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ohforficsakelibrary · 1 year ago

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The Margay: Chapter 6

If You're Both Lying to Me, I Swear

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Summary: Santiago recruits Frankie to contract for a covert agency that pairs them with danger in more ways than one. A series of one-shot snippets taking place during and around missions.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Sniper!OFC

Word Count: ~3.9K

Rating: Explicit 18+ / mirror sex, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, unprotected piv, biting, creampie, creampie eating, come swapping / tw for brief description of a sniper shot / Minors DNI

A/N: Audrey earns her call sign. Frankie takes advantage of the bathroom mirror.

Y'all this started as a cheeky little idea that dissolved into filth. These two have a mind of their own they just do this I am so sorry.

Their fifth job out is easy enough.

But their fifth job out comes with the most ridiculous story.

Recover a hard drive from a small compound in Belize. Drive contains sensitive information including the identities of covert American and Canadian operatives in the country, including a young recruit from Davis’ organization.

The mark is an avid hunter, shipped off to Kenya this morning, passport check, flight manifest, and an operative at the gate confirmed he’s gone.

The mark is also not particularly smart. Intel says he only left one guy guarding the house while he’s away—drive is in the basement.

And so Frankie and Santiago move in light at dusk, covering the mile on foot from where Audrey’s holding the high ground.

Breaching the compound is as easy as hopping over a wall. Santi attaches a small device to the nearest security camera while staying out of its line of sight and waits for Audrey's confirmation that she has control over the system.

Frankie picks the lock once they have the all-clear and the boys run one silent sweep through the house, guard noticeably absent, before they meet again in the office.

“Audrey, you’re not gonna believe this,” Santi’s voice finally crackles over comms.

“Try me, Pope.”

“Dude’s got a fuckin moose in here.”

“Bullshit.”

“Uhh, no,” Frankie chimes in, “theres’s a taxidermy moose in his office. The whole thing.”

“It’s fuckin’ huge,” Santiago whispers.

“If you’re both lying to me, I swear…”

Her phone buzzes and it’s a picture of Santi with his arm hiked up around the moose’s neck, preserved exotic game littering the wall and bookcase in the background.

She briefly considers having a serious conversation with Davis about having a souvenir shipped out.

“Pet his nose for me,” she tells them both.

Frankie sends a selfie, his massive hand dwarfed by the animal’s snout.

“Alright boys, you’ve made me sufficiently jealous. Keep moving.”

She tracks them through the windows with her rifle scope, occasionally switching to the FLIR heat sensor to check the perimeter.

They both fan out in opposite directions, searching for basement access before meeting in the office again.

“If there’s a basement, we haven’t found it yet.” Santi says over coms while Fish tests the bookshelves for a hidden door. “No part of the layout that doesn’t make sense, no weird airflow issues. We may have to call it and reassess.”

“Alright well hurry up and wrap, I don’t have the clearest view in there.” She can see them from the chest up but they’re constantly disappearing and reappearing.

Ironically, she suspects it’s because of the moose.

She quickly checks the pictures Frankie sent to figure out exactly what she’s staring at. Santi's picture has bookshelves to the left and the office windows behind him, but she’s looking through the windows in the living room, perpendicular to those.

She checks Frankie’s and there’s enough to see the kitchen lights just over the curve of the animal’s head.

She re-orients herself with that understanding through her scope before checking the FLIR again. She can see their heat signatures clearly, but there’s the slightest anomaly in what should be the kitchen. Not unusual, save for the fact that it wasn’t there before. She watches for a fraction of a second longer before flipping back to the scope.

Movement.

“Boys, hit the deck.”

They both drop to the floor and there’s glass breaking followed by a heavy thud. Immediately the men are both on their feet, rifles raised.

There’s a body in the kitchen with a hole between the eyes.

Santi kicks the semi-automatic the man was holding out of reach before they both proceed in opposite directions around the house again, deeming it clear when they meet back in the kitchen.

“Anything on FLIR, Aud?” Frankie asks.

“Nothing. But the basement entrance is in there. Don’t rip it up, he came through easy without either of you hearing, meaning it’s not behind anything that would make noise.”

Frankie and Santiago sweep the kitchen again, opening cabinets that are too squeaky. A pantry that’s too packed.

Too packed until Frankie spots a can that looks far older than the ones around it.

“Got it,” Fish calls back as he presses the can lid and the back of the pantry swings open. Santi’s hand on his shoulder is his cue to proceed.

“I’ll hold up here, but remember, I can’t see or hear you down there. I’ll monitor the traffic but watch for alarms.” She glances down at the tablet that registers electronic chatter coming from the house.

It’s ten minutes of torture before they resurface.

“Aud?” Crackles over coms in Frankie’s voice. “We got it.”

“Beautiful. No spikes in the chatter so you should still be clear, but try not to stick around.”

“One second,” Santi replies and it grates on her. She checks the heat scope again before flipping back to her rifle. “Frankie, this guy’s about your height?” She hears Pope ask.

“Yeah.”

She sees Santiago’s back briefly against the living room window that now sports a hole high on the pane above him.

“Alright, we’re heading to you.” Santi finally complies.

She watches until they’re half a mile from the house before packing her gear up and slipping behind the driver’s seat, still tracking them through FLIR.

When they’re 20 meters out she starts the engine.

As soon as both doors slam, she hits the gas.

“Thanks for that,” Santi starts.

“That’s why I’m here. Sure it’s the right drive?”

“Yeah,” Frankie pats his backpack in the backseat.

“When we get back I’ve got something to show you.” Santiago’s got a grin on his face. Audrey meets Frankie’s eyes in the mirror.

She dares to say the look on his face is one of pride but she doesn’t have time for that now.

She pulls the Land Rover into town and Santiago hands the drive off to her contact as Frankie watches their six. Audrey calls headquarters to confirm the drop and authorize cleanup.

_____

She pours herself gin on the rocks when they’re back in her room.

They all have their own rooms spread out across the hotel and yet somehow they always end up in hers.

“You’re not gonna fucking believe this,” Santiago pulls out his phone and stands at her side, opening his camera roll. Frankie comes to join them, watching over her shoulder and stealing a sip from her glass.

Santiago holds up the screen so the three of them can see.

“That was your shot.”

It’s taken from up high, camera angled down to match the bullet’s trajectory.

She’s staring at Frankie through the brow tines of moose antlers.

“You nailed that shot through the biggest fuckin’ rack of antlers I’ve ever seen.”

“From a mile away,” Frankie adds.

“Through night vision,” Santi claps her on the back. “Well done, Moose.”

“This is a joke.” Is all she can bring herself to say.

“‘S not.” Santiago steals a sip from her glass now.

“No, you both clearly wanted me to have a call sign and when you saw the opportunity you took it.”

“Then get a copy of the cleanup report when it’s in. See for yourself.” Santi sets her glass on the desk.

She holds Santi’s phone, mouth open in incredulity until Frankie mashes his nose into her cheek. She can feel the smile on his lips.

“Well done, Moose,” Frankie echoes, giving her a kiss and handing back her gin before taking a seat at the foot of her bed.

“Get cleaned up, we’re taking you out dancing tonight. It’s tradition.” Santi says from the bathroom as he starts the shower, “I’ll send you that picture.”

“Well, shit.” She whispers to herself as she hands back Santiago’s phone.

“You gonna let me see the moose now?” Pope needles, arms crossed against his chest as he flops down next to Fish.

“No, I’ll just have Frankie send you a picture the next time he hits it from behind,” she quips as she disappears into the bathroom. Frankie’s eyes fly wide and he holds his hands up in surrender because whatever this is has nothing to do with him.

“That’s fine,” he smacks Frankie on the arm with the back of his hand, “just don’t get your dick in the picture, it ruins the illusion.”

“Jesus Christ, Pope.”

_____

Five hours later, a tequila-warm Frankie sidles up behind where Audrey is removing her eye makeup in the bathroom mirror. His chest molds to her back as he palms her hips, pulling her back against him.

Frankie buries his nose in her hair and meets her eyes in the mirror.

“You’re an amazing dancer, Aud.” He holds her hips, swaying her gently. Pressing the bulge in his trousers against the curve of her ass.

“You’ve got good hips yourself, Morales,” she drops the black-smudged cotton pad into the trash as one of Frankie’s hands skates up over her collarbone, gently cupping her jaw to angle her face back towards his.

She meets his lips with her eyes closed, but Frankie keeps his locked on the mirror, watching tendons in her neck work in the low, golden light.

“Help me out of this?” She whispers against his lips.

He kisses her again. “Happy to,” murmured against her mouth.

Frankie brushes her curls from the back of her neck, sliding the zipper of her dress down the line of her vertebrae, slipping his hands between fabric and skin and letting it fall.

He trails his fingertips up her sides, featherlight, before reaching to knead her breasts in his palms.

“You ever seen a moose, Aud?” He murmurs against the tattoo on her shoulder as he snaps open the clasp of her bra and slips it down her arms. Warm hands replace it before Frankie teases one nipple between his index and middle fingers.

“Two,” her voice is breathy from his touch. “On a road trip through Vermont. Take your shirt off. I want to feel you.”

“I’ve never seen one before today,” he says as he complies, pressing his heated chest flush against her back.

“They’re beautiful things, I’ll give you that,” he continues, nuzzling her neck, hands rubbing her lower stomach, holding her body against him. “Their noses are so soft,” lips ghosting over her neck, palms slipping under the waistband of her underwear to fit warm over her hip bones. “I think I’ve only ever felt one thing softer in my entire life,” he murmurs.

He cups her whole mound with one palm and she gasps, hips bucking back against him.

“Yeahhh,” he sighs, nibbling on her ear with a smile. “This pretty pussy is the softest thing I’ve ever felt.”

And Audrey grins, head falling back into the curve of his shoulder as Frankie’s fingers rub soft circles against her clit. He parts her lips with two fingers, urging her open, thumb catching on her clit as he strokes over her slit where she’s wet for him already.

“Are you particularly attached to these?” He snaps the waistband of her thong against her hip with his left hand.

“Never been particularly attached to clothes,” she gasps, gripping the basin of the sink.

His fingers have picked up speed over her clit.

“‘Kay,” he murmurs, teeth sinking into the juncture of her neck and shoulder. “Gonna fuck you in front of this mirror as soon as I’m done here.”

She moans.

“Gonna pump you so full of me,” he trails his nose up her neck to nip at her ear, “gonna watch it drip out.”

And he says it so matter-of-factly that she breaks with a gasp and a soft, fluttery orgasm that knows he’s only just getting started. Frankie’s fingers continue to roll slowly over the sensitive bud of her clit, milking every last pulse of pleasure from her.

When she finally melts back into him Frankie grins and pulls his hand from her underwear, giving her mound a light spank that makes her jump with sensitivity before he sucks his fingers clean. He goes to kneel and she stops him.

“Frankie, wait,” she rakes her hand through her hair, reaching for him as she tries to turn around, “you…let me just…”

“Baby, tonight’s your night, and I’m not do—“

“—oh fuck.”

She’s managed to spin in his arms, palming his cock through his slacks. She works him for a moment, eyes tracking his face as his eyelids flutter shut and his mouth falls open, pink tongue darting out to lick over his plush bottom lip.

“What were you saying, baby,” she murmurs against his mouth.

“Nothing,” he whispers with a smirk and a kiss.

Frankie braces his hands on the counter on either side of her, tipping his hips into her palm. She undoes his zipper and kneels with fabric as she pulls his trousers and boxer briefs down in one go.

Audrey locks eyes with him as she strokes his cock a moment before she licks an eager stripe up the underside of him.

He tastes of musk and salt and Francisco in a way that makes her head spin.

“Ohh shittt,” Frankie hisses as she slips his foreskin back and teases the underside of his head with the tip of her tongue.

She takes him between her lips, attending to the swollen tip until she tastes the salt of his precome before letting her jaw fall open enough for him to slide across her tongue.

Green eyes still locked on his face.

Her hands work the base of his dick as she continues, noting what makes his breath catch.

What draws low moans from his throat.

“Baby—“ Frankie whimpers when the tip of his cock hits the back of her throat, hand flying to cup her skull.

But he knows she might actually kill him if he moves her head even an inch, and so he grips the countertop with both fists instead as she continues.

Audrey pulls back a fraction and hums at the taste of him, the vibration of it causing his hips to jerk forward of their own accord, cock once again grazing the back of her throat.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he moans and her mouth leaves him completely, a lewd string of spit connecting his tip to her flushed lips.

“‘S fine, Francisco.” Audrey works him with one hand, pressing a kiss to the base of his dick, “kinda like it,” she murmurs offhandedly before sucking on one of his balls.

“Fuuuuckk okay, okay, nope,” Frankie jumps, manhandling her up by the arms and flipping her around again as he steps out of where his pants are pooled at his ankles.

She catches the flash in his eyes when she meets them in the mirror.

The look he gets when the most base parts of his brain take over.

“You think you can just say that?” He growls into her ear as he kicks her legs apart with a socked foot. “You think you can just say you kinda like getting your face fucked…” He grabs at the waistband of her underwear and twists as he yanks it, lace tearing before it’s discarded over his shoulder, “and then suck on my balls with that dirty fuckin’ mouth of yours…”

Frankie suddenly thrusts his cock inside of her and she cries out at the stretch where he’s sheathed so deep.

One hand curls under her jaw to tip her face back towards him.

“…when I already told you I was going to fuck you in front of this mirror?” He slips his tongue into her mouth and she moans.

Frankie’s voice is low and measured, almost soft when he continues.

“You think you can do all that like it’s not going to immediately make me come all over this face?”

And Audrey grins and files that away.

“I already told you, gatita,” he pulls out and slams his cock back inside of her, making her writhe with pleasure where he has her trapped, “I’m going to come inside this pussy.”

And Frankie grips her hips and pounds away at the softest, most desperate parts of her.

She watches as Frankie pulls her apart. The way his gaze is locked on where his cock stretches her. The one errant curl made damp with exertion that falls into his eyes. The way his top lip curls with a particularly harsh snap of his hips. The set of his jaw and the grit of his teeth as he hisses air through the gaps, Adam’s apple bobbing with each grunt.

He purses his lips and scrunches his nose when he exhales.

Audrey shifts her hips and Frankie lets out a breathy “shit” when he bottoms out.

And Frankie reads her like a weather pattern from 30,000 feet.

Her mouth drops open and her head falls forward and he grins. He knows it's a game of pressure, not speed when he’s seated this deep, and he adjusts his stance to give her exactly what she needs until she’s screaming, one hand braced on the countertop, the other flattened against the mirror.

Calves burning from holding herself on tiptoes to help put Frankie at just the right angle.

He knows what it looks like just before lightning splits the sky.

“Look at me, baby,” he growls through clenched teeth, “look at me.”

And it’s a struggle with him hammering against her cervix, holding her on the brink of breaking.

The moment she meets his eyes from under a tangle of hair, Frankie presses two fingers against her clit and her walls clamp down around his cock and she lets out a scream that trails off into trembling sobs where he’s working her through it, pace still punching the air from her lungs.

He's grunting now, one hand gripped over her shoulder, the other splayed across her stomach, hips snapping against her ass.

"Fuck yeah, baby. C'mon," he grits out, "fuck, you look so beautiful,” he pants, eyes locked on her face in the mirror where her mouth has fallen open with pleasure. “Never get to see your face when I fuck you like this. You know that, hermosa? You know how beautiful you are?"

And he feels her abs go tight under his palm as he whispers in her ear before he tips her over.

"So fucking beautiful falling apart on this fat fucking cock.”

"FRANKIE," she wails as another wave of pleasure crashes into her, sending her walls clamping down hard around his dick before her strength fails her.

Frankie wraps her waist in one muscled arm when he feels her legs go shaky as she throbs around him, bracing his free palm against the mirror next to hers, frantically chasing his own release.

She finds herself enough to lace her fingers with the hand that’s holding her up and runs the other over his outstretched forearm.

“Go on, Frankie,” she tips her face to bury her nose into his bicep. “Mmmm let me feel it,” she purrs in a haze, licking at the salt of his skin. “Give it to me. Please. Please, baby. Oh god, I wanna feel you come, Frankie.”

“Oh FUCK—" he barks, feeling his cock respond to her words, swelling and twitching inside of her before she sinks her teeth into his arm.

Frankie shouts as his hips snap hard, smashing her painfully between him and the countertop as pleasure explodes, searing white-hot through his blood.

He snarls into her ear with every pulse of his cock as he empties himself deep inside of her for what feels like an eternity.

Audrey practically growls at the feeling of wet warmth that's already starting to drip down her thigh.

Frankie shudders with the last of it and her mouth falls open, tongue laving over the indentations her teeth stamped into his skin.

She slants her eyes over to meet his in the mirror and he whispers, “don’t you dare move.”

And she’s so pliant here pressed against his heaving chest that the thought of having to move hadn’t even yet crossed her mind.

Frankie pulls out with a moan and sinks to his knees, holding her first by the hips and then by her ass as she supports her weight with hands on the countertop because she still can't trust her legs.

He spreads her open with his thumbs, moaning with satisfaction at the sight of the thick white of his release slipping from her.

On impulse he latches his mouth to her pussy and she jumps with a whine at the scratch of his beard against delicate, overstimulated skin. Frankie’s tongue slips inside and Audrey’s head falls back on her shoulders as sanity briefly abandons her.

His chest finds her back again as his hand fits gently around her throat, fingers dipping into the hinge of her jaw, craning her head up and back.

Frankie lets his lips fall open against her mouth.

And lets his come slip onto her tongue.

And the hand around her throat waits for her swallow before his lips crash against hers, tongue slipping inside of her again. Tasting himself there.

“Oh my god,” she whispers against his mouth when they part. Both desperate for air.

“I told you,” he fights for breath against her back, “I was gonna watch it drip out.” Frankie mashes his nose to her temple, filling his burning lungs with the scent of her hair.

She brings one hand up to cup his scruffy cheek, humming in satisfaction.

“C'mere,” he whispers and sits on the floor, back braced against the jacuzzi tub, reaching up for her.

Audrey settles between his legs, head resting on his thigh, Frankie’s fingers soothing across whatever skin he can reach.

“Think I went deaf for a second,” she murmurs, tipping her face to suck a kiss into his inner thigh.

“Sorry, I know I was right in your ear.”

“No,” she hums, “before that.”

“That good?” Frankie strokes her hair.

“That good.” Audrey nuzzles his skin. “Is that tradition too when one earns their callsign?” She asks, angling big eyes up at him. “To come so hard you briefly go deaf?”

A coil of pride winds itself around his heart.

“It definitely wasn’t for Pope,” Frankie’s head thumps back against the tub with a grin and she laughs, curling in tighter to his leg.

“You cold, baby? Here,” he gently urges her up and starts the shower, wrapping her in his arms to offer his heat, sucking lazy kisses into her lips as they wait for the water to warm.

_____

And thus, the story of their fifth job and how Audrey earned her call sign is ridiculous.

So there was this taxidermy moose in an office in Belize…

But Audrey does in fact ask for a copy of the cleanup report.

It arrives at her apartment via courier early one Saturday morning. Over coffee she skims the details of a replaced window pane and the trajectory of blood splatter.

It all lines up with their account but she still can’t bring herself to believe. Until one line on the second to last page catches her eye.

Three broken shafts of hollow animal hair found at feet of deceased. Presumed from preserved Alces americanus in office, dislodged due to bullet trajectory. Cannot confirm without analysis. No visible damage to specimen. No further investigation warranted.

And she files it away with a grin.

Taglist: @harriedandharassed @missladym1981

Old chapters are hosted on the OFFS Library page. New chapters will be posted to Ohforficsake - follow me over there for future updates.

Shoot me a message @ohforficsake or comment under this post if you would like to be added to the taglist for updates! Thanks so much for reading.

#frankie morales #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales smut #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #ohforficsake #The Margay

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fortressofserenity · 3 months ago

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US imperialism, DC and Marvel style

There's a book called 'How To Read Donald Duck' which is about Disney's role in propagating and inculcating US imperialism that I feel similar things can be said of DC and Marvel, the latter a future Disney subsidiary, that would have insidious and disturbing implications for former US colonies like the Philippines. The Philippines is in a state of constant US neocolonialism, given there are American military bases here and many Filipinos are very sympathetic to America that it would take guts to cut it off from us.

It's kind of depressing how people like Gerry Alanguilan don't seem to trust more Eastern influence in Philippine comics, but see no issue working for DC and Marvel that it seems some Filipinos would rather allow American neocolonialism to continue, rather than (re)building ties with the Philippines' closest neighbours. The Philippines would benefit more from allying with neighbours like China, Japan and Indonesia than it would with a warmonger like the US. But I suppose brain drain's preferable to building stronger ties to rest of the Far East.

What makes DC and Marvel so good at propagating US imperialism isn't just due to the abundance of patriotic figures like Captain America, Superman and the Falcon, but also how both aliens and actual foreigners often work in America far longer than they should or could've done with countries like Britain, Australia and Canada. Alpha Flight is one of the few Marvel publications to be consistently set outside of America, but even then it's intermittently published. It's all in the name of achieving the American Dream.

Whether if they're extraterrestrials like Supergirl and Superman, or proper foreigners like Nightcrawler and Betsy Braddock, America will always be the place where they better themselves in. America is the place where they'll be willing to work for US organisations like the Avengers and X-Men, regardless of their own citizenship (thus national allegiance to). Wolverine is Canadian, but tends to live and work in America. Not unlike Walt Disney's own father by the way. Betsy Braddock is British but works in America just the same.

One would wonder why Storm's marriage to Black Panther, an African superhero by the way, never lasted this long nor has her stay in any African country, despite being the X-Men's pre-eminent African member. It's more appealing to work in America and be the resident exotic black girl, than to actually work in Kenya and represent Kenyans as they really are. DC and Marvel's US imperialist ideology is more abhorrent whenever they assist in continuing US neocolonialism in the Philippines.

So it's seen as an achievement for Filipinos to work for DC and Marvel than it is to build their own Bumilangit, an Indonesian superhero publisher by the way, featuring the likes of Darna, Captain Barbell and Lastikman. Canada's own Lev Gleason has done the same with Northguard and Captain Canuck, but to be honest there was something like Bayan Knights here in the Philippines. But I don't think it lasted long, as far as I know about it, so it seems attempts at Philippine nationalism are often undermined by US imperialism.

I feel Filipinos don't have much integrity the way Indonesians and even Canadians do, that's why it's easier to work for DC and Marvel than to find a way to better the Philippines and even build stronger ties to the rest of the East. US imperialism works too well with us, that's why we often work for DC and Marvel. But it's a not good sign, especially if it undermines national and cultural integrity.

#the philippines #philippines #dc comics #marvel #marvel comics #neocolonialism #comic books #comics #global south #x-men #disney

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sketchfanda · 1 year ago

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Kirishima’s Mystique: Fun Times of the Chivalrous Stud Red Riot:The Cheetah Princess of Kenya

Now it was easy to forget especially with all the mayhem and what not that came their way during their first year alone, and heroics or no, but UA was still a high school. Festivals and sports events were the necessities for any regular fun highschool life after all, not to mention occassions such as when a new transfer student came along or the old classic, the foreign exchange program. One student from their own school and another from a school in a different country changing places for a period of time in the spirit of better co-operation and understanding of one another's cultures and differences. But of course UA was no exception to this especially when Minoru Mineta found himself selected (translation:Forced into volunteering) to attend a hero school all the way in Alaska, which left UA playing host to a splendid, perky and friendly young lady from Kenya by the name of Elena. She was a definite stunner in looks alone and the face she stood at an even 6 feet tall only enhanced that. It was like one had to wonder if Mina had a long lost twin of sorts in the girl, given their enthusiastic levels of energy and their social, affable personalities. To say nothing of the fact she was quite a dancer herself when it came to the brazilian art of Capoeria. But then of course there was her quirk, which was guaranteed to earn er a spot in the top 10 of her home country as a pro in terms of looks and ability. But one person was a little conflicted when it came to the exchange student and not for any negative reasons mind you. For our resident Red Riot, you see, the awkwardness was due to of course, his ever kinky girlfriends and their antics when it came to him and their loving,but by no means vanilla relationship as a trio.

Kirishima:*thinking to himself as he sat on the comfy mat in the campus gymnasium.*'There is no way these two didn't plan this? Midnight-sensei definitely had a part to play in it...'*the chivalrous hero thought to himself, as he looked out the window to see a view of the swimming pool. Mina and Maya of course hanging out with some of their lady friends/classmates, looking hot as all damn hell in the UA school swimsuits. Those one piece leotards left very little to the imagination,that was for sure,a playful toungue blep on his face directed at the cotton candy acid girl and the blue shapeshfter bombshell as they waved with cheeky smiles,blowing kisses his way. Damn he just couldn't stay mad at them.*

Elena:"Kirishima-kun, you alrighty? You seem distracted. Nothing serious I hope.."0w0^w^*The spikey haired redhead felt his brain hit the brakes as that ever peppy,melodic voice spoke up. Elena getting his attention as he found himself looking her way. Goddamn what a view to behold as the exotic Kenyan princess (Seriously, what were the odds they'd have an actual princess in their class!!), wearing nothing more than a white mid-riff baring tanktop and white spandex booty shorts,and her distinct jewellery accessories was doing her usual personal workout routine. Feeling his pulse racing as no doubt blood was rushing to a certain place at seeing this six foot African beauty perform stretches and yoga style twists and bends. Her flexibility on display as she practiced her chosen fighting style, reminding himself how much Mina and the excange student had bonded over their sense of rhythm and love of dance. Her dusky chocolate skin coated in a glistening sheen of perspiration which threatened to soak her workout wear as she casually,seemlessly shifted around like an eel swimming through grease. Currently looking his way as she did a handstand,one palm flat on the gym mat floor while her legs performed the splits. To say he was having ideas would be an understatement*

Kirishima:*managing to exert some sense of willpower and self control as he kept his libido tame and at bay, sending a modest friendly smile her way.*"Yeah, I'm good Elena-chan.no worries, just been thinking was all.."*Left unsaid was the fact Maya had been hosting the exchange student in her dorm room,or that the shapeshifting hottie and Mina had been having regular slumber parties. To which the teased and gave him ideas that Elena was, to say the least, more than into him and wanting to be "very good friends". Quirking a brow curiously as Elena giggled, her tone and body language just radiating such soothing energy. Before she ceased her handstand and her routine as she planted herself upright, standing on her feet as she walked over to him with a distinct bounce to her step. Those bright blue eyes twinkling as she stopped and bent over to face him. Her expression playful as she looked into his own crimson eyes and made him feel...a sort of sense of deja vu.*

Elena:^w0"Let me guess, was it about me naked? You and me doing some very adult things, of which I'm sure Ms.Midnight would certainly approve.0w0 How does she put it,ah yes, "Just two young heroes enjoying the spirit and energy of their youth together as they should."*the Kenyan beauty giggled cutely at the look on Eijiro's face, his jaw risking dropping at the words that came out of her mouth as she tilted his jaw shut, before gently cuppping and caressin his face.* "It's okay if you do and more of course. After all,you've been a very wonderful friend. And I certainly think it's time you and I became quite very good Friends,don't you?"*She quipped before capturing his lips in a sudden kiss. certainly not a chaste peck either,oh no, this was a full on sensual, erotic sort of kiss. Her tongue caressing his lips before making its way into his mouth to dance with and caress his own. Purring and smiling as she found him returning and giving in kind,as she felt him grasp her snow white shortcut hair as he deepened their liplock. The pair of heroes in training moaning as Elena found him probing her throat while she caressed and traced those sharp shark like teeth of his. he duo soon breaking for air as a little stand of saliva broke between them, panting as their faces were flushed with red blushes of arousal.*

Kirishima:*an amused deadpan smile on his face as the Kenyan princess playfully blepped and smiled at him in kind*"Let me guess,Mina and maya's idea? Makes sense why you asked me here...and why they got the view there..."*shaking his head in bemusement as Elena giggled,her tone not lacking any of its usual playfulness and feisty friendliness. Kissing him on the lips softly and sensually as she backstepped away a bit, striking a little pose for him that made thos toned,limber mscles of hers flex, standing out thanks to the sunlight and her glistening sheen.*

Elena:"Of all the boys here,you stood out to me the most at first sight when we met. They could tell soon as we got acquainted and insisted they were more than okay with it. And of course they were very detailed and descriptive singing your praises,you manly puppy you..." *soon as she’d finished saying that,the exotic African babe made the sturdy hero in training drop his jaw and widen his eyes,taking delight in having his attention as she began to strip. Peeling off her tanktop and shorts as she exposed and laid herself bare before him. Flexing and posing for him,her movements silky and graceful. Looking like some divine goddess as his red eyes drank her in from hewed to toe. Her long,strong,toned powerful legs, her firm arms and good lord her hips and thighs. To say nothing of her boobs and bubble butt. Before she shit him a wink and a smile,blowing a kiss his way as she flexe her muscles and begs to change. Her muscle mass boosting as f her hands and feet took on the traits of a feline,cat ears sprouting on her head and a tail forming from where her spine tailbone met the pelvis. Fur formed on her arms and legs up to her biceps and mid-thigh, showing the colour and pattern of a cheetah, another portion acting like a makeshift bikini. The transformation complete as she struck a pose, sending him a purr and meow a her tail wagged.*

‘Elena, home country:Kenya, birthplace:France. Quirk:We’re-Cheetah. A transformation type quirk that enhances Elena’s flexibility and senses while it also increases her strength and especially her speed as it provides her the traits and qualities of the African Cheetah, such as a set of sharp fangs an claw. Her affable charm,friendly personality and sensual charisma combined with the exotic appeal of her looks and quirk ensure this young lady has a bright future ahead in the pro hero circuit.’

Kirishima stared in awe,face blushing so red thst it made his hair look paler in comparison. If Elena was a 10 before,in her quirked form she was an absolute 11 as the Kenyan hero exchange student posed for him. Courting his attention as if she were a wild animal in mating season looking for a good time, fitting given the nature and appearance of her transformed state. Before the chivalrous hero in training shook his head steeling his nerves with a look of firm determination as he stood up, stripoing off his gym suit top. Elena licking her lips sensually at seeing his sculpted torso, a result of his hours of dedicated,rigorous training. Her silky tail swaying seductively as she watched the sturdy redhead continue to strip until he was as naked as she was. Silently oohing and aweigh at the sight of his exposed loins. Such smooth yet large heavy balls and of course his absolute unit of length and girth as it breathed freely in the open air. Rising to full mast erection as it stood stiff and firm as a flagpole, looking like he could hammer nails into solid wood with that meat stick of his. All without yet needing the added benefit and enhancement of his quirk as despite being a solid even statuesque six feet tall, the 5 foot 7 absolute unit of a young buck felt like an equal. A sensual smile and blush on her the were-cheetah girl’s face as her blue eyes twinkled with arousal as the young buck approached her. Looking as serious as he would on a mission, which in his mind was all the same,as a real man never left a woman waiting and wanting.

Elena:*softly gasped as Eijiro didn’t stop until their fronts were pressed together. His head level with her breasts as his face nuzzled the valley of her cleavage. Giggling and moaning as she felt her erection sandwiching between her thighs, his length and girth pressing against her slit and the crack of her juicy bubbly booty.* “Oh my, such a look in your eyes, Mina and Maya told me you really became quite the beast once you get in the mood. Well then, you Manly Man you, please show me what a real alpha male You can be….” *She playfully quipped, cupping Kirishima’s face in her hands as she tilted his head up, gasping delightfully as she found one of his hands clasp the back of her head and the other reach around to grab a nice handful of her ass. A melodic moan escaping her luscious milk chocolate lips as he gave a firm squeeze of that booty meat.*

Kirishima:”For you,Princess? I’m not gonna disappoint….”*not wasting anytime and leaving no hesitation or doubt, the shark teethed redhead pressed his lips to hers as they kissed once more. Elena’s moans and gasps music to his ears,as they made out with a deep passion to fuel the growing sparks of desire between them. Their hands exploring one another as Kirishima felt the silky spotted fur and her exquisite muscles while she used her own quite healthy thighs to massage and jerk off his magnum dong. Feeling her snatch gush and lube up that length and girth as she traced and memorised every detail of his physique. From his firm pecs to his washboard abs, he was on par with all those classical renaissance sculptures.*

it wasn’t long before their make out intensified as the two heroes in training truly ran with the spirit and energy of the pair youth in ways that would make Midnight proud. Rolling around the floor as they kissed and groped one another,their tongues dancing in a sloppy game of spit swapping and tonsil hockey before Kirishima sat on the matted floor, shuddering as Elena stroked his shaft. Her padded,furry pawed hands heavenly Especially as she would perform such stunning fellatio. Sucking snd blowing on his cock as it was clear Mina and Maya gave her their toys to practice on. Effortlessly deepthroating him as her blue eyes looked at his red ones with friendly sensuality. Twikling with glowing lust and admiration for her new “Alpha Male” who didn’t stay idle as she found him masaaajnf and smacking her swaying ass. Making that booty jiggle as his fingers teased and caressed her slit. Her nectar flowing with a steady stream of growing arousal as her tail wagged with erotic delight as she popped her mouth off of his cock, nuzzling her face against it as she smiled a catlike grin,tongue teasing his balls as she stroked that veiny womb hammer. Eyes glowing with lust as she awaited his next move.

Elena:”Ahhhn my alpha,you really do know yiur way with a girl’s body. Aah please, enjoy me to your hesrt’s content and have your fill. Keep this uo and we may become more than just very good friends…”*The Kenyan heroine in training melodically praised,as she found her body laying at a 90 degree piledriver angle. His hands grasping and massaging her spread thighs as his tongue lapped away at her snatch. The slithery muscle drinking up her love nectar as it probed her folds, the African jungle princess biting her lip sensual as her tail wrapped around his shaft. Idly stroking that length and girth as the primal animal instincts within her began to take hold, truly coming to imprint on Kirishima as her alpha male, her body entering a mating heat, awaiting to be claimed by him sexually.*

Kirishima:”Princess…you feel amazing…so Damn hot….”*Eijiro couldn’t help but feel like the first times he’d fallen for Mina and Maya as he found himself currently fucking Elena doggy, or rather kitty style. Balls deep inside her as heavy sacks smacked against her clit, making her juices splash against his pelvis and rain down on the floor beneath them. His muscles rippling and flexing as his cock pumped into her snatch like the pistons of a jackhammer drill. Elena’s smooth abs swelling from the thickness and reach piercing her welcoming, eager womb. The gym walls and ceiling echoing with the sexual rhythm of their mating, the cries of passion and skin slapping skin as he’d smack that stunning chocolate booty which was amazing to watch jiggle. Her tits swaying as her claws grasped and scratched the mat up,her tail wrapping around her designated alpha male’s waist as she looked over her shoulder at him with devotion.*

The exotic exchange student and her studly Alpha Male didn’t know how long they’d went at it but quite frankly all that mattered to them was to maintain the flow and rhythm of raw,primal passion and desire between them. Elena feeling orgasm hit her so swiftly that there was no way to keep count but ooh the sweet pornographic bliss whenever Kirishima came. Especially inside her, Maya and Mina were right on the money about forgoing condoms. A magnum dong like Kirishima could only be enjoyed raw as the cheetah Lycan beaut relished every intimate position they performed in their primal dance of man and woman. Sitting and bouncing on his lap as they kissed in the seated lotus, to rolling around playfully fighting for dominance in a mating and Amazon press. Hearts glowing her in sky blue eyes as she found herself held up in a full nelson, screaming yes over and over as Eijiro flexed his muscular form and pumped his cock into her over and over. Missionary, spread eagle, piledriver, a veritable kama sutra for their first time becoming animalistic friends with benefits was an absolute must for the duo as their momentum saw her laying flat on the floor. Kirishima mounted atop her as he fucked her prone bone, the primal part of Elena’s brain howling “get me pregnant” over and over like a mantra. Claws deep in the mat as his cock hammered into her overflowing, warm pussy. Her booty a lush meaty cushion jiggling with every impact of their loins. Shuddering as they came together, Elena purring as her tail caressed his back,turning her head as they kissed kissed one another softly and sensually. Breaking their liplock as they heard applause, turning to see the source and finding they weren’t alone anymore.

Mina:*grinning with erotic,Pervy delight,her golden eyes having a soar of mischief and lust to them as she and Maya stood over their boyfriend and roommate. Ceasing their clapping and beginning to strip off their swimsuit leotards.*”Well now,Maya-senpai I knew these two would get along famously. But if two is company and three is a crowd,what’s four?”

Maya:”ooh I’m sure we can make it work just fine Pinky. But first thing’s first,what’s say we stop watching and really make out like animals…”*the blue shapeshifter teased erotically as she and Mina and stood naked before their boyfriend and his new bestie with benefits. Their bodies radiating raw desire as their pussies fished with arousal.*

Kirishima stared,blushjng and wide eyes,his red hair wet frkm sweat and effort as he looked between at his girlfriends and Elena, the cheetah princess playfully blepping and smiling as she was clearly ready and willing for a four way. To which the sturdy hero could only roll his eyes and smile bemusedly before he set his face to a determined expression. MUscles flexing,tensing as he mentally prepared to use his quirk as need be. His little Red Riot was going to to need the extra boost and energy and A Real man would and should never leave his important ladies needing an wanting. As Elena’s alpha male especially, he knew that he needed to go, Plus Fucking Ultra…..

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mightyflamethrower · 9 months ago

Text

Donald Trump gave one of his best and most conciliatory speeches of his political career after his win in the recent Iowa primaries—that might explain why the media would not cover it. Later, to answer an ad hoc ambush reporter’s question whether he would hold grudges, he emphatically said he did not.

Yet after his win in New Hampshire, Trump went ballistic at Nikki Haley’s earlier charges that he, rather than Joe Biden, was cognitively challenged, past his prime, and a perennial loser of popular votes.

In response, Trump shed his short-lived Iowa temperance. He went wholehog after Haley’s dress and her affectations and trashed her character. He tweeted that she was a “birdbrain,” and on and on.

For six years, observers have noted the disconnect between Trump’s stellar record of governance, his occasional sense of humor and even self-criticism—and his ad hominem venom that often turns off the 3-7 percent of the electorate in the suburbs who otherwise might vote for him.

Reasonable calls to tone it down by pundits, aides, and friends do not work with Trump, and perhaps for several understandable reasons.

One, Trump is reactive in his “they started it, I finish it” mode. His theory of deterrence is to be disproportionate in retort to eliminate future preemptive attacks. Almost all of Trump’s crudeness was in disproportionate response, sometimes even to minor offenses.

In such a world of Trump deterrence, if you do not relish a crude Trump, then don’t first talk about cutting off his head, blowing him up, stabbing him, shooting him, or lighting him on fire, or don’t spread lies like “Russian collusion,” “laptop disinformation,” or that the influence-selling Biden consortium was innocent of shaking down foreign interests for millions of dollars that were routed into the clan’s coffers.

To put it another way, remember how Barack Obama went ballistic over the yarns, often fueled by Trump himself, that he was born in Kenya (a mythos he himself fueled by allowing his book to be plugged as the work of a Kenyan-born, exotic-named author, e.g., “born in Kenya and raised in Indonesia and Hawaii.”).

But what would a prickly Obama have done had right-wing prosecutors, mirror images of a Letitia James, Alvin Bragg, Fani Willis, or Jack Smith, indicted him over his garnering and intentionally not reporting the names of major contributors in 2008 (rather than the federal election commission taking five years to fine Obama $375,000 for what was essentially campaign fraud).

What would Obama have said or done had a federal prosecutor indicted him for bribery, extortion, or tax fraud over the illegal Tony Rezko lot deal? What would have been his reaction to his “wingman.” Eric Holder’s, being jailed for his refusal to obey a congressional subpoena (such a transgression may well earn both Steve Bannon and Peter Navarro jail sentences).

Trump was pilloried for the Russian collusion farce. But the reality was that the 2015-17 Russian collusion conspiracy farce was discussed and greenlighted in the West Wing by a lame-duck but knowledgeable Obama, who unleashed his FBI, CIA, and DOJ to do whatever, legal or not, it took to stop Donald Trump.

Currently, Donald Trump was just fined $83.3 by a left-wing New York jury presided over by a left-wing judge in a suit filed by a left-wing writer who was funded by a left-wing Silicon Valley billionaire—all possible because a left-wing state legislator had recently lifted the statute of limitations on allegations of sexual assault to allow three-decade-old charges like E. Jean Carroll’s to be refiled.

So Trump blew up and charged out of the courtroom, lost his cool in the courtroom, and hurt any slight chance he had to escape such an outrageous and politicized fine. But again, note the surreal nature of the suit. Carrol cannot remember even the year in which she and Trump, she claims, ended up in a department store dressing room. She was mistaken about the dress she wore on the day of the assault. Long after the alleged assault, she praised Trump’s Apprentice as her favorite TV show. She created an app game called Damn Love, described as: “You’re shown two people who are madly in love. Your object is to break them up. Shown a pair of options, you choose the ones more likely to stir up shit, given each person’s personality and proclivities, and the quicker you can make them split, the more you increase your evilness and rise through the ranks. Carroll’s narrative about being sexually assaulted in a department store dressing room is eerily almost the identical narrative of a 2012 “Law & Order: SVU” episode that focused on an alleged sexual assault in the lingerie dressing room of the very same Bergdorf Goodman department store. Coincidence or inspiration? And thus, to refute all the above, Trump was criminalized as a defamer and fined $83 million. Under such rules of evidence and damages, what would Joe Biden have had to pay when his former senatorial aide, Tara Reade, accused him of a sexual assault, only to be widely defamed by legions of Biden’s left-wing flacks? So much of Trump’s rage is an understandable reaction to the sustained, unhinged venom of the media and left.

Two, Trump’s base, unlike his other supporters, does not differentiate between Trump’s solid governance and his volatile character. They see what he does and says not as antithetical but complementary. Trump, in the base’s view, gets things done precisely because he displays open, unfiltered contempt for the swamp, the bipartisan political class, the globalists, and the media.

His 24/7 bellicosity, MAGA diehards feel, ensures he will always be hated by the media and establishment—and thus not compromised even if he wished to be. In other words, for MAGA, whom a president is despised by is more important than by whom he is liked. For the base, the role of a mercurial and disruptive Clinton Eastwood gunslinger is preferable to that of a jolly Roy Rodgers crooner.

Three, Trump is seen as the MAGA rabid pit bull, who, from time to time, is to be unleashed and pointed in the proper direction. For those who were smeared collectively and nonstop by Obama, Hillary Clinton, Joe Biden, or a late John McCain variously as clingers, deplorables, irredeemables, racists, sexists, homophobic, xenophobic, Islamophobic, chumps, dregs, semi-fascists, hobbits, bizarros, and crazies—and as smelly and toothless by the media—Trump is their payback.

Has a Rachel Maddow, Joy Reid, or Adam Schiff ever apologized to the nation for daily lying to the American people that the Biden family was never compromised by or profited from Hunter Biden’s skullduggery, that Christopher Steele’s dossier was authentic, that Hunter’s laptop was cooked up in Moscow, or that COVID sprung from a bat or pangolin?

So for the Trump voter, those nightly, serial lies had more deleterious consequences for the nation than a leaked Trump private conversation in which he supposedly said Haiti was a “sh-thole” country.

All of the above may explain, though not defend, what appears to the bicoastal elite and even many Trump supporters as irrational, if not self-destructive, behavior.

However, why Trump does what he does still does not address the central question of 2024—what is now in Trump’s own self-interest—and the country’s?

Before answering that question, most would object that it does not matter. Trump cannot help himself even if he tried, as if Heraclitus was right that a man’s nature is his fate (ἦθος ἀνθρώπῳ δαίμων, often loosely translated as “character is destiny”).

Yet there are reasons to suggest that Trump, in fact, could scale back the ad hominem invective.

One, in the past, he has been magnanimous and certainly did not go after enemies or subvert the levers of government in the manner of the Obama administration that weaponized the DOJ and had West Wing meetings, where the Steele dossier and Hillary Clinton’s subterfuge were openly condoned, if not abetted.

Two, the 2024 election is different from both 2016 and 2020. There is no longer a COVID ruse to change voting laws or conduct a surrogate campaign.

Instead, the left is open now about its intentions to put Biden on ice in his basement, outsource the campaign to handlers and the media, count on billions from big tech and finance to ensure 70 percent of swing state balloting is not on Election Day, and blast Trump as a January 6 insurrectionary and murderer of women in need of abortions.

They will seek to keep him off the ballot in dozens of states and coordinate four prosecutions to jail him during the campaign season. The near billion dollars infused into the election to alter voting laws in 2020 will be seen as child’s play in 2024.

More importantly, the country is imploding in 2024 in a way it was not in 2020, when there was still a border, deterrence abroad, coherent energy policies, deterrent police, and a semblance of the rule of law.

Now there is simply no margin of error.

To be elected, Trump will have to win the popular vote by at least 4-5 percent. What’s more, the error/rejection rate on mail-in/early balloting in most states will be a fraction of what it had been pre-COVID. 2020 taught us that the more purple states are flooded with massive non-election ballots under 2020 altered ballot rules, the more the normal rejection percent of unsubstantiated or illegal ballots declines.

Trump has an enormous responsibility in 2024 to stay calm, reach out, and get even rather than mad.

Why? For millions, he is now seen as the last and only obstacle to what more than half of America believes is the sustained, left-wing attempt to turn the nation into something unrecognizable—an imploding country of open borders, with two million illegal entries per year, racial separatism and tribal chauvinism, the end of deterrence abroad, soaring crime and homelessness, $35 trillion in debt with $2 trillion annual deficits, wars on natural gas and oil, and warping of the administrative state and the law to punish enemies and reward friends.

In sum, Trump should ignore Haley and his old vulture critics in the media and on the left as much as he can.

He must concentrate on the disaster of the Biden administration and reiterate nonstop the agendas of 2025 that will save us from tottering on the brink. That forbearance demands that he speak and campaign in the only way that can win the election: unite the Republican Party, the conservative movement, the MAGA base, independents, disaffected Democrats, minorities, and even Never Trumpers into an eleventh-hour coalition to stop the revolution in our midst before it consumes us all.

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