-” Bucky says with a smirk, but Peter quickly replies. “Don’t call me that.” Bucky raises an eyebrow and gestures at the bed. “Well… We’re in the bedroom, aren’t we?” James Buchanan Barnes Tony and Bucky show Peter every corner of the room. In the least sexual way possible. And it’s driving Peter nuts. They can tell how much he’s aching for their touch by how he fiddles his fingers, how his shoulders are slightly raised and how he holds his breath whenever either of the men speaks. Bucky opens the door to the bathroom and guides Peter in, Tony right behind him. Once again, dark tiles, lots of glass, another tub, some lounge chairs, nothing Bucky hasn’t seen before. Peter, however, is stunned and both Bucky and Tony notice the kid is not really taking in any part of the bathroom, except for the shower. It’s separated from the bathroom with a glass wall and you can walk into it from two sides. The look on Peter’s face is difficult to place. Curled up brows, a trembling lip and dewy eyes, strained on… The shower. Oh, no. “What’s going through your head?” Bucky asks carefully. He doesn’t want Peter to feel called out, but he knows what’s up. Peter immediately drops his gaze and stares at his feet, pressing his hands together embarrassed. “I- Nothing.” “Nothing?” Tony steps around Peter to look at him from the front, eyebrows raised. “Don’t you like it?” “Tones-” Bucky raises one hand to stop his boyfriend from speaking. He’s been rich since birth, he doesn’t know what poverty is like. What hardships it brings. “Talk to us, Pete. Tell us what you want.” Peter turns to lock gazes with Bucky. He holds his head high, but he’s obviously not happy with what Bucky asked of him. “I don’t want your pity.” “I’m not pitying you, Peter.” “You are!” Peter hugs himself and steps away from the two significantly older men. He breaks eye contact and sniffs. “I’m- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled.” “Sheesh, kid, it’s gonna take a little more to ruffle our feathers than a slightly raised voice.” Tony cocks his head and sucks at his teeth. “I’ll rephrase, okay?” Bucky says with a nod. “Why were you staring at the shower?” “You know the answer.” “Not the specifics.” “Is this some kind of insider thing that I’m not a part of?” Tony asks, confused. The younger vampire glances at the shower, and when Bucky notices, it suddenly hits him. “Warm water.” “Fine! Okay, you got me. It got cut off a little over a month ago. I needed the place more than the hot water, so I compromised,” Peter confesses, turning his back so he can hide his red face and the tears prickling in the corners of his eyes. Bucky had already seen them, though. “Would you like to take a shower?” “N-no.” “Peter,” Tony threatens. It’s soft, though. He steps forward and curls his fingers around Peter’s shoulders again, slowly turning him around so the boy faces them again. Peter lets it happen and he gasps quietly when Tony moves to unbutton his white dress shirt. “We want you to feel good. To enjoy yourself. If you want that shower… We’ll gladly join you.” Peter stares up into Tony’s eyes and right when the two men expect Peter to give in, he places his hands over Tony’s. “Why are you so kind to me?” He glances at both men. “Honest to god, kid, I wish I knew.” Tony scoffs a soft laugh, but Peter doesn’t smile along. “I smell good to you now. You like me now,” he frowns. “I just quit my weekend job. What if, tomorrow, you don’t like me anymore? You’re just gonna toss me out, aren’t you?” “No,” Bucky says resolutely, taking a large step towards Tony and Peter. The young vampire takes a slight step to the side, allowing Bucky to stand in front of Peter as well. “Not after everything that’s happened today. I’d never.” The man cups Peter’s face with his cold hand and his lip quivers. “I will make you feel loved and cherished- will give you anything and everything, so long as your promise to be mine.” He takes a deep breath and corrects himself. “Ours.” A strange silence settles between the three of them. Bucky’s words were a promise of sorts. A promise that meant more to Peter than either of the immortals could ever fathom. The boy’s voice is fragile when he speaks. “What if I don’t want to be yours?” “Then you’d be lying.” “Probably,” Peter mumbles, averting his gaze. He takes a breath in through his nose. “Are you going to lock me in here?” “Of course not,” Tony says softly. His smile is kind and genuine. Tony never smiles like this with anyone other than Bucky. His hand moves to caress Peter, push through his hair and let the boy lean into him. “We’re not monsters. Well- we are, but not like that.” Peter gives them a lopsided smile, crooked. His cheeks flush, but his eyes water more and more until Bucky catches a tear with his thumb. “This isn’t real,” Peter whispers. “I’m gonna wake up, aren’t I? And you’ll be gone.” Tony immediately moves to stand behind Peter. Bucky shuffles until he’s right in front of the small, stressed, young man, so he can press his forehead against Peter’s. Tony wraps his arms around Peter’s waist in an embrace and gently scratches his beard over Peter’s skin. “Allow us to prove you wrong,” Bucky whispers, his cool breath mingling with Peter’s warm one. Peter has his eyes closed, but his shoulders twitch. “How?” “Share your night with us.” Tony’s deep voice creates goosebumps all over Peter’s skin. Bucky leans in closer, wanting to taste Peter on his lips again. The man is pleasantly surprised when Peter, against all expectations, takes initiative by pressing his mouth against Bucky’s in an open kiss. Bucky smiles into it, licking Peter’s lips. The boy immediately grants him access and Tony continues his proposition.  “Entangle your body with ours- let us take away your stress, your worries. Sleep and wake, with your head on our chests, our fingers caressing your glowing skin as we kiss it. Kiss you.” Tony pairs his sweet words with gentle pecks and a slight drag of his pointed teeth over Peter’s skin. Peter gasps, his hips automatically pushing forward against Bucky’s thigh. The man breaks their kiss and whispers. “If you decide that this is not what you want, we will let you go.” “I- I want this,” Peter moans, pushing back in to continue their kiss, hands finally raising to grab Bucky’s face- tug his hair. “Want it all-” Tony’s hands move up to continue undoing the buttons of Peter’s shirt, pressed between Bucky’s and Peter’s body. “-Want it to be real.” “It is.” The shiver that goes down Peter’s spine does not go unnoticed and the men grin. “How about I run that shower?” Tony mumbles as he slips the shirt down Peter’s arms. Peter breaks free from the kiss and looks at Tony wide-eyed. “No- actually, I…” He stutters and the men both look at him quizzically. “I…” “Tell us what you want, Peter,” Bucky says softly, tilting his head to try and catch Peter’s averted gaze. When Peter looks up, there’s embarrassment, yet… Arousal. Oh. Bucky knows exactly what Peter wants. “Tell us what you want.” Peter’s eyes glaze over slightly and he whimpers. All Bucky can think of is how lucky he and Tony are to have found someone like Peter. This deliciously sweet, submissive young man whose cock twitches when he gives up his mind, is right here in front of them. He wants to be controlled. Wants them. And oh, how they want him too. “Do it myself.” Peter sounds slightly embarrassed. “Wh- shower?” Tony says with a cocked head, slightly amused. Peter nods shyly, not breaking eye contact with Bucky. An idea sparks in Bucky’s mind. It’s filthy and voyeuristic and most likely exactly what Peter wants too. “Oh, Peter… Go have that shower. You deserve it.” His hands caress Peter’s face one more time before letting go. “Do what feels right. What feels good. This is your bathroom. We’re not here.” Peter blinks a few times, processing the command, before stretching his back and letting his shoulders slouch a little more. Bucky and Tony don’t exist anymore. It’s just him in this bathroom. Tony grins at Bucky and tosses the white shirt on the floor, pushing his hand through his hair and sitting down in one of the lounge chairs. Bucky gives him a sly smirk and cocks an eyebrow. Both men have their attention pulled back to Peter, who kicks off his pants and socks. They suck in a breath at the sight of Peter’s physique. He’s more toned than they’d expected him to be. Lean, yet strong. How his clothes hid his true shape, is a mystery to them. Bucky can feel his cock stir when Peter cups his own shaft through his underwear while turning on the shower with his other hand. Oh, yes… Bucky thinks. This oughta be good. Peter Benjamin Parker Peter turns on the tap and stares at it for a second. He’s suddenly unsure how to use it, which is weird cause this is his bathroom, right? How could he forget how his own shower works? He fiddles a bit with the faucet until the water turns warm. Something inside him is confused. Didn’t his hot water get cut off?  “Ah, well,” he mumbles to himself. It’s a habit he picked up in all those months spent by himself. Not having anyone to talk to resulted in him just filling up the empty space with his own words. “Might as well enjoy it while it lasts...” He takes off his boxers and absentmindedly cups his hard shaft like he did before. The underwear is lazily tossed to the side and Peter reaches his hand into the shower. It’s strange to feel the warm water on his hands after so long. It makes him realize how cold he actually is. Slowly, he steps under the stream of warm water and turns it up a tad, just because he can. God, this is nice. It’s not long before he pushes his head under, holding his breath as his hair clings to his forehead. It’s been forever since he’s had a shower like this. For now, he can’t even be bothered to figure out where he put the soap. He just wants to stay right there. Forever. Warm. A small smile creeps onto his face when he remembers Bucky’s coat, enveloping him earlier that day. Though it was cold at first, it quickly warmed up through Peter’s body heat. Not a surprise, everything about Bucky made Peter feel hot. Bucky. The man had haunted his thoughts all day. Heck, he even dreamed about him. Peter’s arousal spikes at the memory of Bucky’s metal hand wrapped around his shaft, his lips next to Peter’s ear to whisper filth and make him beg. Peter pulls his head out from under the stream and topples it backwards to take a big breath, open mouthed, eyes closed. The hot water hits his chest, causing his nipples to spring to attention. The fingers he has still wrapped around his shaft, squeeze softly. Peter lets out a shaky breath and stifles a moan. His eyes are pressed shut. He imagines the metal hand caressing his skin. The thought alone has him shiver. His hand moves slowly at first, pumping and squeezing and, God, it feels insanely good.  “F-Fuck,” he whimpers, raising his free hand to start tweaking one of the sensitive buds on his chest. His back arches slightly and he sticks out his butt a little. Suddenly, there’s a presence on either side of him. He opens his eyes, but there’s nothing to be seen. His sight is slightly warped, but something in the back of his head tells him everything is just fine. He’s there by himself. In his bathroom. “You’re holding back again…” Peter’s eyes go wide and he looks further up, confused at where the voice came from. Was that… Bucky? “Thinking of me, pretty thing?” Peter blushes. How is his imagination so vivid? So real? It sounds like Bucky is right there, in front of him and- Peter gasps when two cold fingers suddenly tease his other nipple. What is- Where is- “Answer me.” “Yes.” Peter doesn’t know where he’s looking but he can’t look away. His gaze is locked with something in front of him. Someone. Taller. But there’s nothing there…? “Gah,” Bucky groans quietly. “I just can’t get enough of you.” A tongue presses against Peter’s lips and he immediately complies and parts his own. The invisible tongue curls in and comes back out only for the imaginary mouth to suckle on Peter’s top lip. Peter closes his eyes and moans again. “Wish you were really here,” Peter sighs. “Mm…” Bucky chuckles and out of nowhere a second pair of hands glide over Peter’s wet, naked body. His hips buck when the other’s index finger dips into his crack and caresses past his hole. “We are,” another voice whispers into Peter’s ear from behind. Tony Stark. Holy- Peter opens his eyes again and gasps under the attention. Tony’s hands grab Peter’s hips to angle him and grant better access to his ass. Peter’s back arches further, brain completely confused at what’s happening. His limbs hang limp. He’s convinced he’s by himself. But how is this happening? He’s alone? He’s not? He’s- what’s going on? His mouth opens, wanting to say something, but he’s halted when a digit plays with the rim of his hole. “M-Mr. Stark?” “That’s me, baby, let me have a taste…” The fingers at his entrance are replaced with a tongue, immediately dipping in. Peter moans obscenely and bucks even further back, craving more. “Eyes on me, Peter,” Bucky’s voice says in front of him. Peter didn’t realize he’d shut them, but when he opens them again, there’s still no one there. He’s by himself. In his bathroom. This… This is his bathroom right? He can imagine them, though. Vividly. Bucky’s piercing blue eyes, right there. “E-Eyes on you,” Peter stutters, flinching with every flick of Tony’s tongue in his ass. “Good boy.” Peter’s jaw falls slack at the praise. His eyes would’ve rolled back if he wasn’t forced to keep looking into the icy blues that weren’t actually there. Or… Were they? No…? His confusion keeps getting mixed with pleasure as the two pairs of hands ignite every inch of skin. Hot water splashes all over the bathroom as Peter’s lifted off the ground. His head is all over the place. He’s certain he’s alone. There’s no one else here. But then, how is any of this happening? How are his feet completely detached from the floor? He’s pressed against a cold body and instinctively wraps his legs around the ghost figure. He’s up relatively high, cock pressing against imaginary Bucky’s abs and- is this really imaginary? “Can you keep up with yourself, Petey?” Bucky coos. Peter pants with yearning, his brain overloading with the mixed messages it’s receiving. He’s completely and utterly convinced he’s alone, yet he’s not. He’s being taken care of by two people. By Tony and Bucky. But he’s not. He’s alone. And fuck, it feels so good and he needs more but he can’t move his arms, but how could he possibly get there without touching himself because he’s alone? A whine slips from Peter’s lips. “Makes n-no sense, can’t- can’t make sense-” His head swims with pleasure as Tony’s tongue keeps lapping at him, hands squeezing the cheeks of Peter’s ass. Bucky is still keeping him up in the air, softly rubbing Peter up and down against himself with his strong arms. Peter’s eyes are still strained on the nothing in front of him, but his forehead rests against imaginary/not imaginary Bucky’s. Peter’s unaware he’s still babbling gibberish until Bucky’s voice vibrates the air around him. “Ssh… Pretty Peter...” Peter’s entire body slacks in Bucky’s hold and he could practically hear Bucky grinning through his words. “Does it have to make sense?” Does it? Does it really? A faint smile spreads on Peter’s face when he truly gives in. Not that he was fighting before, but it feels like whatever Bucky said just shut down his brain completely. It doesn’t have to make sense. He’s alone. He’s not alone. It doesn’t matter. He’s feeling good. So good. Wants to feel even better. All he has to do is… “Let it happen…” Bucky’s tongue flicks Peter’s upper lip just as Tony’s tongue dips in far enough to graze past his prostate. Peter gasps and jolts but almost immediately relaxes again, letting his feet practically dangle. He knows he’s taken care of. He doesn’t have to do anything. Doesn’t have to worry about anything. He just has to feel good. Let it happen. His mind is turned off, yet his body is turned on. Very much so… Peter doesn’t know how long he’s like this, floating, the warm stream of water massaging the skin of his back, cock rubbing against Bucky and ass eaten by Tony Stark. But it feels like heaven. He can barely remember his name when he’s brought back to his feet, though he can’t stand. Not by himself. “You’re beautiful,” Bucky whispers. Peter wants to protest Tony’s tongue leaving his hole, but he couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. He feels too good to even barely function. He was pretty sure he was still breathing, but that was about it. The ghost hands gently scrub Peter’s tired body clean. The orchid scent fills his nostrils and clouds his mind even more, though he wasn’t sure if that was even possible. He shivers when one of the hands grabs his shaft and starts massaging it, moving up to cup his balls and fondle them. “Perfect,” Tony sighs against Peter’s shoulder, pressing kisses on the freshly washed skin. “You are absolutely perfect…” “Nng-” Peter drops his head back against Tony’s chest, lazily rolling his hips into the hand that’s giving him all the attention right now. “Our perfect, pretty, puppet - Peter Parker…” “Puppet…” Peter sighs and smiles, turning his head to the side to press a kiss on the invisible figure of Tony Stark. If his brain still worked, he’d have known he was suckling on Tony’s collar bone. “Yours…” “Oh, I’d kill to get those soft lips on my cock,” Tony whispers in his ear. Peter looks up into nothingness, doe-eyed and yearning, imagining Tony’s face close to his. His hair sticks to his face and the hot water tickles his sides as it runs down his body. “Please?” The dark chuckle that follows, turns Peter to putty. “Did you just beg to suck me off, sweet thing?” A blush creeps onto Peter’s face and he turns to hide himself against Tony’s chest. The ghost embraces him, pressing their cocks together and massaging Peter’s scalp. Peter whimpers and rubs himself against nothing. Or something. It doesn’t matter. It feels good. “You’re a lot less innocent than you seemed when I first met you, aren’t you?” Bucky coos. One pair of hands lets go of Peter and not much later the water pressure decreases. Peter glances to the side to watch the faucet turn by itself until the shower is no longer running. A towel floats towards him and he’s gently wrapped into it. Peter sways on his feet, mind still turned off, as he’s turned around. “Look at me,” Bucky orders. Peter obeys and stares up at the eyes in the back of his mind. “Come back to us, remember us, see us.” James Buchanan Barnes The look of realization on Peter’s face is absolutely everything. The haze that had covered his eyes slowly fades and after a few blinks Peter tenses every muscle in his body and freezes in place. Everything he had ‘imagined,’ turned out to be real. “Hello there,” Bucky coos as he immediately wraps his fingers around Peter’s cock again. The young man gasps and bucks, and the way his face twists with pleasure tells Bucky everything he needs to know. He squeezes at the base, preventing Peter from cumming his brains out. His brains might have already been jumbled up, but Bucky isn’t done with him yet. He’ll truly make Peter lose his mind later. Peter’s body convulses and twitches- wants to get away from Bucky’s grasp so he can shoot his load, but Tony holds on to him. Keeps him where they want him. A sob escapes Peter’s lips and his muscles lose tension until he lets himself hang in Tony’s arms like he did before, completely void of any strength to keep himself upright. “Did that feel good?” Tony whispers in Peter’s ear. Peter can only nod, eyes rolled back and jaw hanging slack. “Good.” Peter shudders, only barely holding onto the towel that’s still wrapped around his body. Tony swiftly picks him up and nods at Bucky, who opens the door for them so they can put Peter on their bed. The boy immediately curls up in the towel and babbles something incoherently. “What was that?” Bucky lays down behind Peter and wraps his arms around him. Peter’s bare ass is protected by the layer of towel between them, but Bucky knows it won’t be long now… “I’ve never felt this good before,” Peter whispers. Tony chuckles and sits down on the other side of the bed, one leg pulled in, showing off his hard cock right in front of Peter’s face. Peter stares at it with a dark hunger in his eye and Bucky’s pretty sure that if Tony were to scoot slightly closer, Peter would eat it. “W-want you to feel good too.” “We are feeling good,” Bucky sighs against Peter’s neck. He takes a deep breath, relishing in Peter’s scent and leans in further to kiss the skin, feeling the veins throb beneath it. His hand snakes into the towel to trace his thumb back and forth over Peter’s cock. The shaft twitches and Peter moans. “Wanna make you- oh- make you feel even better, then.” Peter pushes his ass back against Bucky’s crotch. Bucky glances up at Tony and both men grin. “We’ve had decades and centuries to get our fill…” Bucky’s sharp teeth glide over the prominent artery of Peter’s neck. “Quite literally,” Tony adds with a nod. “Surely, we should be able to only give for one night.” Peter stays quiet for a second and then wiggles and turns in Bucky’s arms until he’s on his back so he can look at both men. Bucky leans back a little to give Peter some space. “What if I want you to take?” Bucky’s grin grows even wider, canines baring, and he pushes his thumb against Peter’s cock with a tiny bit more force. Peter is already slightly rolling his hips again and Bucky can’t help but wonder how in the world they managed to be so lucky to find him. “Then we’ll take.” The obscene moan Peter makes then, has Bucky growl and pull the towel from between them to throw it to the floor. His hips push and roll until his erect cock breaches the crack of Peter’s ass . The young man immediately arches his back to press further, eliciting a moan from Bucky. Jesus, this kid feels amazing. “Please,” Peter begs. And, oh, he begs so beautifully. “Please, take it all- take me, use me.” “Oh-” Bucky groans and pulls Peter even closer to him, entangling their legs and spreading his cheeks with one hand. The drag is dry and coarse, but one glance at Tony has the younger vampire rush to the nightstand to grab the lube. “How could we refuse an offer as tempting and gorgeous as that? As you?” Peter whines again as his hand grasps back to grab onto Bucky. His fingers dig into the immortal’s skin, while his ass is slowly going in circles “P-please-” “Please, what?” Buck grins as he turns them over, propping himself up against the bed rest and seating Peter on his thighs with his legs on either side, back freed from Bucky’s chest. He can no longer see Peter’s face, but the way his shoulders raise and his head ducks, is all Bucky needs. “Petey, please, what?” Peter shivers. Bucky has no way of telling what expressions wash over the younger man’s face, but suddenly, Tony gets on the bed again, sitting down right in front of Peter, on top of Bucky’s legs. “Look at me,” Tony orders and Peter’s muscles immediately relax when his eyes lock with Tony’s infinite browns, demanding and swirling like a pouring bottle of scotch. Bucky never admits it, but both men know Bucky is just as weak for Tony’s compulsion as any mortal is. Something about his sire is so intoxicatingly entrancing. He might have many years on Tony, but when the billionaire’s in charge, all he has to do is practice his black magic and Bucky turns into an eager, submissive fucking machine, ready to obey and serve his Master and his cock...  Wait.  Bucky turns his head away and scoffs a laugh. “You’re horrible.” “Hmm, it was worth a try...” Tony’s cheeky grin was evident through his words. His attention is quickly turned back to their new toy. “Peter…” “Yes?” Peter’s reply was a delayed sigh, sounding slightly distant and detached, as is usually the case with their thralls, if they even replied. Most weren’t strong enough to even move their lips. Peter is special, Bucky is certain. “Tell us what you want. Tell us exactly what you want to do. What you want us to do. The words we should use. The ones you want to use. Tell us.” Peter nods along gently with every word Tony utters, like a bobble head refusing to cease its movement, delicately bouncing up and down. “Everything.” As Peter attempts his arousal fueled monologue, Tony caresses his jaw and lifts his chin until Peter has no choice but to follow up and detach his ass from Bucky’s thighs. Their eyes are still locked together and the billionaire’s intense stare ensures Peter complies without protesting the loss of friction. Tony tosses Bucky the lube who licks his lips and gets to work, lubing his cock generously and stroking himself as he watches the scene unfold in front of him.. “I- I want…” Peter’s breath is shaky. Still uncertain. Scared. “Hey,” Tony whispers as he scoots closer, pulling Peter in by gently tugging at his chin. Their breaths mingle and Peter flutters his glassy eyes. “You don’t have to worry anymore. We got you. We’re going to take care of you.” Their noses touch and Peter nearly goes cross eyed.  “Let go.” Peter gasps and pushes in to press their lips together in a desperate kiss. His hips roll, cock twitching and thudding against his lower abdomen. Bucky groans as he strokes his cock faster, relishing in the display happening above him. His metal hand creeps up and squeezes Peter’s ass, resulting in a filthy moan, muffled against Tony’s lips. His lube-covered index finger then wiggles its way towards Peter’s hole. The young man twitches when Bucky circles the rim teasingly. Tony’s fingers are curled around Peter’s throat, possessively rubbing the tips into the skin and over the veins. He breaks the kiss and his voice is low. “Tell us.” “I want you to love me. Own me. Want to stop thinking and be mindless. Willing. Suggestible.” With every word Peter moans, Bucky pushes his finger in further. “Want to be yours and u-used. A slut for your cocks. A slave for y-your touch.” Bucky adds a second finger and pumps a little faster, curling his fingers in the search for Peter’s sweet spot. Peter relaxes so easily around his digits. Bucky can’t wait to rail him. “Want you to put me under your spell. Make me addicted to your sex. Ready and waiting for you to fuck my prepped holes at any time as you see fit. Want it all.” Peter moans as Bucky’s metal hand digs into the skin at his hip and pulls him down, lining him up with Bucky’s cock. “Want to be filled.” Bucky immediately grants his wish and replaces his finger with the head of his dick. Slowly, he pushes in. Peter can barely hold his composure as he continues. “H-horny and desperate, hard and aching-nng-” “Good boy,” Tony praises as he slowly lifts Peter’s hips and pushes him back down to bottom out. “Such a good, pretty boy.” Peter shivers and throws his head back, only to be pulled up straight again by Tony’s calloused hands. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.” Peter blinks twice and moans at the drag on his insides. Bucky guesses the boy is becoming familiar with the hazy feeling, succumbing more easily with every wave of enforced submission that washes over him. Bucky knows the feeling all too well. Loves it all the same. Bucky lays still, savouring the feeling of being inside Peter. He’ll let Tony do all the work. “Look-Luh… Ye…” “What’s that, puppet?” “Yes.” “Yes… What?” “Y… What- what do you want me to call you?” Bucky lets out a surprised laugh. “Oh, we get to pick?” “You’re in charge,” Peter mumbles honestly, still staring straight into Tony’s eyes. “P-please, tell me what to call you-” Bucky’s cock twitches inside Peter and the vampire groans quietly. “Hmm,” Tony hums, inching closer to Peter again and letting his hands roam the younger man’s sides. “You want to be our slave, don’t you?” Peter barely moved, but it was obvious he nodded. “Yes-” “You want to serve us? Please us? Obey us?” “Yes, yes, please-” “Be our pretty puppet? Our toy?” “Please-” Tony rolls his ass once and Bucky’s face twists with pleasure. “Play with me?” “Oh, doll, of course-” Bucky growls as his hands grab Peter’s hips in an attempt to push him even further down onto him, if that were even possible. “We’ll play with you all night…” “After too?” The words would’ve sounded so innocent if they weren’t paired with an obscene moan. “Forever, if you’ll let us,” Tony whispers as he licks a stripe over Peter’s collarbone. “Forever-” Peter repeats breathlessly, raising himself up with the last strength he has so he can fuck himself on Bucky’s cock. “God, doll, you feel so good around me,” Bucky moans as he pushes his hips up to meet with Peter’s. Tony sits back up straight again so he can capture Peter with his eyes once more. “Doing so well for us, Peter,” he praises, taking Peter’s face in his hands, cupping his jaw and drawing circles over the skin with his thumbs. Peter shivers and clenches around Bucky, eliciting another moan from him. “Not too fast, sweet thing,” Tony chuckles. “Savor it... Keep your gaze locked with mine as you go up and down on Bucky’s cock.” He speaks slowly, with a dark undertone, and Bucky has to remind himself to keep his shit together, or he will fall for Tony just as hard. “Up…” Tony waits patiently for Peter to get to his knees again. “And down… Thaaat’s it. Again…” “Good boy…” “Just like that…” “Up… And down…” “Feels good doesn’t it?” “Doing as told…” “Obeying my commands…” “Up… And down…” “There’s so much pleasure in obedience…” “Just let it happen… Let go…” “Up… And down... “ “Feel the drag of his cock inside you… How it throbs and pulsates…” “That’s right, moan for me…” “So pretty…” “Good boys.” Peter Benjamin Parker Tony’s words bounce through Peter’s head just as slowly as he’s bouncing on Bucky’s cock. Peter is floating yet again. He knows he’s riding Bucky, but he can’t feel how his muscles ache with overuse. He has no idea how long he’s been here, staring into Tony’s infinite pools of darkness, pushing himself down to be filled so deliciously. But he feels good. And that’s all that matters. “Peter… Repeat the next word Bucky says. Can you do that for me?” Peter nods, head bobbing rather than giving a clear confirmation. “Bucky,” Tony suddenly says, quite casually. “Master.” Peter shudders at the word, unsure why Bucky of all people would say it? Did… Did Tony put him under too? “M-” Peter could barely bring the word to fall from his lips, pleasure tensing up every one of his muscles. “Master.” Tony immediately tugs at Peter’s hair, making him moan again. “Oh, aren’t you two my good boys… Turn around for me, Peter, go have a look at who’s fucking you so well…” Peter barely registers how Tony helps him switch positions, until he and Bucky lock gazes. There’s something distant about the usually so piercing blue eyes and both men moan when they’re joined together again. “Go on, my pretties… Find Peter’s sweet spot. Make yourselves feel good for me. Make me proud.” Tony chuckles darkly. “Not too fast, though.” Peter’s head swims as he rolls his hips to come together with Bucky’s. The older vampire’s eyes are the polar opposite of Tony’s. From deep woods to blue ice. Bucky is like a machine. His thrusts are calculated. Precise. Rhythmic. Mind-numbing. It takes a few tries and a few angles, but when Bucky’s cock pushes in just right, Peter freezes in place, mouth opened in a silent cry. “Keep going.” Yes. Peter wants to keep going. And so, he does, feeling Tony pressing his body against Peter’s, cock against his back and arms looping around so his fingers tease around Peter’s leaking shaft. “Look at him, Peter.” The young man had never looked away from Bucky in the first place, but the order solidifies it all. “Bucky is your Master…” Tony’s lips caress the nape of Peter’s neck. “Say it.” Peter whines softly. “B-Bucky is my Master.” He wants to squeeze his eyes shut, but he can’t look away or turn his head. He’s stuck in this overwhelming situation, but he’s certain he never wants to get out. Bucky’s hands on Peter’s hips squeeze, digging their fingers into the skin. “You will do whatever he says.” “I will do wh-whatever he says.” Peter’s obedience is rewarded with a pinch of both nipples, and with Bucky hitting his prostate every time, he’s sure he looks like a mess. He’s sweaty, nearly drooling, as his cock already is. “I am Bucky’s Master.” “You are Bucky’s Master.” Peter knows where this is headed and he’s living for it. Can’t wait to say the words Tony wants him to say. “He does whatever I say.” “He-” Peter clenches around Bucky’s cock, putting his hand on the tensed and toned chest below him for extra balance. “He does whatever you say.” “Now, pretty Peter… You’re a smart, good boy, aren’t you? What does that mean?” Bucky is Peter’s Master. Tony is Bucky’s Master. The math is simple. “You’re my Master,” Peter breathes as he bottoms out again, straining every part of his body. “I will do whatever you say.” “Thaaat’s it… Such a good boy.” Tony’s fingers trace over Peter’s cock and he gasps with a wide smile on his face as his body finally manages to relax again. Whenever either of the vampires uses that voice on Peter, he turns to mush. It’s soft and delicate, yet demanding and forceful. Disobeying it is impossible and every word feels like an attack on all of Peter’s sensitive spots. It fucks with Peter’s head deliciously. Immeasurable pleasure. Insanity. Addiction. Lust. It’s everything. Bucky is unreadable. Stern. Hot. Peter has no idea how close either of them is to coming, but that is honestly the last thing on his mind right now. Or whatever is left of his mind. All that matters are Tony, Bucky and Peter’s ultimate submission. “You two look so wonderful together,” Tony sighs. “Made for each other… That dog was a blessing in disguise.” Tony toys with Peter’s cock; squeezing it, tugging at it, circling the tip like a spiral. Peter and Bucky still stare at each other, completely infatuated with the other’s presence as Peter goes up and down… Up… And down.... “And you solidified his obsession with you by making a fuss over his Cold Coffee.” “I- I made him drop it-” Peter stammers, half-surprised that part of his brain turned back on at the memory of his worries. “I had to offer him another one, even if I didn’t have the funds-” “Stop.” The whole scene comes to a halt just as Peter bottoms out again, sheathing Bucky’s cock inside him. There’s a veil of shame and guilt covering his shoulders, pushing him down. “You’re not allowed to think bad thoughts. Only good ones,” Tony whispers into Peter’s ear. “Nothing else matters than what is currently happening in this room, do you understand?” “I understand.” “Look at your pretty cock, Peter. Look down.” Peter obeys and topples his head. “See all of this?” Tony’s thumb glides over the head, collecting part of the precum that was dripping out. Peter half-nods. “These are all of your worries, seeping out of your body with every inch of pleasure that we give you. And once they’re out, you can’t think bad thoughts anymore…” “Can’t think…” “They come out of your cock because pretty boys like you think with their dicks, don’t they? And the more that comes out of your shaft, the less you can think. So, why bother thinking at all?  Why not give in to me? To us? Give us your mind and your body. Feel your thoughts drip out with every pump of my hand…” It clicks with Peter, what Tony says. Master is right. He’s always right. If Peter’s mind is in his cock and his cock is leaking, then surely, he’s quite literally losing his mind… “Feels good to turn off your brain, doesn’t it?” Peter nods slightly and a rush of arousal shoots through him when Bucky nods along as well. “Continue.” Slowly, they start making love again. The concept of time eludes all three men. They’re completely caught up in each other, lost in pleasure. Something in the back of Peter’s mind tells him he should be sleeping. That he’s tired. But then, Tony didn’t tell him he’s tired. Nor did Bucky. So, he’s not tired. He keeps going, gently gyrating his hips with every push and pull, trying to milk Bucky’s cock of all its cum. He wants his Master to coat his insides and fill him up until the slickness squelches and squeaks with every movement. Peter wants it so bad- needs it. But Bucky hasn’t come yet and it’s only when Peter realizes that Bucky needs permission to release, that Peter clenches down particularly hard, eliciting the filthiest moan from the man underneath him. “Hold it there, lovelies,” Tony coos, caressing Bucky’s shivering legs and Peter’s sides. Peter has absolutely no clue where he is right now, but the grounding feeling of Bucky’s cock still inside him is all he needs right now. “Mmm… Bucky, you’re doing so well for us. So beautiful. Keep thrusting. Claim your thrall with your sex.” Tony hifts his attention after Bucky moans, sucking up the pleasure with every breath he takes- every word that’s uttered. “Peter?” Peter’s mind catches up with itself, realizing he closed his eyes. He moves his head so he can look at Tony, who has apparently stood up and walked around Peter over the mattress. When he opens his eyes, all he sees is his Master’s big cock, slowly swaying back and forth in front of him. “What do you want?” “You,” Peter sighs happily. “All of you. Both of you.” “Good boy.” Tony grins above Peter, but the young man is too enamoured with the dick in front of him. Tony angles his hips so he can drag the tip over Peter’s cheek. “Bucky’s an ass-man. Figured he should be rewarded with a good view of mine as I fuck your mouth.” Tony cocks his head. “Do you think he deserves to be rewarded, Peter?” All Peter can do is nod. Of course, Bucky deserves a reward. He’s the one who got Peter to be in this exact position. And he never wants to leave again. Tony pulls back slightly, chuckling at how Peter goes a little cross-eyed in order to keep his sights locked on his cock. “Gooood boy. Continue.” With every roll of Peter’s hips, Tony’s dick seems to dance in front of him. He wants to catch it with his mouth and relishes in the sensation of feeling it slap gently against his cheeks. “See this, Petey?” Tony asks coily. Peter nods, licking his lips and then parting them, wanting to feel soft skin on his tongue. “Your cock is nearly empty now. No bad thoughts left in that fuzzy little brain of yours, am I right?” Peter’s eyes half-close and he nods. “My cock, on the other hand, is so full with good thoughts. It throbs and aches with them. And I want to share them with you, pretty Peter… Can I give you some?” Peter throws his head back, eyes never leaving his Master’s cock, and he opens his mouth invitingly. He wants his Master’s cum- wants the good thoughts instead of the bad ones, even though - right now - he has no idea what those bad thoughts once were. What kind of man he used to be. All he knows is that he’s better now. And he feels better too.. He’s ready for them; for the good thoughts. He craves them and yearns for them. He hopes a desperate moan can convince his Master to use his mouth. Peter sticks out his tongue and enticingly flutters his eyes. “God, I’m so hard for you, sweetness. Can’t wait to sink my teeth into your flesh. Oh, I bet you taste so good.” Peter can’t reply. Not with the cock that’s now being shoved down his throat. He suckles and licks it, toying with the head as he keeps grinding. Shit, this feels terrific. Every molecule in Peter’s body is screaming at him to make Tony and Bucky, his Masters, feel terrific too. He’s convinced Bucky already is, so now, the focus will go to the throbbing shaft that rests on his tongue. He lets his teeth glide over it, tugging at twisting and- “Jesus Christ, kid, who taught you this-?!” Peter lazily looks up and moves to take his mouth of Tony’s cock to give his answer. However, Tony’s hand quickly grabs the back of Peter’s head, pushing the young man’s nose against his bush. Peter nearly gags. “Don’t reply, just keep- fuck- keep doing what you’re doing.” After a short gasp, Tony manages to angle his head down again to look Peter in the eye. “Make us cum, Peter. Make us spill.” Peter doesn’t have to be told twice. His rutting on Bucky’s cock quickens and he pushes down more deeply.  At the same time, his tongue swirls around Tony’s shaft. He can’t stop moaning, the ecstasy is too overwhelming. The longer it goes on, the more erratic Tony’s movements become. With a growl and a sigh, he tenses up and shoots his load into Peter’s throat. The young man swallows eagerly, lapping it all up. Peter keeps absentmindedly suckling on the softening cock as if it’s a popsicle, while he rides his other Master. “Oh, Bucky bear,” Tony coos and for the first time in a while, Peter hears Bucky whine. “Been on the edge for so long now, haven’t you?” “Y-yes-” “How does your thrall feel? Hmm? Tell him.” “So- so good, Peter, you’re so good for me, so good to me, oh-” Peter squeezes every part of himself, digging his fingers into Bucky’s sides. “I want to taste you, so bad-” “Would you be okay with that, Peter?” Tony gently pulls Peter off his cock. By the look on his Master’s face, Peter assumes he’s quite the sight. Puffed, red lips covered in cum- glazed over, teary eyes… “Bucky hasn’t fed in days… He’s starving, little one.” Tony caresses Peter’s face, all the while smearing his cum and saliva stained cock over Peter’s cheeks again. “May he feed from you?” “Does it hurt?” Peter counters the question with one of his own. Part of him still wants to think things through. Ask questions, on which he can base his own answer more properly. “It won’t if you don’t want it to.” Tony’s fingers slip under his jaw again, caressing the artery on his neck. He leans in slightly, capturing Peter with his eyes once again. “I’m going to tell you a vampire secret, sweet Peter… Feeding makes everyone involved feel good. So good, even, that if it tips you over the edge, you’ll stay on that high until the feed is done.” Peter shivers. He’s unsure if it’s true, or if it’s something Tony is just saying to win Peter over. But does it matter? If his Master orders him to cum, he will. For however long his Master so desires. Still, Peter is curious by nature. “H-how long?” “Hm…” Tony grins and presses their noses together, possessively squeezing Peter’s throat. “Shortest feed I’ve ever had was about a minute… But we can drag it out, my pretty. We can make you come for hours if you want to. You do want to come, don’t you?” Peter blinks once. He hadn’t given cumming much thought up until this topic came to light. His mind was mostly occupied with the pleasure his Master’s experienced. He felt absolutely amazing, yes, but coming? Only now, Peter realizes how much his own cock aches. How blue his balls must be. How desperate he is. “I want to come,” he whispers. “Good boy,” Master coos and Peter shudders. “Now, answer my question. May Bucky feed from you?” Peter moans when Tony drags his fingers from Peter’s neck down to his chest. “Yes-”  Peter manages to shut his eyes as he is moved into a different position. He’s the one on his back now, finally able to relax his muscles. He doesn’t notice how his legs are pulled up and spread and how Bucky follows every single one of Tony’s commands as he realigns himself with Peter’s gaping hole. They both grunt when he pushes in and bottoms out again. Peter’s eyes fly open as Bucky immediately hits the right spot in this position. “Fuck him hard, Buck,” Tony encourages. “He’s your thrall after all. Your toy. Your doll.” When Tony utters the last word, all the fog seems to clear from Bucky’s eyes and it’s replaced with aggression. Apparently, the word ‘doll’ was his trigger to snap out of it. “How dare you!” Bucky growls as he starts his relentless thrusts into Peter’s hole in order to chase his high. With every quick, desperate movement, Peter gasps and whines. It feels so good and Bucky’s frustration is so hot. And he’s strong; metal arm pinning Peter in place. Peter’s helpless. And it’s absolutely perfect. “What?” Tony chuckles. “Your orgasms are better after a few hours of denial. You get to feed tonight, Buck. You get to have Peter. He’s yours. Use him.” “Oh, I will.” The metal fingers move to curl around Peter’s throat, pulling at him and exposing his neck. Peter’s eyes roll back at the knowledge of the impending explosion of pleasure. “So…” Tony sounds so casual, so nonchalant. His voice is far away. Is he… In the bathroom? “How long are you gonna make him shake?” “As if I’m telling ya after whatcha just pulled.” “Hey, don’t get angry with me, I wasn’t even trying to put you under the second time. You just fell, I didn’t have to look at you once.” Somehow the fact that Tony and Bucky were arguing while Peter was used as a fucktoy did things to Peter. He wasn’t sure if he liked being ignored like this. Though, the fact that Bucky doesn’t even have to pay attention to make Peter moan with pleasure does add a bit to the tingles in his abdomen. However, he’d rather have his Masters pay attention to him. He manages to raise his hand to trace his index finger over Bucky’s chest. A blissful smile spreads on Peter’s face. With every rut of Bucky’s cock inside of him, he feels happier and happier. He wants Bucky to feel happy too. “M-Master?” Bucky’s head whips back to Peter and the man immediately realizes what he’s doing, seemingly shocked that he managed to talk over Peter. He doesn’t stop humping, though. No, he increases the speed when he sees Peter so utterly fucked out. His icy eyes darken and he bares his fangs. “Yes, darling?” He asks sweetly, a polar opposite of his movements. “Come for me?” With a loud cry, Bucky suddenly erupts inside Peter, not halting his movements as he keeps pumping and pumping and, oh, Peter feels so good. And out of nowhere, Peter’s head is turned even further and he feels two small pinches in his neck. He gasps when the sudden floods of mind numbing pleasure crash onto him wave after wave. His whole body shakes and twitches and convulses and he spurts his come all over himself. He’s lost it, babbling and moaning and screaming because nothing in his life has ever felt this mind shatteringly amazing. Bucky’s tongue and mouth are wet against his skin, lapping and sucking and Peter can feel how he’s being drained of his deepest shade of red. So good, feels so good, so good- It just keeps going and going and going and he expects it to become too much, to be overwhelmed and overstimulated, but his body just takes it and loves it and accepts it. More, more, more. Keep going. Keep cumming. Good boy. Such a good boy for you Masters. . Spent. It’s the only word Peter can conjure up when Bucky’s soft lips and flaccid cock finally detach themselves from him. He lays still, pale and exhausted. Awake, but not entirely present. Sweet praise fills his ears as he’s lifted off the bed and carried away to god knows where. It’s not a long walk and Peter gasps when he’s gently placed in a bathtub with nice, warm water. It smells like lavender… Peter doesn’t realize he’s holding onto Bucky, until the man uses his voice to part the fog in Peter’s mind. “Let go,” he orders. Peter only moans quietly, sinking deeper into the water and dragging the man with him. “Of me, sweetness, let go of me,” Bucky laughs softly and Peter’s hands relax their grip on Bucky. Peter’s head is held up above the water to prevent him from dipping under. There’s no strength left in his muscles to do so himself. The water ripples when both men join him in the large tub and start washing him gently. Every touch tickles Peter’s skin. He’s empty. A vessel for his floating mind. The four hands take care of him, cleaning every inch of his skin. They also make him drink something sugary and hand-feed him something salty. It’s when he’s on his third bite of the savoury meal - he guesses it’s some sort of cracker - that he manages to open his eyes. “Good morning,” Tony coos. Peter blinks a few times and then spots what Tony means. Golden streaks of sunlight break into the bedroom, illuminating the room with heavy yellow and orange tones. They… They went all night? “H…” Peter tries to speak, but nothing comes out. His exhaustion is just about as overwhelming as the loving warmth he’s feeling. How many hours has he been awake now? He manages to look down and notices he’s in the large glass bathtub he’d spotted the night before. “It’s okay, Peter, you don’t have to talk.” Bucky’s voice is strangely soft now. Less strained. Is it… Is that because he fed? Peter wants to turn his head to face Tony, who he only now realizes is spooning him from behind, softly petting the skin Bucky had bitten into. “We know it’s a lot to handle all at once,” Tony mumbles. “All we need to know is if you’re okay.” Peter nods slightly and Bucky moves in closer to feed him another bite. The water dances around them and he happily complies, wanting to satiate the hunger in his stomach. “You were even more than we had hoped you would be, doll.” Bucky’s thumb wipes a few crumbs from the corner of Peter’s mouth, an adoring smile on his own face. “And now, we hope you enjoyed yourself as much as we did.” Tony’s fingers twist into Peter’s curls, playing with them. Peter huffs out some air and smirks, but it falters with his lack of energy. He nods again. “Good,” Tony says staccato. His words carry so much differently when he’s not using his voice.  “We’re going to dry you up and put you into a clean bed so you can finally get the sleep you deserve so much,” Bucky explains. “Is that okay with you too?” Another nod. “Sleep with me?” Peter’s voice is hoarse, barely audible. Bucky smiles again. “Of course, pretty Peter… We’re not leaving you unless you want us to.” Peter is lifted out of the bath and carefully dried before being gently placed into the soft sheets. He curls up into them immediately and sighs happily when he feels Tony and Bucky sandwich him. They press flat pecks on his head, his shoulder, behind his ear as they continue their praise. Peter can’t believe any of this actually happened. But he’s glad it did. After months of being stuck in an endless cycle of repetitive work, he finally feels like he has a purpose again. At least, if they keep him. But, in all honesty, Peter is pretty sure they will. James Buchanan Barnes Bucky turns in his bed. The last time he looked at the clock, Peter had been sleeping for 18 hours. Well, Peter woke up a few times to eat more of the crackers, drink some, and pee, but he would always immediately stumble back to bed and crash again straight away. Tony spent the day in his lab and went back to bed quite late. Bucky stayed with Peter to take care of him whenever the young man needed him too, but he didn’t quite catch himself drifting off as well… Bucky reaches out, aiming to pull Peter close to him, but then his nose twitches. The bed smells of his delicious Peter, but it’s… Distant. Bucky pats an empty space next to him and his eyes open wide. A bit further away from him is Tony, peacefully sleeping, but Peter… Peter’s gone. “Tones-” Bucky slaps the man on the shoulder. Tony jolts awake and sits upright, looking around confused. “Wha-?” “Where the fuck-” And then they hear it… Soft hums, singing a tune neither man recognizes, and the clanking of pans. Tony and Bucky turn their heads to look at each other and then at the door. They then quickly scramble out of the bed, rushing towards their living space. When they open the door, they’re met with Peter in their open kitchen. He’s… Baking? Peter looks up surprised and fails miserably at hiding his laughter at the two feral, naked men, sheets still clutched in their hands. “Good morning to you too,” Peter chuckles. “I, eh…” He gestures at the messy counter in front of him. “I got hungry, but you didn’t really have any food, so I figured I’d bake some bread?” Tony and Bucky visibly relax, lowering their shoulders. “You can bake?” Tony asks bewildered as he sits down on the bar stool at the counter, legs spread to give his dick some space. “I mean, I do work in a bakery, you know?” “It smells amazing,” Bucky praises as he walks towards Peter, around the kitchen counter. He’s pleasantly surprised to find that Peter opted to wear nothing but the apron this morning. “You smell amazing.” “Thank you.” A lovely blush creeps onto Peter’s face. Bucky wraps his arms around Peter, pressing his morning wood against Peter’s pert ass. His lips find the skin he’d bitten into on their night of fireworks and he sticks his tongue out to gently rub it over the sore spots his sharp teeth had left. Peter gasps and immediately pushes back against Bucky’s cock.  “B-before we do anything else-” Peter stutters. “Hm?” “We need to discuss a few things.” Tony frowns and approaches them as well. “Oh dear,” he quips. Bucky lets go of Peter and gives him the space to do his talking. In the meantime Peter turns around to make the three of them a good cup of coffee to start the day. “It’s nothing bad, I promise,” Peter says with a smile. “I just need you to do one thing.” “Oh!” Tony claps his hands in delight. “You already want to make use of our skills? Cheeky.” “No!” Peter exclaims, grinding the beans. “All I want is for you to offer Betty a job.” “Who’s Betty again?” Peter sighs exasperated at Tony’s question, but the billionaire quickly remembers. “Oh! The other girl who was supposed to be serving us on Friday?” “Yes.” Peter turns on the coffee machine, frothing their milk as he speaks. “She lost her job because of your little stunt.” “Wait, what?” Bucky scratches the back of his head. “That was never our intention.” “Well, tell that to Beck.” “The guy you told to pull his own weight?” “Yep.” Peter finishes up the first cup of coffee and passes it to Tony. “He fired her cause she could barely walk.” “Jesus. Alright, what’s her skillset?” “She’s studying biochem here in New York. Super smart. I’m sure she’ll be an asset to your company.” Tony roars a laugh and slaps his bare knee. “Look at you,” he coos. “You’re gonna make a great personal assistant.” “Just-” Peter shakes his head, finishing up the second coffee. “Just help her out, okay?” “Don’t you worry about her, Peter.” Bucky pushes himself against Peter again, still allowing him enough space to make the last coffee. “We’ll offer her a job.” “Thank you.” “Anything for you, lovely.” Bucky kisses the top of Peter’s head and the young man immediately leans in for more. He shifts and turns, placing the last cup on the counter to kiss Bucky back properly. His hips start rolling again, rutting against Bucky’s leg. Bucky’s fingers move to untie the apron behind Peter’s back and he pulls it out from between them so Peter can hump Bucky’s thigh more freely, cock already aching again. Peter moans, letting his hands roam Bucky’s chest.  It’s not long before Tony joins them, once again sandwiching Peter between the two of them. They can hear the blood rushing through Peter’s body and they grin at how Peter’s neediness grows with every second. Tony and Bucky had promised themselves to let Peter replenish all of his stamina before putting him under again, but their discipline crumbles when Peter moans. “M-Master?” Bucky lifts Peter up just like he did in the shower and walks him back to the bedroom. Tony follows and raises an eyebrow at Bucky. “Quicky?” He asks. “Quicky.” Bucky confirms. But with how their sloppy kisses and needy rutting was evolving into more, Bucky was sure he’d come back out of the bedroom to a cold coffee.

#starker #winterironspider #winterspider #winteriron #fanfiction #marvel #kinkybeanlien #kinkybeanlienwrites

[anarchist-soupkitchen]

ooop its a really long essay

A brief list of why the Tories is pretty rubbish

 Before we start, I have a few things to say. As this is intended for UK audiences it might be a little difficult for people outside of the UK to understand the wording of certain topics, I will include somethings that need more explanation up here but if I do not include it here, please feel free to ask down in the comments.

Tory: someone who is a part of the conservative right

Anglicanism: the English church’s version of Christianity

This essay is a PERSUASIVE ESSAY this means its BIASED I hope you could tell from the title. This essay is from the view of someone who is white I am not trying to speak over people of colour on issue like race and I encourage you to look at non-white creators within the UK to get views on this matter.

I am pretty armature when it comes to my writing so do not expect something ground-breaking. And with that out of the way, let us begin.

1.       The tory party we know today was founded in 1834, you would think that would be plenty of time for its members to grow and shape the party into the best organization it can be. But with the tory party still stuck on the same ideas that Anglicanism is the only true religion, and that queer people should not have rights you would think that the party is straight out of the early 20th century, or still stuck on the same ideas the party was founded upon. It does not matter what side you are on and how your choice to view the tory party, people can agree on the prominent figures inside the tory party from old to recent. An example of a prominent tory of old was Winston Churchill a well know racist who also, coincidentally got us through WW2 when he was appointed by Chamberlin. He fostered such views that white people should govern over the “primitive” black and indigenous people of Africa and that Indian people “bred like rabbits”. To anyone who knows their UK history, 1983 was a very eventually year for politics and the UK as a whole. You now have to wear seatbelts in the front seats of cars, the dismembered victims of serial killer Dennis Nielsen are found in his London flat, unemployment was on a record heigh since the 1930’s and a general election found that Margaret Thacher was to be the next prime minister after a landslide win in the polls. Over the course of her 11-year reign of terror she periodised free-market capitalism and privatised public sectors including transport, railways and mines. Then because she did not like the Scottish government, she through a hissy fit and closed all mines in Scotland. Just like that she fucked up the economy, where in the big mining areas of the past are still experiencing the aftershocks today. I remember my granny telling me how she made up food packages for the miners around town and how it was so devastating to the town’s economy. Everyone was unemployed and starving, even my grandad. These examples really show that the Tories will support people who are the worst in British society if they have the parties’ interests at heart. You would think the tory party cannot get any worse but with modern polices such as pledging to get 50,000 nurses for the NHS while only giving them a 1% pay rise, which is only £7.78 for a low band nurse, by 2023. Or being “tough on crime” even though 96.4 crime were recorded by every 1000 people in 2019. You can see how tough they are about carrying out their polices. Let me tell you my favourite of the lot, Boris Johnston, our current PM, wants to limit immigration by 100,000 people. They want to only let in “the brightest and the best,” what a load of shite. Our immigrants are the backbone of our society doing everything people like the Tories would not even dream of doing. Imagen seeing Boris working in a McDonalds or in your local call centre. That fucker probably has not worked a day in his life. According to the migration observatory, migrants make up 50% of the low pay workforce. Either way you look at it, its abysmal. The government should do more for these people that letting them rot in a McDonalds or in a low paying job. If you have taken time to be a model citizen, train and get your qualifications, possibly learn a new langue to mover over to a shitty wet rock I do not see any problem with the government providing necessities to get you started in your new life. We have got the money.

2.       Can I ask you, what side do you think Boris Johnson is on? I will let you think for a moment. The Working class makes up more than half of our population according to the BBC’s class calculator. They say that a government is reflective of the people’s views and I think that is bullshit. Out of the working-class eligible to vote, who do vote, only three in ten vote conservatives. Do you want to know why people in the working class do not vote tory? Because under tory leadership since 2010, 6000,000 more children and their families were forced into poverty. The need for foodbanks skyrocketed 12.3% in the last five years and that is no even accounting for the pandemic. It is clear by now; I have given you enough time to think. “we know whose side Boris Johnson is on- the billionaires, the bankers and the big business.”- labour shadow chancellor, John McDonell. We know the conservatives are very busy committing acts of voter suppression and giving money to their friends instead of caring about you. They are buzzy introducing laws that make it mandatory to have voter ID in order to vote. If you do not make it free people will stop coming. The electoral commissions think 3.5 million voters just will not come back. this is all a part of, “takle[ing] every aspect of electoral fraud”- tory manifesto. It is well known that many rich people have been investing in the party for quite a while. Here is just a few: Anthony Bamford head of machinery in JCB, he gave £12.1 million since 2005. Charles Cayzer owns a shipping tycoon, he gave £480,00. Did you also know, Boris is known to be very generous when it comes to giving back. You’ve probably herd in the news about the conservatives handing out £3mil in contracts to tory owned covid PPE companies over the course of the pandemic. Some of that went to a MP, Nadim Zahawi who is a shareholder in SThree. SThree was given £1mil in contracts over the course of the pandemic. With all the evidence I have given above you’d think the government its rolling in it, I suspect they are but I doesn’t look like it from the outside. They have cut funding to courses drastically, as well as benefit schemes. Like cutting access for eighteen- to twenty-year-olds to the housing benefits. Yet with all the money they been cutting away from services and councils who desperately need it they still have enough money to cough up a commission for a royal yacht named after the duke of Edinburgh, costing over £200 million. Seems sweet does it, name a yacht after the ghoul of Edinburgh, right? You probably know the just of it now, your wrong. Not only is the yacht being paid for by taxpayers, but they are also naming it in honour after a racist. Or how the BBC would phrase his words as “memorable one-liners”. Here is a selection I find quite fitting: “The Philippines must be half empty if you’re all here running the NHS”- while meeting with a Filipino nurse. “If you stay here much longer, you’ll be all slitty-eyed”- he said to a group of British students while on a royal visit to China. My favourite must be “It looks like it was put in by an Indian.”- referring to and old-fashioned fuse box in Edinburgh. He is supposed to be the duke of the bloody place! I really like how one article what I read put it “[Prince Philip] screams out loud what other racists like him have learned how to conceal and camouflage in what they think and project as civilised demeanour.”- Hamid Dabashi.

3.       What I find absolutely astounding, is the Tories inability to show compassion to the people who have nothing. If you did not know the vagrancy act among other things crimeless the homeless and rough sleepers, which is by far a very bad mixture with the recent homelessness statistics, homelessness has risen 28% since labour was last in office and if the Tories continue down the path they are now, it is only going to keep rising. What you would find is most shocking is that there’s solutions for the homeless crisis right in front of us, what the Tories must to not be able to see. Layla Moran of the liberal democrats thinks they “must take a more compassionate and holistic approach, starting by scrapping the vagrancy act”. I think that would be a step forward and away from the old ways of prosecuting people for not being as fortunate as the rest of us, but there is something even more simple than that. Repossessing the 200,000 buildings that have been vacant in the UK for more than six months. Not only would that put a sizeable dent in the houses we need, but it also saves space. The UK is small collection of islands and I do not think the Tories can see that. We do not have the land available to just start building everywhere while leaving all those homes empty and unfilled. Its not a way to solve the housing crisis and its certainly not a way to save the money we supposedly need. Even the homes the Tories are building are left dormant because they are too expensive for the area, they are located in. With the way things are going the Tories will have to build more houses than they ever built before, because by 2041 homelessness is expected to doble. That is 400,000 more households if things do not change -a study by heriot-wat university. The evidence suggests that whatever the Tories are doing to end homelessness it is not working. Everything is not as bleak as I just told you though, the conservative has ended homelessness before. In the hight of the pandemic the conservatives got 90% of all rough sleepers off the streets and put them in hotels or hostels. This helped people apply for benefits, find jobs and get some more permanent assistance. People was helped during the pandemic, but when the funding ran out last July, homeless and the rough sleepers in the hotels and hostels where back out in the streets again. Alone and forgotten by the government that promised to end the very crisis they are apart of years ago. Theis shows that the Tories have the money to help the unfortune but they would rather sit on their arses chatting about what colour they should paint the walls of their house. More recently the Torie introduced a law what will fine people for sleeping in doorways. It really shows what the Tories care about, getting linings for their pockets. The Tories have the money to stop homelessness and when it was a danger to them, they stopped the issue what has been so recuing in our politics for decades. They helped the people who so desperately needed it only to chuck them back into the cold when covid-19 was no longer a danger to them.

4.       The conservatives fail to keep minorities safe in the society that they created. It is not surprise that the Tories are the most incompetent as ever. A study by BBC radio 5 found that hate crimes have doubled since 2013. An optimist would assume that is great, that there must mean that people have been reporting it more, right? Partly so. Although we have seen a rise in reports of hate crimes, the rate of prosecution has dropped down from 20% to just 8%. And that is just the tip of the iceberg, in a survey of faith-based organizations; the home office found that seven in ten of the employees surveyed has never reported a hate crime to the police where one happened. For a country where we are supposed to be the most tolerable it is no surprise that a big portion of the hate crimes committed are ones where the religion the victim followed played a big part. Our population, like many others, is influenced by our politicians. After Boris described Muslim women in burkas as “letterboxes” in an interview; citizen UK found that there where a surge in hate crime directed to Muslim women where the word “letterbox” was used. Again, continuing with the theme of hate crime against religions, Muslims made up half of the statistics in 2018 – 2019. The biggest spike we have seen in the last few years has been to Jewish people, where hate crimes against them have more since doubled. It is not a surprise since people seem to relate being a ‘good’ Jew to being a Zionist. Other minorities like trans youth under sixteen in England and whales now must go through everything that goes with puberty on top of not wanting to have the body you cuntly have all because TERF’s and conservatives do not think puberty blockers should be available to them.  At this point I genuinely think they want trans kids dead, how could you not see that the benefits of puberty blockers far out way the potential consequences. If puberty blockers really where the target they would have taken them of the shelfs completely, but they did not do that did they? They just restricted the rights of an already marginalised group more. Its not just trans kids but the fight for a third gender to finally get recognised is still waging on despite it being a battle since 2018. The government petition has been signed 136,000 times demanding non-binary finally be recognised as a valid gender in the eyes of the law. I hope I can get recognised as well as everyone else. It may not seem a big deal to some of you reading this but it is to thousands. Especially the people who want to go on hormones and medically transition. Because right now I and many other people are restricted and not allowed to get that service. If you are in the UK and you are of age, I urge you to signs the government petition. In other news the conservatives are just now getting to outlawing conversion therapy three years after they announced they would do so. It just shows how the party is not on target. On the topic of not on target let us talk about the increasing number of racial minorities becoming homeless because of lack of funding to their communities. Since the conservatives got into power in the 2010 racial minorities now make up 40% of all homeless despite being only 15% of the current population. It really shows how much they care about anyone who is not white. Yet people like my gran will continue to say they are doing enough for these underfunded communities.

the tory party really has nothing going for them, they are certainly not for the working class, they cannot solve homelessness and they do not give two fucks about minorities. To think anyone would vote form them is just amazing. Its fucking stupid to believe that they are anything but a bunch of rich shites dawdling around and thinking up ways to get more money into their pockets. To end this really all over the place essay, if you vote tory you are a massive twat.

Sources in comments:

#essay #uk #uk politics #uk politics essay #persuasive essay #tory government #tory #left wing politics #conservatism #conservtive #if any reads this well done #im sorry #its long #heehee hastags go burrr

[generalelectionmusings]

“A long thread about my personal experiences during this election dealing with my Labour voting family deciding to out themselves as casual racists by voting Tory / Brexit Party in traditional Labour "Red Wall" heartlands

I come from a genuine working class family .

Grandparents were miners and domestic cleaning staff

Dad was butcher , mum was a cleaner and when she remarried after their divorce she married a miner .

I grew up in a two up two down terrace house that my parents rented from the local Co-op society and then moved into a council house in Kendray (Barnsley) when my mum remarried .

One grandad was a NUM union rep ( at Woolley Colliery alongside Scargill )

Other grandad was a NUPE union rep .

Mum and her sister were both UNISON union reps .

I guess what I'm trying to get across is that we were a proper Labour supporting family , cut us in half and we would have Labour running through us like a stick of Blackpool rock .

And yet in this election I was the only one still voting Labour, in traditional "Red Wall" Lab areas.

I'm in Sheffield but my family is split across the Barnsley area, some in Dan Jarvis' constituency, some in Steph Peacocks and some in the Penistone area that's just turned Tory.

How the hell did this happen ?

Why did my mum and step-dad and my Dad and step-mum all vote Brexit Party ?

Why did my brother and his wife and my aunt and uncle both vote Tory ?

They're not stupid people , my step-mum is a nurse and educated to degree level , my brother an accountant and educated to degree level and my sister-in-law a teacher educated to degree level .

We all lived through Thatchers annihilation of our communities when she went after the unions and destroyed Barnsley after and during the Miners strike .

My step-dad lost his job when Woolley Colliery was closed and never worked again .

So how the hell did they all come to abandon Labour and vote for parties whose policies are the complete antithesis of their own needs and aspirations ??

To answer that you've got to look further back than just this last few weeks or months or the last couple of years .

You've got to look a lot further back .

Before the Miners strike everyone I knew lived and worked in Barnsley , my grandparents jobs were in Barnsley , my parents jobs were in Barnsley , my aunt's and uncle's all worked in Barnsley as it seemed did all my friends families.

The aftermath of the strike changed that .

Most people were employed at the Pits or in industry connected to the Pits or in the service industries like retail , pubs etc where the Miners spent their wages.

When those wages went then so did the local economy.

New Labour in 1997 gave people hope of a change but all they brought to the area were low paid minimum wage jobs to replace high paid skilled industrial jobs .

People thought that New Labour when they got in would regenerate and revitalize these traditional working class Lab heartlands.

They didn't.

Yes we got a far better funded NHS and Sure Start etc.

But areas like Barnsley just got left behind , their Labour votes taken for granted.

Life had changed .

Only my mum still worked in Barnsley .

I moved to Sheffield because of work . My dad ended up in Stoke were he met my step-mum before they returned to Barnsley .

My brother , his wife and most other family members worked in other nearby towns and cities , even though they still lived in Barnsley .

Some like my Step-dad and aunt and uncle relied on the benefits system to see them through to retirement age .

Then along came the banking crisis , followed by the high street crisis that saw the likes of Woolworths bite the dust .

Quickly followed by a Tory & Lib Dem government pushing their disastrous Austerity policies.

Areas like Barnsley took another hammering .

Jobs lost in the local economy which had never recovered from Thatcher thanks to New Labours indifference.

Cuts to essential council services and cuts to the NHS locally meaning longer waiting lists and crowded doctors waiting rooms .

And in amongst all this comes Nigel Farage and Boris Johnson .

The poisonous bastards gave everyone in areas like Barnsley exactly what the needed , exactly what they wanted .......

Someone to blame.

Immigrants .

Immigrants let into this country by the EU.

Immigrants taking our jobs .

Immigrants using our NHS

Immigrants taking our council houses

Immigrants filling up our doctors waiting rooms

You see it couldn't just be the Tory's fault that things were rough because it hadn't gotten any better whilst Labour was in power.

So it has to be someone else's fault .

So Farage and Johnson must be correct when they blame immigrants and tells us all politicians are the same

Both narratives that have been pushed relentlessly by Farage , Vote Leave and Johnson

Farage and Johnson must be correct if the news on the telly says the same thing and asks them to come on all the time to talk about it .

Farage and Johnson must be correct if the newspapers all print the same stories blaming immigrants for taking our jobs and our houses and clogging up our NHS .

And Farage and Johnson must be correct if everyone on Facebook is posting the same Memes especially if greasy Brenda from the local chippy is posting it cos she obviously knows here stuff !!!!

Under Thatcher we knew who to blame , the Tory's.

But under Blair who did you blame for life getting no better because of New Labours indifference ??

The politicians , both sides because they are all the same , none of them give a stuff about us .

Under austerity who do we blame ?

Not the Tory's cos they've told us that we are all in this together and there is no other way , we have to all make sacrifices .

So we blame the immigrants , the ones that the EU are forcing us to take .

And by default because we tend to class anyone who's different to us as a potential immigrant then we blame any and all ethnic minorities

All of this whipped up to a frenzy since 2016 by the likes of Farage , Vote Leave , Tommy Robinson , Katie Hopkins , Hartley-Brewer , Rod Liddle and Boris Johnson and his Tory cohorts.

Aided and abetted by the usual cast of idiots at the BBC , ITV and Sky .

Sadly I watched this unfold with my own family over the last 3-4 years and didn't do anything like enough to try and counter it

I ignored the initial flurry of anti EU comments and social media posts partly because I was voting leave too, albeit for completely different reasons

I spent far too long just telling them to stop spouting racist bollocks when they moaned about immigrants instead of actually sitting down and explaining why the stuff they were reading , watching and sharing was wrong and factually false .

I ignored the anti Corbyn comments because I just assumed that when it came around to election time they would just hold their noses and vote Labour as we had all done for years before regardless of the leaders popularity , just as they all had in 2017

I finally realised I hadn't done enough when the election campaign kicked in .

I only work part time now and that's from home so I'd decided to get fully involved in the campaign both on the ground locally and on social media .

Boy did I get the shock of my life when I started posting stuff about Labours plans and manifesto on Facebook .

I got absolutely frigging mullered ...........

by my own family members and friends.

My posts were full of comments from them with arguments and rhetoric that had been drummed into them by Farage and Johnson over the last few years .

My timeline was full of anti Labour Memes .

It got that bad that I ended up deleting my Facebook account .

Most of the family aren't speaking to me and Boxing day this year when we traditionally all meet up at my mum's is going to be an absolute nightmare .

Then you realise it's not just yourself and your own family thats experiencing this .

You speak to a friend in Rotherham and find they've had the exact same experiences.

You get a call from your oldest son in the armed forces to tell you that he's up on a charge after getting into a scuffle with some of his colleagues after being called a muslim loving terrorist supporting traitor just for sharing some Labour stuff on social media

Living in Sheffield possibly led to me being a little insulated from Labours problems .

It's a multi cultural city and apart from the usual quota of nobheads and Tommy Robinson types we all live side by side with few serious problems.

Brexit didn't seem to be as big an issue inside the city as it did in the out-laying towns .

But in fairness things never got as desperate or demoralizing in the cities as they did in the town's and old industrial area's

We weren't looking quite as hard for someone to blame

Corbyn had a definite image problem on the doorsteps .

He had a massive target on his back and there's no denying that the media were able to hit it's bullseye with alarming regularity

But this hadn't been insurmountable during the 2017 election even in areas like Barnsley and Rotherham.

And I genuinely believe that had Jeremy Corbyn been just as intolerant towards immigrants and ethnic minorities as the Tory's were we would have had a very different result.

After all the country happily elected an absolute racist bigot instead of Corbyn

That's an absolutely disgraceful situation to find ourselves in especially when you also come to the realisation that members of your own family voted this way .

How do Labour get voters like my family back ???

More to the point do we actually want them back ???

I'm not sure I want to be related to my own family members at the moment because of their willingness to blame immigration and ethnic minorities for all our ills .

And yes we may have had the policies that would have addressed the problems that led to them voting for the Tory's / Brexit Party but you can't enact those policies if you don't get into government in the first place .

Would a different leader have made a difference to these voters ??

Yes to some of them .

Would a different Brexit policy have made a difference .

Definitely , to most of them

Did they vote this way because they're racist ???

Who genuinely can say ???

I hope that for the ones related to myself that it isn't a deep seated racism , rather just a reaction to a constant and unrelenting malign influence of the mainstream media , targeted Facebook memes and snake oil salesmen like Farage , Johnson and Cummings .

But I guess we won't know that until 2024 when we go to the polls once more , with a different leader , with Brexit no longer an issue and with the realisation that even outside of the EU nothing has changed in Barnsley and similar towns under this bastard of a Tory government”

Link below:

#thread #voting labour #blaming immigrants #nigel farage #boris johnson #racism #xenophobia

[duchessofostergotlands]

What are your opinions on the Labour Leak? I’m too confused to decipher exactly what is going on, my brain has stopped working since working from home haha

Yeah it’s a bit difficult because I’m just seeing cherry picked bits on social media and I don’t really know the context, the sources etc. What I’ve seen is potentially incredibly damaging - the accusations about the way the soft left in the party treated Diane Abbott in particular - but I’d really like to see the full report because at the moment people are taking it in a very black and white way. Like I’m seeing a lot of people saying it proves Corbyn wasn’t anti-semitic. It does seem to suggest that he wasn’t at fault for the complaints handling inside the party and did try to change things (which I already suspected, I don’t think he hates Jewish people consciously by any stretch of the imagination and I don’t think he would want Jewish people to feel uncomfortable or unsafe in his party) but that wasn’t the only reason the accusations came out, his own misjudging of the role of Israel in Jewish society and the people he chose to associate with was part of it too. And the response by the party membership was anti-semitic without a doubt. Now I’m seeing people saying they’ll leave the party because it doesn’t represent them and asking for sympathy because it’s a hard choice but these were the same people who blamed Jews for the Tory victory, saying they should have voted for a party that made them feel unsafe just because and they were traitors for not doing so. And people are also blaming this exclusively for the election result when Corbyn’s failure on Brexit, his complicated messaging, the lack of trust people have always have in Labour to handle the economy, the London focus and the alienation between the priorities of the party base and the Corbynistas, and the aggressive cult around Corbyn were also part of it. So to me it seems like the report has exposed a lot of rot in the party that had been largely hidden and some heads should roll over this (telling the press about Diane crying in the loos and calling her “angry” and “repulsive”) but I’m seeing people use it to advance a narrative that is still very black and white, just in the opposite direction. Ultimately without seeing the full report we can’t know but it’s disheartening to know that both the soft left and the hard left in the party are full of shitty people and we’re unlikely to get into power for a long time as a result. 

EDIT: since I queued this I found the full report so will read it and probably update my views

#ask #anon #non royal #politics

[fxckthetories]

Who here remembers the alternative vote referendum in May 5th 2011? I was 14 then, so old enough to remember. But I don’t remember hearing anything about it. I did some research, and it was on the same day as the Welsh Assembly elections, Scottish Parliament elections and the local by-elections. The voter turn-out was so low (as was everything around that time), and 67.90% of people voted against it. I asked my parents, and they said they had no idea it was even going on.

Now, alternative vote isn’t the BEST voting system, but it is miles better than First Past the Post. It ruins the spoiler effect and gives smaller parties a chance to gain more seats because people don’t feel the need to vote tactically. So why did this referendum have a low voter turnout (42.2%)? Why did so few people hear about it? Why was it held on the same day as so many other elections?

Anyway, here is a video of David Cameron speaking against it.

Of course everything he says is bollocks. AV is simple. You go in and vote, you can just put an “x” next to one candidate if you want, but you can also rank them - up until you stop liking the parties. If you opt to rank them, then your vote can be transferred in the order you ranked them should your first choice get eliminated. The parties that get eliminated are the parties that come in last place after each elimination. It takes longer to explain, sure, but it doesn’t take a genius to understand it.

Alternative Vote is far more fair than First Past the Post. It results in candidate that a larger per cent of the voters can be happy with, even if it’s not their first choice. Supporters of small parties should have their vote counted again because they deserve to have their voice heard. Labour and Conservative supporters already had their voice heard.

And the claim that it results in a Parliament of second choices, as if First Past the Post doesn’t do the the exact same thing (and worse), is by far the worst part of the video. Our current system causes people to vote tactically against a party they dislike over a party they actually like. We have a Parliament of second choices. To some of us, it’s worse. We have a Parliament of last choices that got in through the spoiler effect that the Tories often gain power through.

Something tells me that the date and the lack of knowledge surrounding the occurrence of this referendum wasn’t an accident. Remember that there was a Conservative-Liberal Democrat coalition back then. Lib Dems are very much in favour of electoral reform. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that David Cameron did this to gain favour with Lib Dem voters, but did everything he could to make sure that it didn’t go through.

#uk politics #alternative vote #end fptp

[lhs3020b]

Boris And the Baddest of Bad Weeks

I promised an expanded entry on what’s going on at the moment in our national meltdown, so here it is...

Allow me, if I may, to walk back an earlier comment of mine. Some time ago, I was distinctly skeptical about the idea of an early general election. However, the situation has evolved. You see, there was one thing I didn't count on. I never imagined that Boris Johnson would be stupid enough to force nearly two dozen of his MPs out of his party.

That's right: I over-estimated his intelligence. Umm, whoops.

In my defence, what he did may well have been the single most utterly-stupidly self-defeating maneuver ever in British politics. The only sense I can make from it is that he's having a narcisistic breakdown. Actually, viewed in that very narrow light, perhaps it does make a little sense. If you've ever had the misfortune to have a narcissist in your life, you'll be aware that the thing they just can't cope with is any sort of rejection. The "no"-word tends to summon a meltdown - and of course BoJo faced a pretty major series of "nopes" from Parliament this week.

The other thing I didn't count on was that apparently yes, there actually are some things that some Tory MPs just won't do, even if the consequences of Not Doing The Thing runs to damaging their personal careers. This did come as a surprise to me - I'd assumed that blind partisanship and the desire for salaries would ultimately trump - or perhaps, Trump - all other concerns. But no, credit where it's due, it turns out that for at least 21 of them, there was a floor on the greed after all. Admittedly it's taken us three years of accelerating chaos to find it, but it was there.

The next factor that I didn't count on was that the opposition parties got their act together. Bluntly, there was no hint of this over the summer. The speed with which it happened has left me a little dazed. The earlier failure to call a Vote of No Confidence, the weird shenanigens over ludicrous Governments-of-National-Unity, the generalised infighting and chronic myopia ... just two weeks ago, it was not looking good. I was basically starting to quietly accept that we on the pro-Remain side were finally defeated, and worst of all, we'd been defeated mainly by our own allies.

Then the prorogue happened.

It's fair to say that it's already backfired. The obvious cynicism of the strategy, the naked contempt for all the institutions of British government, the sheer gall of it all - it was meant to energise the pro-Brexit crowd. Instead, it appears to have driven everyone on the soft-Brexit/pro-Remain aisle into a state of thermonuclear rage. And if there's one thing that can bring unlikely allies together, it's a common enemy. By pursuing his grandiose "oh look at me being so Brexity!" cock-strutting routine, Boris accidentally made himself into exactly that enemy.

The other factor was that the prorogue has imposed a sharp time-limit. Consequently, Continuity!Remain just doesn't have the luxury of descending into factional infighting. The deep irony is that putting us on a tight deadline has actually helped us. It's imposed a focus that just wasn't there even 10 days ago.

Meanwhile, as for the wider country, well, Boris's walk-about up north yesterday seems to have been a complete disaster. Random people were basically coming up to him to tell him that it had all gone wrong. Then there was that bizarre speech he gave in front of a captive audience of police recruits. It was just weird - proper delusion territory, and entirely-incoherent. I'd like to compare it to Trump, but at least Trump can manage a consistent theme. Johnson was just rambling. There was nothing there, except possibly a desperate plea for attention. A lot of the political journalists I follow are openly-speculating about whether BoJo was on drugs during the speech.

(And wouldn't that be the ultimate post-2016 banter-timeline twist? If the Prime Minister - the Prime Minister! - got busted for snorting crack?)

Meanwhile, BoJo's narc-meltdown has accidentally undone Theresa May's one significant achievement.

Contrary to what many people think, Theresa May did manage to thread one single needle. That was, she (mostly) managed to keep the parliamentary Conservative Party together. Granted a few MPs jumped ship to Change UK earlier in the year, but it stayed in single digits. There was no big split - and, significantly, the Change UK crowd got wet feet about no-confidencing her. The advantage of this was that Theresa May avoided having the Tories fall into what we might call the 1922 Trap. Here's what I mean by that: in the late 19th Century, the old Liberal Party was increasingly-split on the issue of Home Rule for Ireland. The tensions only got worse as time went on. Then Asquith went and delivered the First World War and precious little else of value. (He was notably-slimey on votes for women, and seemed uninterested in doing anything about the property qualification that 40% of men still faced. The cynic might note that Nick Clegg's behaviour is not entirely new.) Lloyd George tried to put the party back on its feet, but the damage was done. During the 1920s, the Liberals were openly-split. At elections, Liberals ran against each other in numerous constituencies. Because of the way first-past-the-post voting works, in practise this meant that Tories or Labour got elected instead. (A constituency has - say - 46% of the vote for any Liberal candidate, but two run. Each of them gets 23% of the vote. A.N. Other Party takes 24% and gets the MP's seat.)

Theresa May's political strategy - yes, she actually did have one - was predicated on avoiding having Tories run against other Tories at elections. Given their divisions, it was a narrow needle, but she mostly managed to thread it. Boris Johnson has gone and exploded that. You see, of the 21 MPs he's sacked from the party, several are saying they'll contest the next election as independents.

It's hard to know just how big a problem the 1922 Trap will be - but, their vote is already split with the Brexit Party. And even the most optimistic opinion polls have the Tories around 10pts down on where they were in 2017. They're already in minority in the House - how many votes can they afford to lose, really?

Meanwhile, there's a further problem. The Tories' drift to the political right may have taken them too far. They assume that their friends at the Times, the Sun, the Telegraph and the BBC can plaster over the cracks for them - but, can they? The media was full-throated for May in 2017, and she still lost her majority. The newspapers are hysterical and shriekier than ever - but, who reads them? I can't remember the last time I bought a physical copy of one of the main papers. I suspect that's true of many other people too. There are signs that the socially-liberal/financially-conservative chunk of voters are starting to decamp to the Lib Dems. Again, it's not clear how big this movement is - but, as I said earlier, how many votes can the Tories afford to lose? It's possible that they could be facing the nightmare scenario of a general election where the right-wing vote is split three ways (four, if you count UKIP's still-slightly-tembling corpse, though they're close to a rounding error now). If the next election was still certain to be in 2022, all this would be somewhat academic. Two and a half years is a long time, they could find a way to turn things around. All things being equal, I expect they would.

But then BoJo had his narc meltdown, didn't he?

The so-called government is now in absolute minority in the House. While their opponents can't currently agree on an alternative prime minister, nonetheless the anti-BoJo grouping now has a majority of 43. They can stop him doing anything. No legislation is going to go through this house. Finance bills are basically dead on arrival. I really can't see how he could pass any kind of Budget. And also, if he does anything at all to irritate the Opposition, they can no-confidence him any time they feel like it. Quite simply, he's on death row.

My guess is that they'll leave him be during the prorogue period. The logic here is obvious enough - let him twist in the wind. He's doing a great job of destroying himself, so let him get on with it. This way, when Parliament returns late in October, they can do the deed and it will look like a mercy-killing rather than a gang-land execution.

Hypothetically, there are four ways Boris could get off the hook:

1) He could resign. This would arguably save him some dignity, and just perhaps it might leave a little room to revive his future career. But, he won’t take this option. He’s a narc. They don’t voluntarily quit. (Plus, uh, much as I’d cackle if he was forced to quit, it just leaves his successor with the same set of problems that he failed to address.)

2) He could try to simply ignore the anti-hard Brexit law. The problem here is, it would give the opposition a prima facie grounds for an immediate Motion of No Confidence. He might get some love from the rightwing press, but the ultimate result would presumably be his removal and a new Prime Minister. It would be the most pointless constitutional crisis ever.

3) He could arrange to lose a motion of no confidence in his own government. This would arguably be constitutional, and might be a way to trigger an early election. But, it would a) look utterly-absurd, b) be an unprecedented thing to do and c) would also require him personally to face the House telling him to fuck off. I’m not sure that a narc is capable of that. Also, there’s the issue that, as we saw in 2017, there’s no guarantee that he could win a general election. I’m absolutely not sanguine about the risks of an early GE but a) that’s democracy and b) if he runs his campaign the way he’s running being PM then he could well end up roasted.

4) He could reverse the prorogue. On the one hand, un-proroguing Parliament would buy him some extra legislative time. On the other hand, his opponents have control of the House, and a wobble on the prorogue would make him look weak. There’s not much upside for him here, though it’s the most “conventional” of the four options.

Basically the TL;DR is that while he has some choices, none of them are good and all of them could cause him considerable personal pain. The opposition have set up a proper four-pronged Morton’s Fork for him. Which tine will he impale himself on?

As for Brexit? Well, one interesting detail is that the underlying political question seems to be open again. It hasn't quite gained mainstream traction yet, but apparently people are starting to ask whether Brexit is going to happen at all. The Labour Party's position has moved visibly toward hard-Remain, albeit grudgingly. The Lib Dems are having their time in the sun again (though, I suspect that glomming up Philip Lee may help them less than they seem to hope). I don't know that I think it's going to happen, but I can now imagine a situation where at the end of October, the anti-BoJo constellation No-Confidences him then pushes a quick revocation bill through Parliament. (The "party line" here would be, "We wanted a second referendum but this man's scheming hasn't left us enough time.") Again, not saying this is at all likely, but I think it is now a possible outcome.

And if nothing else, BoJo's supposed golden hour is turning out to be quite the nightmarish turkey - and isn't that just delicious?

#diary of a disaster #UK internal politics #Boris's bad bad no good week #hahahahaha

[lifeascaty]

So, it’s voting season in the UK which means everyone on tumblr is posting ‘Vote Labour’ but no one’s really engaging with Labour’s blatant anti-semitism. 

& I don’t really want to get into a political argument on here so I was staying quiet but then I realised what a fucking dick move that was.  

Labour is anti-semitic. Full fucking stop. 

I’m not saying every single Labour MP is anti-semitic, obviously. But it’s a huge fucking problem. And it’s been pretty disgusting to see fellow lefties kind of shrug and see anti-semitism as an acceptable price to pay to get the tories out. And then, bafflingly, some who have been very ‘????’ when I mention it, because they don’t follow the news. 

A quote from The Jewish News (a site I don’t follow and was linked to by this NBC article but is apparently the biggest Jewish newspaper in the UK): 

“Shockingly, nearly half (47 percent) said they would “seriously consider” emigrating if Corbyn won. When it comes to perceptions about party leaders, 87 percent deemed the Labour leader to be antisemitic, 32 percent believe Nigel Farage to be antisemitic, with five percent saying the same of both Boris Johnson and Jo Swinson.”

This from The Guardian (a left-leaning newspaper - trying to just quote left publications because right publications would be against Labour anyway):

The Equality and Human Rights Commission (EHRC) launched an official inquiry into antisemitism in the Labour party in May and is due to report next year. The final submissions on behalf of the Jewish Labour Movement (JLM) to the inquiry was leaked to the media on Friday, including 70 sworn testimonies from current and former staffers, and concluding that the party was institutionally antisemitic.

and from the same article:

“ . . . a leak of documents from Labour’s disciplinary department to the Sunday Times, (...) included a recording of an official complaining that more than 130 cases were outstanding even though the majority were reported to the party 18 months ago and one had been on the books for more than three years.

The cases included members likening Jewish people to killer viruses, labelling them “bent nose manipulative liars” and calling for the “extermination of every Jew on the planet”.

It reportedly took 10 months for the party to expel a member in Nottingham who wrote that “Jews represent a viral infection that need to be completely eliminated” and said he wanted the “complete extinction of all Jews”.

(Labour claims it’s under 130 cases, to be transparent).

I just find it kind of awful when people aren’t prepared to engage with Labour’s anti-semitism but will vote for them. Like, if you have engaged with their anti-semitism, are aware of it but still want to vote for them then I can’t do anything to stop that, but the number of people who just go blank when I try to talk about it is ridiculous. Oh and also the number of non-Jewish people who will say it’s not true and Jewish people aren’t feeling nervous in this political climate, what do they expect me to do? I’m just like “well I dunno if I feel comfortable telling my Jewish friends I don’t believe them just because you said so”. Like, ??????!

I truly, truly don’t believe that the British public would be this willing to vote for a party who was openly anti-black on the level that the Labour party is anti-semitic. But maybe I’m a naive idiot and they’re not comparable? 

Anyway. Why vote for an anti-semitic party when you could vote Lib Dem? 

#miss me with that tactical voting shit #I get that I may truly be an idiot #but I don't understand how tactical voting can ever justify voting for a party filled with this much hatred #am i just too naive? #too idiotic to understand? #everyone keeps saying we need to keep the tories out #but i'm pretty convinced we also need to keep labour out #and if everyone who wanted to vote Labour to keep the tories out #voted lib dem then the left would have a majority anyway #ugh I know I'm going to get hate for htis #this* #like I feel it in my bones #but I don't think it's okay to stay silent about this stuff #so I guess I'll have to take the hate and keep on moving forward #i get that we don't vote for the perfect party but instead for the best of a bad lot party #and that we have to make compromises with ourselves when we vote #no party will represent our political stances perfectly etc. #but this isn't an issue i can compromise over #i just can't #and if you can then you've done your soul searching etc. #and I can't change your mind #but i just want to balance out all the posts saying vote labour #that don't acknowledge their anti-semitism #i've had one post cross my dash that has said 'yeah they're anti-semitic but it's worth voting for them anyway' #which obviously i disagree with #but one post? seriously? #anyway #i'm typing in the tags because i'm so scared to post this #it should be obvious that i'm voting lib dem #which is the second biggest party in my area

[labourpress]

Keir Starmer speech to Labour Party Conference

Keir Starmer MP,  Shadow Secretary of State for Exiting the European Union, speaking at the Labour Party Conference in Brighton today, said:

 ***CHECK AGAINST DELIVERY***

 Thank you conference.  Thank you to everyone who has taken part this morning. Thank you also to Labour’s fantastic Shadow Brexit team: Jenny Chapman; Paul Blomfield; Matt Pennycook; Dianne Hayter; Karin Smyth; Emma Hardy; and Jess Morden. ardBelieve you me, they could all have chosen easier jobs in the last year.

What a year it has been. Article 50 triggered. A snap election. It was meant to be a coronation, but it left us with a broken Government. Too weak to govern. Too divided to negotiate Brexit. Constructive ambiguity is now official government policy.

It would be funny, if it wasn't so tragic.

 Britain's place in the world is at stake. People's jobs are at stake. People's mortgages are at stake. People’s futures are at stake. And who are the authors of this Tory tragedy? 

First, David Cameron, who gambled his country, because he couldn’t hold his party together. Then, Boris Johnson, standing in front of his red bus, with a lie on the side – a false promise of £350m a week for the NHS. Ruthless about his own ambitions, but reckless about our country.

Now Theresa May, robotically marching towards an extreme Brexit - focussed on her own survival not the national interest. Maybe the Tories can afford this disastrous approach to Brexit. Maybe the Tories would benefit from a Brexit of deregulation, where rights are put at risk.

But you know, and I know, that millions of working people cannot. Whether you’re in the front seat with Theresa May, or in the backseat with Boris Johnson, there's nothing patriotic about joy-riding our country's economy off a cliff.

This has to stop. It's time for a different approach. So let me share with you Labour's approach. An approach that is both democratically legitimate and economically sensible. That respects the referendum result and puts jobs and the economy first. An approach rooted in our core values.  Values that bind us together. Labour values.

 Values of internationalism: we have always been an internationalist party; reaching out to Europe and the rest of the world rather than turning inwards.  Values of co-operation, solidarity, and a simple belief that we achieve more together than we do alone. An unflinching commitment to human rights, the rule of law, rights at work and the protection of our environment. Fairness, equality and social justice in our economy and in our society.

 As we exit the EU, we should not abandon these values. On the contrary, these values should drive everything we do in these uncertain times. That is why, over the summer, Labour reached an agreed position that transitional arrangements on the same basic terms that we currently have with the EU are in the national interest. For Labour that means that during the transitional phase, we would remain in a customs union with the EU and within the Single Market.

 The Government on the other hand spent their summer squabbling in public. So dysfunctional had it all become, that the Prime Minister had to fly to Florence on Friday, only to accept Labour’s position on transitional arrangements. Let’s see if that survives contact with Tory party conference.

 But let’s not be fooled by what the Prime Minister said in Florence. All she has done is to delay the cliff edge. All her ideological red-lines remain. She still prioritises arbitrary immigration targets over jobs and the economy.  She has no answer to fundamental questions in Northern Ireland. And she still insists – in spite of all the warnings – that no deal is a viable option.

 The Labour Party rejects that approach. If we were in Government, we would build a new progressive partnership with the EU. We would negotiate a final deal that ensured continued co-operation and collaboration with our EU partners in all fields. And a final deal, that retained the benefits of the Customs Union and the Single Market. Options for achieving this should not be swept off the table.

 Subject, of course to negotiations, remaining in a form of customs union with the EU is a possible end destination for Labour.

 We are also flexible as to whether the benefits of the Single Market are best retained by negotiating a new Single Market relationship or by working up from a bespoke trade deal. No rash, ideological red lines preventing a sensible deal. No fantastical, ‘blue sky’ proposals. A pragmatic approach. Labour are now the grown-ups in the room. We stand ready to take charge of the negotiations. Not acting for narrow political gain. But in the national interest.

 Conference, the way the Tories are handling Brexit tells you a lot about their competence - or should I say incompetence.  But it also tells you about their character. About their dogmatic disregard of the national interest; about their sheer sense of entitlement; about their post-imperial delusions; about their willingness to put other people’s jobs at risk.

 Our country today is so much better than our Government. This is a country yearning for change. Theresa May – and whichever Brexiteer replaces her – cannot deliver that change. The old politics and the Tory old guard have had their day.

We need a transformative Labour Government. Not just to break the impasse in Brexit negotiations and to deliver a progressive new partnership with the EU – vital though that is. But to tackle the wider injustices and inequalities we see all around us. To give hope that our society, our public services and our economy don’t have to be like this. That we can build a better, fairer and more inclusive Britain.

 That’s why I came into politics. That is why you are in this hall. It’s why Jeremy has been able to mobilise 600,000 members …and inspire the support of over 12 million people. It’s why the clock is ticking for this Prime Minister and this Government.

 We have come a long way in the last year. Now is the time for us to lead. To bring a divided country back together. To mend our broken politics. This is Labour's opportunity. This is Labour's responsibility. And, working together, this can be Labour's achievement.

Delivering a Government for the many, not the few.

 Ends

[reekierevelator]

A Hot Wind Blowing

‘Ach, you’re always blowing hot and cold’, I said, as Abdul set down the main courses and I settled down to eat, admiring the red flock wallpaper and the funny big elephant god on the shelf in the corner.

As he turned to protest, the mouthful of vindaloo Tam had just swallowed blew over me like the sirocco had just arrived from the Sahara.

‘Look, of course, I fancy a holiday as much as you do,’ he said, ‘but it’s the money, I’m sailing close to the wind as it is.’

Tam was always the careful one; always desperately trying to peep over the horizon to see what was coming next. Worked as a scaffolder. Never quite sure when he’d be laid off between jobs. We’d been sort of pals since the old school football team. Got on fine talking about football.  Didn’t really have much else to talk about back then. As we got older we inevitably went our separate ways, but we kept in touch.  Both in our twenties now.  Both still single.  Since school I’ve been in an office job at Innalot’s petrochemical refinery, an easy train trip from town.  But it always kind of suited us to meet up two or three times a year and we’d arrange a holiday together. We’d always get together at the New Bengal for a decent British curry.

‘Come on,’ I said, ‘we’ve worked hard all year haven’t we? Don’t we deserve a break?’

‘Aye, well,’ he said, ‘a holiday would be fine, right enough Jim, but it’s finding the right place isn’t it?’

‘What do you mean, finding the right place? Anywhere with a bit of sunshine, right, same as always?  Not too expensive. Girls. Preferably a decent football team to watch.’

‘Aye, I’m sure that’s just what the volunteers were thinking when they headed for Spain in ‘36.’

‘What are you talking about man; that was nearly a century ago? We’d only just got round to introducing Spain to the beautiful game.’

‘Aye, ok, maybe Franco and Salazar have gone now but, you know, the winds of change are starting to feel gey chilly again.’

‘What the hell are you talking about? Winds of change – that was Harold Macmillan was it no? End of empire and all that. Listen, we can’t afford holidays in South Africa or India Tam, if that’s what you’re thinking.’

‘No, I know, has to be Europe - if we’re lucky. But it’s like Germany, I mean with the AfD stirring it up and…’

‘But we never go to Germany Tam. No warm enough, is it? And the AfD’s not quite Hitler - ein reich, ein volk, ein Führer, and all that – even if they do manage a takeover once Merkel goes.’

‘Aye, but you can’t help thinking though, can you? I mean it wasn’t just Germany was it? Like France - Pétain happy to swop liberté, égalité fraternité for fatherland, work, and family…’

‘What is all this Tam, we’ve all seen Casablanca like a dozen times haven’t we?’

‘…and there was Quisling in Norway, even Hungary was happy to go with the Arrow Cross… Slovakia, Croatia, they were all keen back then – you see what I’m saying? Who knows…’

‘How about sunny Italy then?’ I cracked a poppadum and tore off a strip from the Nan bread. I was getting a wee bit irritated.

‘What, with the Northern League and Five Star running the show?’ he said.

‘Still sunny though, isn’t it? It’s not like they’ve managed to get Mussolini’s back in the saddle is it?’

‘No, but his granddaughter, Ms Mussolini, she still seems stuck fast to the old man’s ideas - and they’ve elected her to the European Parliament.’

‘Ok, ok, there’s Turkey, we liked that the last time didn’t we?’

‘With Erdogan now though, clapping half the country in prison…’

‘My God, you need to get a grip Tam. Next it’ll be France is a no-go area just because of Le Pen, or Hungary because of Orban…’

‘Or Poland because it’s clamping down on democratic institutions and selling anti-Jewish propaganda in its Parliament?’

‘I mean, that’s half of Europe you’re talking about.’

He chewed on a tough bit of meat, sort of brooding.

‘Aye, and that’s not even all the places in Europe,’ he said with some venom, ‘never mind the rest of the world: Philippines – Duterte; Brazil – Bolsanaro; Xi Jinping, Kim Jong-un, and so on and so forth. I mean, it makes you think, doesn’t it?’

‘Here, hold on a minute, my boy.  It’s only a wee holiday we’re talking about, not interfering with the régimes of every foreign country.’

‘Well, but it’s all that populism, authoritarianism isn’t it? A few years ago it all seemed to have vanished – the National Front and Rock Against Racism back in the day?  And then, like the measles, it’s suddenly popping up all around us again.  It’s like the embers were still warm and the hot wind of populism has got the bush fire raging again.  All the wee nasties are streaming out of the sewers that run in the dark recesses of the internet, trailing some kind of evil stench all over the place. Starts with wee things, like insulting Islamic people on buses, mistaking all Jews for the State of Israel, and then it spreads like wildfire.’

‘Easy on Tam. To be honest, the only evil stench round here is your breath my man.’

‘Away ye go Jim. A red sky, and a socialist hurricane of a wind, that’s what we’re needing to clear the air, set things straight. But it’s not happening is it? All falling away.’

‘Ach, socialism? That’s an old story. Look we can’t be worrying about the whole world. We’ve got all this Brexit carry-on right here to sort out, haven’t we? Tories are a fiasco and Labour not much better.  I mean… Corbyn?  We need a strong government to step in and take control don’t we?’

‘A firm hand on the tiller?’

‘Aye, resolute leadership.’

‘One to make the trains run on time, eh?’

‘Well, see the state of our railways, it couldn’t be any worse.’

‘Maybe get the country run by people used to doing things efficiently, people with business expertise, people you know can succeed because they’ve already got lots of money?’

‘Better than the numpties supposed to be running the place the now. It would be good to get rid of this chaos and take back control, wouldn’t it? Too many cooks, that’s what I say.’

‘Oh take back control is it?  Parliament’s broken. Democracy obviously just doesn’t work any more. We need top people in charge who should just step up and run the country for us.’

‘Well, if it works what’s wrong with that Tam?’

‘Maybe they could stop all the self-serving trade unionists from messing things up for everyone else while they’re at it, eh? We’ll have proper efficiently run state trade unions and Britain for the British. That’s it, is it?’

‘Here, keep your hair on Tam. Naebody said anything about unions. What’s that one you’re in, Unite or something? They’re sometimes after my hard-earned too, but I soon tell them where to go.’

Tam just sort of grunted.

‘And I’m as Scottish as you are,’ I said, ‘and well you know it. But you’ve got to admit it’s getting harder to hear the guid Scots tongue on the streets these days. Chinese, Lithuanian, and Arabic. I mean, I can just about handle all these la-di-da English voices.’

‘So, it’s too many immigrants is it?  Blacks or Jews is it? Or just too many East Europeans working hard to keep our care homes, NHS, and hospitality industries afloat, or Chinese students pouring money into our colleges. What do you think? Maybe it’s time to corral all those turbaned Sikhs into a tenement in Leith is it? Stop them running around buying up all the tacky tourist shops? Time to round up all the burka’d Islamic types eh, include the refugees and asylum seekers and so on, and ship them all off back to the Middle East where they belong? And while we’re at it we could sort out those other deviants, that lot who refuse to settle in one place and make a mess of waste ground, all those travellers, gypsies, tinkers. Do it once and all, - is that it?’

‘Here, haud on a minute Tam, it sounds like you’re trying to make me out as some sort of bad guy here?’

He sort of screwed up his face into a wry smile and said ‘Well, maybe just a wee bit racially or religiously intolerant, no?’

‘And when did I ever say anything against black people? I mean there was never anything to say when the only black people you ever saw up here were students, was there? It’s different now though.’

Tam wiped his face with a napkin, leaned back into his chair, and gave me a quizzical look.

‘Jim,’ he said, getting on his high horse, ‘are you at the wind-up or are you really wanting to be out there fanning the flames? I mean, man to man the world ower shall brithers be for a that. That no right? Egalitarianism? Fairness? Mutual respect? The pluralist society? Common decency? Anyway, half those guys are as Scottish as you are.  I mean, what next - stop wasting money on caring for mentally ill people; stop wasting money bringing decades old cases of sexual abuse to trial? Who cares, eh?’

‘Here, listen, I’m on your side there Tam. What’s all those initials, LGBTQ and so on, what’s all that stuff about anyway?  Bunch of poofters and perverts. I hate all those pederasts and sexual exploitation merchants. They want to lock them all up and throw away the key.’

‘What, so that you and me can pay a fortune in taxes to keep them in prison for the rest of their lives?’

‘Aye, well, just find some other way to get rid of them that’s cheaper then. We could always bring back hanging.  And there’s science. I mean medical science is fairly progressing, isn’t it? Maybe concentrate on the future. Give the money to the medics to spend on all that new gene-editing stuff. Genetic modification.  Make all the babies come out right in future and we’ll have all those problems sorted.’

For some reason Tam sighed a really heavy sigh. He put his elbows on the table – which, strictly speaking, in terms of good manners, you really shouldn’t do, - and he dropped his head on to his hands like it weighed a ton. Then I heard him muttering under his breath.

‘Aye Jim, and even Churchill that said that a hundred thousand morally degenerate Britons should be forcibly sterilized and the rest put in labour camps. Aye, right enough. He said it was the only way to halt the decline of the British race.  They were all fond of eugenics in those days, weren’t they? And Churchill was a great man wasn’t he?’

‘Well,’ I agreed, ‘he was a great speaker, wasn’t he?’ - because Tam was saying it like Churchill wasn’t really a great man. ‘Won the war, didn’t he? Sent back all those Russian prisoners. Let their own people sort them out properly. Sometimes he said things just for emphasis, a bit of hyperbole and that.’

‘Aye, like old Mosely and his black shirts. Just saying things for effect. At least until Cable Street.’

‘Here, Sir Oswald was a lord, Tam, a genuine aristocrat, Winchester school and everything. He was trying to do what was best for Britain.’

‘Ok, so what, you’re saying there are some people we should just throw to the wind, eh? His British Union of Fascists wanted to start with the Jews.’

Tam sat up straight and looked me right in the eye.

‘Here, you know Jim, just saying that about throwing things to the wind brings to mind another breeze, the kamikaze, the divine winds, the winds that saved Japan from the Mongol fleets of the Kublai Khan back in 1274 and 1281. But when they got into having really strong men at the top that wind didn’t help them too much did it? They crashed in flames in 1945.’

‘Died with honour though Tam. Patriotic, weren’t they? They died for their god-emperor, their culture, defending their whole history. Kind of thing we should be doing. Sort of heroic really.’

‘Wasn’t easy for the Allies though, was it?  Nearly didn’t make it. Touch and go with the USA coming in to help; and being dependent on that other mad dictator, Stalin, to do the business at his end.’

‘Aye, Britannia ruled the waves and it was Scotland the Brave, no?’

‘Oh aye, we’re the best Jim. Wha’s like us? No mony and they’re a’ deid. Only three kinds o’ people. Scotsmen, people that want to be Scotsmen, and people wi’ nae sense – that no right eh?  Arrant jingoist nonsense so it is. Leave a’ that crap tae the Erdogans, Putins, and American white supremacists with their Aryan nonsense, or religious fundamentalists convinced that if you’re not exactly the same as them you’re not quite human.’

‘Aye, right, ok Tam. Nae need tae get hot under the collar.  To be honest if we get a summer as good as last time I’d be happy with Blackpool. Maybe Largs or Rothesay this year. Even Millport.’

‘How about the Irish Republic?’

‘What, wait a minute now, mingling with the Taigs?’

And Tam kind of looked away like he didn’t want to know me, didn’t want to be seen beside me. When he spoke his face was kind of drawn and serious and it was like he wasn’t really speaking to me anymore.

‘My God, but it’s come to something, hasn’t it, when we have to look to Ireland and the Irish Taoiseach for lessons in religious, racial, and sexual tolerance.’

I said, ‘Dinnae fash yersel Tam. You’re getting yourself all worked up and excited for no reason… The chilies in that curry fair go for you, don’t they? Do you fancy cooling down a bit with a bowl of ice-cream?’

‘Aye, right,’ he said, ‘ok then.’ He sounded a bit sad, almost despairing. Maybe holiday money was a bigger problem for him that I’d imagined.

So I shouts the order.

‘Hey, Abdul - two ice-creams when you’re ready pal.’

And the waiter comes over with that big stupid smile of his.

‘Yes indeed. Very nice to see you again gentlemen. I remember from last time. James and Thomas is it not? Oh, and good manners insist I tell you my own name. It is actually Ramesh, Ramesh Ranganathan.’

And as he stood there smiling – trying to curry favour - I mind I just said ‘Aye, right you are then Abdul. Make it three scoops each. Vanilla, all white, for Tam here. Strawberry, vanilla, and blueberry - red, white, and blue - for me.’

And right there and then, for some unknown reason, Tam launched himself at me, spouting some drivel about direct action. He had his hand clamped round the back of my neck and pushed my face down into what was left of the poppadums and mango chutney. Chutney all over my face. And my nose was sore and I saw it was bleeding. Blood dripping onto the white tablecloth. That Tam, what a hot-headed bampot. Hot head and hot breath right enough.

Of course, I had to call the police. The police know how to deal with people like that; they know which side they’re on, don’t they? Of course, I haven’t seen Tam since; although I did hear he was fined and bound over to keep the peace. They let him go on a promise of good behaviour and told him to get back to his work. Doubt if he’ll be getting a holiday this year though.  

But since then I’ve made a barrow-load of new friends through the internet. I’ve already fixed up a week’s holiday with some pals of some Robinson bloke in England. Some decent football teams to watch down there. Then later I’m off on the big one: a holiday in the sunny Southern USA with a couple of them. Apparently they know about this little sort of holiday camp where the air stays really hot even when a wind’s blowing. They’re thinking of maybe heading down to the Mexican border, or I might see Beckham’s new lot - what is it, Inter Miami CF? - playing somewhere. Great, eh?

And if my new pals are with me the next time I see Tam they say he’s got a bit of a surprise coming.

#Reekie Revelator #edinburgh #short story #politics

[laura-elizabeth91]

Only hours earlier, Nick Timothy had still been regarded as “the most powerful man in Britain”, but with the clock showing 3pm on June 9 he was about to make a call that would render him unemployed.

Dialling Theresa May’s personal mobile number, he told her that after eight years by her side, and having co-authored the manifesto that was blamed for the Tories losing their parliamentary majority, he had no alternative but to resign.

“Nobody told me I had to go, but it became inevitable,” he says. “I’d stayed up all night watching the results come in. The exit poll was a shock and when it became clear that it was right, it was obvious that I would have to go.

“I said to Theresa in Conservative Central Office on the Friday morning that I thought it was probable I would have to resign, then I did so over the phone that afternoon. She understood why.”

Two months on, Timothy has had plenty of time to reflect on his and the party’s humiliation in the general election, and has decided now is the time to share his views on what went wrong and why, as well as giving his thoughts on what Mrs May must do to stop Jeremy Corbynbecoming the future incumbent of Downing Street.

Shorn of the bushy beard he had sported for three years, (“I got sick of people telling me how old it made me look”, he says) and after a refreshing holiday in Sardinia, the 37-year-old looks, quite literally, a different person from the mysterious, careworn figure who was likened by opponents to Theresa May’s version of Rasputin.

ADVERTISING

He and the former Sky News journalist Fiona Hill were Mrs May’s joint chiefs of staff, developing such a close relationship with her both at the Home Office and Number 10 that Cabinet ministers regarded them as the second and third most powerful people in the country.

It was to Timothy, together with the former Cabinet Office minister Ben Gummer (who lost his seat at the election) that Mrs May entrusted the task of writing the Conservative Party manifesto, which scared the horses just when it seemed Mrs May was cantering to victory.

I have spoken to Theresa a few times since the election but I haven’t seen her and I’m not advising her on policyNick Timothy

Is he, then, the man who blew the Conservative majority?

“I take responsibility for the things that I was responsible for,” he says. “I do have regrets about the way the campaign was fought but everybody who was involved has to reflect and be honest with themselves about what they did, including me. And I hope I have.”

Timothy says at the outset of our interview that he will not point the finger of blame at anyone else who was involved, but his answers leave no doubt of the tensions that existed between Downing Street staff and the team of election strategists, including Sir Lynton Crosby, who were brought in by Mrs May.

“Our early instincts when we were thinking about the election was to have a more traditional campaign, daily press conferences, more policy content, certainly not make it a semi-presidential campaign,” he says. “And we didn’t do those things because the advice was about playing to strengths (meaning Mrs May) and to be perfectly honest I didn’t really challenge that. I was in a position to change this and I didn’t. With hindsight obviously we would have done it differently.”

The strategy of putting Theresa May front and centre, based on her soaring approval ratings at the start of the campaign, quickly unravelled as the Prime Minister’s uninspiring “Maybot” performances on the stump put voters off.

“We knew the campaign wasn’t going as well as we’d hoped,” admits Timothy, “but actually on the basis of the research and data there was no urgent need to change the strategy because the projections still looked good.”

He trots out the statistic that the Conservatives won 42.4 per cent of the vote, the highest by a winning party since 1997, but admits that a major strategic error cost the party votes from Labour supporters who had initially been prepared to switch sides but ultimately lost faith in Mrs May.

He says: “The entire political strategy of Theresa’s leadership campaign and of the Government from July 2016 to April 2017 was based on the kind of insight that Theresa had about the country and about the referendum campaign, that yes it was a vote to leave the European Union but it was also a vote for serious change.

“The message we were conveying all the time was ‘we get the anger, we get the need to change, we’re on the side of change’.”

It was why he used the manifesto to reject “untrammelled free markets” and “selfish individualism”, seen at the time as being rather un-Conservative language.

The Tories, he says, made it clear they would be governing in the interests of “ordinary working people” and would not tolerate economic irresponsibility from rich or poor, using the power of the state “to reform dysfunctional markets and to bring industrial strategy to other parts of the country”.

It worked, and Mrs May became more popular even than Margaret Thatcher at her peak, according to polls at the time.

“But then having done that the electoral strategy was fundamentally different. It was a reassurance and continuity campaign rather than a change campaign and on reflection I think that was wrong.

“The ‘strong and stable’ slogan wasn’t necessarily a problem but looking back we would have been much better off with a message showing we understood the need for change and we were the people capable of delivering it.”

He also admits that the Party “clearly” underestimated Jeremy Corbyn and accepts: “It probably is true that there should have been more on the economy during the campaign.”

Nick Timothy may no longer be in Downing Street, but his views still matter, not least because he is still in contact with Theresa May (to whom he always refers as Theresa, rather than the Prime Minister).

“I have spoken to Theresa a few times since the election but I haven’t seen her and I’m not advising her on policy,” he says. “They are private conversations, people catching up.” He says the same about a recent photograph of him meeting Environment Secretary Michael Gove for a pint.

I do think there’s more than a hint of sexism to be honestNick Timothy on attitudes towards Theresa May

Has Mrs May sought his advice on anything?

“No because when you have been on the inside you realise as soon as you’re on the outside what you don’t know, so if I did try to advise her I don’t think I would be doing her a service and we both know that.

“She has got a very good team of people around her, she doesn’t need my advice from afar.”

Those who know Timothy and Mrs May might find it difficult to believe they will both be able to resist the temptation to talk policy in the future.

Timothy believes the Party must return to a message of change to avoid an even worse result at the next general election.

He says: “Overall the lesson of the election for the party and for the Government cannot be ‘Oh well, we tried that and we didn’t win the election we were hoping for so let’s not try it any more’.

“If the party retreats to a much more orthodox Conservative proposition then I worry that won’t be sufficient to tackle the big problems that the country has and in five years’ time we do risk the election of a dangerous left-wing alternative.”

Timothy accepts that the controversial policy of charging more people for social care was poorly presented, giving opponents the chance to define it as a “dementia tax”, but still believes “the policy is the strong one and the right one” because the problem of Britain's ageing population is not going to go away.

He accepts that the policy was killed off by the election result, but says the Tories must not waste the next five years by doing nothing about it, or about the long-term funding of the NHS.

Why not set up a Royal Commission, he says, to reach a lasting cross-party solution to the crisis?

He cites the Beveridge Report, published at the height of the war in 1942, which formed the basis for the post-war foundation of the welfare state and the NHS.

“The ideas behind the creation of the modern welfare state were done at a time when clearly the country wasn’t in a position to implement them,” he says, “but they didn’t waste that time, they used it. Something like that could take place over the next few years.

“We need more of the reformed Conservative proposition rather than less. It’s certainly the case that that kind of policy work and that kind of thinking needs to go on.”

We probably didn’t communicate as well as we could have done, directly with the public and the media

He denies that he, Fiona Hill and the Prime Minister formed a kitchen cabinet that micro-managed Government policy and caused a bottleneck in getting things done, but concedes: “We probably didn’t communicate as well as we could have done, directly with the public and the media, and probably to a certain extent around Whitehall.”

Timothy shares many of the same traits as the Prime Minister, and it is easy to see why they developed such a strong mutual respect.

Serious, intellectual and distinctly uncomfortable talking about anything bordering on the personal, his back-story also echoes Mrs May’s journey from provincial vicar’s daughter to Conservative politics via grammar school.

Timothy was born in Tile Cross, Birmingham, to working class parents who had switched their support from Labour to the Conservatives when Margaret Thatcher came to power in 1979, the year before he was born.

His father, Albert, had left school at 14 and worked his way up from the factory floor of a local steel works to become head of international sales - the sort of “striver” so beloved of the Conservative Party. His mother Margaret, also an early school leaver, did secretarial work at a local school.

Timothy developed a boyhood passion for Aston Villa FC, but it was not until his second year at King Edward VI Aston School, a boys’ grammar, that he picked a political team to support.

He said: “The 1992 election was an early example as a kid growing up of how politics can change people’s lives. I had just got to the school that gave me this opportunity and if Labour had won the election that year the threat was to close it down.”

Sheffield University followed, and a first class degree in politics, before a spell of volunteering for Birmingham Conservatives led to a job in the Conservative Research Department.

He got to know Mrs May, was chosen as her special adviser in the Home Office, and when Mrs May reached Downing Street, Timothy followed her there. Aged just 36 at the time, he was generally viewed as indispensable, but resents the suggestion in Westminster that he was her “brain”.

He says: “She has done a very good job of stabilising things since the election which disproves that theory anyway, but I do think there’s more than a hint of sexism to be honest, there’s a sort of implication that even having become Prime Minister she somehow doesn’t have a set of beliefs and a programme of her own and she obviously does.

“Suggesting I’m the creator of those ideas is absurd and insulting to her.”

He suggests Mrs May is misunderstood because “she doesn’t allow herself to be put into ideological boxes” and “confused” people as Home Secretary because she was tough on immigration and crime while also introducing the first modern slavery act and clamping down on abuses of power.

“Of course those things aren’t mutually exclusive but hearing it from the same person leads people to think ‘I don’t really understand what that person stands for’.

“It’s because she has the intellectual curiosity and reach to go beyond that.”

One person who allegedly finds her hard to understand is the Chancellor. There have been repeated reports of shouting matches between No.10 and No.11 and a widespread belief that Mrs May intended to sack Philip Hammond if she increased her majority at the election. Not true, says Timothy.

“She did not intend to get rid of him,” he says. “Theresa refused to even talk about post-election reshuffles because she thought it was inappropriate, it took things for granted, she wanted to concentrate on the campaign, so that was just never on the cards and I don’t know what the origin of that story was.

“They go for dinner or breakfast with one another probably every fortnight, they get along fine but the two of them are businesslike politicians, that’s how they work.

“It’s the cliche about her that she has never sought to be in a gang or have her own gang, but the way people perceive the relationship is in part down to the way the two of them tend to conduct themselves. There is no rift.”

Unsurprisingly for someone so loyal to his former employer, Timothy expresses his “very, very strong view” that she is the right person to lead the country through Brexit, and insists she is not being led towards a “softer” route out of the EU.

He says: “The country can trust her to get the job done. The fundamental things that the country voted for, that we will leave the EU, control immigration, that the Court of Justice should have no jurisdiction in this country, that we should stop paying membership fees, I’m confident that those things will end.

“For all the talk from some people that we must seek some sort of partial membership of the European Economic Area or something like that, the intention of the Government has been clear from the beginning - that if you seek a partial relationship the danger is that you will be in the worst of all worlds, where you will be a rule-taker with none of the advantages of being in, but you will also sacrifice some of the advantages of being out.”

He says it is natural that some ministers will want to emphasise particular points of the Brexit strategy, (such as Mr Hammond’s recent comments about a lengthy transition period) but insists that “if you strip out the noise” the Cabinet is adhering to the strategy set out by the Prime Minister in January, which means leaving the EU and all of its structures but with a period of transition.

He also said Mrs May is still prepared to walk away without a deal.

“It would be a bad thing if we got into a situation where there was no deal for all concerned, but there are circumstances where Britain would have to be prepared to walk away. ‘No deal is better than a bad deal’ isn’t just a slogan, it means something.”

Timothy, whose personal turmoil also included the breaking-off of his engagement to his German fiancee Nike Trost before the election, now intends to take another holiday, with his new girlfriend, a former Downing Street colleague.

He laughs off suggestions that he now has a reputation to rebuild, saying: “I advised anyone who would listen that they shouldn’t believe the hype then, and they shouldn’t believe the corresponding hype now.

“I think anyone who worries about their personal brand in that kind of way needs to take a cold shower.”

Nick Timothy's first weekly column for The Telegraph will appear on Thursday, August 10.http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2017/08/04/nick-timothy-election-went-wrong-tories-can-beat-corbyn-next/?WT.mc_id=tmg_share_tw