youngest president

Winter Smut

Request:   So my request is, when you’re ready, is a winter soldier x reader smut. Like with no trace of Bucky, 100% bad soldier. Straight up non con, rough, spanking, slapping, choking, just bad Bucky all the way. Maybe someone orders him to fuck her or he just snaps, whatever you think would be good. 

Warnings: Plot? PORN!  Non-con, oral, vaginal, dirty talk, Smutty smut smut smut  TRIGGER WARNING.  THIS IS A NON-CONSENSUAL STORY.  PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS OFFENDS YOU.

Words: 3800

Tags:  @marauderice @kellyn1604 @divadinag @miiraal @negan–is–god @taintedgenre @alyisdead @el-bucky @mrssgtjamesbuckybarnes @wayward-mirage @siren-kitten-his @2-fast-2-curious @ariwolff14 @theariel85 @i-am-negan-trash

Originally posted by breakmybedbarnes

               “Are you sure you don’t need an escort?” The other junior ambassador asked.

               “Don’t be silly.”  You walked towards the parking garage. “I’m not an important person.”

               “Not yet.” He winked at you.

Keep reading

Nos félicitations, Macron

Emmanuel Macron is the next president of France, defeating his far right rival Marine Le Pen by a comfortable 65.1% to 34.9% (according to a usually reliable vote estimate by pollsters Ispos/Sopra Steria for French state TV and radio and Le Monde). At 39, Macron will become France’s youngest president. He has never held elected office, and just over a year ago his political movement En Marche! did not even exist.

Still, the fact that racist nationalist Le Pen could summon more than a third of the French vote is cause for worry about the future. Xenophobia toward Muslims has played a part. More responsible are widening inequality and mounting job insecurity – coupled with a growing sense that the political-economy is rigged in favor or the privileged and out of touch with average working people.

The French haven’t suffered the same degree of economic stresses as have Americans in recent decades – France’s social safety net is still relatively intact – which may explain why they didn’t elect Le Pen while we elected Trump. But France, like most modern political economic systems, is heading in America’s direction under the guise of business “flexibility” and austerity economics.

My humble advice to Macron: Don’t follow America.


U.S. Presidents, youngest picture and oldest picture compared: 

1) George Washington (1732-1799): 1772 and 1797

2) John Adams (1735-1826): 1765 and 1826

3) Thomas Jefferson (1743-1826): 1776 and 1821

4) James Madison (1751-1836): 1783 and 1833

5) James Monroe (1758-1831): 1787 and 1825

Presidents Day fun facts

Today, February 15, is President’s day in the United States! To celebrate, I’ve accrued an interesting bit of information for every American president from Washington to Obama!

George Washington is the only president so far to not be affiliated with any party.

John Adams served as a lawyer for British soldiers charged in the 1775 Boston massacre, despite his own anti-British sentiments.

Thomas Jefferson spoke 6 langauges; English, Welsh, Greek, Latin, French, and Arabic.

James Madison was the shortest president ever, standing 5'4" tall.

James Monroe had the Liberian capital city of Monrovia named after him, as he helped establish the country.

John Quincy Adams was the first president to be interviewed by a female reporter, Anne Royal, who stole the president’s clothes when he went skinny dipping and refused to give them back until he answered her questions.

Andrew Jackson’s birthplace is unknown, but it’s in one of the Carolinas.

Martin Van Buren is the only president to not speak English as his first language, he actually spoke Dutch.

William Henry Harrison died a month after becoming president.

John Tyler has two living grandsons as of 2016.

James K. Polk died the youngest of any president, not counting those that were assassinated.

Zachary Taylor was nicknamed “Old Rough and Ready” because as a soldier, he went into battle in old farm clothes instead of a uniform.

Millard Fillmore is the only president to have never had a VP for their entire presidency.

Franklin Pierce’s wife believed God didn’t want him to become president, since their son died shortly after his election.

James Buchanan sometimes bought slaves just to set them free.

Abraham Lincoln is the only president to have held a patent, on a type of buoy.

Andrew Johnson was the only Southern Senator to stay loyal to the Union during the civil war.

Ulysses S. Grant’s real first name was Hiram.

Rutherford B. Hayes was the first president to use a telephone.

James A. Garfield was the last president to be born in a log cabin.

Chester A. Arthur was accused of being born in Canada during his presidency, and the allegations have persisted to this day.

Grover Cleveland was accused of having an illegitimate child, and his detractors protested by chanting “Mama, where’s my pa? Gone to the White House, ha ha ha!”

Benjamin Harrison was the grandson of William Henry Harrison, and his presidency, although 48 times as long, was just as uneventful.

William McKinley was the first president to ride in an automobile, however, this auto was an ambulance used to transport him after he was assassinated.

Theodore Roosevelt was the first American to receive a Nobel prize, for his role on ending the Russo-Japanese war.

William H. Taft kept a cow at the White House named Pauline to provide fresh milk.

Woodrow Wilson suffered from dyslexia as a child.

Warren G. Harding entered college at age 14.

Calvin Coolidge liked to wear a cowboy hat around the White House.

Herbert Hoover has a comet named after him.

Franklin Roosevelt was diagnosed with polio after falling into the Bay of Fundy while vacationing in Canada.

Harry S Truman kept a sign on his desk that said “The buck stops here” representing how he couldn’t pass on his duties to anyone else. The other side read “I’m from Missouri”, as Truman was very proud of his home state.

Dwight Eisenhower’s reputation as a war hero made him so popular, that both parties asked him to run on their ticket.

John F. Kennedy’s father encouraged him to go into politics and become the first catholic president, which he did.

Lyndon B. Johnson owned an amphibious car that he liked to surprise foreign diplomats with by offering them a ride and then driving straight into a lake.

Richard Nixon could play five musical instruments: Piano, saxophone, clarinet, accordion, and violin.

Gerald Ford is the only president to have never been elected to any executive office, he won both the vice presidency and the presidency by accident.

Jimmy Carter won a Nobel prize in 2002 for his humanitarian work.

Ronald Reagan kept a jar of jellybeans on his desk, and he would eat them whenever he was stressed. When he became president, the Jelly Belly company introduced blueberry jelly beans so the jar on Reagan’s desk could have red, white, and blue beans.

George H.W. Bush served as VP for Reagan, an ambassador to China, and head of the CIA before becoming president.

Bill Clinton originally wanted to be a jazz musician, but was inspired to enter government after meeting JFK in 1963.

George W. Bush is the first president to have run a marathon. In 1993, he completed the Houston marathon in 3 hours, 44 minutes, 52 seconds.

Barack Obama collects Spider-Man comics.


My Camp Camp High school AU ((ft. Japanese settings because I’m trash for this)). I only did Comedy Trio and
Stage Trio as I didn’t have time, but I will probably update more if possible.

• Comedy Trio:

- Max: Second year. He was the type of student who usually skipped classes, got into fights and even stole things from people due to his parents’ neglect. However, after being caught pick-pocketing a woman, Max was forced to work with David to help other clubs in the school ‘till the end of his third year as a punishment. He did improve his relationship with other people tho ((and secretly felt not so bad about that)).

- Nikki: Member of Sports Club, same class with Max. They got along quite well, and she usually helped him play truant whenever possible, sometimes went along with him ((if she felt like it)). 24/7 hyped as fuck. Not only was she good at sports, Nikki was also a pro in fighting and stuff, and because hardly anyone could beat up a beast like her, bullies are terrified of her and scared to went near her. Her bffs and gf were proud.

- Neil: Also Max’s classmate, head of Science Club, which was the youngest president in the club’s history so far. He enjoyed doing experiments, firmly believed in physical laws and such things. Even though Neil knew that his friends skipped class a lot, he tried to cover up for them and helped them with distracting the teachers. Also having a love-hate relationship with Magic Club’s member, Harrison, but terrible at dealing with it.

• Stage Trio:

- Preston: Third year, Drama Club President. He was loud and acted dramatically to most things, also criticised people a lot ((but for their own ((and the play)) good)). Preston used to be bullied in his second year, which affected him severely, but Max - a first year at that time - saved him and they knew each other since ((I’m a Maxpres trash just kill me))

- Harrison: Second year. Member of Magic Club. An arrogant guy on the outside, but actually harmless and gentle inside. Got along with Nerris and Preston - who were his childhood friends. He often seen argued pretty much with Nerris ((and Neil, too, if they were on the same spot)), mostly about his magic being great and wonderful ((and real)), which Preston had to stand between them so many times that he eventually got sick of it.

- Nerris: Member of Board Games Club. She was a huge nerd in DnD, also video games with dating sims or action genre. She also loved cosplaying ((especially dressing as a “mahou shoujo” - magical girl)) and often asked her gf aka Nikki to be a model for her. Nikki didn’t like girly stuff that much but the idea of being a warrior seemed cool to her ((and also for her gf)), so she agreed anyway.

P/s: Yes I am a Comedy Trio x Stage Trio shipper and I don’t regret anything about that.

anonymous asked:

with all those stories about dwayne the rock johnson running for president in 2020 would he be the youngest president ever?

No, definitely not. The Rock is 45 years old right now, so if he somehow became President tomorrow, he’s already older than Theodore Roosevelt and John F. Kennedy were when they became President. 

If he did run and win in 2020, he’d be 48 years, 263 days old on Inauguration Day in 2021, and that’s older than Theodore Roosevelt, JFK, Bill Clinton, Ulysses S. Grant, Barack Obama, Grover Cleveland, and Franklin Pierce were when they were inaugurated.
BREAKING: Emmanuel Macron (EM!) wins the 2017 French Presidential Election
Independent centrist Emmanuel Macron will be the 25th president of France having beaten the far-right National Party's Marine Le Pen in the final round of the election on Sunday evening, according to exit polls.
By Gemma Acton

Gemma Acton at CNBC: 

Independent centrist Emmanuel Macron will be the 25th president of France having beaten the far-right National Party’s Marine Le Pen in the final round of the election on Sunday evening, according to exit polls.

Voter turnout was recorded at 65.30 percent as of 5:00 p.m. local time, according to an official statement from the Interior Ministry.

That figure compares to 71.96 percent at the same time during the last election in 2012 and 75.11 percent in 2007.

At 39-years old, Macron is set to be the youngest ever French president with his victory being interpreted as a boost for European cooperation, a concept of which he is a fervent advocate.

He is expected to push for a harder line on behalf of the European Union as the U.K. negotiates its exit from the trading bloc. On the other hand, while on the campaign trail, losing candidate Le Pen had advocated abandoning the euro currency used within the EU as well as closing the Union’s open borders.

A spokesperson for Macron’s En Marche movement claimed on Friday to have been aggressively hit by a “massive and co-ordinated” anonymous hacking operation which had resulted in 9 gigabytes’ worth of emails and financial data being posted online to a document sharing site called Pastebin.

This came at the tail end of a dramatic campaigning period that has seen a series of scandals, demonstrations and vicious rhetoric shake news and markets.

France has a population of around 64.89 million people, according to the latest estimates from the United Nations, with approximately 47 million eligible to vote in Sunday’s election.

Thank God Le Pen lost big time.

Stucky Feels!

I’ve always shipped them but it’s recently that I’ve been reading fics in this fandom and they are amazing. This is my collection of amazingness in words. My Stucky fanfic rec.

6:13 AM by @halerogers

It was routine, getting on the train that early in the morning, and Steve had it down to a damn tee. It was tiring, waking up that early to catch a train to work, but it wasn’t so bad.

Especially not after he started showing up.

He was the man with murder eyes and shockingly good looks despite the whole hobo vibe but with a soft center. Steve liked to call him the Human Impersonation of the Grumpy Cat in his head; Grumpy Cat for short when he whined about him to either Natasha or Sam.

OR – in which Steve falls in love with a stranger.

A Christmas Game by @that-girl

Bucky loses his pet mouse and yells at his very hot neighbour to keep his cat away from his baby. And Natasha regrets the day she met Bucky. It’s a fluff fest.

An Accident of Time by Pickitup

Boys weren’t omegas. Not outside of blue movies, or bluer songs, at least, the kind of anecdotes too ribald even for soldiers to tell. Girls were omegas, sometimes, but rarely, even in those days. Dying breeds, he guessed. When he was the asset it had stopped entirely, he had thought it all over: feels sick thinking of what they would have done to exploit him if he had suffered back then. But now, 2014, eating three meals a day, sleeping regularly in a safe bed, the old ghost has come back.

Bite Your Tongue by Avaaricious

AKA the “I work at a department store and if you take out and unfold a shirt and then leave it one more time I’m going to stuff it down your throat” AU

Captain Fantastic and the Pineapple King by @bucky-fucky-barnes

She hadn’t noticed him yet. Maybe he could turn and leave without them noticing – Sam would understand. Sam was the most empathetic person he knew. He wouldn’t scold Steve for coming home spice-less to avoid an awkward encounter with an ex. Surely.
They drew closer
Please don’t notice me, please don’t notice me, please don’t notice me…

In which Steve is saved from his ex in a grocery store, Bucky Barnes is Way Too Chill about absolutely everything, and Sam has had enough of all of these goddamn pineapples in his fucking house.

Or: The five times Steve received a pineapple (and one Piña Colada) and the one time he didn’t

Come On, Leave Me Breathless by @emphasisonem

“Shit, I don’t want to talk to him,” Bucky huffs, running a hand through his hair and blurting out the first idea that comes to mind, “I really- would you make out with me real quick?”

“What?” the blond bleats, blue eyes wide as he stares at Bucky.

In which Bucky really doesn’t want to talk to his ex and enlists the help of an attractive stranger to avoid him.

Cool Beans by @emphasisonem

“Guy looks a little like a hobo,” Pietro smirks, and a whoosh of breath leaves the young man as his sister elbows him in the stomach.

“Be kind,” Wanda admonishes him. “He’s very handsome, Steve. He looks strong.”

“Don’t be gettin’ any ideas there, Wanda,” Steve smiles at his friend. “I’m doing just fine on my own. I have the shop to think about. I don’t need any romantic entanglements right now.”

“We’ll see,” Wanda’s lips turn up at the corners, and Steve can’t help but laugh at the mischief sparkling in her eyes.

In which Steve owns a coffee shop and Bucky is a carpenter who buys the property next door.

Did you really just ask….? by Kare

“I just want to sit on the couch with you, watch bad action movies, eat greasy pizza and marry you. Is that really that much to ask?”

Steve can deal with the first three wishes. He isn’t really sure if he heard the fourth one correctly…

Well, only one way to find out… maybe…

Enjoy the Silence by neversaydie

Silence used to be peaceful for Bucky. These days it makes him feel like he’s waiting for something, like he’s listening for the warning sounds of predators approaching.

Now silence means he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He lives in a beautiful apartment with his husband-to-be and tells himself that everything is just fine. He doesn’t sleep, he’s scared of putting a foot wrong in case Brock snaps again, and he’s desperately lonely, but he has everything he ever wants and that should be enough. It’s not like he can complain about being taken care of, even if parts of it aren’t exactly his choice.

Running into his childhood friend (literally) just might change everything. ‘Just fine’ doesn’t seem like enough once Steve walks back into his life. The problem is, Bucky’s been stuck in his cage for so long that he’s not sure he can leave it on his own.

Filthy Things You Say by Limoncello_Bella

Bucky wanted to kiss him, kiss him and then press him against the wall or desk and do things to him that would leave them both as a pile of sexually sated human mush. Mentally, he swore, he didn’t even have a type, but spitfire twinks more stubborn than a mule were quickly becoming number one on the nonexistent list.


Steve is a cuddle-slut drunk and his latest victim is one Bucky Barnes.

For Who I’ve Not Yet Become by @thebestpersonherelovesbucky

Bucky Barnes – powerful Wall Street tycoon – has everything he needs. Money, good looks, a life in the fast lane. He’s living on top of the world in a Park Avenue Penthouse in Manhattan, is the youngest vice president ever over at Stark Industries and might even be named Forbes Man of the Year – again. Nothing can bring him down.

That is until Bucky has a strange encounter with a young man named Eli on Christmas Eve and wakes up Christmas morning married to his old college sweetheart, Steve Rogers.

With his entire world turned upside down, Bucky must find a way to navigate his way through marriage and fatherhood and suburbia. And maybe find the unique answer to the age old question… What if…?

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

i just found out!!! that i share the same birthday as Theodore Roosevelt!!! do you have any facts on him? if you do, could you please share them?

  • As a child, Roosevelt witnessed the Abraham Lincoln funeral procession. 
  • Theodore Roosevelt had a really, really good memory. Roosevelt claimed he had a photographic memory, but it is a statement that can’t be easily proven today. 
  • Theodore and Franklin Roosevelt were fifth cousins. Eleanor Roosevelt was Theodore’s niece. And Uncle Theodore presented the bride at Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt’s wedding.
  • Roosevelt was the first President to win a Nobel Peace Prize.
  • Roosevelt was a prolific writer. Aided by his excellent memory and his always-high energy level, TR wrote about 35 books in his lifetime and an estimated 150,000 letters. And he did write an autobiography!He was also the father of the modern U.S. Navy. 
  • Roosevelt was a grad college dropout. 
  • Roosevelt was blind in one eye after a boxing injury in the White House. 
  • His mother and his first wife died on the same day. On Valentine’s Day in 1884, Roosevelt’s mother passed away from typhoid fever. One floor above in the same house, his first wife, Alice, died less than 12 hours later from Bright’s disease and complications from giving birth to the couple’s first child just two days before. 
  • Roosevelt went skinny-dipping in the Potomac River.
  • Roosevelt was the first sitting president to leave the country.
  • He volunteered to lead an infantry unit in World War I. The ex-president was eager to return to the front lines. Roosevelt lobbied President Woodrow Wilson to send him to France at the head of a 200,000-man expeditionary force. Around the country, supporters of the hero of San Juan Hill staged rallies of support. 
  • Roosevelt would not get called to fight in the war that eventually claimed his son Quentin, who was killed in action when his plane was shot down over France in 1918.
  • Roosevelt had been a Sunday school teacher, he believed strongly in the separation of Church and State. While taking the oath of office during his inauguration after McKinley’s assassination, he did not swear on the Bible.
  • President Roosevelt was the first president to be commonly known by his initials.
  • 1910, Roosevelt took a four minute flight in a plane built by the Wright brothers, making him the first president to fly in an airplane.
  • Theodore Roosevelt was the youngest president, assuming the office at the age of 42 after President McKinley was assassinated. 
  • 1912, Roosevelt was campaigning in Milwaukee, Wisconsin when a local saloon-keeper shot him. The bullet lodged in his chest after passing through a jacket pocket containing his steel eyeglass case and a copy of his 50 page speech which had been folded in half. Being an anatomist, Roosevelt concluded that since he wasn’t coughing blood the bullet had not penetrated the chest wall into his lung. He declined immediate treatment and gave his 90 minute speech with blood seeping from the wound into his shirt. 

Sources: (x) (x) (x)

onyourleftbooob  asked:

If this hasn't been reced yet, archiveofourown*org/works/8999029/chapters/20549662 it was recently completed and it's so good™


For Who I’ve Not Yet Become by Kellyscams

Bucky Barnes – powerful Wall Street tycoon – has everything he needs. Money, good looks, a life in the fast lane. He’s living on top of the world in a Park Avenue Penthouse in Manhattan, is the youngest vice president ever over at Stark Industries and might even be named Forbes Man of the Year – again. Nothing can bring him down.

That is until Bucky has a strange encounter with a young man named Eli on Christmas Eve and wakes up Christmas morning married to his old college sweetheart, Steve Rogers.

With his entire world turned upside down, Bucky must find a way to navigate his way through marriage and fatherhood and suburbia. And maybe find the unique answer to the age old question… What if…?

Lunch Hour

Author: Christopher Trevor

Note from the author: This is one of my “Classic” foot and socks fetish stories. Hope you enjoy…

It was eleven thirty AM; I was famished, so I decided to take an early lunch, figuring I would take the paper work I was working on with me. At that early hour the restaurant would not be all that busy. I would request a table toward the back of the place, away from the lunch time conversations and business deals and quietly get some work done while I ate. I stood up, rolled the sleeves down from my elbows on my white dress shirt, buttoned the cuffs, straightened my B silk green necktie, and shrugged into my blue pinstriped suit jacket. As I walked out of my office with my attaché case in hand I told my secretary that I would be taking an early lunch. She looked up at me, smiled warmly, and told me to have a good lunch. I always got the feeling that Janice wanted more than to just be a secretary for me but I am a junior vice president who does not believe in mixing business with pleasure. Even though she is beautiful, single, and the same age as I, twenty-five. Also, I don’t need any scandals or sexual harassment suits brought against the brokerage firm I work for. They had hired me three years ago right out of college and gave me the chance of a lifetime. I was not about to do anything to fuck that up. My name is Bill Reston; I work for a highly respected brokerage firm on Wall Street in Manhattan. I am as I said, twenty-five years old, one of the youngest junior vice presidents my company has ever taken a chance on. I have short cut dark hair, brown eyes, and no facial hair at all. A clean-shaven guy, that’s me. I am exactly six feet tall and my body is well toned and lean from the daily workouts I put myself through at the gym on a regular basis. So, dressed in a blue pinstriped  suit, a white dress shirt, green silk tie, highly spit polished size eleven black  lace-up wing tips, and knee length black nylon dress socks I headed off for an early lunch. Just for the record it was a Monday morning and would prove to be the most interesting lunch hour of my life.

The restaurant I frequent most often is called “Anne’s Bistro.” It is very near to the office building I work in, the food is great, and the service is fantastic. In the afternoons the restaurant is filled to capacity with the business crowd from around the Wall Street area. At eleven thirty in the morning it is pretty much still empty. When I walked in the headwaiter instantly approached me with a leather-bound menu tucked under his arm.

“Ah, Mr. Reston, and how are you today?” he asked politely. “A little early today Sir?”

“Yes I am Mr. Gordon,” I replied equally as politely. “I’m rather hungry and also need to get some work done. If you could please show me to a table in the back where I could have some privacy I would greatly appreciate it.”

“Right this way Sir,” he said and I followed him through the restaurant toward the back of the restaurant.

The place is extremely elegant all the tables properly set with wineglasses, silverware, and cloth napkins. Each table is covered with linen tablecloths of white and beige that extend all the way down to the floor. And thank God for that, as you will soon understand why I say that. As I followed Mr. Gordon through the restaurant I could feel waitresses and also some of the waiters drinking me in with their eyes. I’m rather modest about it but I suppose it could be said that I’m a pretty good-looking young executive.                                                                                           At the back of the restaurant the headwaiter showed me to a table that overlooked the restaurant but was yet pretty much out of the way. A few feet from the table I saw a muscular young construction worker just finishing a job of applying a coat of plaster to the wall. I looked at the construction worker and then at the headwaiter.

“We had a small mishap during the night and he’s here to just patch it up,” the headwaiter explained to me. “He won’t disturb you at all and he’ll be done in a few moments.”

Wouldn’t disturb me? Nothing was further from the truth, let me tell you.

“No problem,” I said as he placed the menu on the table and pulled my chair out for me.

I sat down, placing my attaché case on the floor next to me.

“Your waiter will be with you in a few moments Mr. Reston,” the headwaiter said to me. “Enjoy your lunch.”

“Thank you Mr. Gordon,” I replied and he walked away.

It always sends me on an ego trip when a headwaiter or store salesperson remembers my name. It makes me feel like the executive I am. Before picking up my menu I glanced over at the construction worker, still a few feet from where I was sitting. He looked to be no more than nineteen or twenty years old. He was dressed in a worn looking pair of blue jeans, a string black tank top, and very scuffed up mustard colored lace-up work boots. I guessed his height to be around five feet nine inches tall. He must have sensed me staring at him because he turned to look at me. He grinned at me from ear to ear and then quickly returned to the job he was just finishing up. He had dark short curly hair, very deep dark eyes, and his body was extremely muscular. Obviously this guy did a little more than just construction work. I guessed that he worked out at the gym on a regular basis as well. His back muscles rippled as he squatted and began piling things into his big toolbox. I turned my attention to the menu and began looking at the lunch choices. I crossed a leg under the table, letting my foot dangle a few inches just above the floor.

“Would you like a drink before you decide on what you would like for lunch Mr. Reston?” I heard a male voice say to me.

I looked up and saw a waiter standing over me, pen poised over his waiter’s pad.

“Uh yes, thank you Mike,” I replied. “A glass of red wine, shiraz please.”

“Very good Mr. Reston,” he said, wrote it down, and walked away from my table.

I turned my attention back to the menu. When I heard the construction worker’s toolbox close I again glanced over at him. This time he was looking at me, still squatting on his knees.

“All done,” he said to me, indicating the wall in front of him.

I pursed my lips and smiled at him. I turned to look at my menu again. I decided on the chicken breast with mixed vegetables and put the menu down on the table. As I reached for my attaché’ case to get some of my paperwork out I felt eyes staring at me, drinking me in. A feeling of utter intensity came over me. I looked over at the construction worker and saw that he was still squatting over his toolbox, looking at me hungrily. I looked back at him questioningly as I took a small stack of papers from my attaché case along with my gold pen. I placed the papers on the table in front of me and quickly looked back over at the construction worker. He was now not just squatting; he seemed to be in a sort of crouch. Like a football player ready to run across the field. A shudder coursed through me as I saw him look around to make sure no one was watching. Then, he ran in a crouch toward my table ending up under it.


“H-holy shit,” I whispered, sitting there shaking now.

I quickly scanned the restaurant but the few patrons of the place and the employees of the restaurant didn’t seem to notice that I now had a construction worker under my table. The main question I asked myself was why was the guy under my table? As I sat there with a look of nervousness and apprehension on my square jawed face my waiter was approaching my table with a glass of Shiraz on a silver tray.

“Here we are Sir,” the waiter said, placing the glass of wine in front of me. “Are you ready to order now?”

“I,uh, I,” I began to say, prepared to report the fact that there was a construction worker crouched under my table, but when I felt a meaty hand close around my dangling socked ankle the words would not come out. “Yes, I will have the breast of chicken with mixed vegetables,” I replied, a look of shock on my face.

“Would you care for rice or pasta with that Mr. Reston?” the waiter asked me.

Before I could reply I felt the construction worker’s big hand moving up my leg, under my pants leg, the tips of his strong fingers squeezing my socked calf.

“R-rice,” I responded.

If the waiter noticed anything awry with the expression on my face he didn’t say a word about it. No doubt he just saw me as another stressed out young executive.

“Very good Sir,” he said, jotted down my order and turned to walk away from my table.

“Uh, Mike,” I said huskily, pointing at the tablecloth covered table.

“Yes Sir?” the waiter asked, quickly turning back to me.

I then felt a pair of lips pressed against my socked calf as the construction worker under my table held my dangling wing tipped foot in his big hand, his other hand slid up under my pants leg.

“Uh, on second thought I changed my mind,” I said, trying to act as natural as possible. “I was going to order an appetizer but decided against it.”

“Very well Sir,” the waiter said and walked away.

My breath caught in my throat when I felt big wet kisses being planted on my black socked calf.

The construction worker held my dangling foot by the heel and I heard sniffing sounds emanating from under the table. The fucking pervert, he was sniffing my damned sock and kissing it. Now, just for the record I am straight as a fucking arrow, but what this guy was doing to me had me in a dizzy spell of sorts. His hands moving over my foot and leg were driving me crazy. I thanked God that the tablecloth covered the entire table, but then again if it didn’t he wouldn’t be under there fondling me the way he was. I reached for my wineglass and took a long very much-needed sip of it. I placed the glass back on the table and looked down at the stack of paperwork in front of me. I was determined to do my best to concentrate on it, even though a pervert was feeling me up under my table. As I began reading over the terms of the contract in front of me I suddenly felt the lace of my dangling shoed foot being undone.


“Oh my God,” I whispered breathlessly. “Just what the hell are you planning to do to me under there?”

My wing tip was slipped from my foot and before I could pull my socked foot away from him he grabbed it in his very strong hand by the ankle and held it fast and tight. I again scanned the restaurant; not wanting anyone to notice the expressions of ecstasy mixed with fear etched on my face. God, I was being felt up by some sort of foot pervert. I heard sniffing sounds again emanating from under the table and somehow I knew that he was sniffing the inside of the shoe he had just taken off my foot. I took another sip of my wine and then looked down at the paperwork in front of me. The words on the paper were just that, words. I could not concentrate on the task at hand. When I felt a tongue moving over the top of my foot I nearly gasped loud enough for everyone in the restaurant to hear me. I quickly squashed the sound before it escaped from my mouth. Looking straight ahead I saw that more patrons were entering the restaurant, men in suits and women in business attire as well. Luckily I saw no one from my office. At that moment I did not want anyone joining me for lunch. Actually, someone had already joined me for lunch. Actually, I was his lunch. A busboy approached my table with a basket of bread, bread-sticks, and butter. As he placed the bread- basket in front of me a look of awe filled my face.

“Are you okay Sir?” he asked me.

“Uh, yes, I was just thinking over something about my work here,” I said, indicating the paperwork in front of me, pointing at the table.

“Okay then,” he said and walked away from my table.

I was about to call him back when I felt lips wrapped around the last three toes of my socked foot. I felt a tongue flicking over the gold material of my gold toe socks. I felt my socked toes being sucked as hands caressed the bottoms and tops of my dangling foot.                                                                                   “Oh lord, this is too much,” I whispered. “Fucking guy is sucking my damned toes. God, but my socks must stink something awful.”

As the construction worker lovingly sucked my toes I felt his hands moving up and under my pants leg again. My breathing was short silent gasps. Sweat broke out on the back of my neck. I leaned forward in my chair, shucked off my suit jacket, and hung it over the back of my chair. When he moved his mouth and lips over the tips of my gold- toed socks and slurped my big toe and the second toe into his mouth I grabbed the knot in my tie. I was sweating big time under the collar now. I gulped hard and reached for a slice of bread. Trying as normally as possible I spread butter over the slice of bread. As I put the slice of buttered bread into my mouth he sucked my two toes deeper into his mouth, so deep, as if he were deep throating my cock. Actually, he would get to that as soon as possible, as I would soon find out. I chewed heartily on the bread, swallowed it, and gulped a big sip of wine. When I reached for the second slice of bread he let my toes slip from his mouth. He caressed my foot bottom and top as I slathered butter on a second slice of bread, my hand trembling like crazy in the process. He stretched my leg out under the table and pressed the tip of his tongue against the bottom of my foot. Then, I felt his nose and mouth against the bottom of my foot and he was sniffing heartily.


“You fucking pervert,” I whispered through clenched teeth. “You’re driving me batty. Who the fuck are you? And why me? My God, why me???”

Slowly, he lowered my socked foot to the floor, placing it next to my other one that was still flat on the floor, but not for long.

“Here we are Mr. Reston,” I heard a voice say and I looked up.

Mike, my waiter was standing over me with my food order on a silver tray.

“Oh, good,” I said and sat back so he could place the food in front of me.

A plate of chicken breast served over rice with mixed vegetables on the side.

“Mmm, smells great,” I said to Mike.

“Enjoy it Sir,” Mike said. “And if there’s anything else I can do for you please don’t hesitate to ask.

Anything else he could do for me??? Yeah, he could do something else for me; that was for sure. He could get this foot pervert out from under my table so I could get my shoe back on my foot and get some work done while I ate my lunch. But it seemed that was not meant to be.

“Say Mike, what happened to that construction worker that was over there earlier?” I asked the waiter. “Seems he left his toolbox behind.”

As Mike and I looked over at the toolbox sitting there unattended I felt a hand grip my calves, almost in anger.

“Yes, it would seem like that,” Mike said, looking back down at me. “I’m sure he’ll realize it and be back for it. Enjoy your lunch Mr. Reston.”

As Mike walked away from my table my feet were lifted a few inches off the floor. The construction worker under there then pulled my feet a few inches apart. I didn’t need three guesses to know what he was about to do to me.


“No, no,” I pleaded in a whispered tone, but, ignoring me he slammed my socked foot and my shoed foot against each other. “Owwwwwww…” I seethed as quietly as possible through clenched teeth.

I heard the words “Start eating your lunch” whispered up at me and then felt my other shoe being unlaced.

“Shit, shit, you bastard,” I whispered and picked up my fork and knife.

I shoved a piece of delicious chicken into my mouth and as I chewed my other shoe was taken off my other foot.

Going for the other one now huh?” I whispered down at him.

The smell of sweat from my feet and socks wafted up to me and mixed with the smells emanating from my lunch. I took another slice of chicken into my mouth and chewed it heartily. Any chance of getting any work done at all I had abandoned at this point. Fuck, whoever this guy was he was making me crazy. I mean, I was literally being held prisoner in full view of everyone else who was at that restaurant. The construction worker under the table lifted my other foot and holding it firmly by the center and the heel he rubbed my socked toes over his nipples, alternating from side to side. From what I was able to gather his nipples were pretty erect and hard. Looked like playing with and licking my feet had him pretty turned on. And there was no denying that I was sporting a pretty big boner in my under shorts as well. Fuck, I had never even entertained a scene like this and now here some pervert playing with my damned, socked feet was turning me on. He continued rubbing my socked toes over his nipples. A few times I scrunched my toes around one of his nipples. He seemed to like that and showed his appreciation by squeezing my foot tight. But then, as I chewed a mouthful of vegetables it was back to slurping and sucking my toes and foot. I felt his tongue moving over the side of my foot as he held it aloft under the table. As he slurped heartily at the sides of my foot his hand was moving up and under my pants leg, really feeling me up like crazy. He squeezed my leg tight and tugged my sock down a little. I nearly gagged on the rice I was swallowing when he gobbled the last three toes of my foot into his mouth. He sucked them like crazy, chewed on them, and slurped the rancid sweat out of my sock. It seemed that the more he serviced my feet the more he wanted of them. I wondered if the fucker had done this sort of thing before. I ate slowly, knowing that he would not let go of me for quite a while yet. He was having too much fun with me. Next, he put my feet down on the floor a few inches apart. He ran his hands over them a few times. Then, he began folding up the bottoms of my pants legs, hiking them up revealing more of my black dress socks. I wiggled my toes in anger under those socks that he seemed to be totally in love with.


“Fucker, what are you up to down there now???” I growled down at him in a soft tone of voice.

When my pants had been hiked up to just over my calves I felt the construction worker’s big hands moving over them, roaming up and down my calves, sending chills through me. Never thought that some guy playing with my socks could drive me so fucking crazy. I took a sip of my wine, which was almost gone at that point. I usually allow myself one glass of wine with lunch every once in a while. On this particular day I thought I deserved a second one. As I forked a piece of chicken into my mouth my feet were lifted together off the floor. He held them closely together and sucked my two big toes into his mouth. I nearly gasped but managed not to. I glanced at my watch, saw that it was now twelve PM. The restaurant was already filling up. No way to get out of this now. If I did get up and move from the table people would see that my shoes were missing. If I caused a scene people would realize that the guy had been under my table for quite a while at that point. Actually he had been under there and at my feet for almost a half-hour at that point. My head spun as I gulped the last of my wine and the bastard sucked and slurped greedily at my socked toes.


“Fuck man, why don’t you leave me alone already?” I whispered down at him.

He of course ignored my plea. My cock raged hard in my briefs. I could feel it oozing pre cum. When I saw Mike taking an order at a table near mine I held up my wineglass to get his attention. When he was done taking the other table’s order he dashed over to me.

“Another glass of wine Mr. Reston?” he asked me.

“Yes please, I think I need it,” I said as he took the empty glass from me. “Could I also have a tall glass of ice water when you have a moment?” I asked him.

“Of course Sir,” Mike said and stepped away from my table.

As I spoke to the waiter the construction worker under the table had gotten himself into a kneeling position with the heel of one of my feet directly over his mouth. Sort of looked like a foot shaped cork in his mouth. He swirled his tongue all over my socked heel, sending chills up my leg and up my spine. I tried again to look over some paperwork but it was totally impossible. The guy had my undivided attention. At the moment my second glass of wine and ice water was placed on the table the guy again lowered my feet to the floor. I felt his hands moving up my legs, getting closer and closer to my family jewels. When he pressed his mouth against my crotch and sniffed at my balls under there I quickly took a gulp of my wine. His fingertips toyed with my socks as his mouth was pressed harder against my crotch. With his fingers he was slowly tugging my socks down. Then, his hands abandoned my socks and I felt them moving over my crotch, his fingers slowly pulled my pants zipper down.

“Oh God no, no, you wouldn’t,” I whispered desperately.

When my zipper was down he reached into the fly opening of my BVDs and brought out my long, thick, sausage sized cock along with my plum sized balls. His fingers squeezing my cock and balls made me breathless. I sat there totally in his power. When he slurped my hard pulsing cock into his mouth I thought I would leap out of my well-licked socks. He held the tip of my cock captive between his lips and poked my slit with the tip of his tongue, torturing me erotically.

Ohhhh God, God,” I whispered and leaned back in my chair, my legs spread wide in front of me, my socked feet resting on their sides on the floor.

Slowly he slid his mouth down further over my pulsing hard erection. He drooled over it but before his saliva could hit the floor he slurped it heartily off my cock. I forked a large piece of chicken into my mouth and chewed like crazy as my executive cock was sucked under the table, unknown to the crowd that was slowly forming in the restaurant. Breathless and feeling helpless at the same time I tugged on my silk tie. It wouldn’t take long for me to shoot my load, not the way this guy was sucking me. His fingers again on my socks, tugging them down as he sucked my cock into his throat, my balls pressed against his chin now.


“Oh my God,” I whispered breathlessly. “You fucking bastard, I-I’m going to cum any second now.”

He moved my cock back into his mouth and then it happened, I shot my load into his greedy mouth. I gripped the sides of the table, hung my head down to make it appear as if I was looking at my paperwork and panted as silently as possible as the greedy pervert sucked me till he got every drop of my sperm. When I couldn’t cum anymore the miserable bastard teased the fuck out of my cock hole with the tip of his tongue. That got me pissing long and hard, right into his mouth. As he gulped down my stream of piss and I sat there sweating I felt my socks leave my feet. He had what he had sidled under my table for. The bastard had intended to steal my damned executive socks, jeez!! He let my cock slip out of his mouth and quickly packed it back into my suit pants, zipping me up.


“You bastard,” I whispered down at him. “You just fucking made me cum…”


“Finish your lunch,” he whispered with an air of authority in his voice.

Not having much of a choice I leaned forward and spooned a mouthful of rice into my mouth. I felt my shoes being slipped onto my bare feet and laced up. Fuck, the bastard was stealing my damned socks. I would have to buy a pair on the way back to my office. When I was done eating Mike cleared my table and handed me my lunch check. I in turn handed him my credit card after adding on the usual hefty tip. He thanked me and walked away to process my order. I packed my papers back into my attaché case and clicked it shut. When I glanced over at where the construction worker’s toolbox was I saw that it was no longer there. I gulped hard and quickly pulled the tablecloth up.  He was gone, as if he had never been there. Looking at my feet under the table minus my socks was the only evidence that he had been there not to mention my hiked up pants and the tingling feeling in my cock.

“Did you lose something Mr. Reston?” Mike asked me, suddenly at my table with my credit receipt for me to sign.

“Uh, no, I thought I dropped my pen,” I said and quickly lowered the tablecloth, lest he see my sock-less feet.

He handed me my receipt on a small silver tray along with a pen, I signed it and handed it to him. He politely thanked me and walked off. I inconspicuously reached under the table to lower my pants legs back down. I stood up, shrugged into my suit jacket, and picked up my attaché case. I walked slowly toward the exit of the restaurant. My sock-less feet felt funny in my wing tips. When I got outside there was not a sign of the perverted sock stealing construction worker anywhere in sight. I walked quickly to men’s clothing store and purchased a pair of knee length, black nylon dress socks. When I got outside a mailman approached me.

“Excuse me Sir,” the mailman said to me, holding out a blank sealed envelope.

“Yes, can I help you?” I asked him.

“A construction worker just gave me this and asked me to give it to you when you came out of that store,” the mailman said to me and handed me the envelope.

“Did you see where he went?” I asked the mailman.

“Got in his mail truck drove off,” the mailman said. “I have to go Sir.”

He walked off, leaving me standing there with the envelope in my hand. I put my attaché case down on the ground, opened the envelope and read the note that was in it. The note read “I will get those socks too you handsome fuck. Let’s do lunch again soon.” I stood there trembling, looking up and down the block for him….

                                                                      /The End/





Since I’m just as scared and sad and worried about the outcome of Tuesday’s election as many other Americans… I want to imagine what would happen if it was Cassie who won the 2016 presidential election.  When the policymakers lowered the minimum age to run from 35 to 30, it was Jake they had in mind (after all, he received over 50,000 write-in votes for the 2004 election) but most people are just as happy to have Cassie in charge.  

Imagine that she runs on a Democratic ticket, because she has to choose a party if she wants a nomination, but that neither party knows what to make with her.  She makes speeches in jeans and hiking boots, morphs wolf and runs the campaign trail rather than wasting money on a helicopter, and doesn’t so much set up photoshoots as she gets caught accidentally by photographers in her moments of being awesome: feeding pigeons on a bench in Wisconsin, listening intently to little girls who want to be just like her under the Arizona sun, helping one of her own interns change his flat tire midway through Louisana, plunging elbows-deep into a calf birthing gone wrong at an Iowa farm.  

Imagine that she’s a little shy, a little awkward, during her speeches, but that people lean in to listen to her anyway.  Anyone who hears her—either during one of her many informal gatherings or through their home televisions—knows why it is that this short, overweight, soft-spoken young black woman captures American idealism in a way that forty-three tall, bellowing white men never have.  She doesn’t make grandiose promises, and she doesn’t use fancy campaign slogans.  Instead she tells them honestly, in plainspoken language, that she’s angry.  That she’s an idealist who has been battered and shoved around by this harsh, ugly world since she was thirteen years old.  That she’s tired.  Tired of being called an American hero one month and reduced to her gender and race the next month.  Tired of inequality, of loss, of seeing poverty and hatred all around her.  Tired of this country dismissing its poor and ignoring its minorities.  

Imagine that it’s not all smooth sailing and easy wins, because as much as she wants change she still has to live in this world.  So the press tell her she’s too young, too battle-hardened, too uneducated, too well-connected, too unpolished.  People use unrepeatable words when talking about her, and she can’t turn into a polar bear and threaten them all.  People comment on her hair, her body, her fashion choices, and she doesn’t have Rachel there to defend her.  She averages three hours of sleep most nights, and she and Ronnie barely get to see each other in between press events.  People give her pitying looks whenever she mentions one of her boys—Ax and Jake, Tobias and Marco—in the present tense, and unflinchingly declares that until she hears official news of their deaths she’ll keep assuming they’re out there somewhere, thanks.  Conservative pundits make veiled pokes at her competency any time she talks openly about her nightmares, her insomnia, and her other battle scars.  

Imagine she wins anyway.  That she’s the first female president, the first African-American woman to shatter that glass ceiling, that she’s the youngest president in history, that she attracts more conservative voters than any Democrat before or since.  That she makes a short and humble acceptance speech, then rolls up her sleeves and gets to work the instant January 20 rolls around.

Imagine that for four years, she chooses diplomacy over war.  She cuts taxes and brings in thousands of new jobs when she dismantles all the parts of the U.S. military that are unnecessary in light of the new kind of warfare the yeerks brought to this planet, repurposing those resources and those funds and those selfless warriors to building this country up from the inside.  She shatters monopolies and cracks down unforgivingly on racism and classism and religious fear and hatred in all its forms.  She speaks softly and carries a very big stick in the form of the millions of Americans whose lives she has changed for the better—with education reform and new health care policies, with business incentives and job creation—who will defend their president to the death.  

Imagine she gets re-elected by a landslide, even though she spends almost the entire election season helping Florida bring in a new immigrant-citizenship program and all but misses her own campaign.  That her opponent is smiling as he concedes defeat.  That she sits him down the day after the election ends and tells him he had some good ideas for small-business startup incentives, and she’d like to hire him on as her Secretary of Labor.  

Imagine that during her presidency, unity triumphs over division.  That love triumphs over hatred and the common identity of being human triumphs over all other meaningless distinctions between people.  That the economy thrives and human rights move forward in huge bounds of legislation.  That even the people who don’t agree with the president will admit she knows what she’s doing.  

Imagine that as the President of the United States she is one of the first people alerted when the U.S.’s andalite allies spot an unidentified flying object fast approaching Earth’s atmosphere from the outer reaches of the solar system.  Imagine she’s the one who officially accepts the salutation from the craft, tears in her eyes.  

Imagine that she’s standing there on the Washington Mall when the Rachel touches down on the grass and the seven warriors—two of them nothlits, three of them far from where they started, all of them battle-weary but so grateful to be returning at long last—step off the ramp of the fighter and onto the soft grasses of home.  


U.S. Presidents, youngest picture and oldest picture compared: 

11) James K. Polk (1795-1849): date unknown and mid 1840s

12) Zachary Taylor (1784-1850): 1847 and 1845

13) Millard Filmore (1800-1874): date unknown and early 1860s

14) Franklin Pierce (1804-1869): date unknown and 1851

15) James Buchanan (1791-1868): date unknown and 1860

Presidents: #1-5, #6-10

20 fun background facts for Nova vs.

Hey everyone, Mr.E here still alive and working! sorry I haven’t posted any stories in a while. i got busy and distracted but in the meantime while I finish the next set of chapters, i thought i share some fun background information on nova vs.  remember probably not canon in any other au! haha have a great week and hope you enjoy!

1. Nova has Star’s spell notebook. She doesn’t feel like she’s ready to use it however and decided to stick with the regular spellbook first.

2. Nova is more human than Mewman.

3. Hekapoo is Sol’s godmother.

4. Hekapoo once tried to kill sol to keep balance in the universe due to his powers. no worries they’re cool now. 

5. Sol will have a mewberty form though he doesn’t experience mewberty the same way. 

6. Markeey is older than Connor.

7. Nachos the dragon-cycle is still alive and has two children: Chili and Cheese. 

8. Marco once went undercover in an illegal street car racing league. 

9. Star and Dipper have met in passing. She invited him to come by and visit whenever he wanted to learn more about Mewmans and Mewni. 

10. most of Mewni is aware of Connor. 50% of them assume he’s nova’s boyfriend and/or a prince.

11. Moon and Star have met Nova before Nova ever saw either of them. 

12. Star is queen of Mewni but treats it like a regular job: During the weekdays, she’s in Mewni from 8 in the morning to 5 at night and takes Saturday and Sundays off. 

13. Rafael and Angie live in an RV with the laser puppies (Now laser dogs), traveling the country

14: Moon and River spend most of their time in Mewni. Recently, Moon has taken up being Echo Creek’s History teacher. She, however, is notorious for disappearing for weeks at a time. 

15. Cassie met Ferguson when he was in college studying to become president. He bet her he would not only win but also be the youngest president in history. No one is really sure what the bet actually was for. 

16. Jack once broke space and time then tried to put it together using glue and duct tape. 

17. Oskar managed to get his music degree with some tutoring help from Marco. 

18. Ludo goes after the wand because he’s bored. 

19. Buff Frog used to babysit Nova.

20. janna is considered the most powerful and dangerous human on Earth. 


France has elected a new president: Emmanuel Macron.

The 39-year-old centrist is France’s youngest president in history — and youngest leader overall since Napoleon.

Le Pen lost the election, but with nearly 11,000,000 votes, it was a record-setting peak for her far-right party.

Pres.-elect Macron joined outgoing Pres. Hollande on Monday morning at the Arc de Triomphe in Paris for a ceremony marking the end of WWII.

anonymous asked:

a little question: are you guys happy about the new president?


let me explain

i remember in 2012 voting for the first time and we basically could vote for the left party aka françois hollande (who wanted to legalise same sex marriage) or the right party aka going for nicolas sarkozy again (aka work more to earn more, all about the money) ; the alt right, communist and democrate candidates had been eliminated so it was quite simple to pick

Keep reading


U.S. Presidents, youngest picture and oldest picture compared:

16) Abraham Lincoln (1809-1865): 1840s and 1865

17) Andrew Johnson (1808-1875): date unknown and 1868

18) Ulysses S Grant (1822-1885): 1843 and 1885

19) Rutherford B. Hayes (1822-1893): date unknown and 1880

20) James A. Garfield (1831-1881): 1848 and taken between 1870-1880

Presidents: #1-5, #6-10, #11-15