The OP gives you "The 2009 American Invasion of Canada"
anonymous
July 19 2009, 22:16:44 UTC
The first thing I'm ever writing for the kink meme, and its not even for a legitimate request! Damn you, clever anons! But this needed to get out, so here it its. I submit for your approval, a mini-fic inspired by these few comments.
*******************
The 2009 Invasion of Canada
They attacked at dawn.
Which was to be expected really. But America, more often than not, went the unexpected route. So, he thought it couldn't hurt for his men to take it easy for a few hours. Kumajiro wandered off, muttering about unknown people dragging him from his warm bed and maple syrup breakfast for nothing and did they have to do this and so on. The Canadians knew the Americans were coming eventually (which reminded him to yell hint to Alfred to update his cyber-security). But attack at dawn? That was so cliche. They could sit back a while, maybe throw back a few beers, and wait for the Americans to try to invade their great land. Again. And be repulsed, tail between their legs. Again.
But Matthew had to blame this attitude for their failure. And also why he was currently dressed as a Mountie. It turned out they did decide to attack at dawn. All of them were taken by surprise by the expected move and were unprepared for the lightening strike from the southern border. Frowning and his eyebrows coming together in thought, Matthew thought that this plan seemed far too put together to be formulated recently.
If there was a plan to begin with.
Because, he mused, thousands of Americans storming the border on horseback - whooping at the top of their lungs as they expertly twirled lassos in the air - did not fit into any military strategy he had ever seen or heard of. Maybe that was all part of the plan anyway: his soldiers, already caught off-guard, lost even more precious time as every Canadian present (and probably watching on TV) experienced a collective what-the-fuck moment. That fat man who wore a cowboy hat bigger than his head and leather chaps over a sensible dark blue suit that lead the charge, hollering and barely staying on his horse and his mad mad eyes and anatomy bouncing that really for the love of maple syrup should not bounce at all, did not help any true-blooded Canadian's state of mind.
Which is how he found poor confused self expertly tied up and slung on his America's horse like some pitiful damsel in distress. Or some hunting prize. Whatever the simile, Matthew decided with a scowl, he was pissed. When Alfred began whistling some folk song (Dixie? Please, not Dixie!), his mood only soured.
Alfred was also dressed in his cowboy get-up. And it was really distracting. He wore a white cowboy hat on his messy gold hair. That crisp white shirt he wore fit him well...wasn't Alfred getting fat despite exercising himself to the ground every week?! Then again, the southern idiot never realized muscle weighs more than fat. His spurs shined silver on his tooled cowboy boots and Alfred wore leather chaps as well, though much better than that fat man...over...how tight were those jeans, anyway?
Matthew calmed himself - or rather, Quebec and New Brunswick - by thinking of beavers and mountains and maple syrup and Anne of Green Gables and all the good things in the world, which certainly did not include America's ass. Which he was definitely not looking at.
Moving on.
He damned Alfred for making the knots so strong. Cursing did solve anything. Neither did reason, arguing, pleading - nothing. The Americans he saw from his awkward position did not respond to his shouts for help. If anything, they looked excited.
This did not bode well. This did not bode well at all.
Still, he was confused. And he could tell his countrymen were confused as well. They were all captured, not a single one killed, but each one of them were in the same position as he was. Furthermore, they - the enemy - were brought back into American land. Tied up and like prizes, but still back into the American homeland.
This was just plain odd.
reCaptcha: "agonizes pitcher" (the Captcha sympathizes with Matthew)
Re: The OP gives you "The 2009 American Invasion of Canada" (2/3 )
anonymous
July 19 2009, 22:21:27 UTC
The Americans who attacked didn't even look like soldiers. In fact, Matthew was pretty sure they weren't. They were mostly dressed like cowboys (none to the extent of Alfred, but still), but they definitely did not have the build or movement or anything of a trained soldier. Some of them needed help handling their horses. They were more like...regular people: office workers, shop owners, teachers, college students, and more...was that a hair stylist in the bright pink smock? There was quite a bit of mild chatter - Matthew did not like the idea that invading his country and taking his people captive amounted to entertainment - mostly about breakfast. Coffee came up often. So did pancakes. Disturbingly often.
And Alfred's "army" weren't even unified. As the "army" moved further into American lands they gradually began to disperse. They each took a Canadian with them. Of course, Alfred had THE Canadian with him.
Alfred finally turned his horse (with Matthew tied up behind him) off the road and down a dusty path. The American "army" cheerfully wished Alfred a good day...and hoped he enjoyed his breakfast? Alfred continued to ignore him as they came in sight of a tidy ranch. Matthew could see cows grazing in the distance. He could hear the clucking of chickens. This was Alfred's ranch in, in...one of his northern states, he couldn't remember of the top of his head due to Alfred finally hauling him off the animal whom he wished he did not know so well at this point (it didn't even look like it was tired!).
Alfred continued to whistle Dixie when he freed Matthew's feet with an expert twist of the wrist, avoiding the kicks and curses. Matthew was escorted into a large, clean kitchen and promptly plumped into a wooden chair. The large wooden table seemed set for breakfast...a good breakfast. And Matthew knew his breakfasts.
The kitchen appeared wholly ordinary - pots and pans hanging from the ceiling, a (large) refrigerator humming in the corner, the whole lot. He could see several jars of Alfred's jams (Alfred's very good jams that he gave to Matthew every July 1st and Christmas) on a shelf above the stove just behind Alfred...
The stove where a little grey alien with a bulbous head and big black eyes stood standing on a wooden stool. The bacon was sizzling. And Matthew had to give Tony credit for being an expert pancake flipper. His mouth couldn't help but water at the sight of a growing stack of pancakes...that heavenly smell...wait a minute, just how many were there?!
"Have you finally calmed down?" Alfred asked, taking out a pair of earbuds from his ears. No wonder the idiot couldn't hear. Matthew could hear the Dixie tune from where he was sitting. "I mean, you were completely overreacting when I came to visit with you with a couple of my guys..."
Matthew snapped. "That was not a visit, that was a fucking invasion!" Alfred blinked in surprise and wiped a bit of spittle from his cheek with his leather gloved hands. "What the hell is your problem, eh?!"
Alfred's eyes blinked - once, twice, three times - all innocent and blue. "That's what I mean. I just wanted you over for breakfast and you blow a gasket!" The blond cowboy pouted. Matthew steeled himself - the pout always precedes any disastrous situation that he was going to be dragged into. And Matthew wondered whether Alfred ever read the atmosphere (actually, even recognized it was there) and ran into it deaf and blind or if knew about it very well and went with it anyway. The other nations favored the first. Matthew, however, was never entirely so sure. "You're lucky if Tony and I leave you any pancakes now, Mattie."
The American jabbed a thumb back at Tony, who he could see was now menacingly glaring over Alfred's shoulder at him. The Canadian dimly registered Tony's bright pink apron, with the words "KISS THE CARBON-BASED PROVIDER OF SUSTENANCE WHOSE BOTHERING TO FEED YOUR SORRY PATHETIC ASS, BITCH" cheerfully printed on the front in bright red. There was a bright yellow smiley face on the two lower pockets. Pockets with knives in them.
This wasn't looking good.
"Really?" Matthew stalled, purple eyes darting for any opening, any exit, anything. "Why didn't you just call?"
The OP gives you "The 2009 American Invasion of Canada" (3/3 )
anonymous
July 19 2009, 22:32:05 UTC
Alfred threw his hands up in exasperation. "Because it's breakfast, Mattie! By the time you get to my house, you'd be late for lunch!" Matthew opened his mouth to retort, but Alfred barreled on. "It's just unfortunate really. There's been a shortage of maple syrup." There was a short pause, and Matthew was too horrified at the news to notice Alfred coming around and freeing his hands to take advantage of the situation. "Of course, being good neighbors that we are, we figured we'd just head up to your place and borrow some."
With his hands held firmly against the grain of the table by a grip like a steel vice, Matthew looked up and saw that look on Alfred's face. The scary one.
"And I heard," Alfred continued. That roguish smile had to be illegal. "That Canadians bleed maple syrup! Why'd you keep such a sweet secret from me for so long?!" Where was Alfred reaching...was that a knife?!
To make matters worse, he saw Tony cheerfully waving a FULL BOTTLE OF MAPLE SYRUP just out of Alfred's sight. Matthew swore the alien was laughing.
Canada was screwed. Damn it, America!
***************************
(*winces at the HTML fail on part one*)
And as the OP/writer!anon here has no experience yet writing p0rnz I will stop here. Why p0rnz? This is the kink meme!
In my head, Alfred makes just small cut on Matthew's wrist, enjoys breakfast with Tony and a confused-angry-tied up!Canada. Alfred wants more pure Canadian maple syrup, so he starts sucking on Matthew's wrist. Matthew can't take it anymore, breaks free with North-American super strength, and tackles Alfred. You can let your imaginations go wild from there. If anyone wants to write it out, you can have my soul.
Oh, and Tony ate all the pancakes. While taping the Canada/America Mountie-Cowboy with a vampire kinkiness sexytiems for all of us to enjoy. If we pay. It is a recession, after all.
Re: The OP gives you "The 2009 American Invasion of Canada" (3/3 )
anonymous
July 19 2009, 22:36:33 UTC
First-commenter-anon, having failed to acquire your Babies of Brilliance, will write this pronz. Also, may I state that your Tony is too awesome for mere words to encompass? I want his apron! Preferably with the camera he used hidden inside its pockets.
Oh god. OH GOD. I just scrolled down to see the recaptcha. "Spunkier times" LOOOOL.
Re: The OP gives you "The 2009 American Invasion of Canada" (3/3 )
anonymous
July 19 2009, 23:50:36 UTC
The Americanon/Writer/OP appears again!
I am forever amazed at the quick responses of kink-meme anons. We're like internet ninjas...
But you will write this p0rnz? First-commenter-anon, I love you. That would be the best present in the world. Will you post on this thread or elsewhere? And speaking of babies, I'm now wondering what else this prompt is going to spawn next.
I'm glad you love Tony here. I personally love him and wish he got more attention in the canon/fandom (what better observer of nations than one who doesn't even live on this planet?). I wish I had his apron, too! It originated in this plot bunny that I discarded awhile ago and it just hopped its way back in.
Well, I'm happy you enjoyed this little fic. Thanks for commenting! (:
Re: The OP gives you "The 2009 American Invasion of Canada" (3/3 )
anonymous
July 20 2009, 00:01:03 UTC
prompt-filling!anon is glad to be distracted by this while desperately trying to make the next update funny.
XDD I am so showing this to my Canadian girlfriend when she comes home.
O_o now look I'm too distracted to continue the chappie. I think I shall take a walk. Update in...oh, two hours or so. Not that you'll see this before I do update.
Re: The OP gives you "The 2009 American Invasion of Canada" (3/3 )
anonymous
July 20 2009, 01:44:09 UTC
You guys... This commenter-anon is shocked and awed. This meme need more random win like this if it has any hopes of being as epic as the PW kink meme.
This brings a much more delicious meaning to bloodplay. Don't blame Alfred Canada, it's all Canadanon's fault for revealing that your blood goes good on pancakes. *nods*
Sweet Tooth (part 1)
anonymous
July 20 2009, 14:22:57 UTC
The sequel/omake thingy! No pornz yet I am afraid, but promise it come. :)
***
Matthew breathed a sigh of relief when Alfred's hand passed by the knife - which was, upon closer inspection, a dull-edged butter knife, meant more for spreading than for cutting - and instead braced it on the table top. No knifing for Canada today!
And then the fear returned sevenfold when Alfred gave him a wolfish grin and raised Matthew's wrist to his mouth - and sank his teeth in.
Matthew yowled, as much in shock as anything else, as he felt sharp stabbing pains, and then Alfred was dragging him over to the platterful of fluffy pancakes, holding his wrist out, and letting him bleed all over the pancakes.
Bleed delicious, thick, slightly-redder-than-normal syrupy sweetness all over the pancakes.
"Mmm," Alfred grinned, licking his lips as he moved Matthew's punctured wrist in a circle, tracing a drippy red-amber ring on the pancakes. "God, you're sweet, Mattie," he crooned, turning the wrist over, then over, so he could drip two dots on the stack - with a flicker of rage, Matthew realized Alfred was tracing a _smiley-face_ onto his pancakes.
A smiley-face in Matthew's maple-syrupy blood. Aaaargh!
Who the fuck had told America about their best-guarded secret!? That was a Code Maple security breach, that was! When he got back, when he found out, he would - he would -
And then he lost his train of thought as Alfred, having drowned his pancakes in Matthew's maple-blood, pushed Matthew onto a chair and used his lassoo to tie him to it. His fingers were sure and deft, the knots as intricate as any Eagle Scout's, as he restrained Matthew. Then he had the sheer cocky chutzpah to grin down at his furious, rope-tied brother before seating himself behind the pancakes and tucking in.
The OP is giving you a smiley-face sticker out of love.
anonymous
July 20 2009, 19:17:01 UTC
The OP here!
If my little side-story helps make this prompt one of the best ever, then yours is stamping it with a seal of sheer EPIC-NESS. This is just awesome. It has spawned three stories now. What else will it unleash?
A smiley-face in Matthew's maple-syrupy blood. Aaaargh!
First-commenter-anon, I love you. Is this a reference to Tony's apron? Even if it isn't, it's brilliant. Matthew is all confused, shocked, and panicky and here America is just calmly spreading his blood on his pancakes and sitting down to breakfast like it's no big deal.
Not to mention you are hitting my bondage and blood kinks very well.
We've reached Code Maple! LOL.
And I must agree with the American!anon above me. Clearly, we must all get ourselves a Canadian in Mountie uniform. It just makes good kinky sense! The prompt-filling!anon is already ahead of us!
Anyway, I adore this so far. I can't wait for more. As promised, I give you my soul. It's a rather lazy and useless one, but I hope you'll appreciate it.
Re: The OP gives you "The 2009 American Invasion of Canada"
anonymous
July 19 2009, 22:21:38 UTC
first-commenter-anon falls at your feet and worships. This is officially the best prompt EVER because it inspired TWO separate works of brilliance. Thousands of American cowboys storming across the border? (the longest undefended border in the world, let us remind everyone)
And mmmmmmmmm, cowboy Al. Oh Matthew.
I was grinning all throughout. Writer-anon, can I have your babies. Writer-anon, can I please?
*******************
The 2009 Invasion of Canada
They attacked at dawn.
Which was to be expected really. But America, more often than not, went the unexpected route. So, he thought it couldn't hurt for his men to take it easy for a few hours. Kumajiro wandered off, muttering about unknown people dragging him from his warm bed and maple syrup breakfast for nothing and did they have to do this and so on. The Canadians knew the Americans were coming eventually (which reminded him to yell hint to Alfred to update his cyber-security). But attack at dawn? That was so cliche. They could sit back a while, maybe throw back a few beers, and wait for the Americans to try to invade their great land. Again. And be repulsed, tail between their legs. Again.
But Matthew had to blame this attitude for their failure. And also why he was currently dressed as a Mountie. It turned out they did decide to attack at dawn. All of them were taken by surprise by the expected move and were unprepared for the lightening strike from the southern border. Frowning and his eyebrows coming together in thought, Matthew thought that this plan seemed far too put together to be formulated recently.
If there was a plan to begin with.
Because, he mused, thousands of Americans storming the border on horseback - whooping at the top of their lungs as they expertly twirled lassos in the air - did not fit into any military strategy he had ever seen or heard of. Maybe that was all part of the plan anyway: his soldiers, already caught off-guard, lost even more precious time as every Canadian present (and probably watching on TV) experienced a collective what-the-fuck moment. That fat man who wore a cowboy hat bigger than his head and leather chaps over a sensible dark blue suit that lead the charge, hollering and barely staying on his horse and his mad mad eyes and anatomy bouncing that really for the love of maple syrup should not bounce at all, did not help any true-blooded Canadian's state of mind.
Which is how he found poor confused self expertly tied up and slung on his America's horse like some pitiful damsel in distress. Or some hunting prize. Whatever the simile, Matthew decided with a scowl, he was pissed. When Alfred began whistling some folk song (Dixie? Please, not Dixie!), his mood only soured.
Alfred was also dressed in his cowboy get-up. And it was really distracting. He wore a white cowboy hat on his messy gold hair. That crisp white shirt he wore fit him well...wasn't Alfred getting fat despite exercising himself to the ground every week?! Then again, the southern idiot never realized muscle weighs more than fat. His spurs shined silver on his tooled cowboy boots and Alfred wore leather chaps as well, though much better than that fat man...over...how tight were those jeans, anyway?
Matthew calmed himself - or rather, Quebec and New Brunswick - by thinking of beavers and mountains and maple syrup and Anne of Green Gables and all the good things in the world, which certainly did not include America's ass. Which he was definitely not looking at.
Moving on.
He damned Alfred for making the knots so strong. Cursing did solve anything. Neither did reason, arguing, pleading - nothing. The Americans he saw from his awkward position did not respond to his shouts for help. If anything, they looked excited.
This did not bode well. This did not bode well at all.
Still, he was confused. And he could tell his countrymen were confused as well. They were all captured, not a single one killed, but each one of them were in the same position as he was. Furthermore, they - the enemy - were brought back into American land. Tied up and like prizes, but still back into the American homeland.
This was just plain odd.
reCaptcha: "agonizes pitcher" (the Captcha sympathizes with Matthew)
Reply
And Alfred's "army" weren't even unified. As the "army" moved further into American lands they gradually began to disperse. They each took a Canadian with them. Of course, Alfred had THE Canadian with him.
Alfred finally turned his horse (with Matthew tied up behind him) off the road and down a dusty path. The American "army" cheerfully wished Alfred a good day...and hoped he enjoyed his breakfast? Alfred continued to ignore him as they came in sight of a tidy ranch. Matthew could see cows grazing in the distance. He could hear the clucking of chickens. This was Alfred's ranch in, in...one of his northern states, he couldn't remember of the top of his head due to Alfred finally hauling him off the animal whom he wished he did not know so well at this point (it didn't even look like it was tired!).
Alfred continued to whistle Dixie when he freed Matthew's feet with an expert twist of the wrist, avoiding the kicks and curses. Matthew was escorted into a large, clean kitchen and promptly plumped into a wooden chair. The large wooden table seemed set for breakfast...a good breakfast. And Matthew knew his breakfasts.
The kitchen appeared wholly ordinary - pots and pans hanging from the ceiling, a (large) refrigerator humming in the corner, the whole lot. He could see several jars of Alfred's jams (Alfred's very good jams that he gave to Matthew every July 1st and Christmas) on a shelf above the stove just behind Alfred...
The stove where a little grey alien with a bulbous head and big black eyes stood standing on a wooden stool. The bacon was sizzling. And Matthew had to give Tony credit for being an expert pancake flipper. His mouth couldn't help but water at the sight of a growing stack of pancakes...that heavenly smell...wait a minute, just how many were there?!
"Have you finally calmed down?" Alfred asked, taking out a pair of earbuds from his ears. No wonder the idiot couldn't hear. Matthew could hear the Dixie tune from where he was sitting. "I mean, you were completely overreacting when I came to visit with you with a couple of my guys..."
Matthew snapped. "That was not a visit, that was a fucking invasion!" Alfred blinked in surprise and wiped a bit of spittle from his cheek with his leather gloved hands. "What the hell is your problem, eh?!"
Alfred's eyes blinked - once, twice, three times - all innocent and blue. "That's what I mean. I just wanted you over for breakfast and you blow a gasket!" The blond cowboy pouted. Matthew steeled himself - the pout always precedes any disastrous situation that he was going to be dragged into. And Matthew wondered whether Alfred ever read the atmosphere (actually, even recognized it was there) and ran into it deaf and blind or if knew about it very well and went with it anyway. The other nations favored the first. Matthew, however, was never entirely so sure. "You're lucky if Tony and I leave you any pancakes now, Mattie."
The American jabbed a thumb back at Tony, who he could see was now menacingly glaring over Alfred's shoulder at him. The Canadian dimly registered Tony's bright pink apron, with the words "KISS THE CARBON-BASED PROVIDER OF SUSTENANCE WHOSE BOTHERING TO FEED YOUR SORRY PATHETIC ASS, BITCH" cheerfully printed on the front in bright red. There was a bright yellow smiley face on the two lower pockets. Pockets with knives in them.
This wasn't looking good.
"Really?" Matthew stalled, purple eyes darting for any opening, any exit, anything. "Why didn't you just call?"
Reply
With his hands held firmly against the grain of the table by a grip like a steel vice, Matthew looked up and saw that look on Alfred's face. The scary one.
"And I heard," Alfred continued. That roguish smile had to be illegal. "That Canadians bleed maple syrup! Why'd you keep such a sweet secret from me for so long?!" Where was Alfred reaching...was that a knife?!
To make matters worse, he saw Tony cheerfully waving a FULL BOTTLE OF MAPLE SYRUP just out of Alfred's sight. Matthew swore the alien was laughing.
Canada was screwed. Damn it, America!
***************************
(*winces at the HTML fail on part one*)
And as the OP/writer!anon here has no experience yet writing p0rnz I will stop here. Why p0rnz? This is the kink meme!
In my head, Alfred makes just small cut on Matthew's wrist, enjoys breakfast with Tony and a confused-angry-tied up!Canada. Alfred wants more pure Canadian maple syrup, so he starts sucking on Matthew's wrist. Matthew can't take it anymore, breaks free with North-American super strength, and tackles Alfred. You can let your imaginations go wild from there. If anyone wants to write it out, you can have my soul.
Oh, and Tony ate all the pancakes. While taping the Canada/America Mountie-Cowboy with a vampire kinkiness sexytiems for all of us to enjoy. If we pay. It is a recession, after all.
Reply
Oh god. OH GOD. I just scrolled down to see the recaptcha. "Spunkier times" LOOOOL.
Reply
I am forever amazed at the quick responses of kink-meme anons. We're like internet ninjas...
But you will write this p0rnz? First-commenter-anon, I love you. That would be the best present in the world. Will you post on this thread or elsewhere? And speaking of babies, I'm now wondering what else this prompt is going to spawn next.
I'm glad you love Tony here. I personally love him and wish he got more attention in the canon/fandom (what better observer of nations than one who doesn't even live on this planet?). I wish I had his apron, too! It originated in this plot bunny that I discarded awhile ago and it just hopped its way back in.
Well, I'm happy you enjoyed this little fic. Thanks for commenting! (:
Reply
XDD I am so showing this to my Canadian girlfriend when she comes home.
O_o now look I'm too distracted to continue the chappie. I think I shall take a walk. Update in...oh, two hours or so. Not that you'll see this before I do update.
recaptcha: New choose
Reply
This brings a much more delicious meaning to bloodplay. Don't blame Alfred Canada, it's all Canadanon's fault for revealing that your blood goes good on pancakes. *nods*
Reply
***
Matthew breathed a sigh of relief when Alfred's hand passed by the knife - which was, upon closer inspection, a dull-edged butter knife, meant more for spreading than for cutting - and instead braced it on the table top. No knifing for Canada today!
And then the fear returned sevenfold when Alfred gave him a wolfish grin and raised Matthew's wrist to his mouth - and sank his teeth in.
Matthew yowled, as much in shock as anything else, as he felt sharp stabbing pains, and then Alfred was dragging him over to the platterful of fluffy pancakes, holding his wrist out, and letting him bleed all over the pancakes.
Bleed delicious, thick, slightly-redder-than-normal syrupy sweetness all over the pancakes.
"Mmm," Alfred grinned, licking his lips as he moved Matthew's punctured wrist in a circle, tracing a drippy red-amber ring on the pancakes. "God, you're sweet, Mattie," he crooned, turning the wrist over, then over, so he could drip two dots on the stack - with a flicker of rage, Matthew realized Alfred was tracing a _smiley-face_ onto his pancakes.
A smiley-face in Matthew's maple-syrupy blood. Aaaargh!
Who the fuck had told America about their best-guarded secret!? That was a Code Maple security breach, that was! When he got back, when he found out, he would - he would -
And then he lost his train of thought as Alfred, having drowned his pancakes in Matthew's maple-blood, pushed Matthew onto a chair and used his lassoo to tie him to it. His fingers were sure and deft, the knots as intricate as any Eagle Scout's, as he restrained Matthew. Then he had the sheer cocky chutzpah to grin down at his furious, rope-tied brother before seating himself behind the pancakes and tucking in.
Reply
Ahahah, very cute and amusing so far.
Reply
Code Maple! *cheers* oh gawd this anon has collapsed from laughter.
Reply
Reply
If my little side-story helps make this prompt one of the best ever, then yours is stamping it with a seal of sheer EPIC-NESS. This is just awesome. It has spawned three stories now. What else will it unleash?
A smiley-face in Matthew's maple-syrupy blood. Aaaargh!
First-commenter-anon, I love you. Is this a reference to Tony's apron? Even if it isn't, it's brilliant. Matthew is all confused, shocked, and panicky and here America is just calmly spreading his blood on his pancakes and sitting down to breakfast like it's no big deal.
Not to mention you are hitting my bondage and blood kinks very well.
We've reached Code Maple! LOL.
And I must agree with the American!anon above me. Clearly, we must all get ourselves a Canadian in Mountie uniform. It just makes good kinky sense! The prompt-filling!anon is already ahead of us!
Anyway, I adore this so far. I can't wait for more. As promised, I give you my soul. It's a rather lazy and useless one, but I hope you'll appreciate it.
Reply
And mmmmmmmmm, cowboy Al. Oh Matthew.
I was grinning all throughout. Writer-anon, can I have your babies. Writer-anon, can I please?
Reply
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