#and Jan wouldn't even turn on the feature

[mypoisonedvine]

𝗥𝗘𝗘𝗗𝗨𝗞𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 || dark!jan (the edukators/die fetten Jahre sind vorbei) x reader

𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬 | in scoping out his next target, jan hadn't realised that you wouldn't be joining your family on their next vacation; in choosing to stay home, you hadn't realised what you were in for.

𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧 | 4.3k

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 | smut (noncon, with fingering and penetrative sex), innocence kink, virginity loss/first time, brief exhibitionism, degradation, daddy kink, spitting (in mouth and on pussy), breaking and entering/home invasion, touch of misogyny kink, slight objectification kink (petnames like babydoll/dolly being 99% of this), slight bleeding (from sex specifically), death mention (no threats, just the fear of threats if that makes sense?)

𝗔/𝗡 | you don't need to have seen the movie to understand this fic, as long as you know that jan and his friends break into rich people's houses as part of their anti-capitalist rebellion. note that the vast majority of dialogue is written in english for simplicity, but that these conversations would actually take place fully in german.

this is a DARK fic, if you hit 'keep reading' I don't wanna hear you upset about content listed clearly in the warnings section

It’s probably normal to hear a bump in the night, to wake up and be a little freaked out, but to ultimately just stay in bed and not do anything about it. At first you were sure you were sure it was nothing, though your gut told you otherwise; then, as you heard more and more you spent quite some time convincing yourself that it was just pipes creaking or the foundation settling. But the thing about pipes and foundations is they don’t speak German.

“Hier entlang, hier entlang,” someone whispered, and footsteps shifted all along the lower floor.

Maybe you were still asleep, and this was just a strange dream, a terrifying dream. You pulled the blanket up over your head and prayed to wake up, but the denial turned to terror when you heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

You jumped out of bed, but it was too late to go out your bedroom door— you could hear them walking and whispering outside. Your bathroom had a small window, but even if you managed to fit through it you’d be on the second story with no way to ropel down. Maybe in your mind you could be some daring adventurer with the perfect plan to escape, or with the skills to defend yourself with something random you could grab, but you knew better than to really think you could do anything but hide.

As the footsteps and voices got louder, your eyes frantically searched the room and finally landed on the large upright dresser— maybe it was a little obvious, but it had a handy little feature that made it lock from the inside. It had come in handy for a decade of hide-and-seek, and now it would hopefully serve you one last time.

With not a second to spare, you ran over and grabbed the golden handles, swinging the doors open but being careful to shut them quietly after you’d stepped inside and made room for yourself among the coats and dresses. You searched for the lock in the pitch darkness, only able to find it because it was right above the keyhole that glowed from the dim light outside. Just as you turned the knob and heard the metal lock slide inside the wooden door, you heard your bedroom door open.

Someone walked around your room briefly, you even heard them pick something up and set it down— probably your bedside lamp, based on where it was coming from, but you obviously couldn’t be sure and frankly didn’t care that much. Footsteps approached the dresser and you saw the keyhole light up as a flashlight passed over it.

“Let’s take all the clothes and put them in the fireplace,” a voice in the room announced. “We won’t actually light the fireplace, but it sends a message.”

You covered your mouth with your hand to try to keep quiet when the doors shook briefly from an attempt to open them.

“Fuck, it’s locked.”

“Here, you go on to the next room, I’ll pick it,” a second voice decided, and you heard more footsteps as someone else approached the armoire. “Look how fancy the dresser is, they’ve probably got furs in here too— god knows people living in a house like this can’t miss an opportunity to destroy the environment.”

You heard something jiggle inside the keyhole, a clicking noise that went on for just a few moments before you heard the metal slide inside the wood again and the doors slowly opened.

A man, dressed in black and holding a flashlight in his gloved hands, stared at you from behind a mask that left only his brown eyes visible. You both stood still, staring at each other, until he did exactly the last thing you expected: he lifted the mask up to his forehead and showed you his face.

He was a lot younger than you would’ve expected, though he had the scruffy beard of a guy trying to look older; his teeth were slightly crooked when he smiled at you, and when he raised a brow while he gave you a quick look-over, you noticed the way they almost connected in the middle.

Under his gaze, you suddenly felt very aware of how little your lacy, baby pink nightgown protected you from the chilling night air.

"Well, what's this?" he asked coyly as he watched you shiver. "Guess these capitalist pigs left one of their little piglets behind." He put on a cooing sort of voice as he addressed you directly: "Did mummy and daddy leave you all alone while they went on holiday?"

He stepped closer even as you tried to shrink away, examining you carefully.

“Get out of there, silly, what are you hiding for? I’m not gonna hurt you,” he assured, not that you found it especially comforting. When you didn’t step out of your own accord, he grabbed your arm and roughly yanked you forward; he slammed the dresser doors behind you, and you whimpered in fear as he pinned you down against them by each arm. "Shh, hey, don't worry— I'm here to take care of you, you can call me daddy instead until your heartless banker father gets back. Go ahead, tell me what's wrong."

"I—"

"Ah ah," he tutted with a mix of bemusement and disappointment, "I already told you how to address me."

You shuddered but finally responded, "Daddy, I'm scared."

He gave you a demeaning little pout, but you continued.

"Some men broke in and I'm alone and… and I don't know if they want to hurt me."

"No, baby, they don't want to hurt you," he promised with a gentle smile, but it turned horrifically sinister as he leaned in to add with a whisper: "but we will if we have to."

You swallowed thickly, your gut twisting when you felt him breathe out against your neck.

"So you're gonna be a good girl, right?"

You nodded quickly, turning away when he leaned in closer, looking down at you with darkened eyes and running the fingers of his black gloves over the neckline of your pyjamas.

“You were just waiting for me, huh? All tucked in in your cute little nightgown, dressed up like a doll,” he grinned. “I bet you want daddy to play with you, hm?”

He laughed cruelly when you shook your head, fighting harder to get away again as he squeezed your arms tight enough to leave marks where his fingers had been.

“Wanna play, little dolly?” he continued, pressing his body into yours and roughly shoving his leg between your thighs. “I know you do… c'mon and give me a kiss," he requested.

“N-no,” you stammered, but he grabbed your jaw in his gloved hand and forced you to look ahead, slamming his lips onto yours and ignoring your muffled protests. When he pinched your side you gasped instinctively, and he shoved his tongue inside your mouth roughly— but that only lasted for a moment, before you found renewed strength and managed to shove him back. It wasn’t far enough to free yourself, but enough to get a break from the oppressive kiss.

“Aw, don’t be mean,” he pouted, wiping his mouth with the back of his gloved hand. “You said you’d be good for me, remember?”

“Just stop, please,” you whined, gasping before you could stop yourself when he rubbed his thigh up against you— hitting right on your clit which throbbed in spite of everything. Somehow the fear made you more sensitive, or at least something had because you’d never felt quite like this before.

“See? You’re all worked up,” he explained, “I’m gonna help you.”

This time when he leaned in he started to kiss and suck at your neck instead, starting right beneath your ear and moving down slowly until his tongue laved over the crook where your shoulder began. As much as you hated it, it made arousal pulse between your legs where his thigh continued to push hard on you.

When he moved even closer, you could feel his erection against your hip; you didn’t even realise that you’d let out a gasp until you felt him smile against your neck. “Oh, babydoll… you want daddy’s cock inside you, I can tell.”

“N-no, I don’t— just stop,” you begged.

“If only it were so easy, to just ask someone to stop,” he mused. “You know how many times we asked people like your father to stop before they fucked us? You know how far that gets us? You don’t just get to ask nicely, you have to fight for it…”

He chuckled as you writhed in his embrace.

“But you’re too weak to fight, poor thing.”

"Please, I'm not a part of whatever you’re talking about,” you tried to explain, “I don't know much about what Papa does at work—"

"That's your problem, baby, you're blissfully ignorant! Not all of us have that luxury. But the good news is, I'm here to educate you." He pushed up even closer to you, speaking lowly right into your ear with rage starting to bubble up in his voice. "Your father is a piece of scum who feeds on the working class and then robs them blind. You live like this, unquestioningly, and the rest of Germany suffers. Stuck-up bitch like you wouldn't even notice me if you saw me on the street, would you? Wouldn't even give me the time of day, but now you're at my mercy. That’s what you people need to learn: that you’re not gonna be on top forever.”

Suddenly you felt his hand cup your sex through your nightgown, and you choked on your gasp. “No—!” you started to shout, but his right hand covered your mouth as the left hastily pulled your pyjamas up and reached under them.

“Stop fucking squirming,” he grunted as he reached between your kicking legs and slid quickly up your thigh. “Mm, bet you’re hiding a pretty little cunt under this nightgown— hold still, baby, you’re gonna like this.”

Finally maneuvring his way into your panties, he abruptly shoved two gloved fingers inside of you, watching closely as you scrunched your face up tight in discomfort. He thrusted and twisted them around for a bit, carelessly stretching you open as you tried desperately to squirm away; it stung a bit, and the leather of the gloves was cool and awkwardly firm against your walls. For some reason, when he dropped his free hand from your face, you didn’t try to scream again— maybe because you knew no one who cared could hear you— and you just panted heavily instead.

As quickly as he’d pushed them in he pulled them out, bringing the glove up to his mouth to take it off with his teeth with a little growl before rubbing his bare hand over your pussy again. You whimpered when he slid his fingers inside you again, this time feeling the texture of his skin as he curled the pads of his fingers right against your spot. “Yeah?” he mumbled his taunt around the leather between his teeth before spitting the glove out onto the floor. “Fuck, so warm… you’re so wet already, dolly, has nobody been giving this pussy any attention?”

He stopped moving his fingers inside you to pull out and give your clit a few slaps, licking his lips when you cried out from the sharp sensation.

“Huh?” he reminded you to answer when you never gave a response.

“N-no,” you shook your head, finally, and he smiled like he was proud of himself.

“Yeah? You’re not a virgin, are you?”

You only looked down at the floor, blinking a few times as you focused on the teal carpet, and heard him laugh darkly.

“Oh, dolly, I might break you,” he warned roughly as he pushed your gown up to your waist, ignoring your sobbed pleas for him to stop. “We don’t usually take anything from the people we visit, but if I take your virginity maybe your people will finally get the message.”

“Please— you don’t have to do that,” you stammered, rushing through whatever you could think of to make him change his mind, “I won’t tell anyone you were here. You can have whatever you want, if I call them they can send you money—”

“You aren’t even fucking listening to me, we don’t want your expensive bullshit and we don’t want your dirty fucking money!” he corrected sternly, clutching your sleeves tighter and shaking you slightly with the intensity of his movements. “We just want you to be afraid, because the revolution is coming.”

But you were afraid of something much more imminent than a revolution.

“Get on the fucking bed,” he demanded, though you couldn’t do much else considering he was already roughly tossing you onto it, climbing on top of you and pinning you down when you started to crawl back instinctively. With his legs resting on yours and keeping you (somewhat) still, he only needed one hand to grab your shoulders while the other rushed to open his jeans.

Your eyes got a little wide when you saw his cock— before that, it was almost like some part of you didn’t really think he’d go through with his, but now you could see clearly that he was hard and ready… and big enough to make you question how that thing was even supposed to fit inside you.

He tore through your panties like they were paper; he lifted and spread your legs as he sat between them and, much to your humiliation, just stared down at your pussy for a moment. You’d never felt so exposed and it made you feel worse than ever. “Knew you’d have a pretty cunt,” he announced smugly, “can’t wait to see it all stretched out and covered in my come— I’m gonna ruin you, babydoll.”

You weakly struggled as he held your hips down with one hand and haphazardly stroked his cock a few times with the other, rubbing himself over your opening before pulling his hips back to spit right onto your clit. After spreading the improvised lubrication around with his head for a moment, he pushed down on it with his thumb to line up with your hole and, without any further warning, slid inside in one motion.

You bit down on your lip hard, and even that wasn’t enough to distract you from the sting; it felt like he was ripping you open, not to mention going so deep that you could feel him in your stomach.

He groaned loudly, head falling back for a moment as he started to thrust into you. “Fuck, I can tell you’re a virgin— it must be hurting you, huh?”

But the question was a bit redundant, since tears had already begun to stream down your temples and your fingers were clutching tightly onto the sheets beneath you; if they were any less expensive, they probably would’ve ripped.

“Maybe a little pain will be good for you,” he decided with a smirk, “I think a spoiled brat like you has been spared the rod a few too many times.”

It was definitely more than a ‘little’ pain, and it only seemed to sting more each time he pulled back and pushed in again— he wasn’t going very fast, yet, so that was one thing you could almost be thankful for. That said, he wasn’t very gentle either.

He hastily reached up under your nightgown to grope your breasts, quickly moving from one to the other as he squeezed them just a bit too hard. “You like how daddy plays with your tits, don’t you?” he grunted. “Say, ‘yes daddy.��”

“Y-yes, daddy,” you mumbled awkwardly; maybe being embarrassed to say that was superfluous considering everything else happening right now, but your face got warmer regardless.

A whimper almost caught in your throat when he pinched your hardened nipples, but it broke through when he seemingly-randomly gave a spank to your inner thigh.

He looked down at where your bodies were joined, where he was stretching you out with steady pumps of his cock that filled you to the brim, before reaching up to quickly pull his black sweater off over his head— a t-shirt underneath came off with it as his chest was exposed. He wasn’t unreasonably pale but he clearly wasn’t the type to get a ton of sun, and he had a thin scattering of dirty-blonde hair over some of it. It was sort of embarrassing, now, seeing how thin he was and yet he was still so much stronger than you.

"You're getting so wet, babydoll, look— you're making a mess on these expensive sheets," he grinned. And he wasn't lying; the sting of the stretch had slowly faded, replaced with a friction you actually couldn't help but enjoy. Each time he moved, he seemed to slide right over a spot that made you tighten up your legs so they wouldn't shake.

But, apparently, there was still plenty left that he could do to hurt you.

You cried out, so louder it echoed across the room, when he suddenly thrust into you hard and deep, hitting the very end of you as your body involuntarily jolted— he clapped his hand down over your mouth instantly, muffling your cries to near-silence as he set a punishingly fast pace out of nowhere. You couldn’t turn your head when you heard your bedroom door open, but you could glance to the side and see another burglar appear in the doorway, staring forward at the scene in front of him.

A new sense of shame burned inside you for being seen in such a way; oddly, it came with guilt, too, as if you were doing something wrong yourself, when really it was just something wrong being done to you. The man on top of you didn’t seem to feel much of either, though: he didn’t even slow down.

"Dude, what the fuck are you doing?" the other man asked his partner, face still hidden but his voice a mixture of bewildered and disgusted. "This isn't how we roll."

"Fuck off, I'm almost done," your attacker scoffed. You tried to use the distraction to fight him again— you swung your arms to try to scratch his face or push him away, but without even hesitating he simply stopped covering your mouth to pin your wrists at either side of your head.

"Is this really what you think the revolution is about?" the man in the door sneered. "Or does that even matter to you when you think you might get some ass? Jesus, I always knew you were a creep but this is…" he trailed off.

"Maybe you should take a turn with her, might fix your attitude," the man on top of you suggested. "She's real tight— trust me, you'll feel better."

"I promise that raping that girl isn't gonna make me feel better, Jan," he frowned.

"Fine, then just go so I can finish and I'll meet you guys in the yard," Jan— apparently that was his name— instructed.

"Don't go," you begged the man in the door, seeing the concern on his face— you could tell he wanted to stop Jan, maybe if you asked him to, he would.

"Shut up, bitch," Jan growled, correcting you with a slap to the face.

The man in the doorway just shook his head and sighed, stepping back into the hall and shutting the door behind him. You cried harder, more sure than ever that Jan was right when he said you were at his mercy; and he didn’t seem to have much.

He fucked you rough and fast, recklessly chasing his own pleasure with no regard for yours. Unfortunately, that didn’t mean that you didn’t feel any pleasure, though… it was building, in fact, sort of like when you touched yourself but so much stronger, and deeper, and threatening to overflow at any moment. “Oh fuck, you’re close,” he noticed with a tilted grin, “you love it so fucking much, huh? Wanna cream on daddy’s cock?”

You shook your head but he slapped you again, spinning your face to the side as he held both your wrists above your head in one hand and gripped your jaw with the other.

“Stop lying,” he growled, “I can feel it, I can feel your cunt getting tighter… you’re gonna come so fucking hard for me, aren’t you, babydoll? God, what a nasty fucking whore you are…”

He held your face to look straight ahead, up at where he hovered above you and bared his teeth in a snarl, before forcing your mouth open and spitting into it. You grimaced and tried even harder to squirm away but he quickly clamped his hand down over your nose and mouth so you couldn’t try to spit it back out again.

“C’mon, swallow it,” he instructed roughly, voice a bit strained from the force it took to hold you down. You could hardly breathe with his hand this way, and when you tilted your head back to try to get away from it, you accidentally swallowed his spit with a disgusted, muffled grunt. “There you go, good girl,” he purred as he watched your throat bob a bit involuntarily, “that’s it, I know you wanna come— say it! Say ‘daddy I wanna come.’”

He let go of your mouth and slapped you again before you even had a chance to hesitate. “D-daddy,” you whined, “I… I—”

“It’s not that fucking hard,” he hissed, “just say it, you dumb fucking slut!”

One more slap was apparently all you needed to just choke it out: “I wanna come, daddy!” you cried, back starting to arch as the pressure of holding back your release became too much to bear.

“Then fucking come,” he demanded, “come for me, baby, right fucking now.”

You tried to hold out just a moment longer, just to spite him, just so you wouldn’t obey him so easily… but it only took one rough thrust right into the end of you to make it all spill over. You came with a sob, shaking and jerking beneath him for a moment before a warmth spread through you; it started right where he filled you and spread everywhere until your mind was all foggy and your fingers started to go numb— or maybe that was just because of him pinning you down at the wrists.

Much to your disgust, you could hear how wet you had become with every stroke inside you, a sickening squelching noise that made him laugh as your face tingled with numbness and burned with shame all at once. “Oh fuck, that’s it,” he praised, “naughty little dolly, making a mess on daddy’s cock with that dirty fucking cunt of yours… I’m gonna cover it in my come, are you ready, baby? Ask daddy to come on your pussy, don’t make me hit you again.”

“Daddy, please,” you mumbled quietly, “come on my pussy…”

“I can’t hear you, babydoll, you need to speak up,” he mocked.

And you were just so exhausted and overwhelmed and his thrusts inside your sensitive walls were starting to get painful again— that was why you really meant it when you sobbed through your begging: “Please, daddy, come on my pussy!”

With one more panted moan he pulled out and only had to give his cock one blur of a stroke before white, warm come began to paint over your sore opening, your swollen clit, your bruised inner thighs. “Fuuucckkk…” he groaned under his breath as he watched himself coat you, and you caught a tinge of pink from your blood on his cock and hand as he slowed down to a stop. "Sheiße," he sighed, letting go of your wrists to sit up and close his eyes for a moment before looking down again at where you were limp and splayed out on your bed beneath him. “See? I’m getting reckless, I really shouldn’t be leaving evidence…”

Even without that, you knew his name and face, but apparently he was focusing on the copious amounts of DNA he’d just left on you.

“I suppose it won’t be a problem, because you’re not going to tell anyone,” he posited, leaning down slightly to hover over you as you swallowed around the rock that had suddenly formed in your throat. “You know how I know you won’t?”

You weakly shook your head, already terrified to imagine what the answer to that question was going to be. Of course, your first assumption was that he was going to kill you, or threaten to do so if you involved the police. He knew where you lived, he could threaten your family, too: the thought made your skin crawl as he leaned down further to whisper right against your ear as you instinctively turned your face away from him.

“Because if you tell someone that I raped you,” he finally continued, “then you’ll also have to tell them that you liked it.”

Speaking right against your ear, it took him no effort at all to stick his tongue out and lick you right on it, making you squeal with fear and disgust.

He quickly hopped off the bed and recollected himself, stuffing his softening and blood-stained cock back into his pants before gathering his discarded clothes from the floor. "Your folks won't be home for two more nights, right? I should come visit you again," he winked when he spared a glance at you. “Now get some rest, baby, you deserve it. Don’t worry, I’ll lock the front door behind me when we leave… wouldn’t want anybody unsavory getting in, now would we?”

[diana-prince-s]

ooooo denali as the bratty little rich girl whos never had to work a day in her life and shows up to her parents work parties and galas and dinners in the most wildly inappropriate outfits, does camgirl work either as some kind of rebellious act against her straight laced parents or for some other reason just because she likes it idk, and rosé uses her streams to unwind after her stressful job 👀👀👀

(excuse my manifesting, here) okay, haiplana, we're keeping this short. short. it's 8:44 pm and we have class tomorrow and we're in a creative writing class and we've gotta write sfw stuff and we don't have time to burn ourselves out with a really involved and intricate new AU, okay? short

anyway, I don't know how camgirl stuff works but I'm gonna try and guess, so please enjoy:

---

It starts when she's a little drunk and a little lonely.

Rosé doesn't really have... trouble when it comes to getting off. Before, she was hooking up with women left and right that she picked up at bars; but recently she's been trying this sober thing, not out of a concern for alcoholism, more because she's in her late twenties and she wants to feel clean and healthy. So that put an end to her frequent late-night, post-bar sexcapades. Instead, she does it herself, and she manages fine picturing all the things she'd like done to her while she gets herself off, though she's never picturing anyone in particular doing it. And she supposes that the sinking feeling in her chest after she orgasms and only her breaths fill the quiet in her bedroom is loneliness.

It starts at 12:14 in the morning, barely a new day in her book, when she stumbles into her apartment with a grin on her face.

Jan and Lagoona wanted to watch The Bachelor and Rosé hates that show, so she figured it wouldn't hurt to have a few sips of wine to assuage her sour mood in the name of fun. A few sips turned into a glass, and Rosé forgot that seven months of sobriety would demolish her well-crafted tolerance, until her head was swimming and it was only 11:00 and Lagoona's sofa felt more comfortable than a bed ever had. Then Jan got the ping on her phone that she had been waiting for -- Jackie wanted to hang out, which always meant sex even though Jan pretended to be clueless. Rosé and Lagoona sent Jan off with teasing and smiles; then they talked, but the talking somehow made Rosé feel alone, because the more they talked about Jan and her sex life and Lagoona and her boyfriend of the month, the more Rosé realized she was missing something very vital in her life.

Sex, intimacy, touches, fucking, love...

So Rosé stumbles into her apartment and goes to her room, which is looking a lot larger and more empty right now. Her laptop is where she left it, on top of her comforter with the screen wide open. She types in her password and opens Twitter in her browser. Lazily, she scrolls around, past the AP news, laughing at the memes, and then her interest is somewhat piqued by a thirst-trap of a busty blonde in lingerie. It's on her feed because one of her friends -- Kahmora, of all people, God -- liked it. She feels the sting of second-hand embarrassment for a moment. But that embarrassment turns first-hand when, not even consciously, she clicks on the post and scrolls down a little at the hundreds -- hundreds! -- of replies to the tweet.

The first of which is another picture posted by a different woman; her Twitter name cryptically reads Icy Spicy Princess and below her caption of "you could strap me up any day, baby" is the photo, showcasing her pouty face in the bottom right-hand corner and a good look at her cleavage below and her bare, voluptuous ass towards the back left.

Rosé can't take her eyes off of it -- it being all of the photo. She studies the woman's pretty, feminine features accentuated by winged eyeliner and a pink cut-crease, her baby-blue matched lingerie set that doesn't even pretend to cover her ass or breasts, her light brown eyes, her black hair pulled into a messy bun, the imperfection of which makes this picture and pose much hotter. Rosé can picture someone "strapping her up" in a pose like that; in fact, she sees herself situated behind the woman pounding into her with a hand in her messy hair--

Rosé clicks on her profile before she can stop herself, and she's suddenly aware that she has made it to the porn side of Twitter, somewhere she'd never dare go before.

The pinned post on the Icy Spicy Princess's profile is a series of links to various websites -- OnlyFans and Chatturbate being the two that Rosé at least recognizes -- and directly below it is a video. A video, the content of which makes Rosé gasp. It's ten seconds of the brunette, apparent owner of the profile, deep-throating a man's dick. Now, Rosé is a lesbian, but she cannot deny how sexy this woman looks with her lips wrapped around him, being used by him -- and when she clicks on the video the wet sounds of her mouth and the groan from her throat make Rosé's heart pound and her cunt throb.

She has never felt this way from porn.

Rosé knows the wine has truly gotten to her when she scrolls back up and clicks on the OnlyFans link. The profile is locked down -- of course it is, this is for income -- and Rosé has never been more thankful for the credit card autofill function that quickly and seamlessly allows her to subscribe for the $20 a month charge -- it's a good thing she has a New York City girl-boss job so that she can afford that much on the spot.

Icy Spicy Princess's OnlyFans is full of explicit, erotic content that sometimes features men, other times women; there are even some of the woman alone and pleasuring herself with toys for the camera. One of the more recent posts shows her with an array of toys laid out on her white comforter, and the caption says "Ladies' Night! Come and play with me on Chatturbate at 11:00 CST, men can look but only women can comment ;) torture, right?"

Rosé snatches her phone off of the bed and checks the time -- it's almost 12:30, the stream has been going on for thirty minutes, but she hopes -- and quickly goes back to Twitter to get the Chatturbate link. While it loads, she crosses her fingers.

The screen goes dark, and then suddenly moans fill her room and the video loads and there's Icy Spicy Princess spread out on her bed at an angle so the camera can see her breasts and her arched back and the vibrator that she's fucking into herself.

"Oh, God," Rosé whispers into the air. Her cunt throbs.

"This feels so good," the woman says, her voice higher than Rosé would have expected, but she guesses it's from the feeling of the vibrations. "I'm so close, fuck, but I need--"

The stream gets cut off by a pop-up pay wall on Rosé's screen. She can see movement from the background, but it's too blurred to make anything out, and the sounds are gone. Again, Rosé quickly makes an account under the name pinkchardonnay and pays dearly for the subscription to Icy Spicy Princess.

It's worth it, she thinks as she gets back into the stream just in time for the woman's orgasm.

Icy Spicy Princess pants as she comes down, her lovely chest moving up and down and shaking her breasts ever so slightly. "Oh, that was good." She removes the vibrator from her pussy and puts it in her mouth to lick herself off of it. Rosé's breath goes shaky. "I think we have time for one more," she says after she takes the vibrator out of her mouth and tosses it to the side. "Any suggestions?"

Rosé's fingers are moving faster than her brain. Honestly she doesn't even care what the woman does, just as long as she gets to see it and gets to come with her.

"You want to see what I can do all on my own, pinkchardonnay?" Icy Spicy Princess asks, and Rosé flushes at being called on. "It's a little vanilla, but I like it to round out our little Ladies' Night."

It feels more intimate, now that Rosé's request is being taken. She types again, sends her message in the chat telling the woman to be a good girl and come all on your own for us, baby, and then her hand slips beneath the waistband of her sweatpants in preparation for the show.

Icy Spicy Princess props a pillow behind her back and opens her legs wide for the camera. Her fingers come to her clit and start circling.

"I'll be a good girl for you." Her hips buck into her hand -- she must already be overstimulated, Rosé is impressed that she's even going for another orgasm after what must have been several -- and she gasps. Her hand is frantic. Her lips are so pouty that Rosé wants to kiss them, and she types as much in the chat with one hand while the other rubs over her own clit in time with the woman's movements.

They come together, and for a moment Rosé forgets that this is through a computer screen and that Icy Spicy Princess can't see her, doesn't even know her real name. It's the best orgasm she's had in a while -- a long while, to be exact -- and it takes her a full minute to regain her senses. In the meantime, Icy Spicy Princess has recovered and is sucking on her fingers, as is her usual method of clean-up, apparently. The mess she's made of the bed is visible even on the white comforter and she looks thoroughly fucked even though she did it all herself.

"Thanks for coming, everyone," she says with a wink. Rosé laughs to herself at the stupid, corny joke, but she can't help it. She's charmed. "The streams will be slowing down during the holidays, but I have some filmed content queued up for you on my OnlyFans. Don't forget to subscribe. I'll see you next time!"

The stream shuts off. Very quickly, Rosé's room becomes quiet and cavernous again.

She closes her computer slowly. Her head falls back onto her pillow, a little dizzy from the wine and the adrenaline rush of fucking herself with a random woman on the internet in a show. But she'd do it again, only for that woman, that Icy Spicy Princess.

Rosé goes to bed that night feeling satisfied and lonely all at once, and it's like finding Icy Spicy Princess was a blessing and a curse. She returns to normal life just as she should; goes back to her girl-boss job doing analytics for a fashion magazine, hangs out with her friends, shops for a dress for the annual work Christmas party. But every night she comes home and feels empty, and she fills the space in her brain with OnlyFans videos of Icy Spicy Princess.

[watching-pictures-move]

Put On Your Raincoats #35 | Through the Looking Glass (Middleton, 1976)

Sometimes you get stupid ideas. Sometimes those stupid ideas are borne out of your immediate circumstances. Sometimes you see a certain film is leaving the Criterion Channel at the end of the month and you think, "Hey, wouldn't it be a great idea if I made a double feature out of this?" and think of ending the outgoing year with Jan Svankmajer's Alice and kicking off the new year with Jonas Middleton's Through the Looking Glass. Sometimes those ideas are also borne out of ignorance. Sometimes you just read the title and assume that Through the Looking Glass is a pornographic version of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, so of course it would make for a great, off beat double feature. Sometimes that ignorance is deliberate. Sometimes you look at the high Letterboxd ratings but avoid reading the actual reviews for fear of spoiling too much about the movie, blissfully unaware that your assumptions about the movie are wildly off base. Sometimes the cosmos conspires to persuade you out of this course of action, yet you move on undeterred. Sometimes a late night blowup at work (on New Year's Fucking Eve, of all nights) threatens to foil your plans to get through a number of movies before they leave the Criterion Channel. Sometimes you just end up letting that last movie of 2021 spill over a little bit and just watch the other movie the following morning (it's a double feature in spirit, dammit). Sometimes you realize how ill advised this all was, but chalk it up to the costs of adventurous movie watching. At this point I'd like to take my hood off, Vince-McMahon-style and reveal that all of this happened to me.

As you can guess from above, Through the Looking Glass is not exactly a porno Alice in Wonderland. It is instead a dark fantasy about incest and sexual abuse. The film follows a wealthy woman who, growing detached from her day-to-day existence, repeatedly retreats to the attic of her mansion to relive her incestuous relationship with her dead father. She does this with the help of a mirror, and the movie cleverly realizes this dynamic by cutting between her and her reflection as she converses with her father and masturbates. (When we do get glimpses of the father, they're timed to be as jarring as possible.) This isn't the Taboo series, where incest is supposed to be fun and great and solve of all your problems. The movie knows this is upsetting, and frames the heroine to enhance her sense of mental isolation and trauma, surrounding her with shadow, while accompanying the proceedings with tense music. The situation takes an even more disturbing turn when her father reveals that he has plans for her teenage daughter, and the movie culminates with a trip to hell, presented as a wasteland bathed in red lighting where she's threatened by all manner of freaks caught up in uniformly unpleasant sexual activity (a man jacking off into his own mouth, another man thrusting into a hole in the ground, two women bathing in what looks like bodily waste, and the rest in an orgiastic frenzy while a woman in a cage looks on). This isn't the hell scene in Nightdreams, which is supposed to be kind of hot. This is a legitimately bruising, unpleasant sequence.

When you have subject matter like sexual abuse and assault in a porno, it poses a certain challenge to viewers, in that this is supposed to be upsetting material, but the genre is also intended to titillate. I respect the movie for doing away with genre demands, as the way it presents this content makes it difficult to fathom anyone finding this arousing. The movie owns up to the unpleasantness of the subject matter and plays it up fully for that effect. This is considered a classic of the Golden Age, and it's the kind of movie that could only have been made in an era when explicit sexual content was paired with serious artistic ambition. I'm glad it exists, but at the same time, I can't say I enjoyed it sitting through it very much. If I can say some nice things about the movie, it's that it's realized with a great deal of artistry and visual imagination (one scene gets a memorable jolt out of vaginoscopy footage), even if that is greatly hampered by the crappy video transfer I watched this on. This was shot by the great porn (and future mainstream) cinematographer Joao Fernandes, whose talent you can see at 100% on the Vinegar Syndrome release of Memories Within Miss Aggie. It's a credit to his abilities that the visual style comes through even in the less than ideal state I watched this movie. (Also, I'm not sure if this was the movie or the transfer, but the stereo audio became unsynchronized between left and right, leading to a slight echo effect. Probably not intentional, but it did add to the waking dream atmosphere.) The ominous, eerie music by Harry Manfredini is also integral to the movie's effect, sounding like a cross between Ennio Morricone's giallo soundtracks and John Williams' theme for Jaws. And in terms of casting, Catharine Burgess may or may not be a great actress, but she has the delicate features and sense of trepidation (one might call it a "deer in the headlights" expression) that make her an effective lead for this story, while Jamie Gillis, in makeup that resembles (at least in this crappy transfer) Dolph Lundgren's in the 1989 Punisher, is appropriately demonic as the father (or is he?).

Very well made. Watch at your own risk. Happy new year, folks.

[bobbyshaddoe80]

Liberated Audio Reviews

Blake's 7 - Liberator Chronicles Vol. 4 Review

RELEASED MAY 2013

Recorded on: 22 February, 18 April and 3 July 2012, and 4 January 2013

Recorded at: Moat Studios

Review By Robert L. Torres

Promises by Nigel Fairs

'Saurian Minor. A dead rock in space.

Cally is alone with Travis, Blake's mortal enemy, both trapped on this desolate world - and someone has brought them here for a reason.

As they delve into the past, a long-hidden secret that links them both is uncovered.

Gradually, the truth about Scetona Clorensis will be revealed...'

This is a superb two hander/dual focused story starring Jan Chappell as Cally and featuring the return of Stephen Greif to the role of Space Commander Travis.

From the moment he was introduced alongside Jacqueline Pearce's Servalan in the Series A episode 'Seek-Locate-Destroy', I have loved the character of Travis. He was the Javert to Blake's Jean Valjean, and I was pleased as punch to hear Stephen Greif's dulcet tones give life to this character once more.

As an aside, I have always preferred Greif's portrayal of the character over that of Brian Croucher's. Nothing against Brian Croucher as a performer, as I feel he did great in 'Robots of Death' and the Kaldor City audios. However, Stephen Greif gave Travis a nuanced and layered performance, which gave his obsession with bringing Blake to justice a certain subtlety in its intensity... All of which was sorely lacking in Croucher's portrayal.

The story itself, which is very well written by Nigel Fairs, allows both actors to showcase aspects of their characters we never got to see portrayed onscreen while still remaining true to what was shown onscreen. Its interesting that this story is basically a sort of return match for Travis and Cally, and a great opportunity for Cally to get some payback following on from the events of the aforementioned 'Seek-Locate-Destroy'. Jan Chappell and Stephen Greif do exceptionally well with the material, as it was nice to see their antagonism focused and concentrated without the presence of Blake and company. It was rather nice having the tables turned between them, and for very specific reasons.

I loved how this story explored the events that ultimately led to Cally's introduction to the series in the episode 'Time Squad'. And it was also rather nice to gain some backstory on Travis and I especially loved how the dual focus for their stories was tied to the character of Scetona Clorensis.

9 out of 10 Plasma Bolts

All in all, a great opening story to volume four.

Epitaph by Scott Harrison

'When the Liberator picks up a distress call from a stricken ship, Jenna and Vila teleport across. For Jenna, it's the chance for a reunion with a fellow smuggler.

But the cry for help is not what it appears, and Jenna will meet the surviving members of her family.

The reunion will take her on a deadly mission - one from which not everyone will come out alive...'

This is another fantastic story, this time focused on another one of my favorite characters from the first two seasons: Jenna Stannis, once again played by the lovely and talented Sally Knyvette.

Before getting into the story, I have to say that I thought Jenna was awesome right from the start. However, I felt that she wasn't given enough to do or much to work with over time. It was very disheartening to see this beautiful, badass ace pilot be reduced to, as Sally Knyvette herself put it, "the Liberator Housewife".

I felt it was quite unfair to her as an actress that her character got the short end of the stick in terms of character development, agency and plot relevance. Which is why its no surprise she left after Series B.

Kudos to BF for doing everything in their power to right this terrible wrong even before crafting this brilliant Jenna-centric story.

In Volume 1's 'Counterfeit', there is a point in the story where Blake describes a moment where Jenna actually posed as Supreme Commander Servalan for one of their missions. And you have no idea how much I would have loved to have seen that happen onscreen.

As an aside, credit to Nigel Fairs and Simon Robinson for the music composition work they've done on the Blake's 7 range. They manage to recreate the otherworldly retro future soundscape created on a Casio Keyboard that was very indicative of late 70s early 80s era low budget scifi on TV in the UK.

Anyway, this story sees Jenna reunited with her brother and sister-in-law, forcing her to deal with the ramifications and consequences of her decision to join Blake's fight against the Federation. Its a great story that is well supported by Michael Keating as Vila, as it allows Jenna to be the badass babe she was always meant to be. The plot provides Knyvette with some great character exploration, as well as some great introspection over whether being a stronger person equates with being a better person. As a bonus, the story even sows the seeds for Jenna to have her own Travis-like nemesis in the form of Marshall Cade.

9 out of 10 Plasma Bolts

If Knyvette had been given more material like this during her time on the show, she probably wouldn't have left.

And don't worry... The Marshall Cade plot thread will be picked up again in the full cast audio 'Mirrors'. But that's a review for another time.

Kerr by Nick Wallace

'Supreme Commander Servalan believes she has a vital insight into the Liberator crew - a clone of Avon.

He looks the same. He sounds the same. He even appears to think the same.

And he offers to spring a trap that will bring down Blake and his crew.

But can the clone be trusted?'

We close out Volume Four with yet another excellent story.

The central focus of the story is once more on Supreme Commander Servalan, played to perfection by the late Jacqueline Pearce.  It is here that we witness Servalan's latest plot to ensnare Blake and the crew of the Liberator from the perspective of the Supreme Commander herself.  The plot itself involves utilizing a clone of Avon to devise a winning strategy, which also involves an old ally from Avon's past.

The notion of utilizing clones is familiar enough to anyone that saw the Series B episode 'Weapon' (ideas and concepts that will FINALLY be followed up on in the upcoming Worlds of Blake's 7 boxset 'The Clone Masters').

Despite the fact that LC Volume 4 indicates that this story is meant to take place during the events of Series A, it doesn't really feel like a first season story.  For one thing, Servalan didn't officially meet the Liberator crew until the Series B episode 'Pressure Point'.  For another, its during Series C and D that we have the back and forth sexual tension between Avon and Servalan.  As such it wouldn't make a lot of sense for Servalan to specifically have a clone of Avon created for one of her schemes before she even met him. So, setting this story between 'Pressure Point' and 'Trial' makes a lot more sense, especially given what transpires in the story itself.

Its an excellent story that showcases Servalan's fascination with Avon fairly early on, and highlights well the similarities and flaws in both Avon and Servalan. Both are intelligent as well as ambitious. Both tend to have ulterior motives and are not above employing subterfuge, guile, deceit and manipulation of others in order to achieve their goals and agendas.

While Avon often knows he is the smartest person in the room and often finds most people annoying (usually Vila), he doesn't completely dislike people. But his problem is that he doesn't completely trust people. And it seems that even his clone, Kerr, shares that particular character flaw.

Servalan shares with Avon a profound sense of confidence that borders on arrogance. But what compounds that arrogance is Servalan's smug, self-centered sense of superiority. She treats people as little more than disposable pets, useful and able to provide amusement, but otherwise are unimportant.

In addition, her egocentric narcissism essentially has her view everything and everyone as beneath her. She believes all and sundry are meant to serve her will without question or discussion, and rudely dismisses any attempt made by those she sees as lesser to engage with her socially or intellectually.

The only one she feels could even be CLOSE to her equal is Avon. And yet, even with a clone of Avon, Servalan cannot help but treat him as little more than a dog on a leash rather than as a person.

But of course, we all know what happens when a dog is mistreated too often by its owner... Don't we?

10 out of 10 Plasma Bolts

A brilliant story that also nicely foreshadows (in a retroactive manner) certain events in Series D, and may even provide some valuable context and insight into Avon's actions and mindset during the final moments of the series finale.

Final score for Liberator Chronicles Volume 4 in its entirety is 9 out of 10 Plasma Bolts.

An outstanding step up in quality that demonstrates Big Finish's enduring policy of maximizing potential in both character and story development that had otherwise been left unfulfilled. Highly recommended.

[tipsoctopus]

Southampton fans wouldn't be hailing 2019 "revelation" if Hughes landed £20m target - opinion

With Southampton’s season pretty much concluded with the draw against Bournemouth at St Mary’s Stadium last month, attention will inevitably turn towards the summer window, with some futures hanging in the balance and others surely being lined up with a move to the south coast.

Perhaps switching focus to last summer, when the Saints were so close to signing one of the brightest, young English prospects around, is more interesting though.

James Maddison snubbed a move to Mark Hughes’ Southampton in favour of Leicester, with whom he has shone this season.

The midfielder has taken to the Premier League like a duck to water, connecting the dots between midfield and attack, oscillating in front of the defence in search of pockets of space and finding the net with a notable level of regularity. Soon he could be on the move again, with a number of top sides surely impressed by his exploits during his maiden campaign.

Southampton fans are often made to mourn the players that have departed the club, with the likes of Virgil van Dijk, Sadio Mane, Adam Lallana and more recently Dusan Tadic having gone on to achieve great things since seeking pastures new, although they may now be anguished by a player who never even made it to St Mary’s Stadium.

Most would love to have the 22-year-old in their ranks and some of the Saints faithful are no different, although perhaps they should be counting the failed swoop as a blessing – had Maddison signed, it’s unlikely they would ever have seen the rejuvenated James Ward-Prowse.

The 24-year-old has been a different beast since Ralph Hasenhuttl took the helm but particularly in 2019, with his goals from midfield earning him a spot in Gareth Southgate’s England squad ahead of the aforementioned Maddison, and his efforts from range putting stars in Saints fans’ eyes.

Like so many of his teammates, the number 16 has stepped up massively in the past few months and has impressed with his versatility, but it’s difficult to envisage a side featuring both Ward-Prowse and Maddison working in tandem.

Has Jack Stephens unfarily been made a scapegoat at Southampton? The Ugly Inside discusses in the video below…

Both players’ greatest strengths lie in their playmaking abilities and neither would shine to the extent they have at their respective clubs if they shared a pitch week-in week-out, while you could also argue that Maddison doesn’t have the legs or steel to succeed in Hasenhuttl’s high-octane approach.

These Saints fans have been drooling over the resurgent Ward-Prowse since January, but they might not have been arguing his case for a Three Lions call-up when Southgate initially left the free-kick wizard out if Maddison, who signed for Leicester in a rumoured £20 million deal, moved to the south coast instead last summer:

A completely different and improved player under Ralph. A well deserved winner #saintsfc

— David Austin (@dkaustin87) May 7, 2019

Get in the saints!!!!! Ward-Prowse again,he has been phenomenal since Hussenhuttl has taken the reigns at St Mary’s!!!!👏👏👏 #SaintsFC #WeMarchOn ♥️

— Joanne Buckley (@joanne_buckley7) March 9, 2019

James Ward-Prowse has scored three goals in four games and two different positions, gone unbeaten, single-handedly gotten Zaha sent off, controlled games and has become an absolute revelation this month but yer son thinks Rashford deserves POTM doing his job as a striker.

— Jack 🇦🇹 (@HasenhuttlIn) February 1, 2019

James Ward-Prowse was unreal tonight. Going full blooded into every challenge, chasing every ball, deservedly getting a goal as well. MOTM performance, such a different and improved player under Hasenhüttl #saintsfc

— Harry (@ffsHaarry) February 27, 2019

I've been a huge critic of Ward-Prowse in the past but the last few weeks he has been transformed under Ralph and adding goals to his game. i think Ralph is the man to get the potential we have been waiting for finally come through. Always glad to admit i'm wrong! #saintsfc

— Jay (@FatalJaay) January 19, 2019

There is little doubt that Maddison would have been the perfect type of number 10 for Hasenhuttl to mould into a top player but, with the likes of Yan Valery, Jan Bednarek, Pierre-Emile Hojbjerg and Ward-Prowse showing outstanding potential under the Austrian, there will be another Maddison at St Mary’s Stadium in no time.

Here’s hoping that they can keep whoever it is out of Liverpool’s clutches.

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