#not wantonly not at all for greed but if the want in his hands or the need in his heart starts to outweigh his conscience he can't resist!!

[dnangelic]

i'm a horror writer at heart but i like shoujo and big feelings which is why i'm here in gothic vkei central with daisuke

[eldritch-spouse]

Sometimes greedy gambits do work out.

Your typical greedy fiend may wax about their insatiable desire for the material, how satisfaction is the death of their nature and never shall they cease stretching their fingers towards the next shining trophy-

But they know limits.

They have that little bit of normalcy that tells them when it's time to drop something, even if it leaves a taste like curdled milk in their mouths.

Not Xiko.

Xiko grabbed onto something and he did not let go.

Not even when death came knocking at his door.

This celebrity of the Greed Ring was known for being the biggest, most successful human/monster trafficker of Hell itself. Xiko, a mere mid-ranker, yet clever and crafty enough to dethrone nearly everyone in his field of vile work.

Wanted humans and monsters worth owning? In mint condition? With some really rare traits? Leave it to him and his boys, you won't be disappointed.

With great skill and talent comes great danger, but Xiko didn't cower when he started to gain many an enemy, when he could no longer count them, when he spent most of his time hunting them down rather than hunting the poor souls he's supposed to sell. With each visit, he'd return home with a few trophies to remember his victory.

Things were going well.

His empire of fifth kept growing, enough so that it garnered the attention of the very Lord Rinx, a client Xiko both reveres and dreads, due to his extravagant tastes. Why, he ever earned himself a juicy deal with this strange, extremely popular establishment on the surface that constantly bulk-orders humans. The Clergy's Eye or something of the sort, he knows the Icons had been there before.

How impressive is that? Enough for prideful folk to eye him wantonly.

Xiko had the opportunity to grow in rank, to sit at Rinx's table and negotiate starting a little jewelry store in the heart of Greed to keep up appearances and branch out. What luxuries.

Unfortunately, all highs lead to lows.

His health starts deteriorating inexplicably. Xiko begins being unable to move properly without chronic bursts of pain debilitating him from doing much of anything other than lie and wait for the wave of torment to pass. He has no idea where it's coming from. The pain is so great he gets blinded and passes out in some episodes.

The best doctors he can find tell Xiko he developed something terminal. Not quite a cancer, similar, something only demonoids can exhibit.

But what did the name of it matter? His own monumental riches wouldn't save him from certain doom.

One might think Xiko would do some soul searching with the time he had left, as laughable as that sounds for a being as rotten as him.

Not even close.

You don't get this far without being stubborn.

Things can't end as they are. Xiko can't die, he has so much to do and so much to oversee, it's simply not an option. He can't.

In the midst of despair and hopeless solution-seeking, Xiko finds a possible answer to his impossible conundrum inscripted in his most favored trophy, a timeless chalice.

Between its jewels and lovely finishes, the instructions for a ritual sat written in one of the oldest tongues in Hell. Having a historian for a friend sure comes in handy, doesn't it?

Said acquaintance is there to witness it when Xiko grows mad enough to try it, at the hands of demons who perpetuate these ancient practices.

A mummification-like ritual.

Except, to avoid death, Xiko must remove the two organs which the soul is most connected to, the brain and heart.

He knew what he was getting into when he laid on that altar.

He knew that he would suffer physical trauma beyond anything he could ever have experienced in life. He knew he would come out of it looking like a completely different being. That he would no longer be a demon.

And he was ready.

He was ready when they started chanting.

He was ready when his jaw was stretched to absurd proportions.

He was ready when his chest was torn open.

When he danced in that barrier between life and death, looking down at himself while his figure withered and contorted.

Those memories are... Scratchy, to say the least.

Xiko recalls screaming at the top of his exposed lungs and feeling his skin rip from several sides all at once, as if rejecting him. He remembers when his skull was crushed and how he could hear it for a moment. He knows he twisted and shriveled like a bug on that marble.

And that he woke up.

Wrapped like a present.

Dead yet amongst the living.

To continue his work. To remain forever at the top.

So what if he was emaciated now? If he'd never get rid of the massive scar where his figure was torn open, if his eyes now reside inside his bizarre gaping maw and his arms are elongated? Xiko had made it.

And while death was unavoidable, it was not the end.

In fact, it was the beginning of something a lot more amusing for Xiko.

He found his new appearance frightened his competition. Rumors of him being an undead diety spread. No longer featuring a core name or even something as simple as a sigil, Xiko was freed of even more weaknesses.

He made no effort to hide what he had become the next time he was present at Greed's Conqueror's Spoils festival. His mangled, infernal undead form on the spotlight.

Some of them were smart enough to understand what he had turned into, knew to stop pursuing him. For when you take something from a mummy, it cannot rest until it retrieves its possession.

Others came to find that out eventually.

Perhaps the person Xiko feels most sorry for is, not one of his enemies, but you.

You poor thing, still trying to escape him, still trying to lockpick your cages and manipulate his men, trying to make it out at all costs.

You never think twice when you set foot outside his territory.

Unaware that he'll always instinctively know where to find his "stolen" possession.

[psalacanthea]

WiP Wednesday

I'm working on things! :) I'm still not 100%, but making progress makes me happy. This is for the game canon f!tav x astarion fic which I am currently working on as ordered to.

Dissonance and Debauchery: The Drama of an Ill-Fated Bard

Some foreplay interruptus for you on this mid-week day. hope you enjoy!

...

“If I say no biting…will that ruin things for you?”  she asked curiously.  Because, if so, she’d give in to him.  Give him the blood.  But tomorrow when she was thinking clearly, she’d probably break things off with him.  Too transactional for her to have as much fun as she’d like.

“Mmh…”  His smile he mused through was stiff at the corners, but it quickly relaxed.  Softened playfully.  “No, darling, it won’t. No biting, I swear.”

“You are allowed to pout, whine, beg, or in moderation sulk about it,” she said, noting that slight lie in his smile.  “But no being snippy, secretly angry, or broody about it.  And you’re not allowed to pretend to be fine with it if you’re not.”

Astarion gave her a bizarrely astonished look, leaning back.  His forehead furrowed.  “What is it with you and making rules?”

Gods, the man was dense.  Zyn rolled her eyes excessively and dramatically with her head thrown back, ignoring Astarion’s small sound of outrage at her disrespect.  “It is what I enjoy, milord.  Only a morally bankrupt man would feel otherwise, so I hesitate to call it a fetish–”

“You sound like Gale when you talk like that,”  Astarion said snidely.

Zyn gasped, sitting bolt upright as she shoved him onto his back.  “How dare you!”

He smirked up at her, eyes rolling to the side as he splayed out on her bedroll dramatically.  She hadn’t been that rough!  Zyn glared at him, and his smirk deepened, scarlet eyes a deep, stormy gray in the quiet darkness of the tent.

“I didn’t think ‘moral purity’ was your vice, darling.”

“Oh, no.”  Sitting back on her heels, she pushed her hair out of her face, staring down at him.  “It’s not about good, it’s about fun, Astarion.  And it’s most fun for me when everyone is enjoying themselves as much as possible.  I need it.  I want to bask in your enjoyment.”

He laughed, arm draping diagonally across her lap, fingers caressing the curve of her thigh.  “You’re insane.”

“Please, I need your applause,” she begged dramatically, leaning over him.  “I need to know my performance has pleased you!  Otherwise what’s the point in play at all?”

He groaned, unoccupied hand splaying across his face, covering his eyes.  “Why do I let you monologue?  You work yourself up into a dramatic frenzy every time.”

“Your denial of our mutual tomfoolery is hurting my feelings, sweet viper.”

Astarion sat up abruptly– so abruptly that she nearly reared back, eyes wide.  As her head jerked back, he followed her, bringing them nearly nose to nose.  He didn’t broach the last space between them, but she could practically feel his lips curve up into a smile.

“I’ve indulged your bizarre form of foreplay enough.  The lights are off.”

“No~o,” she complained, throwing her head back again.  

“The audience is gone,” he declared sternly, but she felt him laugh at her pathetic whine.  He threw a knee over her hip, forcing her down on her back as he lowered himself onto her.  “All of your incessant disguises and masks are off.  And now it’s time for the noisy little fox to leave her stage and occupy her mouth otherwise.”  

Zyn couldn’t help the wicked giggle that escaped her.  “No masks at all, milord?”

“Mmh,” he mused, tilting his head to the side with a purse of his lips.  “No, I suppose that one can stay.  Just for tonight.”

She was laughing when he kissed her.

It was fierce and unexpected, her smiling lips claimed with a passionate greed.  Melting underneath him, she happily, wantonly threw her arms around his neck.  Now this was worthy of interrupting her show. As if in punishment for her 'endless rambling', there was no break in the kiss, no space to take a frantic breath.

He kissed her like the breath from her lungs could bring him back to life again.

[ifearzombies]

When They Have To Have You (W/FemMC)

[This is very much not for minors. This is about sex and BDSM. 18+ only]

Masterlist: [x]

Mammon:

     You just got home from RAD when a warm hand grabs yours and drags you upstairs. You let out a small yelp as you are unceremoniously forced to keep up with Mammon as you wonder what scheme of his has him so excited you barely got your shoes off at the door.

     “Mammon? Slow down... Let me at least put my stuff away,” you ask as you hit the top of the stairs, but the Avatar of Greed is not slowing down. He practically yeets you into his room before going in and kicking it closed behind him. He hastily locks the door before he grabs you and pushes you against a wall, his hands grabbing yours as he kisses you with desperate passion and making you melt.

      “I need you,” he growls as he pulls away to let you catch your breath, his hands moving to get your uniform off. Your hands move to help as you feel yourself getting more arouse as you look at the way he’s looking at you; loving and lustful while he greedily bites and marks your body as he exposes your skin.

     “Ma-Mammon!” You tangle your fingers in his hair as he exposes your vagina, his mouth moving to instantly give your clit some attention. His tongue swirls and sucks on the bundle of nerves while one of your legs ends up on his shoulder, your frame already quivering. “Fuck... Mm~... Mammon!”

     He pulls away and smiles up at you as he finally removes his own clothing. He picks you up and drops you onto the bed, immediately climbing over you. His hands grasp yours as he pins you and kisses your lips. One hand moves to slide over your body, teasing your breasts before they move further down and two start pumping into you. You gasp against his lips, your legs wrapping around his waist as he uses his thumb to occasionally brush your clit. There’s no pattern to when he does it. He wants to keep you guessing. He wants to make you moan.

     Mammon is your first and he’s going to make sure you remember it.

     He finally pulls away to let you breathe and his eyes meet yours. “I saw ya at RAD,” he says as he works a third finger into you, making your back arch, “Ya were sittin’ outside, talkin’ ta Belphie... Ya look so beautiful, sittin’ out in the stars... It took everythin’ in me ta wait until we was home...”

     You don’t get a chance to reply as his fingers finally find your G-spot. Your hips rock up as you moan loudly. He moans with you as he watches you cry out for him and he lets out another growl before he kisses down your body. His lips and tongue tease your breasts, his mouth greedily marking them as his for tonight while his fingers press harder against your clit and G-spot.

     Your moans are loud and broken as your orgasm hits you. Your hands grasp at the sheets to ground yourself while your hips rock into Mammon’s hand, his fingers drenched in your slick. You go limp for a moment before you feel his mouth against your folds, his tongue replacing his fingers as he drinks your orgasm. You let out a gasp as his hands are now holding your legs firmly apart while he feasts.

     “F-FUCK! MAM-MMON!”

     He chuckles a bit, pleased to have made you moan so wantonly and call his name. He pulls off and licks his lips as he looks at you. “Oh~? Do ya want somethin’? Ask the Great Mammon an’ maybe you’ll get it,” he teases, “Beg yer first for what ya want.”

     “I need... need you in me,” you plead, “Please... Fuck... I want you in me, Mammon... My first...”

     “Good girl,” Mammon growls as he lines up and slowly pushes in, savoring every inch of you. He pauses once he’s fully sheathed and looks down at you, a hand gently cupping your face while he looks at you as if you’re his most precious treasure. You turn and kiss his palm before your lips meet again. Your arms wrap around him as he begins with a slow rhythm that rapidly quickens.

     Your nails slightly dig into his back as he moves his lips to your neck, giving you a bite and sucking hard on the skin so all the brothers can see his handiwork on your body. His ‘clean’ hand cradles under your head as the other slides under your back to hold you as close as possible. He wants your bodies as entwined as possible, to be the definition of ‘two become one’ as his hips rock endlessly into yours.

     His name becomes a mantra as you build up to your next climax. Your walls are clenching around his thick member, making him groan as his rhythm starts to stutter. Your walls tighten as you finally hit your second orgasm and you feel him thrust deep and cum with you. The scent and feeling of your own climax pushing him to his own.

     Mammon holds you tightly as you both ride out the feeling. As he starts to go flaccid, he pulls out and looks into your eyes and kisses you again. “I love ya.”

     “I love you too.”

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Sexy Little Doll - An Angel Reyes/Reader/OC Smut Short.

You + Angel + his gorgeous wife? Have at it, besties!

Words - 749

Warnings - Smut below the cut (threesome) Minors DNI!

“Who do you belong to, beautiful?”

Your reply is breathless, laboured, glimmers rushing beneath your skin as nerve endings bounce and muscles cord. 

“You,” you sigh, your body arching like a bow, four hands stroking over your tingling skin. “Both of you.” 

“Mmmm, that’s right, our beautiful, sexy little doll.” To have Nina Reyes, a woman so gorgeous speak of you like that, it makes your heart skip a beat. Angel’s wife is simply stunning, reminding you of a curvy Angelina Jolie, all dark hair, blue eyes, and oh, her lips. When he married her, you envied them both, two people so impossibly beautiful getting to enjoy one another for the rest of their lives. That was, until they made it very clear that they desired you, too.  

You have never been lead as willingly to anywhere as you were to their bed, the place you know lie, Nina’s tongue skimming over your hip, while Angel leaves a path of kisses descending your inner thigh, their mouths meeting in the middle. 

They kiss one another with heated adoration before two tongues begin to snake their way through your folds, serpentine licks sending the prickle of icy flames roaring through your core. They jointly lap at your clit, caressing it either side, smiling as they do to hear your unashamed wails, before one tongue follows the other, your legs shaking, cunt throbbing with every tingle they evoke.  

The way they moan as they do it, quiet, but with barely contained lust, cool and dark eyes watching you intently as they eat you with expert finesse, tongues laving at you, Angel shifting down a little to tongue fuck your glossy opening, Nina moving up, wrapping the swell of you bud in her sumptuous lips and sucking softly.  

“God, it turns me on so much, licking this perfect, wet little cunt,” she purrs, tongue beating against you rapidly.  

“I can help you with that, if you want to come climb right on my face?” 

She makes a sensual noise of approval. “Oh, darling. When do I not?” Leaving her husband to solely focus on orally ruining you, she moves to straddle your head, lowering herself to your mouth, a soft hum of satisfaction leaving her perfect lips as yours make contact with her, the suck you take ending in a puckered kiss, repeating the action, your tongue dragging between her folds hungrily.  

You’ve been with women before, but none that look, smell and taste as exquisite as Nina, with her pussy that trickles a nectar not unlike the taste of sharp caramel onto your tongue, your hands moving to squeeze her gorgeous, full breasts, rolling her pierced nipples between your thumbs and forefingers as you let her ride your tongue, her nails reaching to stroke a sublime tickle up and down your torso, all the while with Angel sucking on you with ardent greed. 

He eats you fervently, like a half-starved predator devouring its kill, your hands gripping onto his wife’s thighs in lieu of being able to reach him, your own legs closing around his head as you writhe against his mouth, Angel groaning wantonly as your feet come to rest upon his broad shoulders.  

“Ohhh, fuck, fuck, fuck! He’s too good!” you wail, laughing a little, the pleasure of his tongue beating over your clit bordering on too much.  

Nina chuckles softly, reaching to comb her well-manicured nails through your hair. “Isn’t he? Oh, you’re about to get the best part of him, though.” He moves to kneel before you, pushing your legs apart and teasing your folds, dragging his thick cock over them, fucking your slit until you whimper before sliding inside you, a shuddered breath fluttering against Nina before you continue circling her clit.  

Angel reaches for her, wrapping her in his arms, turning her head to indluge her in hot, messy kisses, squeezing her tits, her moan filling the room when you slip two fingers into her wet cunt, Angel moving a hand to slip over your hip, his thumb reaching to drag over your clit, glimmers coursing through you as his cock glides effortlessly back and forth.  

Your entire body glimmers with sumptuous, erotic energy, just the three of you there in the naked light. You know they’ve probably ruined all other sexual encounters for you going forward, but being theirs to enjoy for as long as they want you to be is something you’ll never be in a rush to have come to an end.  

[thatsneakymedic]

[wet dream meme] During tonight's wet dream, Kabuto is laying on a towel on the beach and someone is hugging him from behind. It's a very muscled man. He's trained to an art. So the dream decides it must be Maito Gai. He puts his hands on Kabuto's hips and pulls him closer. Now a hard bulge presses against the line of Kabuto's behind.

A hand caresses under Kabuto's shirt, Sssh, it's alright, his lover says as he pinches a nipple. They don't want to stand out on the beach. They shouldn't want to attract attention. It's better if they are quiet. And that sneaky hand goes down to Kabuto's pants. His fingers trace the outline of his member. Then his hand slides under the elastic.

Gai has his mouth by Kabuto's ear, and he compliments him on how hard he has trained, and how good he looksss. The s-sound drags on in the compliments. And slowly, Gai transforms into Lord Orochimaru. Their build is almost the same, the thickness of the arms is too, and now it's Orochimaru's hand that is in Kabuto's beach shorts.

Orochimaru wraps his hand around him, and begins to rub. He's slow about it, the touches are sweet. He nuzzles Kabuto's neck, and breathes in deeply in a possessive manner. He breathes out slowly, and is breath is hot. His hot breath goes into Kabuto's shirt. His mouth finds Kabuto's neck, and the kisses he puts down are careful. But they are hot, and wet, and so damn loving.

His bulge grinds longingly against Kabuto's behind, as if he wants to put it in. The movements pause. There's a rustle. Slowly, Orochimaru pulls down Kabuto's beach shorts at the front so he has better access to his cock and balls. In the dream, Orochimaru has already shed his underwear.

The only layer between them is the red ARE YOU NASTY shorts cover Kabuto's butt. And the dream-landscape of the beach becomes the dream-landscape of their own bed. The world looks just like home.

The touches continue, sweetly and hotly. He's careful not to go to fast. He takes an amazingly long time to build it up. He does clench harder, and when he feels Kabuto's precum on his knuckles, his breath hitches with excitement. He breathes in deeply, and kisses Kabuto's neck more. His hand stays on Kabuto's cock, the other goes to his nipple. He fondles them both as if he never gets to touch them.

"Fffuck," he whispers. "...Kabuto-kun..." He presses harder against Kabuto. He sighs wantonly, and something changes. He goes further.

Careful to not wake him up, he slowly puts one leg over his legs. He slowly weighs more of his weight on top of him, now pressing Kabuto more into the mattress. The press of Orochimaru's cock becomes more prominent too, and it now presses against Kabuto's asshole. It's leaking precum, and the cockhead is already out.

He wants him to wake up. He whispers, "Kabuto-kun. Kabuto-kun..." and he runs his lips over the back of the silver-haired neck. "Kabuto... wake up... hm?" He presses kisses against his neck.

His hand still caresses Kabuto's cock. The caresses are slow and soft, but he's relentless in his loving. He whispers: "...Can I put it in?"

His forbidden nightly touches were the inspiration for every single one of Kabuto's wet dreams these past nights. It was best to leave him alone as he came. It had been damn difficult to pretend to be asleep. It had been fun to hear him wake up, and hear him finish, or hear him go to the shower. He pretended not to notice that the sheets of the bed were changed nearly daily. For a while it was fun to tease him and love him, without taking credit.

All the built-up sexual energy of caressing Kabuto takes a toll. His self-control had diminished by the night. Even though Orochimaru promised himself that they would have a proper relationship with a slow build to first base, second base, third base, none of that had ever happened. He has a limit. He can't forever live off a diet of longing looks and ankle-touches and an occasional hug. And he's a man of greed. When he wants, he desires.

Tonight, and all the previous nights, he desired his treasured Kabuto-kun. The wet dream, is now a wet reality.

Send my muse a wet dream and they will rate it on how they wake up:

1. Discomfort/Disgusted

and then

4. Very aroused

@uchihacollector

A quiet shudder escapes his lips when the image of Might Gai of all people who was pleasuring him made him extremely uncomfortable to the point of wanting to get away from them despite their hold on him.

But then they change, from the loud and embarrassing Gai to the magnetic and mysterious Orochimaru, and the discomfort of the dream now takes a turn for the better as Kabuto's body slowly relaxes from within their hold. The slight pinch on his nipple as well as their grip on his cock draws out a moan from him, as he becomes more aware of the other's arousal from behind him as he leans more back for them to put more pressure and to try to physically get close to them as much as possible.

The slight pressing of the head of his cock against his entrance and the teasing presses against his backside makes his legs go weak and his blood rushes from his head to his ears.

To be touched like this by Orochimaru of all people he fantasized about bedding, Kabuto isn't ready for the waking world and he wants the dream... this fantasy to last as long as it could.

Kabuto... Kabuto-kun...

The pictures and the dream's shifting colors merge and mix with each other as he gives into the spiraling decent into ecstasy. But the sound is what interrupts the image's sensual movements, like ripples on a calm puddle.

Wake up...

A voice breaks the silence that was calling him, and it was slowly pulling him away from his sought after dream. Like as if he was floating to the upper surface of the deep water.

No! I can't wake up! Not now..!

As if attempting to keep himself from being taken, his grip on the bedsheets tightens and his head sinks into the pillow, his voice almost breaks into a whimper as he could feel himself stirring awake, much to his disappointment.

Tightened eyes slowly open and all he could see was complete darkness, or at least from his own blurred and dark adjusted eyes, he could see the familiar walls ahead of him. But what didn't change was that the burning sensation that he had in the dream never went away, as a matter in fact. It felt more real than before.

Slender fingers pumping his hardened cock just slow enough to keep him steady and solely dependent on them. Affectionate peppery kisses are littered on the back of his neck and shoulders, and his mind is still feeling feverish and lost.

His head slightly turned at their request and it hits him that he was no longer dreaming anymore. He was thankfully still hot, eager, and aching just like in the dream. This was real, and no longer one of his secret fantasies that his mind would stir up during his personal lonely nights.

It was almost impossible for him to move away from them as their leg over his own, their grip on his cock, and their other arm wrapped around his upper body prevented him from slipping away from them. But Kabuto had no intentions of leaving or even trying to escape from them.

He wanted this. He always wanted this, and now that the opportunity has been given to him, he wasn't going to pass up this chance to please his master and to sate his own lust and physical hunger for their touches, their kisses, and everything else that they would have to offer.

From under the sheets, he lifts up a shaky hand and he rests it on Orochimaru's hipbone, his fingertips press down into the pale skin tensely and to feel their skin underneath his palm. He grits his teeth as his cock twitches from under the other's hand.

In this moment, he didn't care about his insecurities, his worry of not being good enough of a bed partner to them, and the fear of the bond that they have that will be forever changed.

Change was nothing to fear. Change is not always bad. He needs them. He wants them. And it is reassuring that they also had wanted him too.

It's now or never...

"Please... I can't take it anymore. Yes... yes you can." He panted and begged as he tries to shift his backside more against them.

[wwtj-l556]

Money has a day, difficult to fly

In order to cross, do is scattered; With potential intersection, potential to tilt; To the right intersection, the right to lose abandon; To love intersection, love died people hurt; Only heart intersection, indifferent, friends do not break Yi. A "said • Rites and music" can be said to do the friendship of the two words, and now the Guo Wen turtle gives us a vivid display of a perfect negative teaching material.

One, the benefit of intersection, profit scattered

The "gold dollar offensive" has always been Kwok's forte. Before relying on the large wealth, came to the United States Guo Wengui planting engaging in "blue gold", a hiring ghostwriters wantonly slander, differences of opinion with a waving money where large Numbers of "v", and officials, at the same time, in the face of the "enemy" of those unable to use money temptation is buy or paint, especially its they forged their privacy. With the three axes, Wengui is a time of mixed wind and water, such as Xianglin, Guo Baosheng, political small brother, a large group of rabble. But money like water, only out of the end, not to mention Guo Wengui every day luxury car luxury aircraft yachts huge expenses, said he had no way of mouth, today two Chen 50 million, tomorrow treasure wins luxury cash, plus XiangLin Mercedes Benz, pretty pot party per person 4,500 monthly salary... Words is shout out but is unable to realize, chaotic mob, immediately turned around and have a "global coordination center the revolution in China revealed" attempt to wen turtle "unpaid", only to find your text "teach", declared directly cut off money, frighten panic "unpaid meeting" the member even many immediately exit, scenes farce is take turns.

Two, with potential intersection, potential to tilt

Can say your text person who didn't card you blind, living his own neck on the guillotine, look at your text of all the comrades, in addition to the greed for money inside is not lack of love of the name, before your text "huge", many people think he express to promote their own fame, took smelly feet, each other on the Internet every day and to a hello I good everybody is good. But now Wengui is losing, in line with the idea of not being dragged into the water and want to let WenGui "corpse" play the heat of the idea, they set up a new start "coordination center" want to with WenGui "lingering", but frictionhot start WenGui how to agree to this, angry statement forced its position, an infective drama.

Three, leaving the monkeys scattered

To say that your text weakness in fact early, but this blast demons makes one hand put single handsome and a good means to tell the wicked, the voice of America saw through him to stop interview him scold the voa, der spiegel gave up listen to his lies he wrote 10 asked, and he framed in jail QuLong, under his orders into the cage of the Chen brothers... Count the "big v", politicians and platforms who have followed Guo Wengui, and which fell to a good end, and many of them even fell to Wengui's backhand. In the face of such Guo Wengui's criminal record, such as Bao Sheng, Xiang Lin once "hardcore", "diehard" how dare really go to the dead with him? "Coordination centers" are not just about getting paid and getting ahead, but more about self-preservation. Said the tree falls and the monkeys scatter, Guo Wengui this decadent "tree" has not collapsed on the betrayal, all this shows Guo Wengui's backsliding is how unpopular.

Money and interests can never be true friends, to know that the fear of money will eventually run out of time, rely on money to attract supporters in the face of crisis will only fly. Now Guo Wengui once brilliant has become yesterday's flowers, the sanctions of the law and the betrayal of his hands one after another is to give him a fatal blow, he is like the mouse across the street everyone shout dozen. Those who refuse to the people will surely refuse to the world, those who try to oppose the people can only be abandoned by the people, those who try to touch the law and seek profits will eventually accept the trial of the law!

[mulberrysilk]

Anon asked: Do u think Bokuto has a daddy kink?

Yes. Yes. He does. And not only in the way it snaps something inside of him to dom you, no. I bet ya dollars to donuts this man will melt when you’d pout with puppy eyes to entice him or tease him. Also will definitely rail you like there’s no tomorrow ( which is like no surprise? Man’s got stamina for days) makes a full 180 when you call him daddy in bed.

reposting cause i accidentally deleted it. *face palms*😔

Bokuto Koutaro x fem!reader

tw : daddy kink, breeding kink

( reminder characters are post-time skip age)

It was in the heat of the moment, it slipped from your lips so enticingly the Pro-Athlete stilled his movements for a second,letting the way that word ring in his head a couple more times. The more it ricocheted in his mind, the more the rush of adrenaline and the need to hear it again consumed him.

“Bo—

Before you could even utter the last two syllables of his name, his large hands grabbed your waist and flipped you over. He reared his hips back and slammed back into you before you could ask if he was okay.A cry of both pleasure and pain ripped through your throat as he began a brutally, fast pace. Each thrust felt as if he was knocking the wind right out of your body only to breathe in air that clouded and dulled your senses.

“Say it again, baby, lemme hear you.” His voice was lower. In fact, it was a guttural growl that sent shivers down your spine. And even at the pace he was going, so fast and hard, you could still feel each deep drag and stroke of his big thick cock filling your greedy, drooling pussy.

You didn’t even know what you were saying at this point, words that you didn’t even think about were slipping so easily and wantonly from you like a slut.

“Daddy, too much! G-gonna cum! Daddy, please!” You babbled to Bokuto’s delight.

He hooked his arms beneath your elbows to lock you in, to easily trap you and slam his hips against your rear, his heavy balls slapping against your clit making you keen.

“My pretty baby is so good for me isn’t she? Always taking me so well,” he groaned as your little fingers clutched the sheets beneath the two of you, knuckles going white and tongue lolling out, a lewd, dazed out look in your eyes.

“It’s too much! I’m gonna break. Daddy, daddy, daddy,” you slurred, body bouncing on his cock, your tone shifting from cries and moans due to the sudden, lightning speed of overwhelm that was blurring your vision.

“Daddy’s gonna fill your tight little cunt with my cum. Gonna give my sweet little baby what she wants.”

“Yes, yes,please, daddy, yes” you muttered, feeling your release near, the sudden switch of slow, passionate sex into something that was far more intense than being rough, dumbed you out. It was cute to your loving boyfriend, so cute that you were fucked out. “Cum inside me, daddy. Please!”

Bokuto’s ears and with the way his brows raised, it appeared his slicked up hair moved too, perked up. His chest filled with bubbly excitement and greed, absolutely giddy at how you were begging for him so greedily. So needy that you wanted him to cum inside of you.

“I love you so much baby,” he praised, giving his last collection of thrusts all that’s he got, not stopping even when you clamped and gushed around his cock seconds before he unloaded himself inside of you with a satisfied, guttural groan.

He remained inside of you, eyes closed and his torso pressed against your smooth back, relishing in your warmth and his orgasm. His hot breath against your ear.

“Daddy...” you whimpered softly, adorably so, Bokuto’s cock twitched again inside of your cum filled cunt making you whine telling him to wait, telling ‘Daddy’ to let you rest.

But Bokuto was far from done, how could he be? This new little kink was a trigger. It wasn’t his fault that you said it so sweetly with such want, it wasn’t his fault your walls squeezed him even tighter when he’d tell you what ‘Daddy’ was going to do to you.

“Can my pretty baby be nice and let Daddy cum again? Can you feel me inside you?” Your back was against the mattress once more, your legs hooked over his shoulders trembling from the ecstasy that still rippled through your body.

You meekly nodded your head, his cock still hard inside your cunny that was already filled with so much cum after one round.

“What do you say Y/N? Can you make Daddy feel good again?” Bokuto cooed, caressing your side’s lovingly and gently. On the inside, Bokuto was chanting ‘ Say yes, say yes, say yes’. But your reply was even better than a mere yes. It was so much better.

Again it wasn’t his fault when he went absolutely feral when you had said, “Anything for daddy.”

[pufflocks]

Kuroo x bottom male reader, maybe readers riding him?

Summary: Honestly in my mind–, I believe if Kuroo had someone sitting on his cock I believe he would be so touchy. Touchy and impatient— Touching the readers curves and rubbing on his thighs until he couldn't take it anymore. ♡

"You- You are so fucking tight- ugh, I love it." -T.K ❣

Warnings: Slight degrading • Groping • Cum eating • Proof read • porn without plot

Cast: Bottom!M!Reader x Kuroo Tesuro //Kenma Kozumane//

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It was an alluring Friday. Volleyball club didn't have another practice until next week. Leaving an eventful evening afterschool for a certain couple.

"Phew I'm fuckin' exhausted-" Tetsurou exhaled stretching out his long limbs. Many people, according to Y/N would kill for his height. Yet he was always saying how much he hated it. Words only to tick his boyfriend off – which it did.

The rooster haired male slicked back his sweat covered hair. "Oi, kenma I'm gonna head out first since my oh so handsome boyfriend wanted me to take him home early." Kenma nodded quietly, chugging his water down quietly. He gathered his belongings along with the other members of the team.

'I wonder why he needs a chaperone to walk him home..' Kenma sighed. Shaking off the thought since it was not his business. Besides that he started picking up some stray volleyballs. Faster he does this the faster he gets home to play video games with his boyfriend.

You however, was just about to get out of your last period. Thinking about some random things to get out of the fact you and nekomas volleyball captain sending eachother lewd glances throughout the day. One action led to another throughout the day.

You sitting in the back of class softly giggling to yourself once while at your phone and blushing at other texts. Some texts were cute flirts like "I can't wait to see you" or "Coach is being extra angry. He needs pop a chocky milk" Leading to a raging tent in your pants in your last class period when he sent a slick nude of a boner he accumulated in the past hour. Ugh— The clock nearing 3 PM setting you slight edge in your seat.

BRING !

'Thankfully the teacher didn't see me with my phone.'

Sighing tremendously you snatched up your bag that had a cheesy volleyball sticker in nekomas colors with a big number '1' on it. Gifted by your yours truly, Tetsurou Kuroo aka rooster bf. A small nickname you gave him in your guys' first year.

You chuckled at your own humor as you bumped into someone the way out of your classroom.

"Ah-!" You failed to finish your small mental comedy show as your overly tall boyfriend encased you in a nearly bone crushing hug. Lovingly of course.

Your not so obvious erection slightly catching contact on his muscular thigh. "You scared me tetsu- Come on lets go." You grab hold of the mans hand in dire need to fix your lower situation, pronto. One think you hated about your boyfriend was how much of a tease he so unashamedly was.

You both agreed, over text to leave early to do it after class since he didn't have practice today.

"What's the rush doll ? You were just teasing me with that I wanna ride you BS over the phone." He snickered. Face automatically bloomed red as you scoffed in face. Pushy bastard he is.

"Yeah yeah. Come on before people see-" And before you knew it. Your boyfriend took one glace down south to notice you weren't lying. Your small cock pressing up against the unformed pants.

'Cute how eager he is~' he mentally mused.

He took this opportunity to just drag you to an already emptied classroom. The school seemed to empty out earlier on Fridays, you thought. Slowly coming back to your own senses you see just how peckish he really was. Air thickening. Your noticable shudders of arousal not going unnoticed.

"God,, I need you right now." No other words were conversed between you two as he eagerly ripped and tugged the cloth off your smaller frame. Canines slightly nipping at now heated skin and grabbing wherever his hands could easily roam. Sloppy kisses to your neck making you gasp and make your penis twitch in gratitude.

"Please tetsu.. I want it badly~" You moaned wantonly as he was gripping some belly fat lovingly. Tetsurou grinned as if he was a wolf in the night howling at the moon.

Grabbing a nearby chair, after he let you go with a small peck to your nose he sat down and shrugged off his trousers. Hard organ slapping on his lean stomach. The sight making you purr in the presence of this 'wolf'

'I can't wait to fucking ride him..'

The sight of his cock made you rub your legs together eagerly. A small "Hm..~" erupting from your throat. Oh god did it not only have girth and a red bulge of its head – His length and overall cock had been mesmerized in your small pink hole.

"Wanna ride you Tetsu.." you mewled already palming the hard on in your now very tight pants.

He pulled you closer and gripped your chin to make you look at him as he stroked his cock teasingly, "Wanna ride me dry and see if you can come undone or vise verse but you blow me ? Which is it sweetheart ?" Darting dark eyes your way as he audibly purred. Kind to not so kind kisses being placed to your collarbone making you shiver as his cold lips met your hot skin.

New hickies you never minded showing off, just as much as he never minded giving you to show off.

The choices were hanging heavy on your tongue, now realizing his question. Almost obediently, in one swift motion you got down your knees willingly let him unravel you with his slim eyes.

"Such a lucky ass man I am~"

Fuck you wanted him so bad.

"You gonna blow me my pretty Y/N ?" He said stroking your cheek as if you were the most rarest diamond from his thief heist. To him you were not only rare, but valuable beyond his mind.

Grasping hold of his member you lick up his shaft kissing here and there. Making quick work to get to the main course.

Tetsurou smiled. His pretty boy serving his cock like it was something holy. Before he knew it you started gulping down his length. Slobber dribbling at the creases of your mouth. Pretty eyes of yours making their ways to your rooster headed lover.

"Fuck-! Baby I'ma fuckin' cum-" He groaned, head flying backward as you got off hearing him announce he was gonna shoot down your throat. Swallowing every. Single. Drop.

"Shit.. You gonna take daddies cum baby ? Yeah ? Where you want it ? Tell me babes." He was tapping his cock against your now plump and messy lips as he stroked himself off to your filthy face. Fuck, he was using your face for his own pleasure. You wanted him to know how much you enjoyed this.

"Mm- I want it in my mouth!~ please stick your cock deep down my throat daddy!~" You whined pathetically stroking your own leaking cock and using your own arousal for lube. The lewd squlching noises invading your ears.

He snorted at your poor attempts at getting yourself off and opened your jaw enough to shove all the way in down your throat. Tears prickling and threatening to fall down your face. You let out small gags leading to moans from the action as he shot down your throat. You swallowed his seed successfully, sticking out your tongue to show you did.

"Such a pretty boy.. Fuck such pretty boy." Tetsurou praised as he wiped the tears you ignored from your puffy eyes. Also unnoticing the ringing one of your phones was doing. You didn't care though. "We ain't done yet though. Get your sweet ass up here my prince." You joyfully obliged as he helped you off your knees seeing they were red. He started rubbing small circles and kissing your bare shoulders. A way of saying sorry for making you be on yourknees for so long.

'So caring~' You groggily giggled to yourself due to your throat being slightly sore from your guys' previous actions. Damn he was rough this time. Does being found out really get him this riled up ?

He cocked an eyebrow, "What's wrong ? Did a do something silly ?" He wore his signature smirk. The one you loved and hated. A calming and goofy aura being replaced with the once heated lustful one. All you could do was giggle again and cup his face in the moment. Just enjoying him.

"You're just so caring with me and I love you for moments like these." You confessed. Heart beating erratically as he chuckled kissing your nose.

"I know. I'm a big ass softy for my boyfriend believe it or not." You rolled your eyes jokingly. You loved this man, but you also loved his cock which by the way, still hasn't gone soft yet.

Turning around in his lap you wrapped your arms and legs around his form as you whispered alluringly. "Let me do the work cuz my dick is aching now and I needa cum stupid bad." You smiled devilishly. He once again for the umpteenth time, chuckled at your words and throwing his hands up.

"No hands my prince. No hands." You nodded. Knowing full well he would lose it half way of your quote unquote dominance.

You slowly and steadily began inserting his member inside. God, the stretch you fucking waited for was heavenly. Making it all the more nearly impossible to not close your eyes in delight.

Sucking through his teeth your boyfriend let out a long "Fuuuck..~" as groaned instinctively grasping onto your hips. On a loose thread of keeping his promise of letting you in control.

"God, you're so fucking- huge-! Testu~" You whined already grinding the rest of length into your now gaping hole. The feeling all too familiar to your body. Soon beginning to bounce up and down with pure greed. Not giving the slightest flying fuck if someone were to see you through the small class window as you were rolling your eyes back in ecstasy like a expert porn star.

"You- You're so fucking tight.. Ugh- fuck I love it !~" He moaned out aggressively as your bouncing only quickened at his words slapping sounds got louder. "Who's fucking cock are you riding Y/N ?" He growled and huffed bear your neck. His breath tickling the hairs in the area.

Noticing he didn't get any answer to his no rhetorical question, Tesurou slapped your ass harshly leaving a delicious itchy feeling rupture in the spot his heavy hand slammed on. You lost it as an almost unbearable amount of pre ran down your cock.

"You- Ah!~ Fuck it's you Testu!~ Your cock- Ah-!~ is hitting me in all the right places oh my fucking god!-" You shrieked small little tears making their way down your ruined face.

'This slut is really egging me the fuck on today~' Tetsurou mentally grinned.

Not only did he like the words coming out of your mouth, but he lived for those damn tears of diamond racing out the corners of your eyes. "

"Fuck it. I'm pounding the shit out of this ass." He mumbled to himself as he snatched you off of his body as if it was completely nothing and pressed you forward on a desk, your perky nipples grazing the cold school furniture.

He took a second to adjust his angle until ramming into your prostate directly dead on as you let out a high pitched warble. Anyone could mistake your voice for a females out of context. "Fuck-! fuck- MM— FUCK YES~" you moaned as your cock swung heavily in between your legs as Tetsurou began deep stroking every corner inside you. The feelings making your mind go numb.

"Baby boy I'm finna blow my load~ Who the fuck is fucking your shit up right ? Huh ?~" Testu's snarled in your ear. Snatching you up by your neck up to his sweaty hard chest. Your bodies creating an almost unbearable heat between you both.

You whined in a needy voice as the feeling of your prostate getting hammered repeatedly. "YOU DADDY~ YOU YOU YOU~!!! GOD LEMME CUM FUUUCK—" His grip on your neck did not falter as his pace only got faster. Quickly gripping your slick penis and jerked you off all the while placing delectable light kisses around your bruised neck and shoulders. You were nearly seeing stars with overstimulation and his contrast of touch.

"That's exactly what I like to hear my amazing boy~" Tetsurou hips stuttered as you came hard, your eyes rolling back and drool sliding down your jaw. Coming straight after your release he gave one last deep push cumming deep down in your tight little ass. "Fuck babe..- Fuck-" He panted smiling lazily, grip already faltering around your neck. He never would forgive himself if he accidentally choked you to death.

Since you guys literally just fucked in a classroom, aftercare had to be done differently. Slowly laying his head on your shoulder, rubbing your hips and doing anything to ease any after pain off your body. Maybe you'll let him try out a cream he uses on himself after volleyball. Eases the joints and moisturizes your body.

Such a loving boyfriend you bad.

"I love you so damn stinkn' much Y/N.. God I'm so fucking lucky I swear." You chuckled, 'cause he always seemed to be so emotional after you guys had sex. You thought it was cute coming from him. "Let's get out of here cuz' we already stayed here for half an hour." You stated pushing the tall male off your body, much to his unpleasant dismay. He only hummed in response.

"Your house or mine ?" He questioned after pulling up his pants and tugging his extra volleyball shirt on. You stretched while yawning a bit. Sex is tiring.

"Yours. My parents will automatically smell the sex on me and no cologne can cover that." Giggling softly at your statement your boyfriend nodding in a agreement.

"Let's just hope they dont find out we once fucked in your living room-" You glared at him as he stopped, snickering at how cute his boyfriend looked after being roughed up.

"Let's go so we can cuddle now please." You softly pleaded as you tugged his shirt tiredly. You know the first thing you were gonna do when you got to his house was instantly plop smack on his oversized bed.

"Let's go my prince."

Bees are pretty..

Zenna, no.

[datsrightbby]

Marko (TLB) x Fem!s/o!Reader

How you need me

Warnings: NSFW/Smut, cursing, Dom!Marko (sorta), oral (fem receiving), also you live with your parents in this fic.

When you met Marko it wasn't hard for you to adjust to his nocturnal habits, with many sleepless nights tucked up your sleeve from insomnia it was actually a very simple task on your behalf. Waking up as the sun had just set, you decided to shower before going to meet him at the boardwalk, per usual, you'd lazily got out of bed and walked yourself down the hall, grabbing a towel that was much too short, and setting the temperature on high. Hot enough that within a few minutes it had steamed up the mirrors and windows. 

It was a hissing relief when your skin hit the cascade of water, you closed your eyes and leaned into the warmth, relaxing in the calm aroma. You had just started lathering up your hair with shampoo when you felt a cold breeze swoop across your leg, it gave you goosebumps but didn't deter you enough to open your eyes and pay attention. There were many reasons you could have felt a breeze after all, though you didn't find your mind raking through them in desperate need of answers. Instead, you continued showering in peace, blissfully unaware. It was the creak of floorboards coming from outside the door that had you snapping back to reality, especially knowing you were home alone and trying to come up with any reasonable answer as to who was out there. 

"Mom?" No answer. 

"Dad?" Again, no answer.

Perhaps it was just the wind, although trying to convince yourself of that was deemed quite difficult. You turned your back from the shower door to the shelf where you kept the rest of your hair care products and body washes, albeit a bit more tensely than before, and had started combing through your hair with conditioner when the door to the shower was yanked open harshly. The scream that escaped you was loud enough to shock even yourself, only to be met with the mischievous laugh of your boyfriend. 

"Marko you asshole! I almost had a heart attack. I swear to -" You emphasized the annoyance you felt with a few swift hits to his chest. "Why would you do that to me?"

"Sorry babe, won't happen again I promise." His hand spread out over his chest and you couldn't help the little smile that crept it's way onto your features. Sure, your heart was still beating a million miles a minute, but it was hard to stay mad at him when he was adorning such a big grin. Plus, it was a nice surprise seeing him here instead of the boardwalk.

"May I join you?" The teasing tone in his voice had you grinning back at him.

"How nice of you to ask, usually you'd be in here with me by now." And on that note he started stripping as quickly as possible, you barely even got a glimpse of him before he'd stepped under the water with you, grimacing at the heat of it. "Does it have to be this hot? I feel like I'm melting."

"Well I like it this hot, so deal with it."

"Oh, you're fiery today." In an instant Marko grabbed your waist and pushed your back up against the glass of the shower wall, a gasp leaving your lips at the sudden act. "Wonder if you will be after I fuck you so hard you forget your own name." You could feel his cock, already semi-hard, thrust up against your hip bone as he leaned in to claim your mouths together, tongues dancing in a battle of dominance. The water gushed down on the two of you as his hands went underneath your thighs to lift them and keep you in place. Your hands placed themselves around his neck, one of them raking down his back, nails harshly digging into his skin, no doubt leaving a red slash in replacement.

In one movement of strength, Marko had hiked you up higher against the glass and attached his mouth to your exposed chest. 

"Oh fuck!"

Your head fell back against the glass, hands taking fistfuls of his damp hair, and relying on him to keep you upright in spite of the rushing water making your skin slick. You moaned as his warm mouth took your nipple past his lips, and again as he paid equal attention to the other one. Between your legs you felt tingly, and you rubbed up against him in a bid to create some friction. He smirked against you when as you did so, rejoicing in the fact he could get you turned on so fast. After ravishing your chest in hickeys he moved down your stomach, nosing at your pubic bone and sending up a grin as he rested your thighs on his shoulders, head nestled wickedly in between them. "What do you want (y/n)?"

"Marko -"

"Tell me what you want." You sent him a glare, but it was only returned with a nip on your thigh that made you jump a little, not enough for Marko to lose his hold on you though, which you inwardly thanked him for. You managed to squeak out - "I want you."

"What do you want me to do? Say it for me, baby." Your frustration began to show and your hips bucked up into his face, his hot breath creating a pulsing sensation against you. He didn't relent for you though, insisting on the words to leave your mouth. 

"Use your mouth, do something, please Marko, please. I need you." He grinned up at you wantonly before diving his head further between your legs, his tongue laying flat against you and licking a long stripe, stopping at your clit to suckle against it. You moaned loudly and watched as he ravished the most sensitive parts of you, replaying the actions that had you twitching and squeezing your thighs tighter around him. You were close, the minute he lapped against you and found a particular spot that had you whining in the most sinful way, you could feel it building and building, and he kept up his actions until the coil in your stomach was ready to snap.

“Yes - ugh - that feels so good, I’m gonna -”

He pulled away and the look you sent could have killed...had he not already, technically, been dead.

"Why did you stop?"

"I want you to cum around me.”

Setting you on your feet, you didn’t have time to react as his hands grabbed your hips and spun you around so that your chest was pressed against the coolness of the glass, a stark contrast to the seeping hot water that enveloped the two of you in a misty heat. A loud smack echoed around the room as his palm hit your ass in a harsh smack, he paused before delivering another one and you manage to whine out his name.

"Hmm gonna fuck you babygirl." You nodded in submission and greed for release.

Feeling as Marko lined his tip with your entrance, knowing you were wet from both the shower and his mouth, he sheathed himself inside you instantly, going as deep as possible. He didn't waste any time setting a fast, hip bruising pace. His cock filling you to the brim with each thrust of his hips, and his hands finding a place on your own leaving crescent-shaped bruises in their wakening. One slid up your body and around your neck, giving it a squeeze, and your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head from the overstimulation.

"Ugh fuck - you feel so good around me. You like when I fuck you like this?"

"Y-yes."

He groaned and gave a particularly harsh thrust that had you mewling animalistically. The hand around your throat gave another squeeze and you clawed at the wall in order to find something to grab onto, coming up with nothing. The knot in your stomach was getting tighter the more sinful his actions got, and you could tell Marko was close too as his thrusts were becoming sloppier and more drawn out. A warm sensation inside you took over and your body stiffened -

“I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum for me then.”

With his permission, and the tension of the previously denied release, you let out a scream as your orgasm hit you, Marko coaxing you through it with long, deep thrusts, and throat squeezes, his name falling from your lips in a chant of pleasure, with every stroke his cock hit a place inside you that had you shaking.

His thrusts soon came to a stop and spurts of cum coated your walls, giving a more intense feeling to the aftershocks of your own finish, he moaned in your ear quietly as he pulled out, watching as the rest of his cum spilled out from in between your legs, down your thighs, and onto the shower floor.

You turned to face him on wobbly legs and gave him a small smile, the only smile you could muster, and his hand came up to rest on your cheek as your own wrapped around your body.

"I love you, you know that right?" you nodded up at him, still breathless and fucked out. He kissed your forehead in a shockingly tender manner, for Marko, and twirled your wet hair in his fingers.

"Good."

[joo-hng]

“Kihyun always warned me about girls like you,” - Shownu

Genre: suggestive smutty goodness 💦

Pairings: Shownu x OC

Warning: Shownu gets a lap dance, thigh riding, etc.

He exhales deeply, his cheeks rosy and his hair slightly tussled from his most recent set. He leans back against the cold seat of the shoulder press machine, his hands resting obediently on the padded arm rests, “You’re so bad,” he whispers between labored breaths, 

“Kihyun always warned me about girls like you,”

The back of your hand traces his defined jawline and along the side of his face, his eyes closing momentarily at your smooth caress. “Me? A bad girl?” you whisper against his neck, a cold chill running down his spine, “Honey, it takes two to be naughty,”

You swear you could feel the heat radiating from between his legs, you barely even touched him yet. He grips the arm rests tighter when you sit yourself across his lap, and he asks a question he doesn’t need an answer to, “And what if someone sees?” 

You chuckle teasingly, “It’s 3:00am baby, there’s nobody here but you and me,” you glance behind him to see the workout room’s door slightly open, “But who knows who will walk through that door,”

Shownu groans when you lift yourself off his lap and strut behind him to massage his shoulders, your thumbs pressing firmly into his chiseled back, another groan escaping his plump lips.

“You like that, baby?” you whisper in his ear. His eyes close and he allows his head to roll forward, his jaw slackening when you knead that particular knot in his shoulder.

“Get back here,” he growls once he has had enough. You squat seductively in front of him, your splayed hands running down your own thighs and spread before him. A smirk plays at the corner of his lips when you notice a tent forming under his gym shorts, “You need to answer me baby,” you mewl, “Do you like what you see?”

He nods affirmatively, sitting higher in his seat when you straddle his thigh, lifting his leg slightly to feel the warmth between your legs. You dip your hips against his leg once more, sighing softly at the delicious friction. 

You kiss him once on the lips, soft and sensually, but nearly not long enough to satiate his hunger. He wants to kiss you slowly and deeply, his hands roaming along the curves of your body, but sighs in frustration when you pull yourself away from him yet again.

Your roll your hips for his viewing pleasure, giving him full view of your perfect ass, grinding the air in front of him, your butt hovering teasingly above his hardness. His hands leave the armrests to possessively squeeze the top of your thighs, his fingers trailing dangerously close to your dampening core. You peer into the mirror in front of you, pleased by the sight of Shownu tensed in his seat, wantonly biting his thick bottom lip and eyeing you hungrily.

You turn to grasp him by the shoulders, kissing him passionately when he grabs you by the hips and grinds your aching body against his. He slips his hands past the smooth waistband of your leggings, squeezing your ass with greed, “This ass is mine,” he mumbles under bated breath, “All fucking mine.”

Part 2 can be found here

[eyeforgold]

Prompt #13 Wax

Clicks echoed through the room as Ruby taps her glass of wine against her teeth as she mulls over what she has learned. Adrian's report had been thorough, more than she had expected when the woman had pitched her skills back in Kugane in exchange for safe passage to Eorzea. Glancing to her companion on the couch, she can easily notice Moriarty's conceited surprise at their talented guest and her trove of information.

"Please, sit. I think the evening was tiring enough for you, dancing for these rich assholes while paying attention to their every move." Ruby motions lazily to the chair facing her and pours a glass for her halcyon bird who accepts it with both hands, a delicate habit shared by Far Eastern citizens.

"No more than my former work, I assure you. Does this report meet your needs?" The stiff backed Au'Ra continues nervously, her tongue catching on some Eorzean vowels in a fascinating manner. "I have already been hired for another event in Costa Del Sol, if this is not enough-"

Ruby glances to her right only to be met by Moriarty's raised eyebrow and chuckles discreetly, therefore cutting off Adrianel's monologue, her fingers adjusting the delicate flowers clipped to her hair as her ears twitch merrily.

"You have provided more information than I could have expected from you. Truly. Your debt is more than paid in full."

A pouch of gil is placed gently in front of the younger woman before Moriarty leans back against the couch once more as Ruby leans forward, a glint in her eye at the thought of what they could accomplish together.

"If you do plan to attend this next event, I would have you do the same as today, come report to me everything you hear or notice related to the Syndicate and their business associates and you will be paid generously. Are you interested, Adrian?"

Ever the polite and discreet woman, the Au'ra's long golden sleeves barely sway as she picks up the pouch, weighting it once before tucking it away with a small undecipherable smile.

"I would very much be pleased to work for you again, Jewel."

Jewel. The dancer liked her secrets, and though she clearly knew Ruby's name, she preferred to use nicknames when addressing them. She had requested Ruby do the same for her, as she had had to give Ruby her full name to be granted passage on the conjurer's airship, a request Ruby found easy to fulfill.

With a nod, Ruby and Moriarty rise up, Moriarty picking up the glasses now empty of La Noscean wine as both women accompany Adrian upstairs, a low conversation shared between the Eorzean women.

"Should we threaten to go to his wife or to her husband?"

"Depends on what we want from them, the mines or the land? He has more to lose as she is the one who inherited the land."

The exchange is cut off as they exit the house, the waxing moon shining upon the three weary women. Ruby's back pops as she stretches her arms up, eager to get back to Phiros, who was most likely asleep at this hour, and join him in bed. Their drunken evening and consequent morning cuddles had only left her hungering for more time with her beloved and she could not wait to find her way into his arms again. Her lazy movement nearly dislodges the Kanzashi, the flowery hair ornament Phiros had gifted her back in Kugane, Adrian's eyes flickering to it as she bows.

"Once more I would thank you for the opportunity you have given me, and wish you and your fiancé joy and happiness."

Ruby blinks as words fail to come to her mind, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly. "My fi-... My fiancé?"

The Hingan Au'ra points to her hair ornament with a blushing smile, embarassed at what was clearly a blunder, when she knew better than to pry into an employer's personal life.

"I apologize if it was not meant to be known, I could not help but remark on the beautiful engagement present your fiancé bestowed upon you. It has been one of the most sought after Kanzashi in Kugane for the past season. Perhaps... A piece of advice, if you'll allow me? If you do not wish to make your engagement known, you should avoid wearing it so obviously."

Wide pink eyes blink owlishly between Adrian's embarassed expression and Moriarty's puzzled smile. The older woman sighs as her employer is so flustered and confused that she loses her words and takes charge of the situation.

"Adrian, you read Hingan I assume? Ruby has received this present from her fiancé a week ago along with a note she has yet to decipher. Unfortunately, Hingan to Eorzean tomes are rare and the one we found has yet to be delivered. Perhaps you could translate it for us?"

Gobsmacked at Adrian's comment on her hair pin, Ruby turns away from the two women after getting nudged by Moriarty, to pull out the handwritten note she has been carrying around in her breast pocket ever since she'd returned from her journey. She unfolds the crinkled paper carefully, smoothing it out with her hands before handing it over to the Xaela, ears folded back anxiously as Ruby stares at the girl so intensely one would think she was attempting to kill her with her mind.

In the back of her head, a part of her feels guilty that she is not deciphering the note herself, yet a louder more vehement part is screaming at her that it might really be a marriage proposal! In which case... Twelve help her, she had walked around for a week without giving Phiros an answer and on top of it all, she had barged in yesterday and demanded they buy a house together... without answering his proposal first.

A loud silence settles upon Ruby's pathway as she waits breathlessly for Adrian's translation. The Au'ra's tail sways gently in the breeze as she reads the note carefully before smiling up to Ruby as she hands her the note back in a two handed grip.

"Will you marry me? Is what the note says."

Mind whirling too loudly for Ruby to care about the embarrassing way she had been carrying the note, she folds it back along the same edges and places it inside her breast pocket. Her feet take her halfway out of the yard before she remembers to say goodbye to the two women and marches towards Phiros.

He wants to marry me. Despite everything that happened, he wishes to marry me. He who could not even think of it after his late wife's death wanted to marry her, Ruby French, greed incarnated.

"HE PROPOSED TO ME!" Elated, Ruby's voice echoes through the silent Goblet streets as her fast walk turns into a race towards her lover.

Barging through the café's dark upper floor, Ruby makes her way towards the basement, where Phiros' futon laid, her steps now quieter as she thinks on how to answer Phiros. Her cheeks ache from the unshakeable smile she has been sporting for the past thirty minutes, her eyes adjusting to the moonlight basement until they find a Phiros like shape curled up under white blankets on the wooden loft, and the familiar hissed purr that betrayed his heavy sleep.

Kanzashi placed upon the dinning table, her boots are kicked off as she climbs up the stairs, staring down at her lover, her fiancé... her future husband? So innocent and beautiful as the moonlight glowed on his pale skin, his dark purple hair fanning around his head, the streaked tips covering his chest.

Hovering over him with her hands and knees, Ruby nuzzles his cheeks with a low purr as she calls out his name. "Phiros? Darling, wake up." Her action failing to rouse him, her teeth are now teasing his neck, suckling the skin to mark his pale skin red. "Phi?" Only a groan answers her as Phiros turns to lie on his back, tail flopping over between his legs.

Fine. She knew just the thing to awaken him. Undressing herself first, Ruby pushes the covers off Phiros, watching goosebump cover his skin as soon as the cold air hits him, before leaning down, nipping at his mouth and licking his plump lips while her hands slither inside his pants and tease his soft length to a hardened state.

"Phiros, my love. There's something I need to tell you. Please wake up for me."

Smirking as the Au'ra writhes and sighs between her thighs as his cock hardens, Ruby's kisses turn hungry and punishing as she guides his cock against her folds, grinding her hips against his before angling his cock to breach her.

"Phi, wake up please. I need you." Her lips brush over his right horn as she whispers wantonly. "I need my husband." She cries out as she takes in his cock inside her wet cunt as she awaits her lover's reaction. She had not dared hope to marry him, nor had she wanted to back in the earlier days of their relationship.

Nonetheless, after five years together she could not pretend the thought had never crossed her mind. She had imagined for them a Hingan wedding, a closed ceremony with only a few select guests that would seg her apart from his previous marriage in Eorzea. Perhaps, her marriage could be seen as lesser by the fact that she would be his second wife. I plan to be his last, she thinks as her tongue breaches his mouth, her fingers digging into his warm skin as Phiros comes to consciousness underneath her.

[punk-in-docs]

You Were Always Mine, Chapter 12

AU Tom Hiddleston - Romantic, Historical Romance, Victorian Fic. 
Based off the imagine; ‘Thomas spying on you after your divorce and doing anything to get you back. Including threatening your new beau.’ credits go to the lovely ladies at Tom-Hiddleston-Imagine.Tumblr.com. Link to the imagine here…. http://tom-hiddleston-imagines.tumblr.com/post/158156795440/gif-lokihiddleston-imagine-thomas-spying-on-you
 Chapter number: Chapter 12 Author: Punk-in-docs Triggers/warnings: smut! And angst.

~

“Do you think…”

Thomas asked, his coarse, rough, morning voice grating against her ears like gravel. They had shared another exquisite night abed last night, and were consequently naked as a result. She felt his warm, inventors fingers slide along her shoulder. His lips joining to her silken skin not long after. Kissing over one of his favourite moles that pocked her pale body.

“… That because of the strict social times we find ourselves in. Miss James. When a single man can’t so much as touch a single woman. That our sheer, overwhelming need to make love, quite as often as we have done, is fuelled by a deeper, more salacious desire to be all the more promiscuous?” He enquires.

She chuckles sleepily. Opening her eyes to her sun drenched bedroom, to peer across at him over her shoulder. He lay behind her. His hips keenly pressing his lower body into her own. She shuffles round, he lifts his arms to tuck her into his pale chest. He smelt like sleepy bed sheets, and the musk of male sweat. He enclosed his arms about her. Pulling her so they were pressed skin to skin.

“Yes. Dear heart. Why don’t you know, It’s the only reason I allowed you in my bed.” Vianne teases with that fabulous, cheeky smile he adored seeing. He can’t help it. He smiles too at the sight of her own. His hands slides under the covers, down over her hip, and squeezes the fleshy globe of her rear.

“Cruel, vixen, woman.” He smiles, not taking his eyes off her. His eyes creasing at the sides with the force of his smile.

“I think we keep on ending up in each other arms, and bed sheets, because you and I both know it’s inevitable that we should do so.” She adds. “It’s astonishing to me how very right it feels.” She tells him.

“I’m sorry it wasn’t always so. You’ve no idea. Vianne I will regret not being a good husband to you for the rest of my life.” He tells her earnestly. Guilt drowning those expressive eyes. As he stroked a pretty coil of hair back past her cheek.

“From that very first Sharpe kiss. Stood on my doorstep, in the pouring rain. I was condemned.” She explains to him. That made his heart hurt. Because how had it escaped his notice she was besotted, body and soul with him, and he barely gave her any indication that he returned those feelings.

“Oh, my love…” He sighs. Taking her face in his hands.

“I… Back at Allerdale. Even when we were alone. I could never seem to, fully, disclose how I felt. Because I was certain the walls had ears… Now I am relieved of that, burden. Let me make it evidently clear. Vianne. Before you, I felt like my life was rehearsed. Ball after ball, flattering girl after girl. Doing nothing more than being a vessel for Lucille’s greed and monetary needs. She kept saying to me, "this one will be the last. Then it can be us, for eternity. Just love and death.” But I couldn’t… Would not, let her get to you. I tried with all my might… But then you….left anyway.“ He explained.

It was her turn to feel rotten. Here he was pouring out his heart. And she still hadn’t told him about the contents of her own. She so badly wanted to let them loose.

"Well. I’m sorry there had to be such tragedy and heartbreak on our routes back to one another.” She swallows.

Their intimate, pillow talk made all the more heartfelt. As they lay in one another’s arms. Bare and vulnerable. And they had both been as such, many times before. Brutalised by his family and suffocated by his sister. And she, orphaned as a small child, and then thrown, after her heartache, at the mercy of a man who broke her bones, bruised her, and beat her. In their separate ways, they had both been battered, and mangled by life, and love.

“I’m not.” Thomas tells her. Still stroking her coppery hair. Admiring her.

Being free of his biggest demon two years ago, had liberated so many things for him. Of course, in his anger and rage, he had completely put aside the love he previously had for his sister. He could only focus on all the horrible things she’d made him suffer through. The murders. The grief. The rage. He was dangerously fed up of living under her iron fist. And then along came this red haired, saviour. Vianne was a godsend in more ways that one. She was his salvation. And she had saved him. She’d made him see what true love, caring, and nurturing was. Being with her was the first time he felt like his life wasn’t shrouded in cold shadow.

She sighs. Pressing a kiss to his hand. She could see sometimes. A sadness flare in his eyes. He had lost one woman he loved to gain another. And no matter how horrid the circumstance was, it was bound to have a deeper hold on him than he let on.

She wants to tell him. But somehow, now didn’t seem like the right time…. In her gut she knows she’d feel down to the very narrow of her bones. when the right time was. She didn’t want to spoil this moment.

“When do you need to leave for work?” She asks.

The sun had only just risen. But it was full and bright. And promised the day would be a happy one. He had mentioned last night that he needed to make a call in at the office. Check the yard was running along without him. His office was installed in a large factory come foundry in Richmond.

“I’ll go before eight. If I can stomach tearing away from such a naked beauty.” He smiles.

Vianne was biting the bullet. She knows she had to try and tell him somehow. And her courage flares.

“Well… Why don’t I come and relieve you of a lonely lunch hour? I haven’t got to help Harriden until this afternoon. We could…go for afternoon tea if you cared for it?” She asks. Her brain tells her that Saint Anthony’s was virtually five streets over from Thomas’s factory workplace. Could she stomach taking him there? Letting him know the truth?

“I’d adore that. You be careful though.” He warns her. “Start flaunting that beautiful face and figure on the factory floor, I could quite rightly have mutiny on my hands from my workers.” He flatters, winking at her.

She laughs at his honeyed words. He always did have a silver tongue. And he always found ways to put it to good use.

“I thought gentleman of your calibre, Mr. Sharpe, only flattered women, in order to get them into situations much like the ones we presently find ourselves in. Now, your gallantry seems rather superfluous. Does it not?” She teases.

“There is a beautifully naked woman in my arms. Miss James. Whom I made come undone, screaming my name the whole night through. I flatter her when I see fit. Naked or not.” He lusts, his eyes growing dark.

Before she can point out that he would be late for work should he carry on. Her eyes flutter back in her head, and she sighs wantonly as his lips find that certain spot on her neck. He feels her body shiver, his blood ran hot and his ardour started to stir.

He doesn’t have time to be gentle with her. Not this morning. He flattens her on her back, harshly grabbing her hands and pinning them up over her head. Making her supple curves arch up, exposed, prostrate under him as he asserts himself between her split thighs. Those predatory eyes rake over her body. Over her pert nipples, and her heaving chest. He’s assessing her like he wants to swallow her whole.

“Thomas…” She gasps softly. Her voice hoarse with lust and he’d barely even started yet. He trailed his lips over the pulse point in her neck. Feeling it thrum against his lips. Smirking as he felt it. Quickening. Like a carnivore would sense it’s preys pulse erratic in it’s fear.

“You keep your hands where I’ve put them.”

He tells her firmly. She nods. Complying. Eager for his next move. Retracting both hands, he skims down to her ribs, and his mouth swoops down to capture a rosy peak in his hot mouth. His tongue toys with it. Driving her to distraction. Making her buck and writhe, and her head thrown back, exposing that long neck. He feels her toes curling against the sides of his thighs.

His head travels lower. Leading kisses down the centre of her body. Not stopping. Even when he got to her sweet cleft. He trails his fingertips through her dark thatch of hair. She gasps shakily again. Trying hard to obey his wishes. She moans gutturally. Clutching her hands, hard, into the pillow behind her head. Biting down her lip.

He kisses her. Right at the very heart of her womanhood. A jolt of longing tears through her body. He liked toying with his belongings, did Thomas Sharpe. Her moans were music to his ears.

More so when his notorious silver tongue lapped and lapped at her, coaxing pleasure to flutter through her veins. Bursting through her body like tidal waves. Her back arches, and she cannot believe the carnality of the sounds, moans, that they are both making. He groaned as he dragged his lips across her, and stroked two long fingers to plunge deep inside her. Keeping his mouth on that little pearl of pleasure. Her sex sucked ravenously at his appendages. And through strands of that wild raven hair, he looked up, seeing her strain against his ministrations. She was crying out gods name, closely mingled with his own.

She looked so beautiful. Breathtakingly so, when he was pleasuring her. A sight he could watch for eternity. Her face contorted in a soundless cry of ecstasy. Her body shuddering as her legs wrapped around his shoulders, urging him closer.

He can’t take it. She was eager for more. And he ached to give it. He has to be inside her. He snatches himself away from her with a snarl, and one hand presses open her right thigh, he guides himself to her wet sex, and drives in deep with one push of his hips. Their bodies slap together, and his mouth crashes down to her own.

He allows her hands to move now. Especially as those small, dainty things grapple for his shoulders, the sting of her nails biting into his back urges him on. He growls against her neck. Plunging himself deeper into her velvet heat. His free hand, that didn’t clutch at her breast, folded her thigh up and over his hip. She can feel their pelvises gyrate, matching the speed of the other. Their bodies flush with heat, the sensation of one another’s weight and skin only fuelling the raging desire. His teeth dig into her neck, nibbling at her delectable skin.

“Everytime I touch you. God. Even when I’m inside you, still making love to you…” He groans. “All I can think… Is that I want more… ” He moans, bucking his hips faster. Seeing her groan as she clutched at him harder. Her dark blue eyes taking in the sight of him as they made love. That primal, dark lust in his eyes as he gave them both pleasure.

“You have me. All of me… Oh god. Thomas…you have me…” She sighs. He watches her bite her lip. And that almost makes him come undone.

But he can’t. Not yet. He helps her along. Rubbing his thumb in pressing circles around that tight pearl that makes her shout loudly. But when her legs start to shiver again. He knows he’s doing something right.

The pleasure comes to a urgent peak. He grabs her hips, and slams into her hard. Adoring the sounds of their bodies as they entwined sharply. Slapping together. He takes her face in his hands, and kisses her. They groan into each other’s mouths. Shouting and muffling their release. Coming powerfully undone together.

When he finishes coaxing out every, single, ounce of pleasure he could wring from their encounter. Panting, he leans over her. Resting his forehead on her shoulder. Kissing her dewy skin.

“Careful. Or you’ll be late for work… My dear. The boss can’t be seen to be unpunctual.” Vianne sighs. Raking a hand through his onyx hair.

He gathers her closer, if that was even possible. Cupping her head. He kisses her again. Deeply. His thumb stroking over her ear and jaw. The way he held her so possessively made her feel safe, adored and desired.

“I can be as unpunctual as I like. With this beauty in my arms. There’s a danger I may never be on time, ever again.” He winks.

~

Whether he parted from Vianne. He felt as if he were leaving a part of his heart behind. But the thought of returning to her soon, put a spring back in his step. He strode proudly off the the Richmond factory that morning after bedding his beautiful ex-wife.

As soon as he stepped foot across the factory threshold, he is plunged straight back into the world of mechanics and engineering. Of pistons, the scent of motor oil, frayed fan belts, head gaskets and manifolds. His mind turning from leisure to industry. He strides to his workshop slash office, and before he can even set down his briefcase in the desk, he is roped into helping on the factory floor.

His day passes quickly in a blur of dynamics and difficult machinery. At one point, he is on his back, under the stubborn contraption he invented, swearing the cursed thing into either oblivion, or working order.

His white shirt sleeves were rolled up, and this leaves him in a black waistcoat and breeches. He was virtually up to his elbows in grease and muck. Trying in vain to fix a loose, misbehaving, spur gear that had come off it’s tracks, with a dial calliper. He was wincing up at the machine. Muttering little pleas to god that it would work after his interference.

“Come on, you bloody nuisance…” He talks encouragingly up to it. Hearing the clatter and bustle of the factory floor going on around him. But he didn’t hear the sound if a pair of heels heading his way.

“What’s that old saying?…” Comes a sweet, silvery voice that he instantly recognised. It makes him grin instantly. He couldn’t see the source of such a lovely voice. As he currently had his head halfway under the main bulk of his life’s work. But when he ducks his head out, he sees his biggest, most beautiful distraction beaming down at him.

Copper hair perfectly coiffed in a chignon. Kitted out in a blue velvet dress, and navy drop sleeved jacket. With diamond droplet earrings dangling from her lobes, and a dark bowler hat perched over her eyes, pinned to sit low on her hair. Looking as gorgeous as ever.

“… It’s either, a bad workman blames his tools. Or, that one about speaking to inanimate objects kindly, and treating things how you want to be treated yourself…” She grins. Folding her gloved hands as she leaned against the nearest, safest, table.

Looking over her shoulder, at the intricate blueprints spread out behind her. Pinned to the surface with dividers, compasses and scale rules. The blueprints looked terribly beyond her comprehension. That were engineers of a different sort. He of machinery. She of anatomy. Both were detailed trades.

He groans, and the sound takes her back to that morning, when they were abed. But he then heaved himself up from under the thing, into his feet. His clothes flecked with dust and muck. His hands were slathered all over in engine grease. And he even had a smudge if it on his forehead. But he had that determined, steadfast glow of a man who looked as though he very much enjoyed his profession. Which he knows he did beyond all doubt.

He daggers a glance around him. Seeing that a few pairs of male eyes were remaining fixed on her. The rare sight of a beautiful woman on the factory floor. In amongst the muck, grime and incessant whirring of machinery. It was no place for a gentle woman. But Vianne looked right at ease, and at home, by her lovers side.

“Well. Kind words will be wasted, on this shrewish machine. She’s as stubborn as anything I’ve known.” He tells. Reaching behind her for a rag on which he wiped his hands.

She blushed when she thought of what those hands had done to her that very morning. He saw it also. When he leaned in close. He could smell the alluring french perfume on her neck. It clung to her bed sheets too, he noticed, and after he made love to her, he could sense it lingering on his skin too. It was intoxicating.

After he did clean his hands, he took hers, and kissed it.

“You. Are the most inciting lunch break from work I’ve had in a very long while.” He smiles. Winking at her in a lusting way. That was when he noticed she had a hamper slung to the crook of one elbow.

“May I enquire as to the occasion?” He asks. Nodding to the wicker basket. Still wiping his hands. Grease was, literally, slippery customer of which to rid himself of. She smiles. Lugging the basket further up onto her hip.

“Our luncheon. Is the occasion. And I hope you have an appetite. Hot, homemade chicken pot pie. All the trimmings. Buttered potatoes, cabbage. And two bottles of ginger ale, with Jeanie’s excellent Chester pudding if that doesn’t satisfy your hunger.” She tells. He wasn’t even hungry, but after hearing that list. He was suddenly famished and his mouth watered.

He leaned closer to her then. His smile growing completely wicked.

“Depends. To which hunger of mine are you referring?” He asks slyly.

“The culinary kind.” She smiles back. Equally as flirtatiously. He steps away before he causes outrage and scandal. They saved that for behind closed doors. He grabbed his jacket, and leads her through to his office. Closed off from the floor by a wall of windows. He opens the door for her, letting her pass through. She smiles at the scene before her. Even if no one told her this was his office, she’d know it from the personal touches alone.

It was unorganised, a little cluttered. But stuffed to the brim with half finished inventions made from a brilliant, kind mind. Tiny metal creations, contraptions and half finished toys. Littering the shelves, or clumsily collapsing to heaps on his desk. There is a worn, expensive scarlet wool rug on the floor, the fire burns merrily, as does the oil lamp on the desk. The walls were a washed shade if midnight blue. Crammed with framed blueprints and maps. And a homage to Isambard Brunel in one frame.

She places the hamper on the desk, and takes off her gloves. Thomas shuts the door behind them. Coming up behind her, he sweeps a coil of her hair aside, and presses a kiss to the join of her neck, and spine. Closing his eyes. Humming in bliss.

“Despicable. Mr. Sharpe. People may see us…” She worries, looking outside the windows to the factory floor. Biting let lip as she feels his on her skin.

“Get your coat off. Miss James. I’ll unpack the food.” He promises, moving around her as she peels off her outer layers in the welcome warmth of his office. He unlatched the lid, diving in for the warmed pies and all the trimmings.

She un-pins her hat, and lays it on his desk. Rounding it to have a closer look at the pictures on his wall. Her hands on her hips as she examines them curiously. Tilting her head. Thomas watches her being inquisitive. Smiling at her for that trait he so adored and admired. When she turns back, something on his desk made her halt in her tracks. There were two silver picture frames on his desk. And she was in the both of them.

One was a wedding photo. Both him and her, side by side in wedding attire. Stood at that chapel in Gretna green. And the other, was simply her. A portrait. Black and white, she was elegantly posed. Her hair coiffed, and wearing a fine high collared dress. That spears warmth right into her very heart. Thomas looks up. Seeing her admire the pictures. One hand gingerly reaching up to touch the top of one of the oval frames. He sighs a smile.

“None of…. Your family?” She asks softly. He knew full well she meant Lucille. She just couldn’t bring herself to say it. And he didn’t blame her.

“They aren’t the ones I missed.” He tells her. Smiling gently.

She has to tell him. She had to tell him now. She was waiting for the right moment. And this was it. She’d never forgive herself if she didn’t take it. Grab it tight and take that risk. It was too great to let it pass gently.

“Thomas… I’ve . There’s been something… on my mind now for… Quite a while. And it’s…” She stammers. Wringing her hands together, nervously.

He blinks. Tilting his head to urge her on. But when she opens her mouth. A sharp rattling knock to the door cuts her off. She blinks. Jarring out of the moment as Thomas, frowned apologetically, and went for the door handle. A worker gave his apologies for his interruption. But told Thomas something brief about a frayed belt and a loose gear shaft.

He turned back to her, leaning close. Kissing her solidly on the lips as he cupped her head.

“I’m so sorry. You can start without me if your hungry. I just have to see to this urgent matter…” He smiles. Kissing her hand, before he slides away. Off onto the floor, away to fix and tend to things.

Vianne watched him go. She sighs. Heavily. She wished she could mend things as readily, as adeptly as he could. As it was, the moment, yet again. Had slipped right through her fingers.

~

@frenchfrostpudding @heavymist @totallynotasmutblog enjoy ladies 😘

[live4thelord-blog1]

The Gospel Train Reaches Temptation Station – Stay on Board, Children! A Homily for the First Sunday of Lent

There’s an old gospel song tradition that speaks of the Christian life as a ride on the “gospel train.” The gospel train is not always an easy ride with perfect scenery, but you’ve gotta get your ticket and stay on board.

Mysteriously, the train sometimes passes through difficult terrain, but just stay on board! On His way to glory, Jesus faced trials, hatred, and even temptation (yet without sinning).

Today the gospel train pulls into “Temptation Station” and we are asked to consider some of life’s temptations. The three temptations faced by Jesus are surely on wide display in our own times. What are these temptations and how do we resist them?

In this desert scene, the Lord Jesus faces down three fundamental areas of temptation, all of which have one thing in common: they seek to substitute a couch for the cross.

In a way, the devil has one argument: “Why the cross?” His question is a rhetorical one. He wants you to blame God for the cross, and in your anger, to reject Him as some sort of despot.

Well, pay attention, Church! The cross comes from the fact that you and I, ratifying Adam and Eve’s choice, have rejected the tree of life in favor of the tree that brought death. We, along with the devil, may wish to wince at the cross and scornfully blame God for it, but in the end the cross was our choice.

If you think that you have never chosen the tree of death and that God is “unfair,” then prove to me that you have never sinned. Only if you can do that will I accept that you have never chosen the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil over the Tree of Life and that you deserve something better than the cross. Only then will I accept that you have never insisted on “knowing” evil as well as good.

If you can’t, then you’ve made the same self-destructive, absurd choice that the rest of us have. It is not God that is cruel but we who are wicked and are to blame for the presence of the cross. The cross comes not from God but from us. We ought to stop blaming God for evil, suffering, and the cross, and instead look in the mirror. The glory of this gospel is that the Lord Jesus came into this twisted world of our making and endured its full absurdity for our sake. If there is evil in this world, it is our choice, not God’s.

Have we finished blaming God? Are we ready to focus on our own issues? If so then let’s look at some areas of temptation that the devil can exploit because we indulge them. Let’s also see the answer that the Lord Jesus has for these temptations; for He, though tempted, never yielded.

Pleasures and Passions – The devil encourages Jesus to turn stones into bread. After such a long fast, the thought of bread is surely a strong temptation. In effect, the devil tells Jesus to “scratch where it itches,” to indulge His desire, to give in to what His body craves.

We, too, have many desires and are told by the devil in many ways to “scratch where it itches.” Perhaps no generation before has faced such strong temptation. We live in a consumer culture that is highly skilled at eliciting and then satisfying our every desire. All day long, we are bombarded with advertisements that arouse desire and then advise us that we simply must fulfill those desires. If something is out of stock or unavailable in exactly the way we want at the instant we want it, we are indignant. Why should I have to wait? Why can’t I have it in that color? The advertiser’s basic message is that you can have it all. This is a lie, of course, but it is told so frequently that we feel entitled to just about everything.

Some of our biggest cultural problems are ones stemming from overindulgence. We are a culture that struggles with obesity, addiction, sexual misconduct, and greed. We experience overstimulation that robs us of a reasonable attention span; boredom is a significant issue for many who are too used to the frantic pace of video games and action movies. We have done well in turning stones into bread.

Jesus rebukes the devil, saying, Man does not live on bread alone. In other words, there are things that are just more important than bread and circuses, than creature comforts and indulgence. Elsewhere Jesus says, A man’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions (Lk 12:15). I have written further on this in another post: The Most Important Things in Life Aren’t Things.

Popularity and Power – Taking Jesus up a high mountain, the devil shows Him all the nations and people of the earth and promises them to Him if Jesus will but bow down and worship him. This is a temptation to both power and popularity; the devil promises Jesus not only sovereignty but glory.

Because most of us are not likely to become sovereigns and because temptation is only strong in those matters that seem remotely possible for us, I will focus instead on popularity—something we deal with regularly in this life. One of the deeper wounds in our soul is the extreme need that most of us have to be liked, to be popular, to be respected, and to fit in. We dread being laughed at, scorned, or ridiculed. We cannot stand the thought of feeling minimized in any way.

For many people the desire for popularity is so strong that they’ll do almost anything to attain it. It usually starts in youth, when peer pressure “causes” young people to do many foolish things. They may join gangs, get tattoos, pierce their bodies, and/or wear outlandish clothes. Many a young lady, desperate to have a boyfriend (and thus feel loved and/or impress her friends), will sleep with boys or do other inappropriate things in order to gain that “love.” As we get older, we might be tempted to bear false witness, to make “compromises” to advance our career, to lie to impress others, to spend money we don’t have to buy things we don’t really need, and/or to try to impress people whom we don’t even like. Likewise, we may be tempted to be silent when we should speak out for what is right.

All of this is a way of bowing before the devil, because it demonstrates that we are willing to sin in order to fit in, to advance, or to be popular. Jesus says, You shall worship the Lord, your God, and him alone shall you serve.

The real solution to this terrible temptation of popularity is to fear the Lord. When we fear God, we need fear no one else. If I can kneel before God I can stand before any man. If God is the only one we need to please, then we don’t have to expend effort trying to please anyone else. I have written more on this matter elsewhere: What Does It Mean to Fear the Lord?.

Presumption and Pride – Finally (for now) the devil encourages Jesus to test God’s love for Him by casting Himself off the highest wall of the Temple Mount. Does not Scripture say that God will rescue Him? The devil quotes Psalm 91: With their hands they will support you, lest you dash your foot against a stone. In our time the sin of presumption is epidemic.

Many people think that they can go one behaving sinfully, recklessly, and wantonly and that they will never face punishment. “God is love,” they boldly say. “He would never send people to Hell or punish them!” In saying this, they reject literally thousands of verses of Scripture that say otherwise; they have refashioned God and worship a man-made idol. “God doesn’t care whether I go to Church,” they claim. “He doesn’t mind if I live with my girlfriend.” The list of things God “doesn’t mind” continues to grow.

The attitude seems to be that no matter what I do, God will save me. It is presumptuous to speak or think like this. Hell and punishment are surely difficult teachings to fully comprehend and to reconcile with God’s patience and mercy, but He teaches of them and therefore we need to stop pretending He doesn’t.

I have written elsewhere on the topic of Hell and why it makes sense in the context of a God who loves and respects us: Hell Has to Be.

A mitigated form of presumption is procrastination, wherein we constantly put our return to the Lord out of our mind. About this tendency it is said,

There were three demons summoned by Satan as to their plan to entrap as many human beings as possible. The first demon announced that he would tell them there is no God. But Satan wasn’t too impressed. “You’ll get a few, but not many and even those atheists are mostly lying and know deep down inside that someone greater than they made them and all things.” The second demon said he would tell them there is no devil. But Satan said, “That won’t work, most of them have already met me and know my power.” Finally, the third demon said, “I will not tell them there is no God or no devil, I will simply tell them there is no hurry!” And Satan smiled an ugly grin and said, “You’re the man!”

Jesus rebukes the devil by quoting Deuteronomy: You shall not put the Lord, your God, to the test. We ought to be very careful about presumption, for it is widespread today.

This does not mean that we have to retreat into fear and scrupulosity. God loves us and is rich in mercy, but we cannot willfully go on calling “no big deal” what He calls sin. We should be sober about sin and call on the Lord’s mercy rather than doubting that we that really need it or just presuming that He doesn’t mind.

The train is leaving the station soon. I hope that we’ve all benefited from this brief stop and have stored up provisions for the journey ahead: insight, resolve, appreciation, understanding, determination, and hope.

The journey ahead is scenic but difficult and temptation is a reality, but as an old gospel song says, “The gospel train’s comin’, I hear it just at hand. I hear the car wheel rumblin’ and rollin’ thro’ the land. Get on board little children, get on board. There’s room for many more!”

[gracewithducks]

Keep your foot from their paths (Proverbs 1:8-19)

One of my guilty pleasures is watching reality television. I think the habit developed when my first child was a newborn, and the nights were long and lonely – and I appreciated the company of the television, especially when the show I was watching didn’t require me to be awake or alert enough to follow a plotline.

 One of the original reality TV powerhouses, and one that’s still around today, is the show of Survivor. The premise is pretty simple: a group of people are “marooned” in a remote location, randomly divided into teams, and pitted against one another for resources, in order to see who can last the longest without being voted out. Once the players have voted each other out, one by one, until only two or three remain, the eliminated players vote which of the remaining ones is most deserving of a million dollars.

 The show fascinates me on so many levels. Yes, it’s completely contrived: the survivors aren’t nearly so isolated as they appear; somebody is hauling all those cameras and microphones around the beach. But the struggles they face are real: the sun, the rain, hunger, thirst, failed attempts to build shelter or make fire, exhaustion, stress, infections, even mosquitos – they are all real elements, real challenges that strip these contestants down to their barest selves. But what really seems to wear on them – and the reason any letters or calls or especially hugs from home are so valuable – is the knowledge that you can trust no one, that everyone is playing against you, that there can be only one winner, and everything you do or don’t do, every mistake, every slip of the tongue or moment of homesickness, could mean you’re out of the game, that you left home and put yourself through this trial for nothing. More often than not, the winners are the people who realize early that you can never stop playing the game.

 Survivor, to me, reveals so much about the human psyche. It’s curious to see if who we are, when everything is stripped away, is who we really believed ourselves to be. It’s fascinating how groups of people, randomly assigned to this team or that one, inevitably bond with their own tribe and villainize the other. It’s a world where “momentum” is a real thing – where we see lived out more often and not the idea of the rich getting richer: the team that wins the first challenge, gets fire a few hours earlier, gets water a few hours earlier, gets to keep all its players, making them more likely the win the next challenge – to take home fishing gear, so they can have more to eat, making them more likely to win the next challenge – to take home a tarp, so they can sleep out of the rain, making them more likely to win the next challenge – so they can enjoy pillows or blankets or letters from home or platters of hamburgers or whatever other prize is designed to strengthen them even more.

 And not to wax all philosophical, but what plays out on the Survivor screen – it sure seems to reflect the rest of life: the pretty and the strong have an advantage, the rich get richer and richer, and we cling to our own tribes for no other reason than they’re ours.

 Recently, my husband has started watching Survivor, too. He finally recognizes why I find it so interesting: and so we’re making our way through some of the older seasons. Which means that my husband has finally been introduced to the evil genius that is Russell Hantz.

 I don’t know if any of you watch Survivor. And I don’t know if any of you remember Russell Hantz. Russell is the kind of player I’d hate to play with – but the kind of player who makes for really good TV.

 When we first meet Russell, he makes it clear – to the audience, that is – that he has a plan, and it’s as devious as it is brilliant. Russell starts by telling his tribemates a heart-breaking story of surviving Hurricane Katrina… a story which turns out to be completely false. He hides his true identity from the other players, though he brags to the cameras, “I own an oil company in Texas. I’m already a millionaire. I’m not here for the money. I’m just here to play the game. This is what I was made to do.”

 He does seem to have a knack for the game, managing to find hidden advantages even without clues, but his real genius is making everyone else so miserable and off-balance that they come to believe Russell is the only person they can trust. He pours out water canteens while his tribemates sleep. He secretly burns their socks – sometimes just one, so that the other players don’t know if they’re being stolen from or if they’ve just misplaced things. He spreads stories and rumors, carefully and cleverly, so that everyone thinks they can trust no one but him. If anybody dared to mistrust him, if anybody started to smell a rat – Russell managed to make sure they were the next to go. He’d tell his supposed allies, “Hey, did you know that that person over there was talking about voting you out? Not me. I’d never vote you out. I’m on your side. But that person, they’re your enemy; they’re out to get you.” Never mind that “that person” didn’t say any such thing… paint them as the enemy, and no amount of protesting their innocence will save them from being the next to go.

 Russell forms lots of alliances – which is to say that he keeps his options open. He promised just about everybody in the game that, if they stuck with him, he’d take them all the way to the end.

 Of course, most of them didn’t make it. But Russell did. And he was the heavy favorite to win the whole thing. But when he was faced with a jury full of people he’d manipulated, lied to and betrayed, they were disinclined to turn around and hand him the prize.

 Even so, Russell got lucky. He was invited back to be a part of the very next Survivor season, one called Heroes vs. Villains. He was pitted against some of the best players to ever play the game – the ones who did it as the “good guys” and the ones who weren’t afraid to lie and cheat their way to the end. But because his first season hadn’t aired yet when the second started filming, all the other players knew was that Russell Hantz was a “notorious villain” – but they didn’t know any of his tricks, or how he liked to play the game.

 He played the same game again: lie, deceive, get lucky, keep people off balance, keep them fighting among themselves, so they’re easy to manipulate and trick into what you want them to do. And again, Russell made it all the way to the end. And once again, Russell lost.

 Russell Hantz was invited to play the game one more time. But this time, they knew his tricks. They knew not to trust Russell. They knew he was going to lie and backstab all the way to the top if he could. But they didn’t let him. Nobody trusted Russell; nobody gave him a chance to get his foot in the door. His teammates actually chose to throw a challenge, to lose on purpose, in order to make Russell the second person sent home.

 Love him or hate him, Russell knows how people work. And he knows that, when people are isolated, when they’re hungry, when they’re tired, when they’re hurting, they are much more easily manipulated. And if you’re smart, even if you’re the one who created all the suffering and misery in the first place, if you can get people off-kilter, whip them into a frenzy of panic and suspicion – it’s so much easier to turn them against each other, to use them and then pick them off until only you remain.

 But the power shifts when everybody else decides to wise up, to stand together, and to refused to be used that way. It’s true in the game – and it’s true in real life, too.

 So often, the world tries to turn ordinary people against each other, make us suspect and blame one another for our suffering – but dividing us in that way, it always only benefits the people in power, the ones who more often than not are actually the ones who create and perpetuate and benefit from the chaos. It’s the reason unions are so powerful – and at the same time unions are so vilified, the reason our politicians are so invested in painting the other side as pure evil, the reason we’re told that immigrants are to blame for our poor economy, that people of color bring violence on themselves, that poor people are lazy and deserve to be poor, and so on and so on and so on. It’s that very reason that a politician might consider enforcing a new harsh policy, blame the other party for making it happen, and then make a big show of rolling back their own policy – all to look like the hero, the good guy in the story.

 Russell Hantz would make a great politician. Great for Russell Hantz, at least. Because he knows power is so much about suspicion and perception, and if you can tell a vaguely compelling story loudly and often enough, people will follow you. As long as we are blaming each other for our suffering, we lose sight of who it is who has the real power, who it is who’s refusing to fix what’s broken because they’re benefiting from the chaos and the status quo.

 Today in Proverbs we are given a warning, warning about how people can operate, and a warning about falling into that trap ourselves. We are told, “My child, if sinners entice you, do not consent. If they say, ‘Come with us, let us lie in wait for blood; let us wantonly ambush the innocent; …let us swallow them alive and whole… We shall find all kinds of costly things; we shall fill our houses with booty. Throw in your lot with us’… my child, do not walk in their way; keep your foot from their paths, for their feet run to evil, and they hurry to shed blood.”

 Be careful, we’re told, of those who tempt you to think first and only of yourself. Be wary of those who entice you with greed, who are willing to swallow the innocent for their own gain, and who urge you to do the same.

 Now I know – or at least I hope! – that nobody here has spent much time waiting around dark corners to ambush innocent bystanders. But there are other ways we are convinced to build our own wealth and comfort on someone else’s sacrifice.

Whenever we try to save a few dollars by buying the cheapest product, without ever thinking about the workers who produced it – we ambush the innocent. Whenever we decide a bigger tax refund is more important than health care or food for our neighbors, we ambush the innocent. Whenever we take the easy path today without thinking about the consequences for tomorrow, when we ignore the effects of global warming and plastic pollution and water contamination – we ambush the innocent. Whenever we turn a blind eye to the suffering of others, because they speak differently, because they look differently, when we ignore the tears of children because those children aren’t our own – we ambush the innocent.

 Too often, when the church has talked about sin, we’ve talked about is as if it’s something private, something that’s between me and God, something that hurts my own soul and that’s it. But the reality is that sin is never private; our choices always affect someone else, directly or indirectly. Whenever we value possessions more than people, we create a world where we resent and fear one another, and that resentment, that fear, will always boil over. It’s why Martin Luther King Jr. said, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny.” Or Mother Teresa said it this way: “If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.” What hurts you, hurts me. And the reverse is also true: we are stronger together.

 I started by talking about a television show. I told you about a man who almost won the game – more than once – by hurting and betraying and dividing people. But there are also times when, against all odds, a group of allies remains true to one another. They put their trust in each other, they refuse to be divided, refuse to turn on each other or stab one another in the back, and that trust carries them all the way to the end. There are those people who say, “I’m not going to let a chance for a million dollars change who I am.” And sometimes they win, and sometimes they lose, but always they go out with their heads held high: because in the cold and the wet, when they were starving and exhausted, when they were tempted with enough money to change their lives forever – they refused to change who they really are. And that kind of integrity – though it gets mocked on the show, that kind of heart is something that the world needs a lot more of.

 Wisdom is about more than being shrewd and cunning enough to get myself ahead. Wisdom is remembering that we belong to one another. Wisdom is having enough compassion to treat others as I want to be treated, to love you at least as much as I love myself. And that’s the way forward: it’s the way of radical compassion, integrity and peace.

 May we never forget that we belong to one another. And may we live like we believe it.

  God of all nations, God of all languages, God of all people, you know how hard the world fights to divide us. We are forced to choose sides, in political and theological and economic issues; even our colleges and car companies and soda commercials demand us to take a side. But when we divide ourselves, whether by lines on the map or lines in the sand, we quickly forget that we really do belong to one another. And more than that, we are all yours, all your beloved ones. Help us to look beyond ourselves, to think past the interests of our own little tribes; give us the wisdom to remember that there can be justice nowhere until there is justice everywhere, and there is no peace for some until there is peace for all. Help us to live with integrity, with compassion, and with grace. In Christ’s name we pray; amen.

[thedamiansmith]

Why I Truly Hate The Last Jedi

To forestall any conjecture and either sate your curiosity or warn you off entirely I’ll preface this post with a summary up front - Star Wars: The Last Jedi is one of the worst films I have ever seen. And beware for thar be spoilers ahead.

I hate it. I know that’s a strong word and one I’ve used wantonly in the past, but in this case I can’t think of another more accurate. I hate the film. I don’t merely dislike it. I find the very fact that it exists offensive. My life is worse for having seen it.

The film has drawn no small measure of controversy. Fans and critics alike seem polarised, they either love it or hate it, with not a lot of middle ground. Ergo there has been no small measure of discussion on this controversy. It’s this discussion that has driven me to add my own two cents to the melee, because at no point have I seen a post that grasps the problem at hand.

The discussion over why people dislike the film is dominated by a false dichotomy: there are those that didn’t like it because it was too far removed from the films that had come before and there are those that didn’t like it because it was too similar to the Star Wars films of old.

Whilst arguments could be made over why The Last Jedi is similar to the Star Wars of old or why it is far too different (a view I personally hold), this entirely misses the point. Regardless of where it sits in regards to the pantheon of Star Wars, The Last Jedi is, in and of itself, a terrible film.

Independent of the franchise it represents The Last Jedi is a clunky, ham-fisted, under-written and over-directed, unmitigated shit show. At its best it is clumsy and at its worst it is infuriating. If I had to sum it up in a word I’d call it “stupid”. The decisions that director Rian Johnson has made with the film just don’t make any sense.

I don’t say this lightly. I have a powerful suspension of disbelief. I’m willing to forgive most plot holes, I’ll quite creatively retcon even the most glaring oversight and content myself with my in-universe explanation (my favourite film is Pacific Rim after all). The Last Jedi doesn’t allow this. It is a 155 minute bombardment on your ability to disbelieve.

The film starts off strongly. In a bold move it opens with a joke and surprisingly it pays off. Poe Dameron’s prank call of General Hux is genuinely funny. I’ve been a professional comedian for over a decade, I know all the tricks, I can see behind every curtain, I despise most attempts at comedy and that bit made me actually laugh out loud. That is no small achievement.

Dameron then shows off his piloting skills in a daring X-Wing raid on the Fulminatrix in a visually impressive action sequence. At this point the film showed promise. This was flashy and exciting and what I wanted the movie to be. Then it did something unprecedented in a Star Wars film – inertia. Dameron’s X-Wing turns 180 degrees yet preserves its forward momentum until it fires the engines. Actual sound science in a space battle. My excitement at this point was at fever pitch.

And then the stupid starts. And once it starts it never stops. Whilst I was incredibly excited after five minutes, by the ten minute mark I was scratching my head. At twenty minutes I was heart-broken. By 40 minutes into the film I was ready to walk out, the only thing driving me forward was the morbid curiosity of seeing just how much worse it could get. The answer was “a lot”.

I’d like to go into every dumb point in detail, and I have for my own benefit, but the document is currently another 2000 words of dot points and I don’t think anyone has the time to read it (another time perhaps). Suffice it to say that from about five minutes into the film it appears that every character makes the dumbest possible decision they can.

For the sake of brevity I’ll only dive in depth into the two most glaring cases in the film.

First is Luke Skywalker. Everything to do with Luke Skywalker. When we meet Luke it’s at the same point as the close of The Force Awakens, with Rey handing him his father’s lightsaber. After a long moment of silent tension Luke then throws the lightsaber away without a word. All of that buildup for what comedians call a “pullback reveal”. Weak. In case you missed it this is the directorial cue that the audience should be willing to break with the past Star Wars films. Isn’t Rian Johnson subtle?

What follows is an entire act of Luke being an obtuse dickhead for no reasonable purpose. At this point I was still willing to give the film the benefit of the doubt. I’d reasoned that Luke was being purposefully asinine to test the patience of his pupil – as Yoda had once done to him. As the film progressed it became apparent that this level of subtlety was not in play, Luke was just being an ass. What becomes clear is that Rian Johnson has completely abandoned the character of Luke Skywalker and bludgeoned him into an amorphous shadow that he can shoe-horn into his own narrative.

None of Luke’s actions in the film are consistent with the character we’ve come to know. Upon the destruction of his Jedi temple and the deaths of his students he has not come to Ach-To to commune with the Force on some vision quest, he has come to run away from his problems in a way that is completely inverted from the idealistic hero of the original films. The young Jedi who rushed to confront a Sith Lord in order to save his friends is now willing to abandon the entire galaxy to a powerful Dark Jedi because...reasons.

We are then treated to a bit of back story over what happened to Luke’s Jedi academy. When he sensed the growing power of the dark side in his nephew, Ben Solo, he contemplated murdering the boy in his sleep. Luke Skywalker, who walked fearlessly into the Death Star in order to redeem a Sith Lord who had murdered the entire Jedi Order, who had gladly decided to die rather than murder a beaten opponent, this is the same person who would, if only for a moment, consider killing someone in cold blood because they might one day fall to the dark side?

So we’re to believe that in the space of a few decades Luke would abandon every principle he held.

That Luke was willing to kill his own nephew to prevent the rise of a powerful Dark Jedi is one thing, but then when Ben gives himself over to the Dark Side and becomes Kylo Ren, Luke runs away and hides. He was willing to murder his own kin to prevent this from happening, but now that it has he’s not going to do anything about it. Rian Johnson shows here that not only is he abandoning the character of the old Star Wars films, he can’t remain consistent within his own script.

Mix that in with a multitude of scenes of Luke being a grumpy old man, a needlessly rude hermit and, for some unknown reason, graphically milking a space manatee and this entire arc is just offensive.

The clumsy and futile handling of the character of Luke Skywalker is one of the major reasons why The Last Jedi is a terrible movie, but as Yoda once said “there is another”.

Canto Bight.

If you’ve seen the film then you know what I’m talking about, but if you haven’t then I’ll try and paint the scene for you. I say try (I know, I know, “do or do not”) because it’s difficult to get across how jarring and incongruent this sequence is.

The Resistance fleet is on the run. They can’t escape to hyperspace because they will be tracked by the First Order, who will only catch them and destroy them. So they’re flying through space, just out of effective weapons range of the First Order, just staying alive. However the clock is ticking. They’re running out of fuel. They can’t run forever. Why it takes fuel to continue in a straight line in space is never addressed (perhaps the fuel is needed to run the shields? Look I’m throwing you a bone here Rian) nor is the fact that the First Order doesn’t switch from using plasma weaponry which has an effective range to some kind of kinetic weapons which don’t, or just send their fighters ahead. Nor are we treated to a reason why all ships now seem to have the same speed even though every film prior to this shows a mixture of both fast ships and slow.

So Poe Dameron decides to send ex-stormtrooper Finn and random engineer he just met Rose off on a mission to find someone who can get them onto the Supremacy and shut down the hyperspace tracking to let the Resistance escape. Does that sound convoluted? That’s because it is.

So Finn and Rose find themselves on a shuttle travelling to the planet of Canto Bight to find a slicer, instead of using that shuttle and others like it to evacuate the stated 400 Resistance members who need evacuating because of reasons. 

And in an instant we go from the incredibly dark and tense pursuit of the last of the Resistance fleet to...a 1930’s style casino! That’s right, everyone is in their best three piece suit dancing the Charleston as if Finn and Rose have just hyperspace jumped into the Great Gatsby. When are then treated to some tell-don’t-show moralising from Rian Johnson on the nature of greed and war before Finn and Rose indulge in a chase scene through space-Marrakesh on space-camels while being pursued by the space-police before they are rescued by Benecio Del Toro’s character DJ who will of course suddenly but inevitably betray them.

If you thought the pod-racing scene from The Phantom Menace was tedious and pointless then Rian Johnson would like you to hold his beer.

How should this scene have played out instead?

Rose: Finn can you sneak us on board the Supremacy to shut down the tracking system? Finn: Yes, I used to be a stormtrooper, I know a sneaky way in.

Rose: Great, for a second there I thought we’d have to go on a pointlessly wacky side adventure where a drunk leprechaun fills BB-8 with coins.

There, I just shaved 30 minutes off the longest running Star Wars film in history.

Of course the stupidity doesn’t stop there, but it does perhaps peak. The rest of the film from then on isn’t offensive because how dumb it is, but because it is just plain seeks to offend. It is Rian Johnson firmly and proudly raising the middle finger to anyone who is a fan of the franchise.

The previous film, The Force Awakens, raised a number of questions. The film was written and directed by JJ Abrams, a man who is more adept than anyone at creating intriguing mysteries without ever bothering to answer them (the magic numbers from Lost spring to mind). The greatest questions springing from The Force Awakens were “who are Rey’s parents?” and “who is this immensely powerful Dark Jedi, Supreme Leader Snoke?”

In the two years since the release of The Force Awakens the internet has been ablaze with conjecture over these questions. Fans were rabid in their search for answers to these major plot points, enjoying crafting elaborate theories as to where the franchise could take these storylines. Hearkening back to the days of “is Darth Vader really Luke’s father?” or “is Darth Sidious really Senator Palpatine?” this conjecture is at the heart and soul of what it is to be a fan of Star Wars.

This is also something that Rian Johnson blatantly and vehemently resents.

It is one thing to chastise fans for the means by which they choose to enjoy the films, though that is bad enough, but it’s another thing entirely to sabotage the middle film of trilogy to punish those fans for being fans.

The mystery of Rey’s parents is answered with a throwaway line by Kylo Ren that they are junkrat nobodies who sold her. Reasonable enough I suppose, and perhaps even the same direction I would have taken the plot line, though perhaps with a bit more exposition. But I can’t get over the feel that this was never the intended arc for Rey’s character, that this is a backlash for the fan speculation over her parentage.

However if the reveal of Rey’s parents was a subtle rebuke by Rian Johnson for the over-zealousness of the fan base, then the Snoke reveal is Rian dancing around naked, swinging his dick at them while waving a giant sign saying “go fuck yourselves”.

Halfway through the film Supreme Leader Snoke is killed off by his student, Kylo Ren. After some impressive displays of his powers with the Force, after the reveal that it was he who had manipulated Rey AND Kylo Ren with his incredible power, that he had engineered proceedings exactly to his machinations in a way that the Emperor could only dream of, he is abruptly killed. No heroic sacrifice, a la Darth Vader. No impressive fight sequence a la Darth Maul or Darth Tyrannus. No exposition. One minute he’s alive, the greatest threat the galaxy has ever faced, the head of a bigger and badder empire. The next minute he’s dead, never to be spoken of again, as if he never existed in the first place.

Not even the most die-hard new trilogy apologist could argue that this was ever the intended direction for the character. That an entire film and a half would be devoted to this great and powerful evil only for him to be written out with the in-universe equivalent of “Note: Poochie died on the way back to his home planet”.

No, this was a deliberate move by Johnson. This was his objection to the speculation on the character and the nature of Star Wars fans. This was his personal revenge against people actively enjoying the intellectual property instead of passively receiving whatever the film-maker threw at them. He took an important character and story arc and threw them into the fire, writing himself and any future directors into a corner in the process, simply because he wanted to engage in an act of petty revenge and onanism.

And this is the man who has been given the green light to develop his own trilogy.

These are the most glaring examples of idiocy and clumsiness in The Last Jedi. The rest of the film is merely bouncing from one scene to the next with events happening because the plot needs them to happen. The whole venture feels like they went ahead and filmed the first draft. As if at no point a second party has looked at the script and said “why are they doing this? It doesn’t make any sense”.

And even though I’ve gone into such detail on a couple of major issues with the film, that’s probably the main problem with the film. It doesn’t make any sense. None of the decisions made by any of the characters make sense. They all seem to do the dumbest thing possible because that will generate the most drama.

Rian Johnson has obviously read the rule of storytelling that says to create drama you take your characters and challenge them. That you put them in a tree and throw rocks at them, as it were. But he doesn’t know how to do it. He doesn’t know how to make it look natural. So he just clumsily engineers situations where the characters are faced with adversity brought about through their own stupidity or the stupidity of others.

The core of this problem isn’t limited to The Last Jedi. It was present in The Force Awakens and numerous other films as well – the new Hollywood trend of the “writer/director”. Not every writer is a director and not every director is a writer. Some can do both and do it very well – Tarantino for instance is a brilliant slashie. But you can’t skimp on the writers.

The Last Jedi is a brilliant spectacle. It looks amazing. The use of lighting and shot selection to convey story is wonderful at times, if a little heavy handed at others. But the whole film is a delight to look at. It’s just a shame that the story, the core of it, is so very, very poor. It is the result of a director saying “we need to do this and this, go from point A to B to C” without knowing how to accomplish that as a storyteller.

The whole film is an exercise in what could have been. The Force Awakens wasn’t brilliant by any stretch. But it was a lot of fun and it introduced a lot of rich plot lines which begged to be expanded on, deeper mysteries that would have been fun to unravel. Imagine the wonder and excitement we could have had if the next instalment of the story was given to someone who knew  what to do with them instead of an obdurate madman hell bent on his own “artistic vision” and driven by a need for petty revenge. If this had been a solo film, without the rich history and lore that burdens Star Wars, it might have been amazing. The terrible storytelling and massive plot holes might never have occurred if such a stubborn director hadn’t been forced to work within confines of a universe not of his own.

But such wasn’t to be. Unlike Gareth Edwards, who created the utterly brilliant Rogue One in an even more restrictive narrative confine, Rian Johnson proved incapable of budging even an inch and the result is a film that is an utter mess and a waste. It makes one nostalgic for the glory days of The Phantom Menace and Jar-Jar Binks, which was until 14.12.17 the worst thing to ever happen to Star Wars.

I think about how much I hate The Last Jedi and I wonder why. I wonder why this movie hurts me so much more than the prequels did, why the disappointment is so much more gut wrenching. It’s because of what it could have been.

The prequels were George Lucas’ baby. It was his universe, his product and he was going to make it his way. That way might not have been the right way, or even a good way, but it was his. Nobody could fault him for doing what he wanted with his own creation. We all knew the man’s ambition outpaced his ability. His greatest excesses were held in check by his ex-wife, Marcia, and when they divorced there was nobody stopping him from doing dumb things like racist aliens, cannibal teddy bears and a 40 minute love letter to NASCAR racing.

But it was his house and he could paint it whatever ugly colour he wanted to.

This new trilogy was supposed to free us of that. We had an opportunity to build on the world he created and take it in new and exciting directions. We had the opportunity to put it into hands more competent than those of George Lucas, thankful for what he created but more thankful for gracefully stepping back.

Instead Disney decided to go in the other direction. They decided to keep Star Wars in the hands of an intractable autocrat and the result is more of the same. A film more notable for its potential and its failings than for its ability to deliver.

But still while that accounts for my disappointment in the film, and for my crippling depression as a result of it, but it doesn’t account for the hatred. I truly do hate The Last Jedi.

The reason being that these new films have wiped the slate clean. They have rendered null and void all of the former Expanded Universe, what is now known as Legends.

In the wake of Return of the Jedi in 1983 there was a great demand for more of the Star Wars universe. What became of the characters? People demanded to know. What was happening in the rest of the galaxy? What other stories were never told? What else was possible?

Writers and storytellers began to fill the void. Some of them weren’t weren’t great, others were laughably bad, but most of them were incredible. Most of them were incredible stories set in the Star Wars universe.

I grew up on these stories. I read and re-read nearly all of the Expanded Universe books, handed down to me from a benevolent uncle who fostered such imagination.

Timothy Zahn’s cuttingly amazing Thrawn trilogy dared to imagine what became of the Empire after the Battle of Endor. Beaten and broken they faced defeat and retreat until they were revitalised by a new villain – Grand Admiral Thrawn, an alien whose intellect and tactical brilliance was fuelled by an appreciation of art. The Thrawn trilogy proved the be the skeleton from which the new canon trilogy was built, although without the panache of Zahn’s writing, while the character of Thrawn was so iconic, so brilliant, he was adopted into the new canon.

The X-Wing series took a background character but fan favourite, Wedge Antilles, and put him front and center. These novels were rollicking tales of the fighter pilots so iconic of Star Wars, with their laconic wit and dashing bravado, racing from one impossible mission to the next. If you enjoy Poe Dameron in the new films (and who doesn’t?) then imagine an entire series of people just like him. The death of Han Solo in The Force Awakens never really resonated with me but decades later the death of Ton Phanan still gives me chills.

There were so many stories of Luke’s attempts to recreate the Jedi Order. His Praxeum on Yavin IV where he tried to mentor students as young and as brash as he once was, all while wondering if his own brief training was enough to prevent him from creating the next Darth Vader. This Luke was wise and caring, confident yet humble. A true servant of the Force who would never have imagined murdering a student in his sleep but would have done all in his power and more to prevent him ever falling in the first place.

These are the true tales of Star Wars. These are the real continuation of the story. And now all of them have been cast aside, destroyed by the myopic treatment of JJ Abrams, who never wrote a story beyond his first movie, and Rian Johnson who never gave a shit about anything other than his “artistic vision”.

That is why I hate The Last Jedi. Not only is it a terribly written story, it is by its very existence an erasure of all of the good stories that came before it, the ones crafted by competent writers who cared for the subject matter. Not building upon what came before but utterly rejecting it out of spite.

It isn’t a matter of whether The Last Jedi was too far removed from the old Star Wars movies or whether is was too similar to them. That doesn’t matter. All that really mattered was that it was a good story. Which it most certainly wasn’t. It was terrible. And if this film was the audition by which Rian Johnson received his own trilogy then I truly mourn the Star Wars saga, for it is in the most unsafe of hands.

For those wondering, because this is what the reviewers all seem to do, this is my ranking of the Star Wars films:

The Empire Strikes Back

Rogue One

Return of the Jedi

A New Hope

Revenge of the Sith

The Force Awakens

The Phantom Menace

Attack of the Clones

The Last Jedi